NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: Usual disclaimer for the start. This thread is not somewhere to point out I spelled Dyelli Beybi in a manner different to the disc world books. It isn't the same country. The second two parts of this thread are obviously OOC knowledge. I don't care who gets involved, but I reserve the right to ignore anyone who does anything unrepentantly stupid.

-=KTV Breaking News=-

..."And this just in from Cyro, it seems that Felix Dzerzhinsky, Chief Constable of the Cheka has just announced his resignation, we're crossing live to Benjia House now, where we should be able to catch his speech."

Dzerzhinsky wasn't a young man, he was tall (for a Dyellian) and wiry, but now his black van Dyke beard was beginning to show quite a few flecks of grey. At this moment he was standing behind a podium, his field grey uniform with blue Cheka trimmings was immaculately groomed for the occasion, "Ladies and Gentlemen of the media, it is with great sadness that I today must announce my resignation from the post of Chief Constable of the Cheka. During the past few months there have been errors committed by the department that are unforgivable, the bombing of Alconian Marines and the development of illegal weapons of mass destruction. In the wake of the scandal that has broken, the only honourable course left open to me is to resign my position. Thank you, there will be no questions."

The broadcast flicked back to the studio, where the anchor, a typical dark haired Dyellian woman, now had a 'resident expert' to help explain the mess, "All very exciting stuff, I now have Doctor Peter Johansen in the office. Doctor Johansen is Dean of Political Sciences at Cyro University, Doctor, what do you make of this?"

"A very interesting speech Helen to be sure." the Dean replied, he had a heavy Dyellian accent, one which was easily confused with an Irish, "The Commisaar has admitted Dyelli Beybi was building nuclear weapons, but lets face it, everyone knew that anyway, and with the Bill passed through Parliament last week declaring that this is now a 'legal activity' there seems very little reason for fuss."

"What of the Alconian Marines? Presumably this would be the main reason then?"

"Again, Helen, it is an unusual reason to resign. Military Intelligence is not the role of the Cheka. I would suspect we will be seeing more reasons emerging as the weeks go by, although it was announced earlier today that a replacement has already been chosen to take over the role. A Commisaar Tania Fradkov."

"Very interesting Doctor, now let's cross to sports."

Another anchor replaced the first on screen, "Hi I'm Drunkas Aweasel... but my name's Ted..."

At about this point any intelligent viewer changed channels.

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"Sh!t." one Intelligent viewer grimaced.

"You were not expecting dat Sir?" the voice was deep and rumbling, and not exactly human.

"No Glarg I was not." the first was cold and crisp, with no hint of the emotion he had betrayed moments before, "We may need to speed up production. The units are now shielded."

"Yes Sir." the second voice chimed, "We have 20 ready ones and 6 wif da old engines, you no, da ones we needed to charge up all da time."

"It will do. I will go to see the primary unit now. Turn it on when I enter the room."

The 'Unit' was about five and a half feet tall and looked a bit like an inverted cone with a round bottom, with small bumps dotted regularly across the outside to about half way up the cone. Electrical wiring ran into it from all directions while three tubes extended from the front. Two small lights glowed on top of it, "M.P.B. 1, I have some orders to input, are you reading this?"

"Afir-ma-tive" came a slightly faltering metallic reply.

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Meanwhile another Intelligence viewer, known as Tania Fradkov was celebrating with a bottle of champagne. She grinned broadly, Pierre realised he had very rarely seen her smile.

"Champagne Pierre?"

"Absolutely." he nodded graciously.

"I trust you have taken care of the loose end?" she inquired before pouring anything.

Pierre nodded, "With ease, I fed them the information they wanted, they were lapping it up. People are so gullible."

Fradkov laughed huskily, "Excellent Pierre, I propose a toast. A toast to the Emperor!"

"The Emperor?" Pierre sounded suspicious.

"You, you fool." Fradkov laughed again, "Give it a few months and that is what you will be here. No more Tzars, no more Chancellors, just the Emperor, and an ever expanding Dyellian Empire."

"Amen to that."

Dukara, Dukratus
Ministry of Interregional Affairs
AKA Ministry of Regional Intelligence & Espionage

The report was tossed upon the hard marble desk top, clawed fingers rising to comb through the dukratians coarse hair as it thought. A rather somber looking attendant sat in the corner, awaiting any response from its superior.

"What does this mean to you boooy -growl-," That deep, feral tone held a condescending undertone, though this was typical of the old hat Dukratians. The attendant stiffened lightly under the ruby glare.

