NationStates Jolt Archive

Port Khûfi, Czardas

"Bring it, bitches."

Commodore John Doe—yes, that really is his name—smirks unpleasantly as his ships begin moving. They are headed upriver, along the mighty Zaïr, the stream dividing Czardas in half. He is leading a battlegroup of destroyers, all of which have been converted into either lightly armored cruisers or arsenal ships. Doe is speaking to a force that is certainly capable of bringing it: the collective armies of the CAD. Not directly, of course. In his mind our hero sees his fleet shelling and missile spamming the hell out of the encroaching Doomingslandi, Warmasterian, Parthian, Freudotopian, Bandurian, Pwnage, and Yurkan fleets, never mind that each armada numbers more than four times the total Czardaian Navy strength or over a hundred times more than his own small battlegroup.

However, Doe does not expect to be alone. According to the Czardaian government, secret communications have been received from nations such as Skinny87, Sarzonia, Kahanistan, Space Union, and other allies of the Concordance—all of whom have pledged aid if the nefarious CAD gets its way, which it has as usual by flaunting its vaunted military might. And the Czardaian National Airforce planes are being brought out of their hangars once more.

Czardas will not take lightly to occupation, and now with allies along for the ride, it won't go quietly either. Not if Commodore Doe has his way, among many other Czardaian military commanders.

The Czardaian Government officials are laying their own plans. Namely, they will flee the country. Whither to is another matter, and the general consensus (as if) is that Czardaian officials will request asylum from several strategically selected countries and stay in the safest one that responds.

The Czardaian people themselves are not planning to depart. The vast majority are united in their hatred for the CAD. But, as usual, nothing in Czardas can or will ever be unilateral.

Dorándor, Czardas

The man is wearing a trenchcoat and dark felt hat that covers his face entirely. In the nightly streets of Czardas's largest right-wing Catholic city, this gives him a shadowlike aspect, and he slips into a dingy alley virtually unnoticed. Reaching a rickety abandoned building, he emits a short, low whistle, and the door creaks open, revealing nothing more than the silhouette of another man and a pair of eyes.

"Yevgeny? Ah yes, it is you after all," the occupant says in a voice reminding one far more of Bilbo Baggins than a sinister man residing in an abandoned house in a dingy alley.

"Yes, it is I," the other man whispers. "What did you want?"

"Here," Bilbo Baggins of the Dingy Alley thrusts a dossier into the newcomer's gloved hand. "Deliver this to the Doomies at all costs. *yawn* And thanks."

"An kukkês," Yevgeny answers. The door shuts and silence reigns once more as Yevgeny vanishes into the darkness.

Parliament House, Dowland City

The doors to the King's office swung inwards, scraping on the thin carpet that had recently been installed. Alexander I, Monarch of the Grand Monarchy, looked up from his desk, pen in hand. Secretary of Defense Paul Hoover walked up to the desk and saluted formally. Alexander frowned; Hoover wasn't usually so formal about such affairs - they had known each other for years before becoming Monarch and Secretary of Defense respectively. Then he noticed the black-edged folder in Hoover's right hand and suddenly realised that this was no normal situation. He returned the salute and then motioned to Hoover to sit down on one of the chairs in front of the large oak desk. Hoover sat down and placed the folder on Alexander's desk, then sat silently.

Alexander flipped open the file and scanned through the reports inside it. He nodded a few times and grunted, then closed it again. He stared at Hoover for a second before talking. "So, negotiations have broken down then?" he asked Hoover.

Hoover smiled grimly. "As if they were ever going to get anywhere. The CAD nation's are far too stubborn and reckless to do anything but blow stuff up. It's their weakness really."

Alexander opened the file again and picked up a situational tactical report, held it up to the fast fading light in the office. "I have the report here Paul, but I want to here it from you. What assets do we have ready to help the Czardas forces?"

Hoover moved in the seat slightly, then began outlining the military situation in Czardas to Alexander. "As you know, sir, the First, Third and Fifth Carrier Fleets, led by the SDs Invincible and Courageous are already enroute and should arrive off the Czardian coast within the hour. They have with them the 23rd Marine Brigade alongside a Mechanical Company."

Alexander frowned. "Paul, this is a major conflict the country will be going into. A Brigade and a company is hardly enough, is it now?"

Hoover nodded again. "Sir, we've mobilised the rest of the fleets and are loading on more than a dozen Armoured and Infantry Divisions to be shipped into Czardas via RORO fleets as we speak. However, they'll take a few days to finally ship up and get to the warzone. The RSF has been fully deployed and is ready to engage CAD targets in orbit, so we're fully mobilised there. However, we do have some unexpected help in ground forces terms."

Alexander leaned forward slightly, surprise etched on his face. "Really? From where, exactly?"

"I met with Major-General Yarmouth an hour ago, Your Majesty. He formally requested that the International Brigades be deployed into Czardian territory immediately. Their transports are already off the Czardian coast, near Port Khufi, I believe. Some eighteen thousand troops, fully equipped with the best equipment we could provide - off the records, off course, and fully trained. All volunteers, but they're our best chance at the moment, supported by the 23rd and their support units."

Alexander smiled. "Ah, Timothy Yarmouth. I always did like the man, especially after Chatham. It was his tactic that broke the Loyalist lines, of course - won us the battle we so desperately needed." He nodded once. "Send in the 23rd and the International Brigades immediately, and begin shipping weapons and supplies into Port Khufi - the Czardas forces will need all the equipment they can get."

It was Hoover's turn to smile slightly. "They're already on the way sir, and should begin offloading within a few hours. I've also drafted a letter to be sent to the Community about the deployment." He passed a neatly typed memorandum to Alexander, who took it with a smirk. Alexander looked at Hoover as he moved out of the office to prepare for the conflict. "You should be careful Paul - people will think you're vying for my job..."



From: King Alexander I, Grand Monarchy of Skinny87
To: All nations concerned with the Occupation of Czardas

As a member of the Woodstock Pact, it is with the greatest concern that I have followed the despicable events that have occured in Czardas and the illegal occupation of much of that sovereign country by the CAD forces. Thus, I have decided to deploy the entire armed forces of this nation in the defence of the government and people of Czardas, to liberate them from the vile occupation of these CAD forces.

May god have mercy on their souls


OOC: Info on Int'l Brigades to be found here: http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=10521674&postcount=11

OOC: Here we go again.

Commodore Doe is the first one to receive the orders. His eyes narrow as he looks at the screen. Then he calls over his first mate.

"Looks like we have some transport vessels and fleets incoming, Port Khûfi. Get Anjuki on it, willya?"

"Yes, sir!" The first mate contacts Commodore Hayatamo Anjuki, commander of the Third Destroyer Battlegroup at Port Khûfi.

"Commodore, would you mind escorting a few allied ships into port? They're from Skinny87, some one hundred nautical miles off the coast."

"All right, thanks." At the mouth of the river, Anjuki gives his own orders and the squadron of some 18 assorted converted destroyers begins moving towards the Skinnian (?) transports, the Carrier Fleets, and everything else off the coast at Port Khûfi, escorting them back to the docks at some 20 knots. The docks themselves are a hive of activity as Czardaians prepare the area for the much larger naval force about to arrive, and unload the troops onto Czardaian soil...

Port Khûfi Island is one of the largest joint naval bases in Czardas, capable of housing thousands of troops and equipped with several defense systems, the largest of which is the CAMERA installments. Currently over 50,000 Czardaian troops are based in the area. Many more have been deployed to outside Czarna. Nonetheless, a better-trained and equipped fighting force, of whatever size, would be appreciated by the wearied Czardaians.

Formal resistance is about to begin.

[OOC: Let's work out some details before we get too heavily involved. For starters, NO NUKES.]

The sun was trying to poke through the clouds on an overcast day in Woodstock. President Mike Sarzo was out of the country in an effort to negotiate agreements with Scandavian States about an economic relief package that would help Sarzonia's recovery from the Panic of 2006 (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=465198). That meant Lieutenant President Nicole Lewis was in charge and it was looking more and more likely that she would lead her nation into conflict.

She had just landed at Nicksia Harbour and went through the extensive security checks as the nation was mobilised for war. The Fifth and Sixth Fleets were assembing at the Harbour and their flag bearer, Admiral Tom Goughan was awaiting official word of his orders. He noticed Lewis walking toward him and waited as Lewis's brisk pace came to a halt in front of him.

"Admiral, I have your orders," Lewis said. "You are to command Task Force Alpha, consisting of the Fifth and Sixth Fleets. The Fifth Fleet's task is to prevent MassPwnage from interdiction in what is becoming the Czardas Theatre. The Sixth Fleet's mission is to land the Incorporated Sarzonian Army and the Naval Infantry to support Czardian armed resistance. Task Force Beta will be under Admiral of the Navy Stephen Marcus and he'll have overall command of Sarzonian naval operations. Any questions?"

"Has there been a declaration of war? Do we have authorisation to shoot first?"

"Parliament has not tendered a declaration of war to my knowledge. President Sarzo has not asked for one yet, though it's possible it's coming. As for shooting first, Naval Command will apprise you. If communications are somehow cut off, you're on your own."

"Understood."

"Good luck Admiral."

"Thank you Madame Lieutenant President." Goughan saluted, then turned to board his flagship, the ISS Praetonia. The massive Vigilant class Trimaran command battleship cut an imposing figure, almost as much as the ship she was built to compete against, the Doujin. Other large capital ships would take part in Task Force Alpha, along with the requisite escort vessels and logistics ships. The Sixth Fleet also included the 11th Littoral Combat Division with warships selected for the firepower they could bring to a littoral combat zone.

****************************************

Goughan was greeted with a boatswain's whistle as soon as he crossed the threshold onto the bridge.

"Admiral on the bridge!"

"As you were."

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began. "Our orders are two fold: One, we are to prevent the interdiction of Pwnage fleets in the Czardas theatre. Two, we are to provide littoral combat support for Czardian and allied forces. We're going to run standard CAPs [OOC: Combat Air Patrols] after we get underway and accelerate them the closer we get to theatre. We need to have our EWACS birds in the air at all times and we'll do well to have ASW patrols."

"Sir, yes sir!"

"Captain, notify me when the fleet is ready to get underway."

"Aye, sir." Goughan then tapped the intercom from his command chair.

"All hands, this is the admiral. We're preparing to get underway as soon as the rest of the fleet is ready. It'll be up to us to defend our Czardian brethren from those CAD scumbags. Remember, we're fighting for freedom and democracy, but we're also fighting for our nation's honour and that of the Woodstock Pact. It's payback time."

"Sir, the fleet reports ready."

"Helmsman, start your engines."

"Aye, sir," the helmsman replied. The ISS Praetonia's nuclear reactors began their hum as they came to life and began propelling the warship and its accompanying fleet toward history.

Goughan studied available intelligence of the Pwnage fleet assets and began to form a strategy in his mind for whipping CAD's preeminent naval power. The end game had begun.

Governor Connie Chung had been in conference for nearly eight hours with various advisors, cabinet members and military specialists. The news from Ollieland's other Woodstock members was grave. Skinny 87 had troops and ships en-route to Czardes already, the Sarzonians were mobilising and the rest of the pact was on the verge of doing the same. There were no specific pact terms which meant Ollieland had to join in, but the very essence of the confllict, the protection of peoples self determinaton, demanded an Ollish presence. After deep thought and discussion, the Governor finally issued Governor's Order Number One to the joint chiefs, and then composed a press release for the rest of the world.

Press Release to World's Press from the Government of the Colony of Ollieland

It is with great regret we have observed the recent events in the nation of Czardes. The behaviour of the CAD nations, both on the the battlefield and in the negotiation hall, has been deplorable and against every moral and ideal that we hold dear in Ollieland. We will stand steadfast, both diplomatically and militarily, with our Woodstock allies and warn all CAD nations that they must allow Czardes COMPLETE self determination or they will suffer the consequences. Ollieland and the rest of the Woodstock Pact will not hold back in our quest to liberate Czardes and allow her people the righ to choose their own way. CAD nations are hereby warned that we are sending military forces to Czardes. Any attack on them by CAD troops, warships or warplanes will be returned and considered an act of war. Do not think we do not have the stomach for this fight. We are prepared, determined and willing to se any conflict through to the bitter end.

Governor's Order Number One - Issued to the 17 members of the War Cabinet, the 5 Provincial Premiers, the Mayors of Oliver City and Blofeld Bay and all upper echelon military and police officers

1 - All military forces in the regular armed forces are hereby mobililsed. This includes all units of the Colonial Marine Corps, the Colonial Navy, the Colonial Air Force and the Army of Ollieland.

2 - All members of the Colonial Police Force are to report for war duties. Law enforcement duties will be taken up by local police forces.

3 - The first 2 echelons of the Civil Guard are to be called up for duty (approx 10 million men)

Immediate Military dispositions are as follows

1 - For immediate deployment to Czardes
- 1st - 10th army Airborne Divisions (120,000 men)
- 1st Colonial Marine Corps Assault Division (12,000 men)
- Colonial Marine Corps Airborne Division (12,000 men)
- Colonial Marine Corps Commando Regiment (4,0000 men)
- Foreign Legion Assault Regiment (4,000 men)
- 1st - 3rd Colonial Air Force Transport Sections
- Colonial Navy 1st, 4th, 11th, 12th, 13th and 14th Battle Groups (headed by 2 SDs and 4 Battleships)
- Colonial Navy 1st - 12th Air Carrier Groups
- Colonial Navy 1st - 6th Amphibious Assault Groups
- Elements of the Colonial Navy Science & Medical Group, Auxillary Replen Group and Submarine Warfare Group

2 - Units for Home Defence
- Colonial Police and Civil Guard Units
- Colonial Air Force 1st - 10th Provincial Combat Sections
- Colonial Air Force 1st - 6th Home Defence Sections
- Colonial Navy Coast Guard
- Colonial Navy 21st - 30th Battle Groups
- Elements of the Colonial Navy Submarine Warfare Group

3 - Units designated for "other" missions
- All other army units
- All other Colonial Navy units
- All other Colonial Air Force units

**************************************************

Grand Admiral William Hurley stared at the orders again after leaving a tired Governor in the Oblong Office. This was serious. She was asking for every available warship in the fleet and then some. This was to be the biggest Ollish deployment ever. He didn't relish it.

**************************************************

Grand Air Marshall Chris Covington was also reading the orders, although his mind was moving mush faster. It was the Air Force that was the primary protector of the homeland.

As soon as he reached his office he got on the secure hotline to the National Defence Centre. Air Marshall Bob Carruithers picked up the phone at the other end, ensconced in his hideaway 250 feet underground.

"Carruthers here....yes sir I just read the telex", he looked up at his men running from computer terminal to terminal, swathed in artificial red light, "yes sir SkyNet is fully operational, the homeland is safe...... yes sir, thankyou sir". He replaced the reciever in its cradle and looked round. Everyone had stopped and was staring at him. "Alright, people, we have a job to do, this is waht you've been trained for so lets do it..."

************************************************

Pete Rogers caught the rope from the docker as he swung it at him, and he acknowledged the thanks. Rogers had joined the Foreign Legion 4 years ago after losing his job at the Portland Iron Works. Being Sarzonian and an ex-PIW employee, his new bosses had naturally put him into the Naval Battalion, part of the Foreign Legions Assault Regiment. Well, he was thinking, I might even meet some fellow Sarzonians on this mission....

OOC - Can someone let us know exactly what areas of Czardes under whos control?

