NationStates Jolt Archive

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Live Broadcast


"Hello everyone, this is Walter Krankheit of RBNNN, the most trusted name in government-approved news. Today, it was with much regret that our nation bade forewell to one of our most brilliant military leaders in history, the venerable Field Marshal Shaun Churchman, a man who makes George Patton look like George Marshall. For many years, Marshal Churchman served with distinction, patriotism, and honor the highest standard. However, the Generalissimo gracefully accepted his resignation, as Marshal Churchman returned to what remains of his former nation, Irondin, to build Irondin anew. The Generalissimo immediately pledged full support, and has reportedly wired $250 billion to the Irondinian government's account. Engineers, architects, and workmen are being flown to Irondin by the hundreds of thousands, to construct schools, hospitals, power plants, roads, dams, houses, clinics, prisons, etc., as doctors and nurses distribute free food, water, and medicine among the populace and soldiers and police train the new Irondinian army to the highest standard possible. The Generalissimo is quoted as saying: 'From the ashes, Irondin will rise, far greater than ever before. We attend to be a part of this rebirth, to serve as the midwife, if you will, in helping this great nation be reborn.' The Generalissimo and Marshal Churchman are also seeking help from the international community in reconstructing the nation. More on this story will be reported within the hour. Again, this is Walter Krankheit of RBNNN. Thank you, and good night."

At Syslock construction is rapier underway and the sound of rebuilding is beginning to draw people back to the formal Capital.

Shaun is in the Makeshift headquarters directing what needs to be build and where.

"all right guys now first we need to build roads and power plants, now the power plants are going to be atomic so be careful about it, and don’t forget to lay the fibre optic cable before paving the streets ok? good. now I must go out and train some of the new troops who came over the week.

You have your Orders, DISMISSED!"

and with that Shaun walked out to some waiting men and began to drill them without Mercy.

In a remote, secluded field miles away from civilization, RB drill sergeants began the grueling task of training a batch of raw recruits. Most of them were young; none had any military experience whatsoever. Things started out simply enough. The recruits were forced to jog 10 miles, after which they performed 500 push-ups and 500 pull-ups each. Needless to say, they were physically, mentally, emotionally drained by the exertion. The drill sergeants ignored the dire exhaustion of their pupils, instead barking out a new series of orders. The recruits were forced to swim from one end of a 500 meter long pool to the other end, and back, 50 times. Only when they had completed that task did the drill sergeants decide to call it a day.

The next day, the recruits did no physical training, but instead spent the day reading and studying. They read about the military tactics of Hannibal, Genghis Khan, Alexander the Great, George Washington, Louis Botha, Robert E. Lee, Stonewall Jackson, Mao Tse-tung, Che Guevara, Erwin Rommel, Erich von Manstein, Zhukov, MacArthur, Patton, and many, many more. They learned all sorts of assorted strategies, coventional, unconventional, and otherwise.

Shaun Came out to inspect the training and was quite inpressed

"hahaha its easy to be a great Commander when your troops are train like this, how long do you think this will take Major?"

The King grinned. He laughed as the oodles of extra cash laying around would finally allow him to build his own super porn store. Of course Irondin needed help now. He paused for a moment and then sighed. All these new taxes pouring in and nothing to spend it on. He counted out this money. His country had made a pretty penny. He put it in his pocket gave it all to Jenny. Jenny being the Funds Allocation Director. She promptly sent the extra $300 billion that they'd received in their taxation of the newly conquered states.

The King smiled..........yes. He would help rebuild Irondin. His Imperium would help show the world what kind and gracious people they all where. The new states were like a frontier though. They would require taming. This would be simple enough though. A wide draft followed by immediate moving of all new divisions to Irondin to help with the rebuilding. They were crude, they were rude, they spoke stilted Irish and mostly just kept with Anglo. But by God they were the second-best!

Unknown to almost all Shaun is a skilled Accountant and plans on handing all the aid and reconstruction money himself.


Shaun walks into his office and pulls up is personal accounting program on his computer.

"hummm... that’s a new chuck of money... that will go into Mechanized armour."

Next: target practice.

Each recruit received a gun, some reserves of ammo, and were sent out into a field populated by Shoobans. Hundreds of the repugnant, brainless beasts scurried about, chanting senseless babble and playfully throwing feces at each other. The recruits looked at each other, baffled, wondering what the hell these hideous things were, wishing they could shoot them all.

"All right, boys, fire at will. I want all 500 of them dead within 2 minutes."