"Me... well, it seems some sort of cover-up knowing the typical scheming going on within that unstable nation... if I had a guessss, I would say that something big is in the works of going down..." The young dukratian relaxed for a moment, but just a moment. Disapproving glare from the superior extinguishing any pride he felt.

"Like the fall of the Tzars?..." mild interest taken in this extrapolation.

"Exactly sir... this just smells of a governmental pot of trouble... the retirement of the previous chief constable of the Cheka with few solid reasons given, the sudden appointment of another in just as hushed, hushed a manner... this just stinks with if's..."

"And you would suggest?" Red eyes remained focused upon the attendant, a squirm detected... what a hard job it must be where a wrong answer could lead to one never existing from that moment on...

"A full investigation... under the radar of course. Try to discern the true motives behind this move and assess the threat of this to the Glorious Empire..."

"Well, you know the drill. Send out a few human operatives to Dyelli Beybi to investigate these occurrences, no need to arise the attention of the emperor yet. For honor and glory." A half hearted salute offered followed by a dismissive wave of clawed digits.

Bow of head as the attendant saluted "For Honor and Glory...," and with this the young attendant turned and left the dark, black slabbed office. The older Dukratian leaned back in his chair once more, strong tail catching him from falling over as he took up the report, leafing through it once more. What are those Dyellians up to now...

---Unknown, Unknown---

The man looked to be your typical vacation goer: Hawaiian shirt, khaki shorts, black socks, white tennis shoes, even a straw hat and corky sunglasses to finish the look. Of course, for all reasons he was on vacation, and a fine one at that...human woman, beaches, sun, strawberry margaritas, a far cry better pace than the dark, depressive, industrial wasteland of Dukratus.

The man stretched lazily under the umbrella, a wave to the cabana boy for another drink. The drink would come to the man, a margarita with a small paper umbrella in it, though this one different than the previous 6 margaritas that had sacrificed themselves to the mans thirst... this umbrella had a message written on it.

pysa noa BDa, orfa onorha ndaa loryga.

A smirk crossed the mans lips, "they need to shoot their cryptographer..." Weary sigh escaped him as he got up, brushing the sand from his pants. Time to check out and head on out to Dyelli Beybi...

Dyelli Beybi was probably not the kind of place one would want to go after a relaxing holiday. It was unpleasantly hot, and froze at night, except in Cyro and along the coast, but Cyro was worse, it was built on a swamp, it steamed every day and every night, all year long, and if you wanted to find out what was going on in Dyelli Beybi Cyro was the place to go. It was the heart of Dyelli Beybi, the city hummed with life and thronged with police.

But it was far North of there, Port Olympus to be precise, that a group of people who could only be described as Tzarists were meeting. The room was dingey, a leak in one corner driped persistently into a slowly gathering pool of water. There were no windows at all, the only light coming from the single flickering bulb in the centre of the room, hanging over the deeply pitted wooden table around which the room's four occupants were seated.

"Could have picked a better spot Charles." the only woman in the room sneered. The Tzarist regime had been notoriously biased against women, but in true Dyellian style, made exceptions for people who were too dangerous to waste.

Caroline was one of those, which was why Charles gave the b!tch so much leeway It also helped that he found her incredibly attractive, but that was by the by, "I have called us together to announce the news."

"The old rat resigned?" Caroline jumped in again, her blue eyes sparkling with saddistic glee, "Give us a break Charles, we all know that, it's bee all over every news channel. I'm glad, I hope he dies painfully."

"As it so happens." Charles continued, pretending to ignore the interuption, but mentally scrubbing large parts from his carefully rehearsed speech, "That isn't going to happen, not unless we make it. My sources in the Cheka have revealed a window of opportunity where we can rid ourselves of the b@stard forever."

Caroline burst out laughing, shocking the room into silence, "You're kidding right, who fed you that rubbish, Felix is smart, you won't find some easy window where you can knock him off, Fradkov has taken him down for us, we should be grateful and get on with our plans."

"Incorrect." Charles retorted, "The man will always be a danger, and anyway he has killed and turned thousands of our brothers, it is our duty to revenge them."

The other two men at the table nodded seriously. Caroline grimaced, "Outvoted am I? I'm not having any part in this stupidity, go and risk your own fool necks if you want to."

"Perhaps." one of the other two men at the table spoke, "You are frightened of meeting the Wolf again?"