[ooc:] The eastern half of Czardas and the Zaïr River, including everything from Port Khûfi and Mariosz through Czarna to Adarion, remain under Czardaian control. Doomingsland is attempting to claim the area around Dorándor (right-wing Catholic majority, may support a Doomingslandi regime); Banduria the north coast; The Warmaster maintains a significant military presence just north of Czarna, including the Aurdania spit all the way to the mountains. Parthia is landing troops in the south. Overall the Czardaian coast is guarded by fleets numbering something like 7,000 combat ships and over 20,000 combat aircrafts from the CAD nations, and Pwnage reinforcements are expected soon.

(See the map in my Invader's Guide, in sig.)

Czardes can't find you on the world database in nationstates. Whats the full name of your nation so I can TG you?

I've set up an OOC thread for force compositions, disputes, discussions, etc.: here (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=473379)

It's Czardas (with an A).

Thanks for the OOC thread, Omz.

Port Khufi

Major-General Timothy Yarmouth crouched down to a paving stone and scraped a match along the flat stone. The top of the match crackled and began to burn fiercely; satisfied with the flame, Yarmouth stood up again and lit the cigarillo resting in his mouth. The end grew a bright cherry red and he inhaled slowly, favouring the sweet but harsh smoke of the cigarillo, before turning back to the ships he had been watching. The Port was in a state of organised chaos as the International Brigades had arrived in the assembled transports and ROROs, sailing in and then tying up. There were hundreds of vessels, ranging from tiny landing craft that ferried groups of volunteer soldiers to the shore to the massive RORO vessels that contained the majority of the vehicles and equipment that the six Brigades would use in the coming campaign.

Cigarillo happily burning away, Yarmouth turned to his aide-de-camp, Lieutenant-Colonel Michael Green. A short, stocky man, Green had served in the Civil War as a fighter pilot before retiring, only to be snapped up by Yarmouth as an aide for the coming campaign. He offered Yarmouth a clipboard that contained an overwhelming amount of paperwork, but Yarmouth took it anyway and began flipping through the paper. He nodded a few times and grunted once, then handed back the clipboard to Green. He pulled the Cigarillo from his mouth and blew a ragged ring of smoke into the air before suddenly patting his pockets. He quickly drew out a thin, battered cigar case and expertly flipped it open with one hand. "Awful absent minded of me not to offer you one Michael, I am sorry. Will you take one?"

Green hesitated for a second. He wasn't a smoker by preference, but he knew Yarmouth was trying to make up for seeming to be rude. He picked one of the cigarillos and placed it in his breast pocket. "I'll save it for later General, but thank-you. Just to confirm what's in that heap of papers sir, the First and Second Brigades are fully assembled just outside the Port, and the armoured and mechanical units have mounted up. Third and Fourth should take another four to six hours to completely assemble, but the last two are having equipment problems and won't assemble before nightfall at best."

Yarmouth scowled at the problem, but then set his face again. Even the best of plans went awry somehow, and he should be glad it wasn't something more serious. He nodded in thanks to Green, then snapped his fingers. "What about air support, Michael? Have those damned frogfoots from the Carrier's responded yet?"

Green tried to hide a smile, but couldn't entirely. Yarmouth may have been rude, but he had an undeniably entertaining eccentricity at times. Regaining his composure, he replied. "Yes sir, they have. The Communication HQ has set up the usual links to the Carrier Groups, and we'll have air support when requested. Our own air assests should be unloaded by midnight as well, but the SAM and ASAM Batteries are already set up around the port to provide more security, and the Sapper Corp companies are helping shore up the defences to make sure we don't have any unexpected visitors."

Yarmouth said nothing, and for a moment Green suspected he hadn't heard him. However, Yarmouth suddenly snapped into action. "That's grand news, Michael - thank the crews of the transports for their hard work in unloading the equipment and troops. But now we have more important things to be doing - we have to get to the First Brigade and find a Czardian liason officer." Before Green could react, Yarmouth was moving swiftly towards a Champion MBT that had just started it's engine. Yarmouth jumped up onto the turret ring with a spring that belied his advanced years and began speaking to the exposed Commander of the vehicles. The man listened intently for a second over the racket of the engine, then nodded. Yarmouth grinned and tapped the man on the shoulder, then waved to Green to join him. Green climbed onto the tank and tried to balance on an ammunition box, but the tank immediately began moving. It was only Yarmouth grabbing his jacket that stopped him from falling off of the tank; he balanced himself again and thanked the General, before sighing unheard over the noise. Once again they were off into battle...

War Declared!
'There shall be no Czardaian Vichy' says Foreign Secretary

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v387/Praetonia/GF.png
For the first time in twenty years, the Grand Fleets of the Imperial Navy are amassing as one body.
___________________
From 'The Parliamentarian'
Page 1

'In the name of His Majesty King Sarius I of Praetonia and Her Dominions Beyond the Seas, I hearby declare that a state of war now exists between the aforementioned and any and all powers currently in unrecognised occupation of Greater Czardia. We look to the noble men and women of our gallant armed forces in these darkened times to protect the principles of liberty and the rule of law upon which our great society is founded, and in accordance with which we have enjoyed the fruits of the prosperity of peace. May providence bring victory swift and absolute. Ius et libertas. God Save the King.'

As the turmoil of the world rages in far-away Czardas, the Prime Minister's words echoed harshly from the wood-pannelled walls of the House of Commons. As the Declaration of War was read, the full host of Members filled the chamber and listened in an eerie, unnatural silence. As Sir Tiberius drew his speech to a close, an echo of 'God Save the King' was audible even from the benches of the Communist League. Outside, the assembled crowds watching the proceedings on large screens echoed his final words too, then bowed their heads or clapped lightly.

The enormity of the week's events have only started to fully sink in. As the Territorial Army is mobolised en-masse, the Home Guard is raised to the status of Full Ready Reserve and the Regular Army is being moved into a programme of massive exrcises on Broadmoor, people doing their shopping on the High Street are still coming to terms with the sandbag constructs being hastily errected around the entrances to buildings and even around phonebooths. The Navy is being moved as a whole to rendezvous with the Sarzonian fleet as a unified body for the first time in twenty years. It will be the largest single fleet deployment Praetonia has ever undertaken.

The events leading up to today's announcement have their roots in an invasion of Czardas that occurred some time ago but which was allowed to simmer, unattended, beneath the surface. Imperial Monarchist Party leader, Lord Locknull, believes that 'too little is being done too late.' Speaking in a radio broadcast this morning, he stated that 'the Liberal Democracies of the world have failed to carry out their duty to uphold the rule of law and the right of the people to absolute ownership of their own states'. His Grace has accepted an appointment to the Prime Minister's new Victory Cabinet, consisting of the Liberal-Tory and Imperial Monarchist Parties, as Minister of War.

As Lord Darwold, Foreign Secretary and Deputy Chairman of the Liberal-Tory Party, stepped off the plane from the abortive peace-talks in Czardas yesterday, he looked sombre in a black suit, bowler hate, grey waistcoat and tie. To the reporters and flag-waving well-wishers who greeted him on the tarmack, he said only that "There shall be no Czardaian Vichy State in my lifetime." It appears clear that the Victory Cabinet is unwilling to compromise further, after offering and having turned down a deal planned in secret whereby Czardas would even be made to pay reparations and dismantle defences in return for a complete restoral of sovereignty.

A statement on behalf of the War Office was released at the same time as the Prime Minister's declaration. In it, the Government declared its 'absolute intent to derail the progress of the cancerous spread of tyranny across the globe.' It further stated that 'There shall be no retreat from his Great Mission that the Free States find themselves confronted with. No retreat from the simple truth that if what is happening in Czardas is allowed to go ahead, there is no safety for the Praetonian Commonwealth. No safety for the Sarzonian States. No safety for the Neilander Monarchy. Without victory, there is nothing left but defeat.'

All over Ollieland units from the Airborne Rapid Reaction Force were springing into action. The airstrips thundered as countless SZ-17 Galaxy transport aircraft took off. From the zepp fields across the nation over 1400 airships of different shapes and sizes rose silently into the air. They carried 140,000 airborne troops itching for combat.

Air Armada
Galaxy Transports - 776
Eagle Airships (of different configs) - 289
Sparrow Airships (of different configs) - 100
Albatross Airships (of different configs) - 123
All protected by 132 Eagle Air Supremacy Airships

OFFICIAL DIPLOMATIC COMMUNIQUE:

To all allies of Czardas:

The Imperium condemns your actions. You have destroyed a legitimate peace conference, thus voiding the deaths of 25,000 people to secure that conference. At the moment, the Imperium will not attack your respective homelands; it will be your task to attack us, and the world will see your face when such peace-loving nations throw the world into war. War has been resumed with Czardas, and if Praetonian forces attack CAD allies, then I can promise you there will be war with Praetonia as well.

His Divine Majesty Sacred Emperor Lucifer of Domain Halcyon

By Order of Parliament
In accordance with art.29 ss.1 and art.36 of the Constitution Act, 1986, the King-in-Parliament in closed session has issued an order for the total mobilisation of the Defence Forces. All Regular Forces personnel currently on leave are to return to base, all Ready Reserve personnel to receive orders from their respective units, and all Supplementary Reserve personnel to attend the closest barracks or base to them.

The country is now on high alert, the War Measures Act, 1933 is presently in effect. Any actions taken against His Majesty's Government, the King's fellow Isselmere-Nielanders, or allies of His Majesty shall be considered acts of war that shall receive a full response.

"We expect each and every one of you to do your duty, to perform as you have been trained and for justice to prevail. There shall be no question of surrender," His Majesty has declared.

God save the King!

The International Brigades continue to pour into Port Khûfi like cement from a ... well, a cement truck. The chief overseer, a Capt. Kaunas of the 7th Special Operative Division, watches as more and more ships come in to land, disgorging portions of the Skinnian brigades into the port city. Kaunas watches from one of the many buildings in the area as a Lieutenant rushes up and taps him on the shoulder.

"What?" Kaunas turns around with some alarm.

"The commanders of this delightful company are in a tank downstairs, requesting to speak with you."

"Damn. They couldn't have driven up, I suppose?" This is an in-joke relating to the Czardaian Scorpion II, a light tank that can sprout legs to climb over rough terrain, then reverting to traditional treads or wheels in more viable areas. Kaunas follows the Lieutenant downstairs to the tank and extends a hand to the Skinny87 commander.

"I'm the principal overseer for Port Khûfi, Cpt. Mercuri Kaunas... Welcome."

Grand Monarchy Broadcasting Service

'This is the evening news, and this is John Simmonds. The GMBS apologises for interrupting your regularly scheduled radiocasts, but a newsflash has just been recieved from the Grey House and the Department of Defense. At 2100 Hours, approximately thirty seconds from now, King Alexander will address the nation about the Czardian crisis.

Yes...yes...We have the King's broadcast now, coming live from the Combined Parliament Chambers deep within Parliament House...'

"My fellow citizens of the Grand Monarchy. Our recent history has not been an easy one. Less than a decade ago, this country suffered a Civil War that we have yet to fully recover from - if not economically and militarily, then socially and psychologically. However, we have made great strides since the end of that devestating period, and I am proud to be the leader of such a fine people.

It is with great sorrow, then, that I must come to you all with this grevious news. A great ally of the Grand Monarchy and the Woodstock Pact, the Undivided Libertarian Lands of Czardas, has been ripped usunder by the malicious attacks of a group of thoroughly evil and reprehensible nations. These nations have invaded Czardas and divided her sacred lands between them, killing millions in the process and violating her rights as a sovereign nation

Thus, as Monarch of Skinny87, I have declared a state of war to exist between this nation and those nations who would dare to try and destroy Czardas. It is not an act that I wished to create, and I must assure you that all other diplomatic routes were taken before this weighty decision was taken by myself and my Cabinet. The CAD nations refused to negotiate even one iota, much to my sincere displeasure.

We are now at a state of war. The Armed Forces have been mobilised, and the Territorial Army will be activated very shortly. These actions may seem extreme, but I must impress upon you the urgency of these actions, and the meaning behind this conflict. Should the Grand Monarchy and her allies lose this conflict, then not only this country but the whole of Haven, and indeed the planet will be in danger of being conquered by these forces of evil. Should Czardas fall today, Haven would fall within a week and this country would be occupied within a month.

I hope that I have sufficently impressed upon you all the urgency of this situation, and the consequences stemming from a loss in this conflict. I shall end by stating that this country will ultimately triumph over the forces of evil, and Czardas will once again be a free and Sovereign nationstates. God Bless the Grand Monarchy."

That was His Majesty Alexander I. We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming...

Foreign and Commonwealth Office Official Clarification
Rg: The Warmaster PUBLIC

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v387/Praetonia/Praeflag-Smalll.png

Sir,

With regard to your message of the 16th --

I believe that your facts are somewhat behind the times. You refer in your letter to a possible declaration of war on the part of either yourself or the C.A.D. I am sorry to have to inform you that a state of war already currently exists between the Democratic Imperium of Praetonia & Her Dominions Beyond the Seas (hereafter referred to as the 'Praetonian Commonwealth') and The Warmaster, as well as all other nations currently occupying Czardas, and therefore your threats of war have become somewhat irrelevent.

We recognise neither your presense there nor your right to remove a democratically elected government externally of the wishes of the people of the aforementioned Realm as leigitimate, and His Majesty's Government shall not treat them as such. It is the belief of His Majesty's Government that any government that would seek to protect the sovereignty of a foreign tyranny imposed upon an already perfectly well represented state above the rights and wishes of that state and its people is most unfortunately deluded and certainly not any authority on matters of legality.

Unlike your good selves, the people and state of the Praetonian Commonwealth are of the view that certain aspects of society, such as liberty, the rule of law and representative government transcend issues of maintenance of balance and peace. If it is true that the government and state of The Warmaster has such a strong belief in pacifism above all else as you purport, then any sane individual would question why you ever prosecuted a war against Czardas in the first place.

If you have any further questions concerning Praetonian foreign policy then please refer said questions to the Office of the Lord Chancellor.

Yours,

Sir George Mannerheim,
Permanent Secretary of the Office of the Lord Chancellor

~~~~~~~~~~~~
Official Statement of the Provisional Czardaian Government
To: Isselmere-Nieland, Skinny87, Praetonia, Sarzonia, Ollieland

We thank you for your support in these dark times. The world must be rid of such dictatorships as would endanger all by refusing to listen to reason and diplomacy—the original purpose for which we began this conflict. And, if you'll allow me to misquote old movies, something I tend to do often: We started this and we're going to damn well finish it! And with the aid of such peace-loving and honorable nations as yours, we will be able to do so. On behalf of the Concordance I send you our greetings, and wish you as pleasant a day as possible given the extenuating circumstances.

~ Kari Alhoun, Czardaian Foreign Minister
~~~~~~~~~~~~

Official Statement
Incorporated Sarzonian Government

The Incorporated Sarzonian Government dismisses as laughable the claims by Emporer Lucifer of The Warmaster. It is not the allies of Czardas who have destroyed the so-called peace conference, it is you. Our nation and those allied to Czardas were willing to negotiate a reasonable peace with the CAD. Let the record show that the CAD made no attempts to negotiate said peace.

By authorisation of the House of Delegates and the Senate and by official affirmation by President Mike Sarzo, I hereby announce that the Incorporated States of Sarzonia declares a state of war against The Warmaster and her allies. Your nation had an opportunity to avoid further bloodshed; however, it appears that you have chosen unwisely.

