NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: No use of advanced weaponry like lasers and what-not unless it is on some big starship/satellite platform. Apart from that, welcome to the rumble! :)

My men are semi-ww2 standard. Weapons and the like are of that standard, but comms and other technologies are of advanced level (things like holo-screens etc)

IC:

THE STORY SO FAR...
(As taken from a current RP I am posting in which will be affected by this. Here (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=456599)

The emperor sat at his chair and looked to Saimann, “I must apologise Captain, but I am very busy and must be brief. I have had report of your contact, well done Captain...

Captain Saimann allowed a small smile, the grin contorted his burnt features into an even more hideous sight as he said “Thank you your majesty, I am humbled by your generosity and your recognition of my efforts. I will do my utmost to secure this facility”

“Captain, one more thing,” the emperor said, “I have had a look at your past profile, it says here that you were once part of the Black Death squadron, I hope this does not affect your performance in the field”

Captain Saimann’s grin faded as he took in what had just been said. The Black Death squadron had been the brainchild of Minister Rockmann, the last Minister of the country long replaced by the Imperial Dynasty, a fanatical tyrant by international opinion, Rockmann had been a firm believer in the superiority of his faith…

Nazism…

It was the job of the Black Death squadron to erase anyone who did not suit Rockmann's empire, and to actively 'retain' anyone who dissented. It had been during one such open air execution that Saimann had taken a firebomb across the side of his face, the sound of his own screams still haunted him, the sound of his reprisal – the open gunning down of another two hundred ‘dissidents’, helped him sleep…

“No sir, my personal beliefs are changed as one must to live in such a wonderful society your majesty” Captain Saimann said.

“Good man Captain… good to hear such loyalty” the look in the Emperor’s eyes stated another, more private opinion… “Continued luck with your efforts… captain” The Emperor shut off the link, still looking into Saimann’s eyes as he did so...

Saimann grimaced and brought up another image, “Sai… Saimann, what the hell!” the man was of similar age to the Captain, though he looked much livelier in his face than Saimann ever could again...

“Gregor, the emperor is examining our personal records, if we are already getting that much attention, then it might be worth your while to get our men to hustle up before the rest of the armed forces realise what is happening”

The man called Gregor looked suspicious, “let me check…” he went off screen for a good twenty minutes before he returned and nodded in agreement, “I will speak the rest of the Squadron, we might have to move ahead with Operation Smokescreen after all”

Saimann nodded, “I’ll make the first moves now, best of all, we have the perfect adversary for our glorious empire right at my doorstep…”

Gregor nodded, “Do it…”

…

Above the planets surface, the small communications satellite sent out a number of encrypted databursts towards the ground, across the lands of the Imperial Dynasty received signals returned to the satellite…

“For the glory of the Reich – the Black Reich” Saimann murmured.

...

“Nevertheless, our revolution begins” Saimann said as he leaned back in his chair. Already, only hours after the call had been sent out he was receiving the replies; a distinct number of them coming from a trio of provinces within the Imperial Dynasty.

It did not surprise him in this regard, the empire was huge, absolutely enormous for the amount of people it had, and it had a varying number of environments. Chief among them, in regards to Black Reich influence, was the provinces of Inraksia, Carra-Neosis and Albrecht’s Plains. Two of them, Inraksia and Albrecht’s Plains, were semi-arid or desert-like, much akin to the bushland of Australia and the deserts of the same countries inner lands. It had been in the lands over the mountain ranges from Inraksia that the greatest final stand in history had occurred.

It was called “Rockmann’s legacy” or simply “The Wastelands” by the Imperial scum, but to those of the Black Reich it was the “Final Stand”; A veritable atomic and chemical wasteland – poisoned by the huge chemo-atomic final offensive of Rockmann’s forces in the dying days of his empire.

Albrecht's Plains was mostly supportive of the Black Reich due to its previous relations with the Rockmann empire, these people were actually under a blood oath to support Rockmann and his followers even after his death. This was because of actions Rockmann did to save these people from total annihilation in the face of an external threat many, many years ago.

Rockmann only did it of course because of the huge industrial and mining potential of the desert-like land...

The other area, Carra-Neosis, had been the birth place of the Old Empire, and was a veritable jungle. Tropical rainforests, island chains and the like had made it an attractive place to visit as a tourist. Only recently had any major interest been taken in the area by Imperial forces, as it was now supposedly the staging base for expeditions by the Imperial Dynasty Expeditionary Corps (IDEC). The true alligences of the populace however, were anything but Imperial. Already entire cities had joined the cause, as could be seen by three hundred thousand return signals in the relatively small coastal city of Norobosa.

It was in these three states that the revolution had lived on, been fostered, and slowly simmered away until today, when now, it would pounce upon the unsuspecting government of the Imperial Dynasty, and forge a burning new path for the Black Reich.