The trigger-happy soldiers began gleefully firing their weapons, and the sound of gunfire permeated the air. Blood, limbs, and entrails splattered everywhere, as Shoobans exploded all over the place, screaming like geese as they were shot to pieces.

Forcanlty for him, Shaun was not at the training ground today, he was inspecting the road system.

"hmmmm, looking good, now Is the fiber optic also installed?


"yes commander"

"ok now place the heating element sunking one half inch under the road"

"confemed commander"

"You have your Orders, DISMISSED!"

Shaun was at his Laptop when he resaved an email from Generic Empire. After Reading it Shaun was unable to help but just smerk like a evil mastermind



GIF-1 air superiority/interceptor!!

uses a pulse detonation engine and amplified reflex controls to allow it extreme maneuverability even with an average pilot

GIR-47!!!!

powerhouse
7.8mm round
60 round clip
2 modes
semi - full-auto
you can kick more ass with this thing than my foot does in a week


CHEAP CHEAP CHEAP



"ah better then porn!"

"ah GE would like this"

and with that Shaun sent the Specs of the SHT9, Shaun's persnal firearm.

General Iljek Krekov stepped out of the car, letting his heavy black boot fall heavily on the wet concrete. The doors of the immense warehouse rose up before him. He removed the dark aviator sunglasses from his eyes and put them in his uniform pocket. He walked towards the structure, the two heavily armed guards snapping to attention and offering starch salutes. He returned the salute and the doors began to open.

He stepped into the cold, dark room, and the single beam of sunlight fell upon thousands of crates, stacked on either side of several aisles running between them. A miniscule portion of the Imperial arms surplus stock, but one that would be infinitely useful to Krekov's clients. The Imperial arms trade was lucrative, if not entirely legal, but with the Emperor looking elsewhere for the time being, Krekov could afford to liberate some of the arms for a handy profit, and put in a good word for the Empire while he was at it. He spoke aloud to no one in particular.

"I need 100,000 units, 360,000,000 rounds, and the schematics transferred immediately. Make it quick, gentlemen."

Shaun was glad to hear his arms were being sent to him but a more pressing matter grapped with his mind.


"hmmm where would be the best spot to astablich our hevay industries..."

Live News Update

"In response to a personal request from the Generalissimo, over a dozen multinational corporations have each pledged to invest no less than $25 billion in Irondin's young economy, to stimulate growth. Leading the pack is the Generalissimo's company, Roach-Busters Pest Control, which is investing $1 trillion, in addition to $300 billion being donated to the relief effort."

Secret IC

To: Marshal Churchman
From: Generalissimo J.L.

"The following vehicles are being transported to Irondin as a free gift, for use by your military forces:

Aircraft
400 UH-60 Black Hawks
400 RAH-66 Comanches
150 F-14D Tomcats
150 F-15E Strike Eagles
150 F-16 Falcons
150 F-117A Nighthawks
150 F/A-18E/F Super Hornets
150 F-22 Raptors
150 F-314 Air Superiority Fighters
150 F-35 Joint Strike Fighters
300 B-2 Spirits
500 KC-135 Stratotankers
500 KC-10A Extenders
500 KC-130 Hercules

Ground forces
1,000 T-99 MBTs
1,000 M1A4 "King Abrams" MBTs
500 HOF Defense FV 321 APCs
500 Bradley IFVs
500 FV511 ICVs

Naval forces
50 John Paul Jones class destroyers
50 McInerny class frigates
25 Alfredo Stroessner class carriers
25 Leopoldo Galtieri class guided missile battleships
200 Seawolf SSNs"

Shaun, just aware of the new amounts of money comeing in, has now desided to start building the Gun factory of Irondin.


"hmmmm ok now lets see here

SHT9
ISAp-1
IBAp-1
IBR-1
ISR-1
IAT-1
ISRGL-1

yep all the specs for the guns are hear now we can start building."

Secret IC

To: Marshal Churchman
From: Generalissimo J.L.



"ah JL Thank you for this gift Theres something about haveing more ships then peaple in your armed forces that just screams powerful"

Syslock

Downtown Syslock was bustling with activity. The scene was robust, chaotic, frantic, yet strangely orderly. Shooban slaves, toiling under the harsh orders of their masters, set about beginning the long, slow, painstaking task of constructing buildings. Shoobans who worked too slowly, slacked off, showed disrespect, or in any way failed to satisfy their owners, were shot without a second thought or even a hint of remorse. Many were shot just for fun.

"Dis iz noe fawn," one Shooban complained, shaking its head mournfully- until a hot bullet entered its diminutive brain and tore it to pieces, spraying blood-tinged gray matter everywhere as the beast fell several hundred feet from a window it was polishing, splattering on the pavement below.