Let it be known that should you come crawling to us for surrender terms, which you will eventually do, make no mistake, we will be nowhere near as generous as we would have been had you shown you truly value peace.

Nicole J. Lewis
Lieutenant President
Incorporated States of Sarzonia

MP Central Command:

"Hmm... most likely, the Sarzonians, Nielanders and Omzians are going to put together a naval task force. A large one as well."

Defense Minister (and Semi-Minister of Being Really F*cking Sneaky) Marcel Han pointed at various areas on the map of Czardas displaying area CAD military assets and place the Woodstock Pact might bring forces in from. He was doing the pointing with a stylus on a PDA that moved a cursor on the display around

"Now, our goal is make sure that the Woodstock Pact cannot isolate our allies inside Czardas, and make sure than the Czardians cannot split the various contingents inside their nation apart; the first goal is more important because I'm pretty damn sure that the Doomies and crew can handle themselves quite well."

The cursor moved to highlight how much of Czardas the natives controlled.

"Now", continued Marcel, "the Czardian controlled area appears to be rather heavily fortified, although our spy satellites detect nothing. A reasonable guess would point towards the direction of hidden, or buried weapons arrays, such as those on our own shores, or those that we found in Kahanistan. That means we need to bring along a few thousand of our bunker busting shells as soon as we manage to get in range."

"Marcel, we might not be able to get in range, and even if we could, it wouldn't be the best for us" said a woman in a naval dress uniform.

"Well Becky, what do you propose?"

"We deploy in the open ocean, far away from the coastline. The Woodstock Pact outnumbers the rest of the CAD navies 3:1 with better ships. On average, our ships and crews of a higher quality than WP, but they have the advantage in numbers and direction of attack. If we spread our ships out, we run the risk being divided and cut to pieces. We have to lie in wait until they come for the other CAD forces, then move in fast to cut them off. They're going to have a lot of hulls in the water, so that means we're going to have to mobilize a great deal of our resources as well. I'm suggesting AT LEAST two Fleet Groups."

"Becky, I don't think we can spare that much.... Hell, for all we know, they could turn around at any time to invade us while the bulk of our forces are out."

"Good point Marcel, but anything less and everyone else just gets swamped."

"Well, maybe we can ask the other CAD navies to contribute more hulls."

"We more or less get empty promises every time that happens.... How much leverage does our government have with the other CAD nations."

"I'm not sure, I'm guessing plenty, although the Doomies aren't really inclined to listen to us. I'll talk with Li...."

"You'd better. If you can't give me two reinforced Fleet Groups, what can you give me right now?"

"The 5th Fleet Group, reinforced by a couple of area defense Battle Groups and independent fleets. And I'll see if I can get construction units into areas held by friendlies." Marcel nodded towards the bulky man in an Army Uniform.

"That'll do for now then Marcel..." Rebecca turned around and walked out of the room, there were forces to deploy....

~*~*~
Finding the Great Leader Li as high as a kite in his office, Marcel took it upon himself to type out a message.

To: The CAD
From: MassPwnage
Re: Strategy.
Attachments: stratanalysis.sap

We have a problem on our hands. Essentially, the Woodstock Pact has the advantage over us. For more details, read the strategic analysis (ooc: essentially what was covered the above conversation) insert included in the attachment.

Port Khûfi

The Champion MBT moved off, tracks grinding into the concrete surface and engine rumbling loudly even over the combined noise of the Port itself. Yarmouth and Green had climbed off of the tank after Yarmouth had thanked the Commander and were now moving quickly towards what hopefully appeared to be the office of the Czardian Liason Officer. Yarmouth moved ahead, setting a pace that Green found difficult to keep up with despite being in excellent health. As the two men dodged a jeep that raced past them, full of Volunteer Soldiers, Green realised that Yarmouth must be excited at the prospect of action. He frowned slightly; hopefully Yarmouth would keep his eccentricities to himself and not do anything in the field that would risk the campaign.

Before he could worry himself any more, Green saw Yarmouth stop near the building and salute a Czardian officer who had just come out of the building. He hurried to catch up and arrived just as Yarmouth introduced himself to the man. "The name's Yarmouth, Major General Timothy Yarmouth. I'm the Commander of the International Brigades and attatched units." He saluted the officer, then beamed and pulled out the same battered cigarillo box and flipped it open. He produced one of the cigars and placed it in the mans hand before he could even protest, then continued on talking. "The best damn smoke this side of Haven, Captain Kaunas, and don't you disbelieve me, sir. Now then, onto serious business. My aide here, Lieutenant Colonel Green, tells me that we have two Brigades fully assembled at the moment, and the rest should be operational by Ten O'Clock at the latest."

Green moved forward to protest, but Yarmouth turned to him and nodded. Realising that he would have to simply get the vessel crews to work double shifts to finish at the stated time, Green simply grimaced slightly and nodded in agreement. "That's about correct General. Perhaps I should explain the rest to the Captain, sir?" Yarmouth nodded and attended to his Cigarillo, the end having gone out again. Green faced Kaunas. "Where do you need our forces, Captain? We're ready to go, and we have air support from the Carriers present off of the coast, as well as more units being flown and sailed in all the time. Do you also have any idea where the nearest enemy units are located?"

The Imperial war armada, near on two thousand combat vessels, lay a slumbering dragon in northern Czardaian waters. However, that status would not last long.

Grand Admiral Nausicus returned from the negotiations in a state of royal dudgeon. The Czardaians and their foolish allies had refused the very generous Bandurian terms, and had to be subjected to the alternative: namely, taking the nation by force. In most cases the Imperial Navy would simply missile-spam the country with NBC weapons, much like in Nueve Italia, but Doomingslandi orders were to secure the country for the CAD, and the Imperial forces were prepared to do nothing less.

Upon arriving on the deck of the HIS Decius Aurelius, flagship of the Imperial Navy, Nausicus said only, "Get me a direct secured line to Duheyev. Now."

Archon Antonin Duheyev was by far the most sadistic, ruthless, and twisted of the Bandurian military commanders. Only sons of noble families, such as Nausicus himself, were allowed to speak to Duheyev in a casual manner... He commanded a fleet group of 800 ships, stationed on a base some three thousand kilometres north of Czardas, but nonetheless quite prepared to reinforce Nausicus's position in Czardas at a moment's notice.

Once the line was established and Duheyev's lean hawklike features had appeared on the display, Nausicus wasted no time.

"As you probably know, negotiations failed and we're back at war with Czardas as we were before."

"And...?" Duheyev's voice was faintly sinister and insinuating.

"This time those godless anarchists have a host of allies backing them up, so we might need your support over in Czardas."

"Which allies might those be?"

Nausicus named the nations that had already declared war on the CAD members.

"...And that's all? Dear, dear. I wish you'd actually call me for important things in the future."

"I thought you might like to know," Nausicus explained, his throat dry. "Overall, they're easily capable of mobilising naval forces exceeding the Imperium's own in size, although not necessarily in quality. However, we will have support from the Warmasterians themselves, along with Parthia, MassPwnage, and Doomingsland."

"Very well. You can expect my reinforcements within two days," Duheyev said gravely in his rattling voice, and shut the link.

For a while Nausicus stared at the blank screen as aides looked on questioningly. Then, with surprising suddenness, he whirled on them.

"What the fuck are you staring at, idiots?! Battle stations! The war is on!!!"

The nuclear reactors of the fleet swiftly powered up and it began to move in towards the Czardaian coast, specifically around Tyriandor, to secure the northern part of Czardas as Imperial territory. Already the ships were beginning to bombard the city.

The massive twenty 27" guns of the Decius Aurelius turned their full destructive power on the city proper and the command centre outside it, accompanied by the roars of twenty 24" guns on each of the four other Super Dreadnaughts in the fleet. Volley after volley of 100 rocket-assisted shells exploded from the main guns of the ships. Meanwhile, VLS systems across the fleet opened up with ASROC-style missile-launched torpedoes, carrying large blast radius warheads. Over 10,000 of these sea-skimmed towards Tyriandor, then breaking off as the torpedo descended to explode near the CAMERA launchers underwater, hopefully destroying or at least disabling them. Imperial ships began moving in towards the coast, hoping to secure a beachhead with the Legions and deposit the cargo of the transport ships in order to be able to engage the Woodstock Pact forces more easily and readily.

The war was on once more.

Secure Conference Room, Bunker, Ministry of National Defence Headquarters

Uniformed officers and senior cabinet ministers began to file into the room one by one, the dim lightning painting hardly-noticeable shadows against the darkness of the solid floor and imposing walls of the room. Normally, this would be a deserted room with all but a hard oakwood table and a film of dust on top, what remained of the same war room that had been used by older generals and ministers in the Yasmarea Campaign, when the generals now present in the room were still colonels and brigadiers. Well, not now - the table was now complemented by a digital projector and a laptop computer, with two laser pointers set beside top of the remote control. More than ten marshals and first admirals are already present with more to come. Eventually, all of the participants in the meeting were present, the President being the last to arrive. So he has decided to broadcast the declaration of war earlier than they thought, a field marshal of the Army mused.

***

"Comrade Mr. President, may I begin?" Field Marshal Jonares Hogan, Supreme Director of the High Command, said with a tone of sincerity as he grabbed the remote control in one hand and his laser pointer in his left. In front of him, a black folder sat with three leaves of paper inside, bearing the spoken part of the presentation, though the marshal memorized it anyways. President Vansare nodded approvingly, wanting to see what was worked up by the High Command himself.

The marshal pressed a button, and turned on his laser pointer, motioning with the latter across the projector screen. "So this is the map of Czardas. As we know, the areas shown in red -" he pointed to the northwestern and southwestern parts of Czardas "- are evidentially occupied, the exact force composition still to be worked out by military intelligence. Along the coast of these occupied areas, we have large contingents of hostile naval forces, obviously for the defence of their newly gained objectives. Unoccupied areas include eastern Czardas, behind this shield of mountains, and a strip extending from the strategically important Port Khufi all the way to Adarion. Our boys have named it the 'Bottom Strip'. I think it means what it said. Any questions?"

The Chief of Defence Committee, Parliament, MP Gonares Ponkarskie, shot up a hand and asked immediately. "How are we supposed to deploy our forces to the east, then?"

"That will be what I will get to next, Comrade Minister," the marshal shot back impatiently, and pressed the same button on the control again, the slide changing after a cute little slide transition his aide made for no apparent purposes whatever. "This may surprise you, comrades, but I'm going to keep it simple. This is a table showing our forces disposition. Comrade Field Marshal Hoganston has assured me that the shock armies will do what it implies, and I have the assurance of the Comrades Lonkares and Tonnlen regarding the expediency of the deployment of our air and ground forces. So far, we have collected some of the rapid-deployment army formations we can muster into two expeditionary armies, the First with three corps and the Second with two corps. We may also have additional Isselmere-Nieland Army units under our command, as I've been in communication with their leadership and they have expressed desires to let us temporarily commandeer their ground forces. Added to this, we have the Third Marine Corps Expeditionary Forces, comprised of three corps. This is the force that will most be likely deployed in an amphibious operation. In terms of air assets, we have organized both tactical and strategic assets into four Air Combat Commands, with two - each comprised of strategic or tactical air units - poised for immediate deployment from the Omzian homeland itself directly to Czardaian airfields in eastern Czardas and in the 'Bottom Strip'. Navy forces will be deployed a bit late, and will be smaller than those of our allies. However, they will join those of allied navies in the upcoming amphibious operation, which I will get to later in the day, and has over a thousand ships with additional submarines and amphibious vessels."

Heads bobbed around the table, some jotting down notes. An Assistant Minister of National Defence asked, "Just how strong will this force be?"

"The army and air forces will be - so far - our largest deployments," the marshal replied, slightly irked by the question. "The navy deployment, as we've said before, is going to be comparatively smaller, but impressive nevertheless. The majority of our involvement will be on land, Comrades. Our navy deployment on the other hand, will be joining a larger allied fleet that will be formed off the Czardaian coast."

The President himself examined the table and the map - the latter on his desk - expressionlessly. Contemplating, a question formed in his head. "Just how will our forces be deployed? The only seaborne route into the country is that Port Khufi, and I still have yet to get an assurance from the air force that enough mobility assets will be there to ferry in troops by air."

The marshal nodded as a sign of understanding. "I understand your questions, Mr. President, and this is what I am going to elaborate on in the next slide." With this, the text on the projection screen changed into a large map with lines and symbols that all but generals couldn't fully comprehend. "As this will reflect, the majority of our initial deployments will be via air to land. Naval ships are already steaming from port, but that will take time to assemble, and travel all the way to Czardas. Even the Ro-Ros, including the faster ones, need time to deploy the heavy ground forces we are about to deploy.

"As I have said earlier, the ground forces will comprise primarily of two Expeditionary Armies, numbering to a total of five corps formations. The First Expeditionary Force will deploy to eastern Czardas, and their primary goal shortly after deployment is to guard against CAD forces that might try to go over the mountains and invade the powerful bases there until more of our assets arrive by air and sea. The entirety of the II Shock Corps, a mixed airborne formation, will be immediately deployed by air within forty-eight hours. I have the air force's assurance on this - they have mobilized a huge bulk of our aerial mobility assets, and in fact, two combat brigades of the 32nd Guards are already enroute to Viel, eastern Czardas. The rest of the corps will hopefully be deployed there within a week, being the one of the few 48-hour alert formations that we have. In the meanwhile, for the Second Expeditionary Armies, the VI Shock Corps will deploy immediately by air to Adarion in the 'Bottom Strip'. This is basically a lighter version of the standard mechanized corps formations that we have, and once they are deployed there in half a week, they will be expected to guard any intrusions that might be coming from the north in an attempt to cut the port and capital off from the rest of the unoccupied areas. The rest of the three corps will be fully deployed either by sea or air in less than three weeks.

"In terms of our air assets, among the four Air Combat Commands we have two - the First and the Third - poised for immediate deployment. The 702nd and 31st Air Forces are already shuttling over to Czardaian airfields located throughout their unoccupied territories, including the port, the capital, and eastern Czardas. Yep, aircraft loaded with fuel tanks with refuel all the way. Tiring for the crew, I know, but necessary. The whole will be deployed within a week. In the meanwhile, the Second and Fifth commands are already mobilizing, and will arrive in no more than two and a half weeks.

"Our naval assets, in the meanwhile, are a bit tricky. Despite the improved readiness of our navy past the few years, we still need time to assemble the huge fleet we have, and get them all across the world's oceans to Czardas. This also applies to the amphibious forces that we have, including the vessels themselves and the three corps carried aboard these ships. Once they reach the vicinity, they will join with allied fleets including Sarzonian, Praetonian, Isselmere, and other task forces, and will participate in the amphibious invasion when the time comes. By this time, both the already-listed ground and air forces will already be operating from eastern and the 'Bottom Strip' areas of Czardas in coordination with the amphibious invasion, though we can full well stream in additional army and air force assets if necessary. I'm guessing about an additional air combat command and a full, four-corps, group army if needed.

"Any questions?"

Admiral Oliver McCluskey stepped off the jet after his flight from Wolfish and walked towards the reception that had been laid on for him at Blofeld Bay. He was still in combat fatigues, having been recalled from occupation duties at short notice to command the Czardian Naval Taskforce. He felt slightly self concious as he was invited by the Vice Admiral in command of the base to expect the honour guard. They were pristine, and his fatigues were creased after the long flight. He gave them a cursory inspection, and the hero of the Wolfish war headed for CnC to confer by phone with the Colonial Navy's Commander in Chief, Grand Admiral William Hurley.