...

As they walked on, behind them came a small train of captured natives following behind the Panzer Zu Fuss unit. They would make excellent camp labour, being used to harsh conditions and all as they were. Mendez looked at them, a small child looked up at him, arms bound in manacles simply too big for him to carry, Mendez snarled and the child quickly looked down “native scum” he muttered.

Unknown to Mendez, or anyone for that matter, the recon team was indeed alive, and it was doing its best to ‘get the hell out of dodge’…

...

“We need help, we need their help” Roberts, leader of the only loyalist recon team said. He looked at the men beside him and said “Regardless of what happens, I am honoured to work with such stoic members of our glorious Dynasty. One purpose”
“Our purpose!” the glorious cry of the Imperial Dynasty came as a hushed whisper, though a few of the men nodded in acknowledgment, showing how these men felt in their own way.

Then, with his hands above his head and his rifle slung over his shoulder Roberts began to hobble out of the jungle.

Looking back at his men, he could see the mixture of hope and abject fear in their faces, hope of escape, and fear of failure. His view shifted to the coast where they had been walking, and his face crumpled into a vicious snarl, once they got back to the Empire the Emperor himself would hear of this treachery, and Roberts would personally ask to be in the forefront of the campaign against the treacherous Black Reich.

Genocide, treachery and murder were not the way of the Imperial Dynasty, they were the way of the past…

But war – war was perfectly acceptable...

Capitol Zone in the Imperial City of Corris Marnas – Capital city of the Imperial Dynasty

The New Year was just around the corner, only a few days away to be precise. Around Corris Marnas the streets were buzzing with activity, banners were being placed up for the ceremonial New Years Eve parade, and the T’s were being crossed and I’s were being dotted for the annual government sponsored New Years celebrations that would take place afterwards nationwide, a reward to the people for their hard years work as loyal members of the Imperial Dynasty.

The day’s work had only just began when a report came through to the Emperor’s board-room, Emperor Nicholas Jantine was a well respected and loved emperor, and his social reforms had helped to transform the Imperial Dynasty from the dictatorship rule of its past to its softer (some thought too soft) political basis of ‘majority rule with humane leadership’. Regardless of the hatred of those he had disposed of in the previous leadership he had managed to win the hearts of most of the provinces, with only a few small places being known havens for members of the previous realm.

As he began to sign off on new refugee reforms and allowed for the increase of aide to his decrepit neighbours a familiar face appeared on the INCOMING CALL screen of his holo desk, it was his wife Elizabeth, who helped her husband by doubling as his aide, which meant even when he was home, the Emperor of the nation still had to take his turn to do the washing up...

“Hey honey, you got another messenger from the Imperial Intelligence Service out here in the chamber, says it’s important” his wife said over the vid-link. The Emperor sighed, the last thing he had wanted for the New Years celebrations was ANOTHER visit from the Intelligence Service. Everywhere he looked, he managed to bump into one of their men with another report about some situation that could be a security issue in the future, and he really could not be bothered to listen to another weekly intelligence report right now.

“Don’t they ever have a break?” the Emperor asked, judging by his wifes semi-sarcastic grin the words NOT LIKELY sprung to mind. Sighing a little the Emperor Jantine said “yeah, you’re right E, as usual…” he grinned, “let him in dear, it must be something important if he got this far before they told me about him”

As the door opened and the man quickly stepped into the carpet lined room the jovial atmosphere in the room seemed to dissipate. Even the emperor could sense the tension and haste with which this man had got here. Whatever it was, it was big, and extremely important.

The intelligence man knelt before the emperor, “Lord Emperor, my duty is yours” he said. “Rise good sir” the man arose, and Emperor Jantine continued, “now, formalities aside, what’s happening that’s got Intelligence so flustered that they’d send a man with a briefcase locked to his arm rather than tell me over the wire?”

The intelligence man pulled out a small electronic gadget, “my apologies emperor, I must do this before I speak of my matters”. Quickly sweeping for bugs and other electronic listening devices, the intelligence man, satisfied with his search, opened the briefcase.

The Emperor found himself looking at the face of his chief Intelligence Officer, Grand Marshal Eugene Maxin. “Maxin, a pleasant surprise, how are you my friend?” the Emperor said. Maxin sighed, “Your majesty, we lost contact with an outpost on Albrecht’s Plain a few weeks ago, we presumed it was technical issues. So we sent out a recon team from Fang Grave fortress to check in with them, and well… Nick… we have a situation…” Eugene’s faced looked ragged and tired as he looked up, “a serious situation, the Old Empire is trying to make a comeback”

The Emperor’s heart felt as though it had stopped dead, and time had stood all but still. “Oh dear lord no…”

TWO WEEKS EARLIER – THE DEATH PLAINS OF ALBRECHT’S PLAIN

As another huge dust-storm swept from the silt deserts the men of the loyalist 23rd Imperial Rifles once again donned their gas masks and awaited the all clear to sound. For the last three months they had been overlooking the town of Al-Markhaz from their makeshift base built on the craggy sides of Mount Harkan. Camped outside the city, the 23rd was deep in preparation for New Years celebrations and new years leave. Everyone had been talking about it, and the stories of the possibility of getting a chance for leave in the city itself had risen exponentially when the 23rd’s commanding officer had attained such leeway from high command.