To remove old buildings irreparably damaged by age and neglect, workers attached remote control-operated explosives to Shoobans and sent the beasts into the interior of the old buildings, then pressed buttons which caused the Shoobans to explode in a burst of gore. The buildings crumbled with the force of the impact.

The city was filthy with neglect, with litter everywhere, as no one had been there in years. Shoobans, being tugged by leashes, were forced to gather garbage into big piles, which they were then forced to eat at gun-point.

Whenever possible, Roach-Busterian workers performed as little labor as possible, preferring to sit back and let their Shooban slaves handle everything. Shoobans had no incentive to slack off, as their children were being held in dungeons; were the Shoobans to slack off, their masters had only to open a remote-control door separating the imprisoned children from ravenous tigers.

Shaun was driveing back to syslock when he saw many Shoobans being hoably mistreateded by the Roach-busters workers


Shaun was Lived with rage


"WHAT THE HELL IS?!?! What.... Fucken hell!"

Shaun Ran up and grabed the Roach-busters Forman by his shirt

"you better cut that bullshit out right NOW you dumb motherfucker! how about I make you it that god damn garbage in the ground you got damn waste of food!"

The foreman bristled with rage inside, and was nearly incapacitated by his homicidal, livid impulse to exterminate the bastard who was now berating him. He stood there, motionless, hissing through his teeth, feeling the anger well up inside of him, like a long-dormant volcano about to awaken and spew a shower of magma. However, when he looked into the man's eyes, he was hit by a sudden jolt of shock: recognition. Instantly, the anger evaporated, and, feeling his tensed muscles relax, he let the anger subside, and felt like a fool. "Marshal Churchman!" he said, saluting the Marshal. He looked askance at the Shooban slave at his side.

Little shits, they should all die and rot in hell, he thought, staring at it truculently, but when his eyes shifted back to the Marshal he was all smiles. "I apologize, Your Excellency," he said, with a small bow. "It won't happen again."

He radioed his colleagues to notify them that, per the Marshal's request, no more Shooban slave labor was to be performed in Irondin, nor were any Shoobans to be abused. The men were aghast at this absurd order, but, knowing what a close friend of Generalissimo J.L.'s the Marshal was, obeyed the orders with nary a complaint.

Shaun still angry at the injustices he just saw left to cool down in tradinal Irondin fachion. He when to his office and procseaded to beat the snot out of a punching bag in his office.

As much as Generalissimo loathed the thought of setting free Shoobans, he knew it was the logical thing to do. After receiving numerous complaints from Irondin officials, he decided the only way to placate the Marshal would be to designate all Shoobans currently on Irondin soil as free. Of course, their owners would be fully compensated with new slaves once they returned home.

Shaun was sitting with some of the smarter Shoobans and was trying to teach them some basic skills, with little progress


"ok 4+4=?"

"jello!"


"god damn it"

"All right, let's try an easier one. What is 1+1?"

"Wun pruss wun iz...fwee!"

"oh man... this is going to be a long day...."

Without slaves, progress was quite sluggish. Many men were deeply disheartened by the loss of their slaves, and performed their labor in a listless, half-hearted, melancholy manner. Some wept, some sang hymns, all were depressed. They proceeded at a snail's pace, taking five minutes to lay each brick, all the while muttering and mumbling among themselves, complaining and bickering about the loss of their slaves. Formerly enslaved Shoobans were nearby, mooning the workers and giving them raspberries. Had the Generalissimo himself not ordered them to refrain from retaliation, they would inflicted the most horrifying of deaths upon the Shoobans. They tried hard (but unsuccessfully) to ignore the disgusting creatures. "We'za doan gawda wishen ta youse noe mo'!" the Shoobans taunted, honking like Canadian geese.

"Shut the fuck up!" one of the workers shouted, about to throw his wrench, but his superior shook his head, indicating that if the worker did so, the results would not be pretty.

An hour later, only about ten to fifteen bricks had been laid. "Work harder, you fucking ingrates!" the head workman shouted, and began lashing them across the back with a whip. Immediately, they picked up the pace and began working faster.

Shaun was at the arms maunfacturan plant and was inspecting the first SHT9

"ah now we must on the IBR-1

Meanwhile, reconstruction proceeded smoothly. Schools, hospitals, railroads, roads, bridges, dams, power plants, five-star hotels, restaurants, apartment buildings, offices, clinics, post offices, houses, airports, ports, etc., were all under construction. It would take several months for them to be complete, but overall, things were going brilliantly.