"Bill, hows it going?"

"Bloody awful, Clucks, and its going to get worse before it gets better. The Governor's put a rocket up everyones arse. Me, Chris and Stuart have been running round like headless chickens. This is the biggest deployment yet, and your our most experienced commander, thats why you've been recalled."

"I've read the orders, and the attached reports. What I don't understand is what our mission is. If we want to liberarte the rest of Czardes why arn't we ferrying army units?"

"I don't know, but theres been a hell of a lot of air traffic recently."

McClusky caught the inferrence, and realising the line wasn't 100% secure decided not to press the matter. "So, we have 6 Battle Groups, 12 Air Carrier Groups and all 6 Amphibious Assault Groups. What else you throwing at me?"

"Your being given the a third of the Submarine Warfare Group, a third of the Auxillary Replen Group and half of the Science and Medical Group, along with a few CMC commando and Foreign Legion ships"

McClusky's mind goggled as he did the mental arithmetic "christ thats over 450 ships Bill!"

"I said it was big didn't I? Most of them are leaving port now and will take up position 100 miles Sou' Sou' West of Blofeld Bay. You'll be choppered to the flagship, CS Constitution. Your orders are to proceed to Czardian waters and rendezvous with Sarzonian and Praetonian naval assets, then await orders"

McClusky was silent for a few seconds, thinking about the enormity and vagueness of his task. After about a minute and a half he gave the only answer he could.

"Aye aye, sir...."

************************************************

Currently departing Ollieland for Czardes - ETA aprox 4 days

- 1st, 4th, 11th, 12th, 13th & 14th Battle Groups (carrying 18 companies of the Colonial Marine Corps Naval Infantry Division)
- 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th, 7th, 8th, 9th, 10th, 11th, and 12th Air Carrier Groups
- 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th and 6th Amphibious Assault Groups (carrying the 1st Colonial Marine Corps Assault Division)
- One third of the Submarine Warfare Group (100 boats)
- One third of the Auxillary Replen Group (60 ships)
- One half of the Science and Medical Group (2 hospital ships and 8 medical ships)
- 4th Foreign Legion (Naval) Battalion (4 ships carrying the 3rd Foreign Legion (Marine) Battalion)
- Colonial Marine Corps Commando Naval Transport Coy (20 ships carrying 5 companies of the Colonial Marine Corps Special Operations Regiment)

Total of 450 plus ships and subs deploying 490 helos, 1,385 combat aircraft and 15,300 combat troops

Official Declaration of War by the Federative Sikh Republic of Space Union

After days of attending a peace conference and in light of the alliance of CAD showing no remorse or action to sustain peace, Space Union has been left no choice but to officially join our allies in declaring war once more against this wretched alliance of evil led by The Warmasters. Your obstruction of peace and justice will not go unpayed for by the trial of good over evil. We shall meet you in battle and defeat you till you become running cowards that you already are.

We give you a 24 hour deadline to surrender and leave the nation of Czardas. If you do not, then you will face the full brunt of the Space Union Military. If you value your own soverignty, you and your CAD allies will leave immediately.

Signed,
Federate Satpul Singh

-snip-
Capt. Kaunas smiles tolerantly and lights the cigarillo unsuspectingly, puffing and proceeding to emit a mighty coughing fit, remembering that he has not smoked in twenty years a moment too late. Nonetheless, he is beginning to grow to like this man. He thinks for a moment before responding.

"H'rm, well, there are enemy Warmasterian armies numbering approximately seven million ground troops currently occupying the coast north of Czarna... the Doomingslandi invasion army is apparently preparing to land as well, and Parthian troops are scheduled to be landing in the south as well, although they're still shelling the holy hell out of the cliffs there. Trying to harness Nature for their own purposes." He chuckles, takes another puff of the cigarillo, and watches it burn out. "Damn. Well, anyway, I'd recommend taking your brigades to harrow Doomingslander troops specifically by night... guerilla raids and that sort of thing... demoralize them a little bit. I wouldn't recommend taking on the Warmasterian troops, we mostly have those sorted with our own troops in Czarna.

"There are also Freudians around here, apparently.... so if they try to land troops, you can help us repulse them. But for now that seems to be the best plan, I do say." He relights the cigarillo and takes a reflective puff.

The massive twenty 27" guns of the Decius Aurelius turned their full destructive power on the city proper and the command centre outside it, accompanied by the roars of twenty 24" guns on each of the four other Super Dreadnaughts in the fleet. Volley after volley of 100 rocket-assisted shells exploded from the main guns of the ships. Meanwhile, VLS systems across the fleet opened up with ASROC-style missile-launched torpedoes, carrying large blast radius warheads. Over 10,000 of these sea-skimmed towards Tyriandor, then breaking off as the torpedo descended to explode near the CAMERA launchers underwater, hopefully destroying or at least disabling them. Imperial ships began moving in towards the coast, hoping to secure a beachhead with the Legions and deposit the cargo of the transport ships in order to be able to engage the Woodstock Pact forces more easily and readily.
The city of Tyriandor, albeit weakened by the Yurkan attacks upon it, is still in a perfectly viable condition to defend itself. While the massive (and notoriously inaccurate) shells pound the city and the TNCC, CAMERA installments return fire, propelling 20,000 AX-3 (standard anti-shipping) missiles in a single bloc towards the Bandurian fleet. The remaining launchers begin launching anti-missile missiles towards the incoming missiles, successfully destroying many of them. However, some of them do manage to hit the CAMERA launchers or at least suspected locations of CAMERA launchers. The resulting damage either blocks the missile tubes or destroys them altogether, but the Tyriandor installments are still capable of firing up to 20,000 missiles—a formidable number for any fleet to contend with.

Artillery at Tyriandor also responds; 305mm rail guns and 460mm cannons start blasting away at the Bandurian ships, infrared guided to ensure highly accurate hits and kills.

The Bandurian fleet will not land unscathed.

Meanwhile, Commodore John Doe is undertaking his ordered preparations for war.

The ships sailing up the Zaïr have two purposes. The first is achieved when they launch shells into the delta, each spraying the seafloor with anti-shipping mines and preventing ships from landing. The second is as mobile gun and missile platforms.

Each cruiser-configured ship has been armed with a pair of double mounts for 203.2mm ETC guns, the largest mobile artillery in the Czardaian arsenal. Missile-configured ships are armed with a pair of 8x8 VLS blocks, capable of inundating encroaching forces with large amounts of missiles.

As the ships sail upriver, Doe watches the land preparations from the deck. Old fortifications built during the Scellian war are being revitalised as SAM batteries and artillery pieces are installed along the river. Pillboxes and machine gun nests also look out towards Czarna and the Doomingslandi-claimed areas on both sides of the river. The entire strip of the Zaïr river from Port Khûfi past Czarna, almost all the way to Adarion, is heavily reinforced.

Similar preparations are being undertaken in the north near the Bandurian planned beachhead. The artillery batteries fire shells into the waters, blanketing the areas around Tyriandor with anti-shipping mines. On the beaches, more minefields are lain, and hundreds of thousands of troops are en route to reinforce the garrison of the city.

Official Statement
The Armed Capitalist Republic of The Silver Sky

I have been authorized by The Silver Sky National Congress to proudly deliver this declaration to the nations of the Woodstock Pact and CAD.

We have long seen the unjust invasion of Czardas by the oppressive CAD nations. We sat on the sidelines watching CAD slaughter innocent civilians and unjustly claim the sovereign lands of The Libertarian Concordance of Czardas. We were very happy when the peace conference finally came around. However we were unable to participate due to the participation of the Incorporated Sarzonian Government.

This is no more! We have seen the inability of the CAD nations to come to a peaceful treaty and are astonished at their landgrabbing and imperialistic tendencys, and have made ammends with the Incorporated Sarzonian Government. We are proud to announce that we can now adequately help our allies in The Libertarian Concordance and The Woodstock Pact.

We, The Armed Capitalist Republic of The Silver Sky and it's citizens, declare war on the CAD nations currently in Czardas or supporting them. We throw our military might behind our Woodstock Pact Allies, and have ordered the mobilization of our entire military. We will prevail against the godless CAD nations.

[OOC: Following is for WP eyes only]

We have deployed all of our Naval Armadas, which total over 2,400 combat ships and 4 of our armies numberings just under 4 million troops, and our entire air force. We are located just 2250km off the western coast of Czardas and our military bases are all open to WP members as staging points.

We currently have 100,000 troops in Czardas with We Buy It Forces with similar numbers. And have thousands of planes, not to mention two We Buy It Fleets in the southern area numbering over 446 ships. All of these forces, and their associated SAM and Long range missile systems are at your disposale.

We will prevail! May god smile down upon us! For The Libertarian Concordance!

-----------------------
President Kara Maddox

[ooc:] I'm leaving, probably for the day. Don't do anything too drastic in my absence. :p

"Sir!" The red-uniformed officers stood up and snapped to attention as Lord Howston, Chief of the Imperial General Staff, entered the wood-pannelled meeting room. On the wall, portraits hung depicting Praetonian officers throughout the ages. He particularly liked one from the First Civil War of a Royalist officer sitting astride a horse wielding a sceptre - the symbol of Monarchy - against a mace - the symbol of Parliament - wielded by a Parliamentarian cavalry Sergeant. The Royalist was leaning back in his sadle to try to dodge the blows, his left hand held uselessly in front of his face as he parried with his right.

"Gentlemen. War has descended upon these lands once again," he said, glancing at the pictures and sitting down at the head of the table; the other officers followed him, "This time we are not fighting for our own homes and liberty, but for the homes and liberty of foreigners. Never forget, in all your endevours to produce victory from this matter, that the honour of Praetonia herself is on display before the world, and that failure here will symbolise the utmost failure to made good our promises, and act on our principles."

The other officers stared at the Lord sombrely. Their faces made expressions of agreement, but they did not break the silence.

"Now, to business. I have no doubt that our combined fleets will find it an easy business to deliver the irresistable hammer-blow that is required for victory, but before then we shall require the free state of Czardass to be protected, and after that we shall be required to clean up the detritus of tyranny that shall be left trapped on Czardaian soil."

He unfurled a heavy parchment map. On it, numerous lines were drawn indicating positions troops would take. "The river is here. Any attack against this river, properly entrenched, shall fail. Our main worry is here," he tapped on the North Western coast, "if this coast falls we shall be outflanked and Czardas cut off from the sea and immediate aid."

The other officers nodded in agreement. "My Lord, would it not be proper for my men to be sent in to prop up Czardaian resistance?" asked the General in overall command of Praetonia's Dragoon (parachute) units.

"Indeed it would, General, but we will also need tanks and artillery - an army, in other words. Our deployment will be limitted on what we can realistically fit in planes rather than on our overall strength, so I want the best. The Dragoons, the Grenadiers, the Lancers. All of them. Tanks, artillery, planes and men. Lots of men. Good men. We performed well in ViZion City, but we shall have to do better this time. Then again, we shall not be surrounded and pinned down by massed artillery this time," the Field Marshal frowned solemnly.

The victory parade and rememberance day for the men killed in ViZion City was scheduled for that day, but it was deemed to be in bad taste, and was cancelled. Instead, a small contingent of the Royal Dragoons has dedicated a monument in Empire Square, and they had been given a week's leave.

"Omzian forces will be deploying alongside us. We will take up positions here," he pointed to a line covering the high ground backed away from the coast of North West Czardas, "this is far enough away that the guns won't touch us. If the Bandurians are forced back by the Czardaian coastal gunnery and missiles then we shall take up forward positions along the beaches and nearby ridges themselves. The tanks will be used as a mobile reserve to plug any gaps."

The other officers nodded and chattered briefly to each other about their support for the plan. In reality, their input had helped write it, but this was the first time they had all seen in it together and whole and as an official document. Soon the planes would depart, with fighters and bombers and transports and tanks and guns and troops and ammunition and a managerie of supplies and equipment of all types. Slowly, like some great, ancient machine, the Praetonian military was gathering momentum. When it hit, it intended to hit hard.

"Admiral?"

"Yes?"

"I've just received word on a coded frequency from Naval Command. We are to rendevous with the Praetonian and Isselmerian-Nielander fleets and attack the Pwnage fleets."

"Understood. Make all available speed."

"Aye, sir."

Goughan looked at his rendering of the rendevous point and the expected course of the Pwnage fleets. He knew with Praetonia's and Isselmere-Nieland's fleets he'd likely have an advantage, at least in terms of quality if not necessarily numbers. But he wanted to make sure since there were at least three different nation's fleets involved that the allied fleet would be on the same page.

"Admiral, I have a question."

"Yes Tre?"

Commodore Luke "Tre" Vincent III walked in with a copy of the naval regulations. He had a page in the middle of the rather lengthy volume selected with his finger marking the page. He looked uneasily at Goughan.

"According to naval regulation 23-B, Incorporated Sarzonian Naval assets are forbidden to take orders from another nation's naval commander." Each man looked at the other expectantly. That regulation was in place prior to Sarzonia's NATO days and Sarzonia refused to allow its naval forces under the command of Hamptonshire in the days when both nations barely tolerated each other.

"What are you suggesting Tre? I take command of the entire fleet group even if their officers outrank me?"

"No, Admiral. I'm asking you what you're going to do?"

"Luke, for one thing unless we're on the bridge, call me Tom. You're my right hand man and I need you to feel like you can come to me to discuss whatever you need to. For another thing, there's an old saying that rules are made to be broken. As far as I can recall, Navy Command wouldn't exactly shit their pants if they found out I let a Praetonian command our fleet."

"I take it we're not following regulations then?"

Goughan smiled. "What do you think?" The easy smile put Vincent at ease.

"Yes, sir." He smiled, saluted sharply, and turned to leave. Goughan walked over to his computer display to see where the Praetonian and Isselmerian-Nielander fleets were in relation to his own. He'd ask for a powwow with the two fleet commanders where subjects like overarching tactical and strategic direction and mundane topics like who was actually giving orders. But in the meantime, his fleets were travelling as fast as they could to bring themselves into position to land a critical blow to CAD's occupation efforts.

Secret message to President Kara Maddox, The Silver Sky
From Governor Connie Chung, the Colony of Ollieland

We notice your offer of allowing your nation to be used as a staging post for troops bound for Czardas. We would like to base our 1st and 2nd Colonial Marine Corps Assault Divisions and associated units in your nation until they are needed. This consists of 27,300 troops and 129 ships and subs. We look forward to your response.

Secret message to President Mike Sarzo, Sarzonia
From Governor Connie Chung, the Colony of Ollieland

We hereby inform you that we have a battle group en-route to Czardas under the command of Admiral Oliver McClusky consisting of approximately 260combat vessels and 80 support vessels. It is our intention to put these vessels at the Woodstock Pact's discretion for use in any combined fleet. We will accept strategic command of these vessels from the senior Woodstock commander on the scene, but must insist on retaining tactical command. We look forward to your response.

Port Khûfi

Nightfall

The moon was bright tonight, Yarmouth noticed as he strode towards the small grouping of tents that had become his headquarters. It was a bombers night, when the moon was unscathed by even the slightest hint of cloud cover and bombers could find their way to a target without even a glance at their instruments. It was a shame, he thought, that they had done away with bombers with props and bomb aimers and the such. They were so much more...romantic than the aircraft they had these days. Far too much equipment and nannying - too much fuss about casualties and the such. He shook his head to clear his mind. Enough of that now, he mentally warned himself. Now was the time for planning and fighting, not wistful thinking. He saluted the guards standing at attention, then slipped through the tent opening into the interior of the small group.