Caroline raised an eyebrow, refusing to rise to the bait, "She doesn't frighten me in the slightest, but apparently she scares you, you're the one who calls her the Wolf. It changes nothing though, I'll still have nothing to do with this."

She stood pushing back her chair, nodding curtly, "Gentlemen." before spinning on her heels and striding from the room.

"Damn she's a feisty one." the third Tzarist growled, he was old, his beard a steely grey, "Sooner or later we'll have to kill her."

"Sooner or later." Charles agreed, "For now though we will focus on eliminating a greater threat."

Cyro, Dyelli Beybi
Cyro International Airport

The man gingerly stepped out onto the pick-up walkway, tanned hand lazily waving for a taxi. The flight wasn't of any high-quality, though the in-flight movie "Mating Habits of the Combustible Hamster" did prove enough distraction for the man to 're-appropriate' some more fitting cloths for the surrounding. Drab khaki shirt was tucked into khaki pants with khaki boots... now the man just looked like a safari guide thanks to his tanned skin and curly blonde hair.

More irrate waving would finally get a taxi to stop, his single carryon thrown before he followed. "The Ain't No Throat-Slitting Pub please."

The cab would start moving, handtop computer removed from his left breast pocket. The security might have kept it if not for the sheer amount of 'explicitly titled' files that where on it. The special program was loaded up, a message quickly tapped out. As the cab pulled to a stop the man aimed the device at a special brick in the wall of the building he was to enter and hit the 'Send' button.

"Thanks bud, keep the change..." a few Kronors droped in the tray as he stepped out, deep breath of that muggy air taken. "Well, ain't this neverland... time to get in contact with some buds and start digging..."

Dukara, Dukratus
Ministry of Interregional Affairs

The computer on the dukratians marble desk chimed happily as a new message was received. Clawed hand tapped a button lazily.

The weasel has made it to the roosting grounds[stop]
making my way to find some eggs for an omelet[stop]

A weary sigh escaped the gray creature, tone flat yet annoyed "I wish he'd cut the farm analogiesss..."

Somewhere deep in Dyelli Beybi yet more 'interested people' were gathering. Everyone knew something was wrong, and everyone wanted a slice of the pie when things turned nasty.

These people were different though, dressed head to foot in long black or brown robes, with hoods drawn up over the face. They weren't monks, although many would mistake them as such. The fact that the meeting was taking place in the ossuary of a 11th century monastery helped to add to the atmosphere. Behind the three men who had gathered were rows upon rows of skulls, lining the vault floor to ceiling.

"You have heard of course, my brothers?" one intoned.

"Of course." the second nodded.

"Should the Sword of the Lord, lower itself to the struggles of the flesh?" the first again.

The third gave a short bark of laughter, "We do little else brothers, however if you are in need of further convincing then remember this, before Tzar Richard heresy was unknown in this country, those heretics who were here, being usheered into their rightful place in hell by the fires of earth."

Both the others nodded, it was right and just that heretics should be burned, "Yet he changed that." the third man continued, "Destroying the true Church and setting up his own, and this current Government has done little to help. Now we are ruled by weak Bishops who would rather have tea with the heretics than burn them in righteous fire, and a Government that gives little thought to God."

There was a pause, "Continue brother." the first man prompted.

"Yes..." the third continued, his mind had wandered off topic, "The Emperor though, has sent me a letter, he says that if his dreams are to come true, then heresy will be eliminated once and for all from our fair land... that we may begin stoking the holy fires, so as to speak."

The other two nodded, then the first spoke, voicing the opinion that had been reached in the room, "Vive L'Empreur."

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Dyelli Beybians would do nearly anything for money, so the Dukratian would have little difficulty getting some basic knowledge on the situation. Everyone in Cyro knew something was going on. Most people thought Adelle Collins, Vice Admiral of the Fleet and wife of the High Chancellor had something to do with it. Although the name Otto Himmler cropped up a fair bit as well.

Himmler lived in a fortified villa just outside of town, he was the wealthiest man in Dyelli Beybi and had had been having some large crates delivered from DBFC Automobile for the last few days. DBFC Automobile made everything from tanks to tractors, to family sedans to mopeds. It could have been anything arriving, but at a time like this it arroused suspicion.

OOC: I'll try to get onto this asap, since it seems interesting.

(OOC) I'm planning to move it along a bit soon, but we've recieved fairly little interest from the usual suspects (Vrak, A&H), I'm guessing they're busy.