Shaun was pleased that the City was sticking to the grid system first Laid out at the begining and was also happy that the road builders were remembering to lay the fiberoptic cables and heating elemants. Shaun was spareing no cent when it came to rebuilding Irondin or Syslock.

Almost ever one of Irondin Arms was being made


It was time to set up the war factories that were to build the new Armors for the army.

Roach-Busters, too, was sparing no expenses in the process of reconstructing Irondin. As construction went on in the cities, engineers dug wells, constructed roads, and built houses, hospitals, schools, grocery stores, etc. in the countryside, and doctors innoculated children and adults against disease, while RB Red Cross volunteers distributed food and medicine. Prominent economists, generals, doctors, lawyers, and diplomats met with officials of the Irondin government to advise them on the economy, defense, public health and safety, and other governmental affairs. In the far north, amidst the harsh elements of nature and frigid, biting cold winds, military advisors drilled Irondin troops and continued their harsh, rigorous training.

Shaun Was inspecting the new armor factories.


He saw that IHA Devastators and ILAAA Strykers were coming aloun nicely


It took some time to Convinece himself of this but he finly desided to return all Millitary hardware he got from his friends and annoinced that all the armies in Irondin will use Irondin hardware.

bump

OOC Wating for GE

1000 Troops had been trained and 2500 Civs were homeguarded and armed and ready to fight

Or so they thoght...

Only 300 troops were active at one time and the Armored "Army" was two Devasators and one Crusader and all of the home guard was preocupied with rebuilding syslock then defending it.

One day...

{OOC: I'm ready.}

OOC GE is going to be the warlord

Tunnis Granmore stood on the low bluff, his scimitar scratching in the sand, the blad blood red from the light of the setting sun. In the distance he saw the rising towers of the new city, and he felt his stomach turn. He grumbled in rage and turned to walk back down the mountain. Before him stood 175 men, most carrying AK-47s or M4s, all carrying scimitars. A few trucks and some towed artillery pieces stuck out over the plain. They were a ragged band, all hardened, all enraged by the rape of their city. He did not have to speak. The time had come. He lifted his scimitar and let out a great warcry. The cry was rescinded by every man at the top of his lungs, and with that they charged out over the plain towards the city.

Shaun was quitly working at his desk on somepaper work when he hurd noises comeing from outside

"what the?"

Shaun got up and looked out the window


"oh! SUCK MY CO..."

Shaun whent and grabed his guns and ran out the Room



The army, was unawares till they were able the hear the charge of the attack. most were stunned and just sat there, the well trained ones got into battle formation and the 2 Devisators and Crusader were loaded up and moved into the fight.

Windows disintegrated into piles of millions of shimmering glass shards, as bullets flew into the embassy building and lodged into the bodies of embassy workers, producing messy spurts of blood as they toppled over, afflicted by extreme pain in the brief duration of the remainder of their life. Hand grenades were lobbed inside, generating explosions which rocketed the building and causing debris to crumble to the floor. Smoke suffused the room and everything in sight, as the few survivors dropped down to dodge the suffocating shroud. They crawled across the floor, silently, toward what they hoped would be salvation. Unfortunately, as they reached the back door, it was flung open and in jumped a man toting a machine-gun. It was the last thing they ever saw.

The Army now in full movement was counter attacking, the Armor was crushing most of what the Warband had as mechanised equipment and the army was holding them off to a point, with occsnal fall backs.

The warriors had managed to flank the city earlier in the fight and had attacked what they thought to be a government building, which in fact was the Roach-Busters embassy. However, the frontal assault had met with stiffer resistance and dozens had been slain as the Irondin units counterattacked. Tunnis Granmore shouted to his officers, urging his men on, waving his saber wildly. The artillery guns trained their barrels on the Irondin armor and infantry clusters while the war band sought cover, occasionally managing to make it inside a building and take shots from the windows.

The Armor was easily crushing the disorganised rabble. The Crusader was rushing into the middle of the group shooting all that it can. all the sudden it stoped and 20 of the best Irondin troops came out armed with IRS-1 and quickly made short work of all of the warriors.

Two soldiers from the 73rd Airmobile Battallion nonchalantly exchanged a cigarette, taking a few puffs before handing it to the other. They were bored, and had spent the last few hours listlessly pacing, playing poker, and making unsuccessful passes at some of the more alluring Indonian ladies. Both men craved a beer, but knew that alcohol was forbidden to those in the military, as it impaired judgment and imperiled their chances of success in combat. What combat, though? Since their deployment, they had done nothing. The reconstruction was proceeding at a brisk pace. Other than a few occasional half-wit bandits, no one posed a threat to the Syslock or its inhabitants. Irondin had no enemies abroad. Why in the hell was an RB military presence needed?