Inside the structure was his command staff and their aides. To the sides of the structure were massive transparent map stands on which allied and known enemy forces were being plotted, communication gear from which a gaggle of technicians kept in contact with Czardian and Woodstock Pact forces, and in the middle a series of map tables had bee slotted together for a massive scale map of Czardas itself to be laid down. Yarmouth nodded at his staff and accepted a cup of coffee from his Supply Officer, Major Sykes. He muttered his thanks and sipped from the mug; hot liquid raced down his throat and warmed him up considerably. He smacked his lips in appreciation and then placed the mug on a small table to the side.

"Gentlemen, all six of the International Brigades have now been fully unloaded and deployed. In addition the 24th Armoured Brigade and the Colonial Infantry Company have also joined us, bringing us to around 25,000 men. This is of course only the beginning; the first convoys have already set sail and will be here within 22 hours, bringing with them seven Infantry and Armoured Divisions. However, for now we must make do with what he have at hand."

The men and women around the tables nodded their agreement, and Yarmouth continued on, bolstered by the consensus. "To prevent the enemy from gaining a foothold, we will leave the First and Fifth International Brigades here to bolster the Czardas defences. Colonel DuPont?" DuPont, a tall, wiry man with slicked back hair turned to face Yarmouth. "You, sir, will command the defense force here. I cannot stress this enough. The enemy must not be allowed to place even one soldier in this Port. To do so will lose the entire flank. You understand me, son?" DuPont nodded once. "We shall defend the Port with our lives sir. The only way they shall get past us is by treading over our dead bodies."

Yarmouth saluted DuPont and sent him away to continue setting up the defenses of the Port. He then turned to the rest of his staff. "As to the rest of the command, we shall deploy into echelon and move to the North-West and reinforce the allied forces landing there. Those Bandurian dogs have already begun bombarding the shore defenses at Tyriandor, and I am determined that they will not get their troops through those defenses." There came a series of agreements from the rest of his staff; like most of the soldiers here they were volunteers, and they knew what they were fighting for. They would defend Czardas with their lives. "We will move the Brigades into position with the Czardian shore defences and integrate with the existing defenses there. The Infantry will go forward and aid the shore defenses, whilst the tanks will stay in cover and stop any breakthroughs by enemy forces.

"The air assets that we have currently stand at three Air Brigades - some six hundred aircraft. Operating from airfields at the Port here and further North-West, they will engage enemy fighters and bomb the landing grounds. Once again ladies and gentlemen, let me make this crystal clear. There will be no retreat, there will be no 'Strategic withdrawal' from these positions. Until our reinforcements arrive from the mainland, or allied forces arrive, we will man those positions and die in them if we have to, to stop the enemy landing. " With that Yarmouth saluted his staff, and they returned it with pride. Then, like a well-oiled machine they moved to start the process of moving the forces towards the Bandurians.

Yarmouth moved out of the tent and collected Green, who had been discussing with several intelligence officers the state of the allied forces. He moved alongside Yarmouth as the General explained what was going to happen. "It'll be a tough fight, sir" Green stated simply. Yarmouth turned to face him. "I know it will be, and that's what I'm counting on. There may not be many of us, but we'll bleed them to death and buy our troops time to arrive." Green nodded his assent, and the two moved off to the APC Yarmouth commanded from. They climbed in and the vehicle moved off, followed shortly by the vanguard of the Brigades.

Hundreds of tanks and APCs rumbled through the dusty roads and tracks of North-Western Czardas, throwing up huge trails of dust that even the darkness could not completely obscure. Intermixed with them came the lorries filled with apprehensive Volunteer Soldiers, legs swinging gently off of the sides of the trucks, weapons in hand. There was little talking, partly because of orders but mainly because only minutes after moving out of the Port and across the rivers, the sound of the Bandurian bombardment could be heard, accompanied by ghostly flashes on the horizon that seemed like lightning - man-made lightning.

Tyriandor

It took nearly twelve hours for the Brigades to reach the Czardian defenses, but as dawn was breaking and the sun slowly peaking over the horizon the first troops arrived. They began jumping out of trucks and moving into the Czardian defenses to bolster the numbers, whilst the tanks were moved into sections and kept as safe as they could be, shielded by hundreds of friendly fighters and a SAM Umbrella for miles around them. The Volunteer Soldiers were ready for the enemy. The only question now was how long it would take for the real fighting to begin.

They did not have to wait long. Shells from the mass of vessels gathered off the coast began landing amongst some of the forward detachments, and the first casualties of the Grand Monarchy forces occured. Many of the shells were big enough to take apart entire vehicles and groups of men and make it seem as if they had never existed. As the shells began to rain down the Volunteer Soldiers began to dig in and set up their defenses; machine-guns were set up, Dragoon Anti-Tank Missiles set up in windows and craters and doorwways; Sapper units placed down small minefields and tried to place concertina wire around many of the defensive positions. Other soldiers used their entrenching tools to dig in and settle themselves as best they could whilst F/A18s screamed overhead conducting defensive patrols. More than eighteen thousand troops were now in Tyriandor, awaiting the first wave of troops that they were sure would have to land...

OOC: Hope that's okay Czardas....I put a lot of time into that post, so I do hope it's okay...

Najaster, Capital of Kahanistan

Once again, the Democratic Soviet Republic of Kahanistan would do battle with the filthy CAD nations. However, this would be a special forces engagement, not acknowledged by the DSRK, and therefore Kahanistan could not openly declare war against nations whose militaries were so much larger.

In an underground defense base, Colonel Igor Kaselev of the Special Combat Service addressed 1,000 SCS troopers.

"Many of you have done battle with CAD before. I know I have. Others among you will be seeing your first taste of combat. But for all of you, this will be a very risky mission."

Kaselev inserted a DVD into a recorder attached to an extremely large TV. He pressed the "play" button, and footage of the most gut-wrenching CAD atrocities appeared. In one scene, a captured Questarian soldier was flayed alive by Doomingslandian legionaries. The next scene featured CAD soldiers grinning and bayoneting infants, drinking the blood that gushed forth. An unfortunate Czardaian soldier's penis, a foot-long monstrosity, was sawn off with a rusty, serrated knife and the behemoth was crammed down its screaming owner's throat. Rage, anger, and fear poured through the minds of the Kahanistanian soldiers watching the gruesome tape. This foul film played for over half an hour, telling the soldiers what would happen to them if they were caught. Many broke down in tears, others vomited, some screamed.

Colonel Kaselev smiled. "Now you know why I didn't hand out your MRE's until you watched the video," he said while cleaning up where a rookie soldier had vomited. "Now, eat up, we have a mission to go on."

He sent a heavily encrypted telegram to We Buy It, Inc. in Silver Sky.

DEMOCRATIC SOVIET REPUBLIC OF KAHANISTAN
Kahanistan Military Intelligence
Top Secret Encryption Code Upsilon-7-Sigma-1-Omega

Kahanistan Military Intelligence wishes to deploy 1,000 SCS soldiers throughout Czardas. We believe that such an operation is best conducted by shipping the soldiers as freight in ordinary cargo crates.

Once in Czardas, they will train and arm Czardaian rebels who oppose the filthy CAD regime. We cannot openly act, as the Kahanistanian military has not fully rebuilt.

It is of the utmost importance that we not be discovered. I cannot stress this enough, the Doomingslandian scourge must not perform the atrocities which are displayed in this briefing video. (The same one he was showing the troops.) The CAD forces must not be left in Czardas to rule unchecked.

Signed,
Col. Igor V. Kaselev,
Kahanistan Republic Guard

[First, Second, Third and Fourth Naval Armadas]
300km East of North Point Naval Base, 1800km west of Czardas

Fleet Admiral Sutherland looked out over the massive 3,528 ship fleet, it spanned as far as the eye could see, the Twelve Neptune-Class Trimaran Super Dreadnaught Flight IIA in the Armada towered over the Ravager-Class Trimaran Heavy Dreadnaughts and the other smaller ships in the vast armad as they all cruised towards the Czardian coast.

"Admiral Sutherland, Admiral Anderson, Catylin and Garcia are on the line." Said Comm Officer Stratuss.

"Put them on the screen." Said Sutherland.

"Yes sir." The images of the bridges of the three other flagships appeared, with the other Admirals in their chairs.

Admiral Anderson spoke up first, "Is everything with your fleet ready sir? Our fleets are ready, all the transports and ships are accounted for and all Combat Air Patrols have been established, ASW screen is set up and SAMs and long range missiles are online."

"Yes, they are combat ready, proceed to cruise speed, primary target for this first battle is the Bandurian Fleet. The Fifth and Sixth Naval Fleets will meet us on the way and escort the troop ships to Port Khûfi." Responded Admiral Sutherland. "Anything else?"

"What about the Woodstock Pact Naval Forces? Shouldn't we join with them?" Asked Admiral Jesus Garcia.

"I have considered that approach, I was going to ask for your opinion, but it seems like you'd go for it, Anderson, Catylin, your opinons?"

"Sounds fine to me sir." Said Catylin, Anderson just nodded.

"Good, it's settled, make course for the Woodstock Pact Fleet." Said Sutherland as he terminated the uplink.
---------------------------------------------
***Searching for Secure Uplink***
***Secure Satellite Uplink Found***
***Encrypting......Encryption Finished***
***Transmission Beginning***

To: Fleets of Praetonia, Sarzonia, and, Isselmere-Nieland
From: Silver Skyian Combined Naval Armada
RE: Liberation of Czardas

After talking with my other senior fleet commanders we have come to a decision to combine our might with your's. We have 3,528 ships, of which 2,428 ships are combat ships at our disposale. With us is a Field Army (461,000 Men) and we have long range heavy bomber support. We currently also have a single Army Corp (92,200 men) in Southern Czardas but, we have the capability to reinforce them with another Army Corp within 12 hours.

If you accept our help please respond with the coordinates to link up with your force and your current battle plan.

[Signed]
Navy Admiral Michael Sutherland

***Transmission Ended***
***De-crypting......De-cryption Finished***
***Secure Satellite Uplink Terminated***
***Searching Signal Terminated***
-------------------------
The message was sent and the mighty armada trudged forward still slightly unsure of it's destination. This would truely be the naval battle of all battles.

Battlegroup Industrious

The Battlegroup was one of the largest naval taskforces ever assembled by the Grand Monarchy, and indeed the Republic before it. More than five hundred vessels formed the grouping, spread out over nearly eight miles of water. Hundreds of Frigates, Destroyers and Battleships fanned out in concentric circles around the most important vessels of the naval armada, two SuperDreadnoughts and twelve Carriers. The armada plowed through the waves and squalls that tried to threaten the man-made vessels without pause, shrugging off the effects of nature without a thought.

Onboard the Main Battle Bridge of the SuperDreadnought HMSD Illustrious, Grand Admiral Alex Barnes looped a pair of binoculars around his neck and stepped back into the relative safety and comfort of the Bridge from the exterior decking that ran around the Bridge. He let his gaze roam around the dozens of people crammed into the small space before moving towards the centre of the room and the massive transparent map screens set up there. He absentmindedly accepted a cup of tea from a stewart and gulped it down. The firey liquid burned his throat, but more importantly it warmed him up enough to start talking and moving his hands after the bitter cold and winds outside the structure.

He smiled at his XO, Commander Ted Farley, then motioned to the map screens, noting that the disposition of the Battlegroup remained unchanged. "Do we have any new orders from Naval Command, Ted?" he enquired. Farley nodded and handed Barnes a message flimsy, text on the top half of it. Barnes scanned the sheet, then nodded and handed it back. "So, Yarmouth and his forces are moving into position to engage the Bandurians. Excellent, excellent. Detach the Second Carrier Group to aid in airbourne strikes and CAP, then order the rest of the fleet to Full Alert and head north. We're joining up with the rest of the Woodstock Pact fleets to engage the CAD naval forces immediately."

Farley nodded and began barking out orders whilst Barnes watched and took another sip from his mug. The technicians and crew began moving about, beginning the process of moving hundreds of vessels towards their new positions. As they did so, Barne's moved closer to the map screens. He grunted quitely in approval; the first convoys were nearly at that Czardian Port, ready to unload the Regular troops and equipment they had crammed into their holds...

SIC: (Everything is heavily encrypted and sent through secure channels)
--------------------------Kahanistan Military Intelligence
Top Secret Encryption Code Upsilon-7-Sigma-1-Omega

Kahanistan Military Intelligence wishes to deploy 1,000 SCS soldiers throughout Czardas. We believe that such an operation is best conducted by shipping the soldiers as freight in ordinary cargo crates.

Once in Czardas, they will train and arm Czardaian rebels who oppose the filthy CAD regime. We cannot openly act, as the Kahanistanian military has not fully rebuilt.

It is of the utmost importance that we not be discovered. I cannot stress this enough, the Doomingslandian scourge must not perform the atrocities which are displayed in this briefing video. (The same one he was showing the troops.) The CAD forces must not be left in Czardas to rule unchecked.

Signed,
Col. Igor V. Kaselev,
Kahanistan Republic Guard
Transport Department, We Buy It Inc.

We agree to transport your troops and their equippment, but for a price, $750,000 USD seems fair right? And you're just in luck, the next shipment is scheduled for tomorrow, if you respond by then we can get you in fairly quickly.

If you agree there will be eight planes in the cargo portion of your airport by 6 P.M. tomorrow, there will be enough crates to hide all of your men, we will get them into a remote airstrip within eight hours, after they we can give them gas and ammo and some transports, but otherwise they are on their own.

If your troops need anything however, we can supply them at these coordinates (blah, blah, where ever).

It has been a pleasure doing business with you.

Signed
We Buy It Inc.
-----------------------------------
Secret message to President Kara Maddox, The Silver Sky
From Governor Connie Chung, the Colony of Ollieland

We notice your offer of allowing your nation to be used as a staging post for troops bound for Czardas. We would like to base our 1st and 2nd Colonial Marine Corps Assault Divisions and associated units in your nation until they are needed. This consists of 27,300 troops and 129 ships and subs. We look forward to your response.From: President Kara Maddox, The Silver Sky
To: Governor Connie Chung, the Colony of Ollieland

This is acceptable, you may use North Point Naval Base as your staging point, seeing as most of the ships and troops have deployed there is more then enough room for your troops and ships. The western dock has facilities for you to set up a command post in the buildings. Fuel and dry dock repair facilities are all yours to use, we can also clear section fo the airfield if you need so.

The 2nd and 3rd Naval Armadas of the Space Union Navy sailed through the dark blue seas as they ventured nearer and nearer to the battlefield. They were only 420 kms away from the shores of the Czardian nation and already the sailors were pumped and getting ready for the incoming battle.

The Supreme Commander, Ashpeer Singh, watched on as the horizon was covered by the spectacular amount of ships coming to the battle. Already a fleet of 3,672 ships were arriving from the far corners of the world. There job was to strike the death blow to Parthian-occupied Czardas in the south.

Ashpeer sipped a cup of tea as it brimmed with steam and a puff was let out from a bubble exploding. He had already outlined the plans of the war but he could sense that his officers were edgy for the coming battle. They had a perfect right to as this was probably their first-time in actual combat. They knew that some of the men they considered brothers may not come back ever, but they also knew that this was the best way to die, protecting liberty and democracy.