Charles, Baron of the Artois region of Northern Dyelli Beybi knew he was about to avenge his family. The ab Ieuaf girl had flat out refused to come along. The little upstart really didn't know her place. In good time he would teach her, for a moment he fantasised about that, he'd enjoy putting the girl in her place... "Sir?"

"Yes." Charles snapped out of his fantasies as he was confronted by the crouched figure of one of his men at arms.

It was a good night, clear as any in Dyelli Beybi. The sand was warm retaining some of the heat from the day, but the night was bitterly cold. A few grains of sand had managed to work their way into the Baron's overalls, he imagined it could become quite irritating once he had to move from where he was on his belly, observing the observatory across the dune. It was incredible. Lightly guarded for such a high profile prisoner, this was where Felix Dzerzhinsky was being held while he awaited preliminary hearings. Charles' sources in the Cheka indicated he had been put all the way out here to keep him away from harm, yet harm had come to him in the form of twenty men at arms, all wearing the badge of Artois, "Well what is it?"

"The men are getting restless Sir, can't we just move in now?"

"Wait." Charles snapped, "It's only another five minutes. My source indicated that 2 am was the best time to strike."

"Aye Sir." the man slid on his belly back to where he was lying.

The five minutes passed slowly, a large black beetle scurried across the back of Charles' hand. Then it was time, "Up and at 'em." he called in a hoarse whisper.

As the message was passed along the line twenty men stood, Charles was among the first, moving slowly at a crouch towards the waist high brick wall that surrounded the observatory.

Suddenly there was a buzzing noise from the observatory, as some piece of machinery whirred into life. Charles cursed his lack of night vision equipment, he had no idea what had just happened. Seconds later the all the familiar roar of SSA-1801 assault rifles split the silence of the desert, sending a flock of startled birds hurtling out of the palm tree they had been roosting in. Charles hit the sand, flinging himself downwards as men screamed nearby.

Something bright cracked through the air, there was another scream, as a man off to Charles' right seemingly spontaneously burst into flames.

"No prisoners!" someone yelled.

"I thought you said they weren't expecting us?" it was the man at arms from before. It was too dark to make out his expression, but the tone of his voice conveyed everything. He was terrified.

"That's what I was told!" Charles protested uselessly.

"Exterminate!" someone yelled in the darkness, egging one side or the other on.

The man beside Charles jerked suddenly, his back arching, as he mewled in pain, before slumping forward, vomiting blood onto the sand.

"Sweet Jesus." Charles rolled away from the body and just about collided with something metal.

It was emitting a soft blue glow from beneath it, he looked up, "What the?"

They were his last words as thousands of volts of electricity were pumped through his body.

Cyro, Dyelli Beybi
Sleep Ezzy Hotel

The "ep" on the neon light sign always seemed to be out on this chain of hotels, but that didn't detract from the brilliant glow and obnoxious hum that emanated into the room. A squint as the man adjusted his briefcase with the built in satellite dish about, trying to find that one lone dukratus weather satellite in low orbit. A few beeps, smile growing upon his lips as he caught the satellite. The man strapped the odd bowtie around his throat, adjusting the hidden AVSE (Aural Vibration Sensor and Encryptor) about his throat, the small sensor capable of picking up minute facial changes and throat vibrations allowing talking without actually verbalizing words.

DII-Sat DB13669 Uplink Engaged
Encrypt: ZR2839-#209L Band: 34171ZZ

|< What is it that you have to report.
|> I've done some digging and have come up with a couple of names first off.
Adelle Collins is a Vice Admiral and wife to the High Chancellor. As well, I've
heard the name Otto Himmler pop up, very wealthy. He's name has come up
quiet a bit, notably for...
|< Yesss, we have monitored this one with the ISN... large shipments being
brought in from DBFC Automobile. But what does it all mean, what’s the
purpose behind it all.
|> That I am uncertain about. I have heard some rumors form fanatic types
and the sorts about some monk folk in a monastery to the far north of Cyro.
Some other conspiracy things too... though the buzz word connecting all of
these seems to be some idea of a Dyellian Empire...
|< What!
|> A Dyellian empire... something wrong with that?
|< You apparently do not see the seriousness of such a concept.
|> I suppose not. How could this be worst than the Tzars? Anyway, even
if an empire rises don't you think that Dyellian's natural greed wouldn't have
them killing each other left and right before they could even fart?
|< True, but what if one of those leputans actually show enough foresight to
keep their power. Then you have a paranoid, power hungry, and greedy
Dyellian with one of the largest militaries available in Klatch. I want you to
investigate into thi further. Check out Himmler's estate and the vice
Admiral's if you thiink that would be useful. I leave this to your discretion.
For honor and glory.
|> Right, honor and glory.