They finished the last cigarette, and one man crumpled the back and tossed it into a green waste basket.

"Damn, I'm bored," he muttered.

His compatriot rolled his eyes. "No shit, Sherlock," he replied. "You've been saying that for the last five hours!"

"Four."

"Four, whatever."

"Ah, those cigarettes were some good shit," the first man said, wistfully. "Got anymore?"

"No, you dumb ape, that was the last one, or didn't you see my throw away an empty pack? The hell are you, blind?"

"Hey, fuck you, man, I just asked you a question!"

"Yeah, a friggin' neanderthal question."

"Geez, you coulda had more packs stashed somewhere. Shit, it didn't hurt to ask!"

"Yeah, sorry."

"S'all right."

The two men paced, neither speaking, the room utterly silent save for the hands ticking by on the clock.

The first guy sighed. "Sucks what happened to the First Lady."

The second guy, a real emotional type, nodded, swiped a few tears. "Yeah. She was a good lady."

"The best."

"Amen to that."

"So...what do you wanna do?"

"I dunno...what do you wanna do?"

"Well, I sure as hell don't want to keep asking that question, back and forth, and back and forth, and-"

"Okay, okay. I get the picture."

"Sorry."

"Damn, that's like the fiftieth time you've apologized today."

"Sorr- ahem, never mind."

They stepped outside their barracks for some fresh air. The night was cool, the air was still. A light mist enveloped them. The sky was pitch black but starless. It was a silent November evening.

"Wanna hit the town?"

"Meh, why not."

As the two men strolled toward their Jeep, they suddenly heard their radio crackling.

The first guy answered it. "This is Private Jenkins, 73rd Airmobile Battallion reporting, over."

No reply.

"I repeat, this is Private Jenkins, 73rd Airmobile Battallion, over!"

Still nothing.

He shrugged. "Maybe we could c-"

He was interrupted by a sound that he at first interpreted as bad static. It took a fraction of a second for his brain to register that the sound was in fact gun-fire.

The radio went dead.

"Shit, what the hell happened?"

"Dunno," Jenkins said. "Can we trace it?"

"Yeah, no prob."

The two men ran back into the small barracks (which was little more than a shack filled with cardboard boxes, wooden crates, a dinky table with two stools, and two old moth-eaten cots), and Jenkins's partner, Abner, went over to the radio transmitter to trace the signal from whence it came.

"It seems to have come from the embassy."

"The embassy? Let's ring 'em up, then, and see what the fuss is."

Abner picked up the phone, dialed. A recording informed in a dull, metallic voice that his call could not be completed as dialed. He tried again. Same. He tried five more times before giving up.

"Something must be up," Jenkins said, more than a little concerned. "Turn on the TV."

Abner did. They were confronted by close-up images of a demolished building, aflame, charred bodies being carried away on stretchers, frightened children weeping in the streets, the wail of sirens, yellow police tape being set up to prevent a curious mob from swarming the place.

"Is that our em-"

Jenkins raised a finger to his lips.

"-for those just tuning in, today the Roach-Busterian embassy was attacked by terrorists, who have been killed or apprehended by Irondinian forces. However, police stress that the true culprit may still be out there, and that-"

He flipped off the set.

"The hell'd you do that for?"

"Listen..."

Outside, approaching ever closer, they heard the unmistakable sound of gun-fire.

Irondin Armor was all Couquaring. The waraband's arms were just unable to find a way to stop them, RPGs, Grenades and Rifles only made Scraches while the Devasators were easly crushing what Vehicals the band had and the Crusader was suporting the solders in the middle of the fights mowing down all that was around.

Bullets darted about in every direction like angry words being hurled in a heated argument, only this sound was much louder. Soon the outside barracks walls came to resemble Swiss cheese. Jenkins and Abner grabbed their M-31A1 Advanced Lightweight Assault Rifles and rushed toward the door, kicking it open and then diving behind boxes, waiting for the enemy to appear. The enemy did not disappoint them. Three men, garbed in camouflage uniforms, clutching submachine guns, stormed in, whipping their heads laterally, searching. Yet their eyes were unfocused, distracted, almost. The very manner in which they searched was lazy, making it obvious that either these men were poorly paid and unmotivated, or laughably amateurish. Either way, it was their loss. Jenkins and Abner stood, stepped into view, and blasted the three intruders to the ground without a second thought. A bloody pool oozed across the floor, as the dying men watched their entrails to slide through their blood-soaked fingers.

bump