A captain entered the Commander's quarters as he delivered his report,

"Sir, we are 450 kms away from the target and are ready for the operation to begin," said the Captain without flinching.

"Good, have the missiles and guns ready to fire on my orders. We will get within 400 kms before we begin," said Ashpeer as he continued to sip his tea with elegance.

"Yes, sir!" said the Captain as he made his way to the room but was stopped just before he escaped.

"Captain, give the signals to the bombers, it is time. And have communications with the Omzian military opened up through our private channel," said Ashpeer as he continued to stare out at the ever expanding sea with no expression on his face.

"Very well, it will be done," said the Captain as he finally left to the radio room.

---------------------------------------

To: Omzian Military Forces
From: Space Union Command,
Naval Forces: 2nd and 3rd Armadas

Our beloved allies, we wish to help you out in your operations in the south for
liberating the Czardian people. Space Union has already drafted up a plan to
invade Roskonva and take it. From there we will spread to Ria and go north
and south. We are interested in your plan of action. Thank You.

Signed,
Supreme Commander Ashpeer Singh

--------------------------------------

The SuB-1Cs roared to life as the engines lit up and a spark was born. Each bomber turned on with a fiery scream that would spell the end for an enemy troops that heard it. Sometimes it could scare the pilot, if he wasn't aware of turning the switch on.

A task force of 100 SuB-1Cs were prepped to launch an aerial bombing run on the city of Roskonva to hit the SAM sites and other military targets, without aiming for the civilian areas. They were equipped with precision-guided bombs that would drop by the thousands into the city.

One by one they ascended into the sky as they let out their shriek and roared off the runway into the glittering sky. Already the bomber crews could see lights filling the sky from the battles across Czardas led by the Woodstock Pact.

The bombers reached altitude before hitting supersonic speeds as they cruised toward the city. It only took them a half an hour before they reached their destination. They switched on their jamming equipment along with countermeasure systems in the attempt to evade any SAMs that might be launched at them, though, they would be well out of range for most of the SAMs in the area.

As they neared, the bombers opened up their payloads and out shot thousands of bombs as they unclipped from the wings with a loud hiss and fell before igniting their fuel and attacking the city. They were directed only at the SAM and radar sites that had been detected by satellites. As they roared to their destination, the bombers high-tailed it back before a response could be made, in the hopes that they could get away before the SAMs could fire away.

Roskonva would be free within days, if the Space Unionist had anything to say about it.

--------------------------------

The fleet entered into range as they passed the 400 km mark from the city of Roskonva. It was only a small city, but strategically it was important to hold. It would allow the Space Unionist and Omzians to split the Parthians in two and from there sandwich them.

The missile tubes roared to life as BGM-502 Longaxe Medium Range Cruise Missiles shot out and went straight for the Parthian's naval facitilies and SAM sites. The city lit up in bright colors as commanders identified something had been hit, though what, was unsure of. As the hour continued, the Space Union fleet did not relent as missiles after missile poured from their batteries straight at any enemy target that was being identified. At 2:00 AM, the batteries were cut.

Ashpeer watched in triumpt as Operation Liberatorian began. The Captain once more came in this time to brief him on the situation,

"Sir, as we speak the batteries have been cut. There are reports of hits but we are not sure. Should we continue?" asked the Captain.

"No, that will be enough. From the aerial raids and our missile pounding, the city should have been taken by surprise and considering how small it is, I don't expect any Parthians to really be stationed here. But have everyone on high alert. The Parthian fleet is bound to intercept us," said Ashpeer as he turned to face the window again.

"Okay, I'll have them stationed on high alert along with our radars to begin active scanning along with satellite imaging of the area, sir," repeated the Captain as he bowed and left.

(OOC: LET'S GET READY TO RUMBLE!)

Another war. Yet again facing the Doomies.

The formal declaration of war against the CAD occupiers of Czardas was minutes old when the whole of the 5th and 6th fleets started to streak north toward Czardas. It would be some time before they reached their breathren in the 7th fleet. [OOC: read: sunday lol]

Admiral Ja'rod Kathon, commanding this task force, only hoped there would be some Doomies left for him to shoot down by the time he got there. The V.B.S. Revolution continued on her way, leading the task force of nearly 1800 ships.


To: V.B.S. Jericho
Fr: V.B.S. Revolution

Dera - Former war declared. 5th and 6th on route for rondevous.
Contact Sarzonian officials for coordination of attack.

JK

***

7th Fleet, Just outside Czardaian waters (Northern)

Admiral Dera Saltrow was beaming. War and death was not something a Voltaru wished for, but if it had to be with anyone, she was glad the CAD and Doomingsland was on the other side.

She turned to her Second: "Bring the fleet to high alert. Tell the subs to open fire on any hostile ship that approaches our position. Until we hear from the Pact Task Force, we wait here. Deploy in a defensive position... and I want to hear it the moment any other ship is approaching. The last thing we need is some CAD scum surprising us when our back is turned.

"Admiral, we've just received word that The Silver Sky has joined our side... their fleet is not far from us. They appear to be moving toward the Woodstock Pact fleet."

"Thank you commander. While I do not think the brass back at Ohm may have forgiven The Silver Sky for their earlier betrayal, I will take our usual policy of not letting the past get in our way."


To: Woodstock Pact Fleet Commanders

A Voltaru Fleet of 600 ships is availble for assignment. Please advise
best deployment for assistance. Two more fleets and almost 2000
more ships are on their way.

Admiral Dera Saltrow, commander 7th Voltaru Fleet.


To: Silver Skyian Forces

Please advise of your intended destination.
That Bandurian fleet looks mighty tasty, no?

Admiral Dera Saltrow, Voltaru 7th Fleet
V.B.S. Jericho

To: Admiral Dera Saltrow, Voltaru 7th Fleet
V.B.S. Jericho

Damned nice to see you guys after you flew away last time.
Hope you stick around longer this time, we may need your help.

Current course of action puts us linking with Woodstock Pact fleets.
And yes they do, looks like sushi, ever have the stuff?

You can also link up if you'd like to, just run an intercept on us.

Admiral Michael Sutherland, Silver Skyian 1st Naval Armada
S.S.R.S. 'Kaitou'

To: Commander(s) of Praetonian Ground Forces
Major-General Yarmouth, the International Brigades of Skinny87
From: Lieutenant-General M. Sonara, II Shock Corps, Omzian Czardaian Expeditionary Forces
Subject: Meeting of Commanders

Dear sirs,

As the commander of the only Omzian army formation currently deployed to the Northwest Czardaian theatre, I would like to extend my greetings to the dignified commanders of the Praetonian and Skinny ground forces, soon to fight side-by-side with us in our valiant struggle against the barbarous hordes of Bandurian savages. However, to ensure better coordination of our actions within and around the city of Tyriandor, I formally request that we hold a special meeting to discuss our current courses of action, the overall situation, and the threats posed by forces aside from those of the Bandurians, including the Warmasters to the south of us and north of Czardas' capital. I propose that we hold this meeting about a hundred kilometers east of the city of Seiron, in my headquarters. A response would be greatly appreciated.

Thanks,
LtGen M. Sonara
Omzian Czardaian Expeditionary Forces
II SHOCK CORPS - ONE WAY OUT

**********

Outside Tyriandor

"So this is it."

Kolen "Bobo" Monkarenzskie, commander of the 27th Guards Airmobile Division, momentarily ignored the crackle in the wireless intercom system as he stared at the massive map laid out in front of him in the spacious confinements of the Skytrain helicopter as it transited over the lands of northwestern Czardas. He did not preoccupy himself with the sight outside, where through one of the few small viewing ports of the command helicopter he could see a massive nest of rotary aircraft, all transiting with the same purpose with the same cargoes in their internal compartments and occasionally hung below them as well. Even disguised under the layers of bodyarmour, combat uniform, and the same blank emotion on his face, he remained a muscular and powerful man even for a forty-eight year old, a fact that suited Brigadier's shoulder boards that he is now wearing. Checking his watch and affirming mental notes in his head, he turned to his XO, Senior Colonel Joransky, the source of the comment earlier. "You think this is a bit too early?"

"Early, yes, but it shouldn't impede our operation," Brigadier Bobo observed cautiously. "I trust that whoever made this decision - Lieutenant General Sonara? Or Honara? - knew what types of support we would need. The only problem is of course, eliciting a real sense of urgency from our air force chaps - I still don't think they really realize the urgency of the situation, by the looks of it. But hopefully, they will deliver. And just where is this air force liaison that they offered us?"

Joransky nodded thoughtfully, and thought over the question. "I think he's in one of the helos behind us, along with the intelligence and supply officers, the Kestrel. No worries, sir." He turned to the operations officer, Major Bonkara. "Just how is the situation up there now?"

Bonkara, a radio handset in his hand and a large tablet computer on his lap with a map of Tyriandor displayed, turned to Joransky but didn't understand what he said among all the noises of the helicopter's turbines. Joransky motioned for him to switch the modes of his headset, and asked the questions again. The major, as usual, was quick to deliver. "The Bandurians are poised to landing there, and that is a major concern, but our Skinny chaps there are already well deployed. With our help, and with the arty and air support promised by the corps commander, I think we are set. I do think though, that the fighting will get mighty bloody soon."

The Brigadier winced, knowing what this meant - fighting in the cities. Too bad that his formation was more adept at fighting in the cities than the other units in his corps would. Joransky asked a question that he wanted to ask, but didn't. "How long until the airport?"

"Fifty minutes. Us and the rest of the HQ will set up quickly around there, and we should be soon receiving the entirety of the first brigade, plus their anti-tank weapons." That's from more than a hundred helicopters, assault and cargo, the Brigadier mused. "The second and third brigades will be off the helos soon enough, plus the new Mongoose scout cars that we got. The arty - the rockets, tube, not the mortars though - will be deployed at the rear, and all the attack helos that are escorting our right now will be able to able to provide immediate air support. Each battalion will have an air force liaison, and an entire wing of attack jets right now is assigned to us for air support."

More than two hours later, all of this occurred at a rapid pace, save for some hiccups along the way and two helicopters that collided and crashed while landing - the first blood spilled, quite ironically, would be Omzian, and the field hospitals would have more work to attend to. It took the men of the 27th another few hours to link up with the units of the slightly later deployed 28th Guards Airmobile Division, and hours after that to set up their positions alongside the Czardaian and Skinny forces within the city. The entire force is lightly armed in terms of vehicles, with only trucks, patrol vehicles with machine guns, utility vehicles outfitted with ATGM launchers, and some fifty armoured scout cars to spare - though the main punch would be in their mobility, not their overall firepower. Some sergeants and lieutenants already decided to begin setting up booby traps with claymores and the C4s they carried. Others cursed the Bandurian shells that began to land, and additional, though sporadic casualties, began to be reported. Rumours began to spread that soldiers in some supports units - cooks, whatnot - would also be armed with rifles and rocket launchers as provisional infantry units to reinforce the existing infantry forces.

The thirty-eight thousand personnel that now began to take position in Tyriandor, as the first of the Omzian air force fighters and attack aircraft promised swept over the Czardaian countryside, Skinny tanks and aircraft in sight . . .

**********

Lac-Montan Airport, Northeast Czardas

Second Lieutenant Joranonan of the 32nd Mechanized Airborne Division nodded to the officers in his company and his platoon sergeant as he returned with a cup of coffee, his carbine slung on his back, embalmed in the body armour specifically designed for tank crew members. "We just came here and we're now going to be redeployed?"

"I think it is a combat drop too," the company commander, Captain Bonares, observed with a nod, noting the huge C-117 transports a fair distance away on the tarmac of the airport. He stuffed the remains of his sandwich into his mouth, then extended a hand to Joranonan. There was a piece of paper in his hand. "You didn't see this? I thought I handed it out to everyone. Yes, we are going to airdrop in the tanks themselves. I don't know why seeing that there are enough airstrips in the area where we are supposed to deploy. Hope that none crashes down or flips over," he chuckled at the thought cynically.

"What!?"

"This is already a shooting war, lieutenant," the captain said, wondering if the lieutenant saw the thanks loading in already with the parachutes. "The airmobile forces had already been deployed by helicopter, I think, into the city itself, and if I'm not mistaken the Bandurians are already bombarding that damned city. Fortunately, we won't fight for now, at least not in the city itself. I don't want to get blown up by a missile through the roof myself, you see."

The lieutenant sighed with relief, but made sure that it was not awfully evident or audible. "So we are going outside of the city? Will the Bandurian artillery reach us?"

"I don't know," the captain pulled out a cigarette and stared blankly as a row of IFVs rolled into the rear opening of a C-117, wondering how long it would take before they would be in the air. "We are going to deployed around the city though. The corps headquarters has assigned our entire division, plus the 35th MechAir, to deploy with the Skinny armoured units outside the city as a ready reserve for a counterattack if the Bandurians make it outside the city. That's around forty thousand men and... 1300 vehicles for us. I'm not sure if our own tanks would stand too much of a chance if Bandurian armour manage to land and see us. But we don't want to see tanks anyways - the Skinnies will probably do it for us, and we'll just deal with the hordes of infantry."

The lieutenant nodded silently. Well, he thought, it is all about wits and luck. So be it. He wondered where the armoured regiments belonging to his corps would be deployed, but that's for the generals to decide, not him.

To: Admiral Michael Sutherland, Silver Skyian 1st Naval Armada
S.S.R.S. 'Kaitou'

The Voltaru eat fish for breakfast.

We have layed in an intercept course.

Saltrow


OOC: I will try to check this at least once before sunday, but just assume my fleet goes wherever the Skyian fleet goes. =)

To: Commander(s) of Praetonian Ground Forces
Lieutenant-General M. Sonara, II Shock Corps, Omzian Czardaian Expeditionary Forces
From: Major-General Yarmouth, Commander International Brigades of Skinny87
Subject: Meeting of Commanders

Lieutenant-General Sonara. I would be mightily pleased to come to some arrangement to meet with you and our Praetonian counterpart. The fighting around Tyriandor will become extremelt bloody and must be held at all costs; a meeting to unify our strategies would be more than helpful.

Major-General Timothy Yarmouth


Tyriandor

By now the defenses of Tyriandor and the surrounding countryside were becoming far more substantial. Machine-gun nests littered the streets and roads, and Dragoon and Lamper Anti-Tank Missile positions were alongside the smaller machine-guns, ready to take on any armoured vehicle that strayed into their sights. Thicker minefields had been set up by Yarmouth's Sapper units in strategic places to ensure that any enemy advance would be funneled into killing zones, into which would be pured heavy machine-gun and artillery fire; the arrival of the Omzian forces would greatly improve the efficency of these areas.

Yarmouth crouched in the doorway of a grocers store and placed his head to the ground as a Bandurian artillery shell slammed into the block of flats opposite the small shop. The concussion wave knocked him off of his feet and threw Green, who was next to him, into a wall. A thick blanket of dust blew over them and the surrounding area, then the barrage was over, shifting to another location for the moment. There was silence for a moment as the dust blotted out a lot of the ambient sound; Yarmouth staggered to his feet and gave Green a helping hand to stand up as well. He was bleeding from an ear, but otherwise fine, and he smiled at the General in thanks. Yarmouth nodded impatiently. "Let's get moving and get to the Headquarters before another shell tries to blow us to hell and further!" he shouted to Green, then started moving into the street.