Squad Leader Paul Hemming looked around, with the exception of lacking any significant form of native flora bar the odd cactus, tumbleweed or spinifex grass, and the prodigal level of temperature at any given time of day (a staggering 35 degrees Celsius in shade, 42 in the open) this place was not all that bad. Reminded him a little of some wild-west film scene.

As if to counter argue his personal thoughts a voice said “This place is a shitfight dustbowl, no wonder they’re all so backward thinking here” Hemming turned and looked up to see his friend and fellow Squad Leader Peter Brennan looking at him through his mask, waving to him Hemming walked up a small slope towards him. “True, they’re backward and they think they have some ‘blood-oath’ they never kept, but don’t they realise that Rockmann was an arsehole?”

Brennan shrugged and with a derisive snort said, “obviously not, they venerate him like some kind of god here. Crazy fools think he’ll return to them one day and lead them to a new reign” Brennan grimaced inside his mask, “the Emperor should have wiped out their parents and re-educated them all when we won” he said as they opened the gates for a small armoured expedition preparing to move out and search for wasteland raiders.

Hemming put his hand up on his friends shoulder, “and that Peter, is why you are still leading whelps into combat and watching the survivors go on to be your senior NCO’s… just like me” he said with a grin. “I never liked the whole idea of the implementation program when it came along, but it worked on most people” Brennan said, “except these fellows, and personally I never liked it any better after they told us the locals here are full blown believers of the Blood-Oath”

Hemming nodded… “yeah, sorta makes me wonder what they could do” he said, “Oh, hang on, we got a truck coming up. Hope the guards are doing there job today, things feel different for some reason…” Brennan snorted, “you always say that”, Hemming retorted “yeah, and the last two times it’s saved our asses on both occasions” Brennan snorted again, though more accepting of his defeat, Hemming pushed him in jest, “Anyway Peter, regardless of how crazy they are in their belief, they make great food”

“Pfft…” Brennan grumbled as the truck continued up the road, “you can keep the spicy crap… gives me the runs” he said matter-of-factly. Hemming smiled and jovially pushed Brennan again “smile Paul” he said… he never knew if Paul was going to smile or not as a blinding light filled his vision and he felt himself slammed to the ground…

…

The truck was old, it was antiquated equipment purchased many, many years ago by the Old Empire as part of the modernization process for the people of Albrecht’s Plain. The brakes had all but gone in the vehicle, the floor was a mixture of aluminium roofing, wooden planks and metal sheets, and the engine was good to go on the proviso it was hit with a heavy mechanical wrench during ignition. The old man driving however, was anything but rickety, he was a firm believer, and today he would honour his blood debt in the finest way possible. In his hand he held the trigger that would detonate the surprise in the back of his truck, a massive load of two tons worth of explosive material, secreted away over the years until today, it would be used to strike fear into the enemy of the Old Empire.

He waved to the gaurds as they slowed him down to check his ID, he was a regular at the base, selling his spicy foods to the men for the last few months, and was allowed in without too much of a search (for which he was eternally grateful). Unlike his normal trips however, he turned right instead of left, and put his foot to the floor as he lined up the bases makeshift fuel bunker…

The explosion was catasclysmic beyond all expectations. Unbeknownst to the would be ‘freedom fighter’ terrorists the fuel bunkers had only recently been topped with their fuel allowances, and as such a grand explosion filled the air. The very side of Mount Harkan began to slip as the catasclysmic explosion rocked the very foundations of the mountain. A huge landslide began to take the remains of the base away from the crater of what had once been the semi-permanent Imperial Dynasty base. The armoured column that had began to move out stopped dead in its tracks as its commanders and men watched in a mixture of horror and awe as the land they had been rattling along on moments earlier sank down the side of the hill and came to rest a few hundred metres below. However, up on the hill still stood the prize… the armoury.

Those few moments were all that was needed… themselves awed by what had happened the rebel foot soldiers sprang from their ambush positions and charged the tanks and mechanized infantry. Before anyone could say anything but a cry of surprise the rebels were upon the vehicles, shooting into vehicles with pistols and hunting rifles, trucks became blazing funeral pyres with Molotov cocktail firebombs, any infantry hoping to resist never got a chance as the firebombs were thrown in and they were shot as they disembarked to escape the flames.