The screen went blank, AVSE removed from his throat and placed back in the briefcase with everything else. Small knife was produced from his backpack, side of the hotel mattress was slit open to reveal a black thermo-optical signature reduction jumpsuit in trendy black, n-vision goggles, and a Beretta 9 mm silenced... all of which product attainable from the JDF. Smirk cross the mans lips, great, looks like they don't trust me getting back alive. He pulled on the suit, adjusting the gun holster. Showtime...

Dukara, Dukratus
Ministry of Interregional Affairs

The screen went black, AVSE was pulled from the dukratians throat and tossed nonchalantly onto the cold marble table. Drum of claws against the marble surface before he tapped the intercom button.

>"I want two teams of shadow stalker units deployed. One is to go to the mansion of Otto Himmler, the other is to investigate some cultist activities in a monastery in northern DB."
<"Yes sir, anything else?"
>"Do not draw these units from the MWD... use our squads. There is no need to tell the emperor yet."
<"Yes sir."

The intercom button was released, clawed fingers coming together before the dukratain as he settled into thought.

Kyriillmon, Dukratus
Yera Cattle Farm
DRLS-1471ZR Secret Airfield

The cow rather enjoyed this spot in the grass, it was fine grass, green and tasty just like she liked it. The only real problem was at times the earth moved, the shaking gave her mild indigestion... unfortunately today was one of those days.

The ground parted slowly with a metallic grind, the hill rising to expose a dark metallic tunnel beneath the earth. Thunderous row echoed down the tunnel, barely ahead of the two sleek black jets that went streaking from the ground. The jets resembled oversized SR-71's though they where really the best Dukratian infiltration craft in production. Packed to the gills with thermal, optical, passive jamming, active jamming, sound reduction, etc. stealth equipment the jet was decades beyond modern technology. A shining example of the Dukratus ideology: Why make a big, power army when you could make something unseen that could just eviscerate the commander?

Of course, this didn't much matter to the cow. The ground settled down below her, a lazy look up caught the shadow craft just before they vanished with the activation of the active optical camouflage. Gurgle. Well, that cow patty wasn't going to be very patty like.

The Dyellian 'cult' of course had vanished beneath the radar. The Cheka knew it existed and knew exactly what it was about, but had had a devil of a job eliminating it. It was known as the 'Gladius Dei', most Dyellians refused to even mention the name.

Himmler's villa was well guarded, probably too well guarded for the average businessman. There were perhaps half a dozen security guards patroling the outside, it was once you got over the fence that things got hairy... or more realistically 7 foot tall, with greenish coloured skin and a disturbingly good sense of smell. There were at least 20 orcs on the inside of the compund searching for intruders mostly by ear and nose. The Crates whatever was being imported in had been rather carelessly burned outside the compound however, and there was still a decipherable label. Apparently Himmler had been moving in a 'mobile pillbox'.

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Out in the desert, bodies were being recovered, under the supervision of a young Commisaar, who looked vaguely bored at the whole proceedings, "I trust the weapon is well hidden?"

"Yessir." the Tenente in charge of the opperation saluted, "Nobody will ever know a thing."

"Aside from the poor sods it incinerated, but that doesn't really matter." the Commisaar fumbled in his pocket for a cigarette, then grimaced as he realised he had none, "It's wanted back on Cyro, so you guys will want to box it and truck it. So we have confirmed we were dealing with House Artois men at arms?"

The Tenente nodded, "Wearing Artois shields sewn into the shoulders."

The Commisaar nodded in turn, "What I am reading from this situation is that these men were on their way to rescue the ex Chief Constable, which implies to me that the ex Chief Constable was a Tzarist."

"Certainly looks that way." the Tenente agreed.

"I'd better tell Fradkov, and ask her what to do." the Commisaar reluctantly detached himself from the brick wall he was leaning on, dusting himself off before heading in the direction of the observatory.

The Tenente watched him go, he wasn't convinced the Tzarist's had been trying to rescue Dzerzhinsky. It didn't make sense, even if it did appear that way. He shrugged, best to just go along with things, that was the way to get promotion.