The two men half-walked half-crouched through the street, sound quickly returning to their aching ears. A small block of flats had been demolished by the shelling, and it was with a pang of regret that Green noticed that a platoon of Volunteer Soldiers had been stationed in that building to cover the intersection. As they watched, medics and stretcher-bearers began moving into the shattered remnants of the building to locate survivors and ferry them to safety. Other troops rushed past to rebuild the defensive positions that had been destroyed, and Green turned to Yarmouth to point out the way to the Command Post. Yarmouth had turned pale, and not just from the dust; he gazed at the ruined building for a second before running towards it. Green ran too and grabbed the General's arm. "Sir, it's far too dangerous in there. You could be killed!" he shouted. Yarmouth pushed the arm away and turned to Green. "Those are my men and women in there goddamit, and I'm going to get them out!" Green was about to object further, but sensed something in the General that made him believe Yarmouth was completely truthful. He nodded once, and the two men moved into the building and began helping the medics drag the survivors out.

It took them a good two hours to help the medics and stretcher-bearers move the last survivors of the position into the field ambulances and watch them drive away.They were both caked in a thick layer of dust from head to toe, but Yarmouth seemed not to notice. He gazed at the building for a second longer, then motioned to Green to lead the way to the HQ. Neither man said a word as they moved towards the buildings, but Green had a new admiration for Yarmouth now; he had seen something in the mans eyes that he trusted when Yarmouth had spoken about his men and women, and he had believed it completely. He smiled slightly as they moved into the Headquarters of Yarmouth's forces and began planning for a joint Omzian-Skinny-Czardian defensive strategy...

From – Department of Defence
To – Admiral McClusky CinC Czardian Naval Task Force


You are hereby ordered to direct the following taskforce units to The Silver Sky where they will be pladed under the command of Admiral Oliver Mancini. They will be
designated Task Force Sword. 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th and 6th Amphibious Assault Groups
- All attached Colonial Marine Corps units (except naval infantry units)
- All attached Legion Etranger d’Ollieland units
You will then take the remainder of the fleet to rendezvous with Woodstock Pact naval assets operating in the northern waters of Czardas against CAD forces.

McClusky read the telex and realised what was happening. A naval battle. A bloody big one.

“Bosun, call the men to arms!”

“Aye aye sir!”

The klaxon sounded all over the ship. All over the fleet men started falling out of their bunks and racing down corridors and through hatches to their battle stations.

McClusky turned to the fleet XO, a young Captain. He looked a capable administrator, but not the sort for battle. Well, he’d have to do.

“Captain, I want the men in a permanent state of battle readiness from now on. Battle drills will be held for the next 12 hours, simulating everything from air attack to alien invasion, you get my meaning?”

The Captain wasn’t sure he did, but nodded enthusiastically nonetheless.

“And I want the Marine commanders in my ready room in the next ten minutes. Seems the high heidyns have plans for them.”

The Captain smiled back at the Admiral. “Okay Admiral, I’ll get busy. We’ll get it done for you Clucks”.

“Oh and Captain?”, called the Admiral, walking over and discretely pulling him to one side. “Call me Clucks again and you’ll see the rest of this war from inside a brig cell, understand?”

The Captin looked shocked and just answered “Aye sir” before walking off.

Most people thought Clucks was a shortening of his name. The posh cadets at the academy had coined it as an insult because of his fathers ocupation, chicken farmer. I won’t have some snot nosed young buck call me that, he thought, Bill Hurley only just gets away with it.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

From - Department of Defence
To – Grand Air Marshall Covington, CinC Colonial Air Force

Airborne army and Marine forces are currently enroute to Czardas. Prepare the 13th, 14th and 15th Operation Combat Sections for deployment to Ardaja International Airport in Czardas. Transport will be managed by tanking all the way. Zeppelin units are to leave immediately to arrive with the airboren armada, now designated Task Force Damocles.

Covington looked up after reading the telex. After his long conversation with Bob Carruthers over homeland security this was just another major task to be accomplished. Well, this is what I’m here for. He called to his secretary.

“Mandy, I need to confer with the Section Commanders of 13th, 14th and 15th OpCom, and with Logistics command right away.”

“Right away sir...”

“Oh and Mandy, call my wife will you? Tell her............tell her I’ll be busy for the time being...”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

“This is Colonial Air Force Task Force Damocles calling any Ardaja International Airport, come in please............ this is Colonial Air Force Task Force..”

“Still no response son?”

“None sir, but we are a bit far out yet. A bit closer and we might get a response”

“Well keep trying the sooner the better”

This wasn’t CAF Air Marshall Ollie Twyman’s idea of combat, transporting army and marine pukes. He was a fighter pilot by instinct. Getting old, he thought, reduced to ferry duties. He looked up and could just make out the southern Czardian coast. Must be about 60 klicks he thought. They must know we’re here..........

He thumbed the comms unit and every speaker in the Task Force buzzed into life.

“Okay listen up people, we’re nearing the coast. Those CAD bastards must know we’re here. Theres no reports of enemy units here, but if I was them, I know what I’d be doing when we come sailing over. Everyones on alert. OK?”

Short and abrupt, just like me, he thought with a smile. Ferry duty my ass, if they come at us we’ll be ready.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Task Force Damocles – ETA Ardaja 4 hours
Task Force Sword – ETA The Silver Sky 12 hours
Czardian Naval Task Force – ETA Woodstock Pact fleet 2 days

HMS Holland, Atlantic Ocean
The Holland floated wistfully, her mighty guns dormant. The ship had been on 'peacekeeping' duty outside of Gibraltar for a fairly long time now, and the crew had watched enviously as more and more ships left the peacekeeping battle line to take part in combats across the world. Now it was to be their turn.

'Captain on deck!'

The bridge crew saluted Fleet Admiral Roger Phillips as he entered the navigation bridge. The Admiral saluted smartly back before taking his place at the command chair.

'Admiral, we have a message from CODNO.'

'Let's see, Mister Shirima.' Phillips replied. The executive officer nodded and printed off the order sheet from the laser printer onboard the bridge, handing it to the Admiral.


Rendevous with Praetonian fleet STOP Engage and destroy CAD forces STOP Land troops and coordinate with Woodstock forces STOP Do your duty the nation is watching you STOP Avenge the Hood! STOP

'I see.' he said, scanning over the unmarked white paper of the freshly printed order sheet. 'Give this to the Horatio and then bring us hard about. Diplomatic officer?'

'Uh, yes sir?' The diplomatic officer was the diplomatic advisor to any naval operation, usually attached to the command ship.

'What's this all about? What's our precedent?' the Admiral enquired. Of course, he had been briefed about possible deployments, including Czardas, Juumanistra and Yoboland, but his ship had never had the chance to lead a battlegroup into combat.

'A group of nations have invaded Czardas - apparently Czardas tried to intervene in internal politics. Negotiations broke down, and well, I suggest our deployment has been scheduled as part of an allied task force, mostly Woodstock Pact.'

'I see - our allies?'

'Sarzonia, Praetonia, Skinny87, Omz - they're our close friends - and some others.'

'Uh huh. And why exactly, are we fighting?'

The officer gulped. 'I'm not privy to the thoughts of our government, sir.'

'I see.' The admiral said, disappointed. 'How are the engines doing, Navigation?'

The Holland had been moving in a holding position for a week or so and as such her nuclear reactors were only on a low gear. Once the engine rooms had been given their tasks, they set about which unflinching efficiency to get the engines to full status. Fourteen minutes later, the Holland had turned sixty degrees away from the long line of battleships, and with her own battlegroup began to move at a steady speed of twelve knots. Of course, the battleship - a 'superdreadnought' by any other name - could move much faster. The huge reactors and pumpjets mounted on her stern could propell the ship almost three times faster, but that would take time. So, the mighty battleship, a sister ship of the (in?)famous Hood set sail towards Czardas, and the allied fleets assembling for liberation.

STATEMENT OF HM GOVERNMENT
http://www.nationstates.net/images/flags/united_kingdom--53.jpg
AS OF 16th March 2006, Her Majesty's Government declares the beginning of military operations in Czardas.

For too long democracy, liberty, freedom, and the right to free speech has been brutally oppressed and crushed by the evil and oppressive nations of CAD and other various far right wing alliances. And yet, nothing has been done.

Not so long ago, the forces of the World Anti Communist League struck out and viciously attacked the nation of Czardas, for attempting to uphold democracy. The world held its breath as the Czardaaian government surrendered under continued pressure, to Doomingsland, a nation renowned for its violation of human rights. But, today, we say no. Alongside our allies, our armed forces once again rally in defence of freedom.

Thank you.

After Andrew Marks's return from the abortive peace conference in Czardas, things began flowing far too smoothly for Mauvasia.

Within hours motions for a declaration of war were up in the Senate and the Grand Congress. The debate raged for less than three hours before both houses voted on it. The Senate's vote was 51 to 9 in favour; the Grand Congress 478 to 30. Half an hour later President Jacobi was signing it into law, and ten minutes afterwards the declaration was broadcast throughout the world.

http://i3.photobucket.com/albums/y57/Mauvasia/coat_of_arms.jpg
Gloriam sapientes possidebunt.
Official Declaration, Mauvasian Republican Government
Broadcast: All Channels
Encryption: None

We have long watched the Czardaian Invasion from afar, but lacked the military or diplomatic strength to do anything about it. While we had high hopes for the peace conference, the CAD nations regretfully failed to listen to reason. Thus, it is with great regret, but a sense of duty, that the Mauvasian Government hereby declares that a state of war exists between Mauvasia and any nation that would deny Czardas its sovereign autonomy and liberty.

[Following statement encrypted; for Woodstock Pact eyes only] We have a large Observational Fleet outside Czardaian waters, ready for any operations it is instructed; further vessels are en route from Mauvasia itself to reinforce the fleet. Composition is attached below.

[signed]Jonathan Jacobi
President

[signed]Louis D'Hiver
Chairman, Department of Defence

[signed]Andrew Marks
Chairman, Department of State

[signed]William Burroughs
President of the Senate

[signed]Eliza Winthrop
Majority Leader of the Grand Congress

[signed]Claudius Avalon
Minority Leader of the Grand Congress

[signed]Donovan Marduc
Chairman, Department of Intelligence

[signed]Sir Arthur Fenwyck
Admiral of the Republican Navy

[signed]Sir Alexander Lloyd
Fleet Admiral leading operations in Czardaian theatre

[Task Force Czardas One]

The Imperial fleet was moving in swiftly. As it approached Tyriandor, more and more of the fleet's guns began pounding the city as Nausicus watched grimly. Everything from the 5" and 6.1" guns on the destroyers and frigates to the massive guns of the SDs was soon pummeling the city. The massive fleet drew ever closer to shore; guided missile subs added their voices to the bombardment, which did not let up for a minute.

The Bandurians noticed the missile fire from CAMERA swiftly. As the massive missile volley closed in, Imperial CIWS and AMMs opened up with volley after volley, sending hundreds of missiles to doom; however, the CIWS systems were not all too effective engaging so many targets, and other countermeasures had to be used to knock the remaining missiles out of the sky. ADVs launched surface-to-air missiles, each one armed with a large blast radius warhead that ripped missiles apart with shrapnel. The missiles that survived this were engaged by lasers and ECM; a total of thirty-six ships were hit, nineteen of which began to sink as crews started work on the remainder.

Meanwhile, more and more missiles were being launched towards the CAMERA systems. These were armed with tungsten penetration warheads to punch through the walls and inundate the entire system with water, preventing missiles from being launched. [ooc: Czardas, you have a TG regarding this.]

The fleet was now less than fourty kilometres from landing at Tyriandor, and the bombardment was growing ever stronger as the ships closed in. Nausicus watched as the lead escorts approached Tyriandor now, bearing the troop transports and Fanatic carriers between them.

Then he got the report from the cruiser in the lead.

"We're picking up anti-shipping mines on the seafloor—hundreds of them. Orders?"

Mines? How unethical. Nausicus half-smiled and answered: "Torpedo launch. Vaporise them all and begin landing."

"Yes, sir."

For the Czardaians, and their Omzian and Skinnian reinforcements, time was running out. Within minutes the first Fanatics will be swarming the beachhead, followed by thousands upon thousands of Legionnaires. Already IF-19B Strike Fighters and IA-71 Light Bombers were rising from their carriers like swarms of bees, AGMs and cluster bombs erupting from their bays and descending rapidly towards Tyriandor...

The Bandurians were finally going to see ground combat, and it was going to be bloody as hell.

[Task Force Czardas Two]

The HIS Halcyon sailed at the centre of the mighty battlefleet at some 22 knots, the maximum speed, surrounded by close on eight hundred vessels. It was the temporary residence of one of the few men who could truly be called evil in this world. Archon Antonin Duheyev was planning. Voltaru and Silver Skyian fleets were en route to intercept the Bandurians, but he in turn would intercept them with his own fleet.

Altogether, he and Grand Admiral Nausicus's fleet would make up half of the Imperial Navy. But he shrewdly suspected that it would not be enough. Putting through a secure line to someone he knew, he said only, "How many do you have?"

The other understood. "I and II are stationed in CAD-controlled bases. III is wrapping up Allanean operations, IV is escorting merchant shipping; V is closing out the Nueve Italian theatre."

"All right. Get I, II, and III to the following co-ordinates at once. I repeat, at once." Duheyev named the co-ordinates.

"But Antonin...."

"I trust I won't have to repeat myself." Duheyev smiled an incredibly twisted, sardonic, and merciless smile.

"Uh... um... no, sir."

"Good. Deploy them."

[I Corporate Armada -- SECRET IC]

The Admiral commanding the Corporate Armada leaned back with a sigh. He was to lead an insane number of ships, possibly establishing a link between Conquest and Banduria, although really the Armadas were mercenaries. They were fighting for the sum of some $1.5 trillion NSD in corporate welfare.

This was also something of a secret, although certain circles had all the information needed on the subject. There were, of course, weaknesses, but almost no-one knew that if they paid the Armadas any more than the Bandurians had, they had gained a hefty force on their side. Nonetheless, the Admiral still had qualms.

His job included bombarding civilian targets and harbours... destroying airfields and power plants... knocking out command bases where other nations could station forces... perhaps forcing one nation out of the war. But he had to do it. Conquest needed the money.

With a resigned sigh, he and nearly two thousand corporately owned ships began to set sail for The Silver Sky.

Tyriandor

The shelling and missile bombardment had rapidly increased in tempo and volume; thousands of shells and missiles were landing in the city and the countryside that surrounded it. Huge craters were created by the impact of naval shells hitting the ground, and entire buildings were blown apart by missiles slamming into them. The noise of the bombardment was incredible, hurting the ears even of those soldiers who were within cover. The ground even began to vibrate with the simultaneous impact of the weapons, knocking unprepared men and women down with its sheer force.

Casualties began to mount from the bombardment; dozens were killed outright by the bombardment and twice as many wounded by shrapnel and falling masonry. Medics and stretcher-bearers raced through the streets and through the ruined buildings, dodging the shells and missiles to get to the casualties and get them to rear for treatment. They suffered heavy casualties; the shells and missiles did not discriminate between a soldier and a medic, red cross or not. However, the casualties were nowhere near as bad as they could have been; many troops were hiding in the subway systems below the city, and in basements and cellars; in pauses from the bombardment men and women would race out and re-sight weapon placements or move systems into new craters and holes. Ironically the bombardment was in fact helping the defenders; the ruined buildings and craters were far more effective defensive positions than trenches and untouched buildings could ever be.