As the rebel leader loaded a fresh clip into his hunting rifle he took in the devastation. By being relatively careful, he now had sufficient small arms from the dead soldiers to properly equip his small band and push into the remains of Mount Harkan base…

…

Light, a bright blinding light, then darkness

…

Paul Hemming was back at home, in the pastures of his provincial home of Ardenfield, tending to his parents dairy cows with his father. He had often visited his old house and could easily smell the fresh soil in the churned field beside his parents house… next he found himself in his own six room apartment block in Averdon, his window giving him a superb view of Branton Island off the coast. His wife Celine and his son Marcus both there with him as he look out and sipped a cold drink… the drink tasted off, he sipped again… it was distinctly different, yet he had tasted this before…

It was blood…

The façade disappeared in an instant and Hemming shot up, the smell of churned earth filled his nostrils as he realised he could smell the earth from a massive land-slide triggered by what he assumed was some explosion. He spat the blood from his mouth as he began to feel the pain from his bitten tongue. He looked around for Brennan, and found him sitting quietly against a wall. Brennan stared dumbly in mute shock, the occasional blink letting Hemming know he was alive. “BRENNAN! GET UP!” he yelled, but the ringing in his ears drowned out his own voice and as they struggled to bring themselves back from the stupor of shell-shock they did not hear the all-too-familiar sounds of gunfire popping in the direction of the armoury.

“What… the fuck… was that!” Brennan managed to gasp as he came back to reality and shakily struggled to get up.
Hemming helped him, “I have no idea… but it seems that old Charlie won’t be able to tell us much anyway” mused Paul as his eyes came across a number plate familiar to him from his own stint on guard duty. Brennan just looked at him dumbly then yelled “WHAT!?” Hemming made a quick signal with his hand that stated SHELL SHOCK, and pointed to Brennan.

He shook his head in agreeance then proceeded to hit his head with the palm of his hand, a stupid looking, but ultimately successful tactic that soon gave Brennan his hearing back, even if he had to shake his head a little afterwards. Calmly, Hemming retrieved his FG-42-2 auto rifle, loaded the magazine and cocked the rifle, “well, time to see what exactly happened” he muttered.

A few moments later, Hemming and Brennan watched on as a rabble of people raced towards the armoury, in their hands an assortment of pistols, rifles and other assorted close combat weapons. “Traitorous dogs” Brennan growled, he went to aim his rifle when Hemming stopped him, “too many, we’ll do better up there” he said as he pointed to a gun tower, Brennan nodded and looked about. “Judging by the sounds, we’re still fighting, where’s the radio?”

After a few decent cracks to his helmet with his fist Brennan finally began receiving a radio signal. The vid-link was simply static with the occasional picture of an angry looking section assistant. “SECTION LEADER BRENNAN!” The voice said, “We are under attack by unknown insurgent force, numbers unknown capabilities unknown. Seems to be semi-organised, have a few small arms and the like. And they seem to be trying to get to the armoury!”

“We’re going to lay down some fire from the tower” Brennan said as he and Hemming clambered up the rungs, “can you hold?”

Intense sounds of gunfire filled the vid-link as the trooper on the other end proceeded to empty a full clip of auto-rifle fire into an unseen enemy. The look on his face said everything, “negative sir, too many people, we simply weren’t expecting this! It’s like the whole fucking city is here! We have to take what we can and evacuate to the hills, destroy as much of the rest as we can”

Brennan and Hemming looked at each other and looked out, sure enough, the numbers coming up the hill were prodigious. It was exactly as the section assistant said, the whole city WAS moving towards the base! A chant of “For the Reich! For the Black Death!” filled the air… Hemming and Brennan both growled in hatred… Black Death squadron, the most controversial inclusion into the Imperial Dynasty armed forces, the specialist troops of the Old Empire, now supposedly re-educated in the ways of the Dynasty “Obviously a bit like our blood-oath bound friends and their re-education I presume” Brennan was to say at a later point.

Brennan turned to Hemming “can we contact Fang Grave at all?” Hemming shook his head, “no chance, the uplink’s gone” sure enough, where once stood the communications hut was a new, steeper, slice of hill. Brennan nodded and said “evacuate?”, Hemming nodded in return, “evacuate”.

…

“Until we get further orders, we are to pull back” Brennan said over the link, “set as much as you can for detonation, then make your ways back to Fang Grave Fortress on Mount Carnen. We’ll just have to hope they get someone out here to check on us when we don’t call in.”

The Dynastic Civil War had begun in earnest.

Bump to see if anyone is interested in the melee on offer. Come on, SOMEONE must want to join in!