A missile exploded near the Command Post in which Yarmouth and his command staff sheltered. Many of the officers ducked, but Yarmouth remained still, staring intently at the map screens that showed the positions of the allied troops. The radio sets were now abuzz with information and reports; technicians and aides raced through the building to deliver reports to the staff members. One man walked up to Yarmouth, saluted, and handed him a message flimsy. "General, Sunray Six reports casualties being taken from the bombardment, and requests permission to fall back into the ruined factory complex." Yarmouth frowned for a second, then nodded. "Tell Major Baker to retire to the factories, but remain vigilant and report back every ten minutes; we must know the second the transports are launched and their troops begin to land." The man saluted again and hurried off to send the message back to the unit commander.

Suddenly, above the roar of the bombardment came a slightly different sound, more high-pitched. Yarmouth frowned for a second, then yelled out, "EVERYONE, GET DOWN!" and fell to the floor. The floor began to vibrate constantly and the noise rose to a crescendo as the first AGMs and Cluster bombs began falling on Tyriandor. The noise rose to an unbearable pitch, and equipment began to fall to the ground, sparks flying and shattered glass and plastic flying everywhere. For more than a minute the noise and explosions continued, and then as suddenly as it began the air bombardment was over for the Command Post. Gradually the men and women in the complex picked themselves up and staggered to their feet; several did not get up at all. Yarmouth frowned at the sight of the young aide who had reported to him; the mans body was crushed under the weight of a radio set, blood running in a scarlet rivulet away from the body.

He stared for a second, then began thinking again. "Tell the airforce to intercept those damned aircraft and make them pay! Then get all Sunray Commands on the air and tell them to stand by. Their transports will be landing any minute from now!" The staff who remained unhurt reacted instantly, uprighting equipment and using the remaining radios to send the orders out to the units.


Above Tyriandor

The initial wave of Bandurian aircraft had been missed by the Republican aircraft, but the next would not get away unscathed. In the air high above Tyriandor the fighters of the Fifth Air Brigade screamed into action, engines roaring as they reacted to the afterburners the fighter pilots had activated to get to the combat area more quickly. Leading the formation of more than three hundred Euro2000 and F/A-22A Raptor fighters was Lieuteant-Colonel Jack Branagan, RSAF. As the massive formation of aircraft approached the incoming Bandurian aircraft, Branagan clipped his mask to his helmet and began relaying orders to the other aircraft.

"This is Red One, Red One to all Red Flight aircraft. We are nearing the enemy formation at twenty-one thousand feet. The Eurofighters will engage the fighters only, and the Raptors will engage fighters first, then hit the fighter-bombers. The priority targets are those aircraft that are dropping AGM and other such munitions - we have to protect the troops on the ground."

Soon his LADAR array began bleeping furiously and bought up an active scan of the area in front of his Raptor. There were hundreds of targets being lit up by the active radar of his aircraft; more than enough targets to engage. He looked away from the array and corrected his level before continuing his orders.

"Fire your AMRAAMs first at maximum intercept range, then move in and engage enemy aircraft with Sparrows and Sidewinders. Good hunting."

With that he closed the communication channel and made sure his mask was clipped on securely before turning his full attention on his displays. Soon the LADAR array began to light up, as did his Countermeasures Indicator; his fighter was lit up like a Christmas Tree. He grinned behind the mask; time to bring the ace into play. "Red One to Wild Weasel. Begin the dancing, over" he ordered, then flicked a switch to arm the first AMRAAMs that his fighter was equipped with. The HUD indicated that the missiles were functioning and ready fire. He watched the range counter wind down and the contacts get larger in the HUD. When he was satisified that they were in range of the AMRAAMs, he shouted into his mask, "Fox Three!" and pulled the trigger on his stick. Two AMRAAMs shout out from under his wings and streaked towards the Bandurian aircraft, accompanied by hundreds more from the other aircraft.

As the first wave of missiles streaked towards the Bandurians, Wild Weasel came into play. More than thirty AWACs and converted C130 transports moved behind the fighter formation; at Branagan's order they switched on the massive radio arrays fitted into their aircraft, sending out powerful transmissions that would block enemy Radar and LADAR until they moved close enough to the Republican aircraft to break through the static. With their job done they remained on station and monitored the engagement by the fighters. As the first AMRAAM volley neared the Bandurian mass, another volley was released, and then a third, emptying the Republican aircraft of their long-range armaments. Then the fighters moved to engage the Bandurian aircraft at close range with Sidewinders and cannon fire. The war had come to the Bandurians, as the first transports neared the shoreline of the Tyriandor defences, plumes of water exploding around them as the allied artillery took up the fight...

Movement:

From a Naval Department E-Bulletin:

What we know:

*Omz and Skinny already have troops in Czardas.

*The WP and allies yet again outnumbers the CAD.

*The CAD needs to put more hulls in the water.

*We hold most of the hulls in the CAD

*The Warmaster needs to launch an offensive, his troops are currently inert.

*We need to prevent the WP naval powers from blocking off Czardas

*The WP has a close-by base in TSS, making it difficult to enter the waters off of Czardas

*The Sarzonians are out to draw us away from Czardas

What We Don't Know:

*Where the hell the Sarzonians are.

*Who else can help either side.

Strategy:

Divert the Sarzonians away from Czardas....

Forces Commited: 5th Fleet Group reinforced by 18th Battlegroup. 2nd Fleet Group to attack Questarians from behind....

(TBC later.)

Tyriandor, Czardas

Admiral R. K. Fedorius is in the central command room of the TNCC when a rap comes at his door.

"Come in," he says, hastily stuffing the porno magazines he is reading into a receptacle and picking up a pen and an important document instead.

A young aide enters. "Sir, the city's under attack."

"Tell me something I didn't know."

"Bandurian missiles have punched through the walls and the CAMERA missile launchers are flooded."

Fedorius swears heavily. "Damn, that's one system right out. What else?"

"Fighters are causing heavy casualties by launching missiles and bombs at the city."

"Bloody hell, do those fools never use their brains? Have an intercept now, 'k?"

"Yes, sir."

Almost immediately, four wings of CZF-24 Dagger Air Superiority Fighters and two of CZF-18 Peregrine Interceptors begin to launch from airfields outside Tyriandor. Within minutes all 432 planes are in the air, and open fire with a devastating hail of 1,008 AIM-421 AMRAAMs, their double warhead design ensuring at least some damage to the aircrafts. The Czardaian planes meanwhile approach at Mach 2.5, winging through the air at high velocities, prepared to wreak significant devastation on the Bandurian planes.

Meanwhile four AA/EWACs are in the air behind them, although their narrow electromagnetic band electronic jamming will be useless in an engagement at close quarters. Nonetheless, their massive radars, ladars, and sodars cannot help but prove useful...

SIC: (Everything is heavily encrypted and sent through secure channels)
--------------------------
Transport Department, We Buy It Inc.

We agree to transport your troops and their equippment, but for a price, $750,000 USD seems fair right? And you're just in luck, the next shipment is scheduled for tomorrow, if you respond by then we can get you in fairly quickly.

If you agree there will be eight planes in the cargo portion of your airport by 6 P.M. tomorrow, there will be enough crates to hide all of your men, we will get them into a remote airstrip within eight hours, after they we can give them gas and ammo and some transports, but otherwise they are on their own.

If your troops need anything however, we can supply them at these coordinates (blah, blah, where ever).

It has been a pleasure doing business with you.

Signed
We Buy It Inc.

Encrypted Response

We are agreeable to your proposal and the required fees have been wired. 1,000 troops will be ready to board your planes when they land in Kahanistan. The international airport in the capital has been rebuilt to the point where it is in working condition.

We wait eagerly for our agents to be transported to Czardas.

Signed,
Col. Igor V. Kaselev,
Kahanistan Republic Guard

OOC: Offensive, MP, my friend? Oh...you'll get your offensive. Let's spill some blood. CAD forever and all that. And you may just get your reinforcements.

Here is the summary of my forces in Czardas.

Forces at Palma:

120 M146 Despoilers
300,000 Legionaries

Forces outside Czarna:

6.3 million Legionaries
42,000 Immortals
9,000 War-Priests
4,497 T-120 Ravagers
1,500 M1A2 Abrams
500 T-62s
2,500 M146 Despoilers
7,200 LAVs
400 light guns
350 medium guns
150 heavy guns
250 self-propelled heavy guns
300 mobile SAM batteries
25 Colossus howitzers

Naval forces (based off mouth of the River Novak):

5 Super-dreadnaughts
19 battleships
3 supercarriers
28 carriers
189 missile submarines
237 attack submarines
139 cruisers
167 missile cruisers
274 destroyers
362 frigates

Total: 997 surface ships, 426 submarines

Air Forces (based in rural areas between Imperial lines and Palma):

4073 A-35 Balefires
852 Imperial Harriers
529 A-10 Thunderbolts
252 MiG-40s

16 B-1 Lancer stealth bombers (I believe there’s a real bomber with this name; I’m not referring to it. I only found that out after I made these. Just so there’s no confusion.)
120 AH-64D Longbow Apache attack helicopters
156 AH-166 Twilight gunships
550 Lawgiver VTOL helicopter transports (These weren’t mentioned in the past thread, Czardas...sorry...but this thread will probably have more detail, and they could have arrived before the conference.)

Total: 5,706 fighters, 16 stealth bombers, 276 attack helicopters

Czardas, did you say at the beginning of the conference thread that citizens had dismantled the defenses at Czarna? Or maybe you said the exact opposite...Well, you know and I don’t, so it’ll go accordingly I guess.

IC: Lord Rahvin stared at his orders, and smiled the smile of a beast that smelled blood. Czarna lay in the distance, a city rank with dishonor, cowardice, and idolatry. Disorder added a tinge to the stench, like decaying flesh...these Czardaians, were, like all infidels, no better than jackals. The rest of Czardas’s pack was finally baying; Sarzonia, Praetonia, Skinny87...fools, every one. The Imperium had heard the call of war, and would respond in kind. Rahvin had initially wondered if even Sacred Emperor Lucifer was still in control of the chain of events he had set off by sacrificing the Council of Prefects...but that was ridiculous. Lucifer was a mere step behind the Seven True Gods themselves. A short step.

Pulling a laptop toward him, he turned it on, waiting for it to load. Soon, he was typing a secure e-mail to High Admiral Ludo Anor, in the seas near Palma.

Ludo,
The shit’s hit the fan. I don’t know if you know yet, but Praetonia is on the loose, and a few other nations. We don’t know their target yet...but be on guard. We have control of the seas right now; I’d hate to lose that.
The Sacred Emperor just sent orders for me to begin the assault on Czarna. First, of course, comes the preliminary bombardment. So I need the missile submarines to unload on Czarna, plus whatever else you have that can reach the city.

Blood and Honor,
Lord Rahvin Ares

Miles away, at precisely noon that day, the missile submarines accompanying the Imperial fleet opened fire. 72 Pandemonium II missiles from each, the very same that had killed the Senazkerkians, that had blasted Auru and Aurdania, streaked into the sky on their course to Czarna. Thunderous reports followed them as 57 Colossus shells were hurled towards the city from the battleships and Super-dreadnaughts, and across the fleet, Rapier missiles flew from their launchers. This storm of destruction would be more than enough to ruin a normal city...but this was the capital of Czardas, the heart of their godlessness. It deserved the fieriest of deaths. At the same time as this barrage, the Imperial aircraft were being scrambled.

Minutes later and miles away, the main body, having advanced to the point where its artillery could reach Czarna (while still being covered by the SAM batteries and the aircraft), opened up as well. Every piece of artillery in the force assembled fired on Czarna, over and over. The ground shook as the guns hurled death on the infidels, and the barrage went on for what must have seemed like forever to the citizens in Czarna. It was actually only a matter of hours...but to the weak, an hour under fire felt like forty.
Once the aircraft were in the air, they were likewise able to rain missiles on the city. The Thunderbolts each fired four Paveway guided missiles and two AGM-65A Maverick missiles. The swarms of Balefires each launched four of their Methuselah missiles, the MiGs, two each of their Gomorrah AGMs; and finally, the Imperial Harriers each launched two Vanguard missiles. Following this, the MiGs, Balefires, and Harriers circled above, staying out of range of any possible ground counter-attack, while taking turns to reload their weapons at the prefabricated airbases below.
Once the city was burning, blasted, and weak, the Legions themselves could advance.

OOC:

FROM THE FLEET:
Subtotal (4 of these): 13,608 Pandemonium II missiles, 57 Colossus shells, and 1,224 Rapier missiles.
Total: 54,432 Pandemonium II missiles, 228 Colossus shells, and 4,896 Rapier missiles.

FROM THE GROUND FORCES:
Subtotal: (12 of these): 25 Colossus shells, 800 115mm shells, 700 145mm shells, 300 155mm shells, and 500 188mm shells.
Total: 300 Colossus shells, 9,600 115mm shells, 8,400 145mm shells, 3,600 155mm shells, and 6,000 188mm shells.

FROM AIRCRAFT: 2,116 Paveway guided missiles, 1,058 AGM-65A Mavericks, 1,704 Vanguard missiles, 504 Gomorrah AGMs, and 16,292 Methuselah missiles.

[Task Force Czardas One]

...the air

"AAMs incoming!"

"Break, break, BREAK!"

"Comms! We need air superiority birds, yesterday! Kill the goddamn fuckers!"

The radio chatter became deafening as Imperial planes ducked and dived, evading the thousands of incoming missiles or loosing countermeasures to deal with them. Missiles exploded in mid-air or fell from the sky, their electronics shorted out by the ECMs of the planes, but more kept coming. Like falling stars, burning fighters fell out of the sky, returning fire with their short- to med-range missiles. But vengeance was to be swift and merciless.

From either side of the fighter and bomber formation came a total of two hundred and fourty IF-24A air superiority fighters, 'Wyvern', their triple interconnected swing-wings resembling those of their namesake in the dawn light. They began loosing medium-range and short-range missiles like wildfire as the strike fighters and bombers used their few remaining missiles before retreating, to be replaced by a fresh wave.

A total of 1,920 MRAAMs (six from each air superiority fighter; one to two from the remainder) ignited and zipped towards Skinnian and Czardaian planes at 4 mach, each one's gas based thrust nozzles and varied guidance making it more maneuverable than the fighter launching it—which made them quite maneverable indeed. Air superiority fighters closed the distance between the enemy fighters rapidly at 3.25 mach as explosions lit up the sky like brilliant fireworks.

Within minutes more cluster munitions were falling on Tyriandor as more strike fighters opened their bays, carrying the battle into the air. 2,000lb concrete bombs descended from the sky alongside kamikaze UCAVs, loaded with explosives. Tyriandor would soon become the next Auru if things kept up this way.

... the beaches

On Nausicus's order, the seafloor was pummeled with torpedoes and depth charges, sending mines up in droves as the sea exploded in splashes and booms. But those explosions were obscured by the phenomenal amount of artillery bombarding the beaches now. In the early dawn mists, smoke rose everywhere from ships hit in the crossfire or actual positions along the beachhead.

The transports were closing rapidly now, escorted by a guard of destroyers. Leading the entire formation were black ships... huge black transport ships, the people inside crammed together like animals, their blood suffused with powerful stimulants. Fanatics: political prisoners, common criminals, POWs, equipped with cheap assault rifles, grenades, and the odd ATGM—drugged into fighting for the Imperial Army. Once released upon the enemy, they would run berserk—their only desire to cause as much destruction as possible, immune to pain, cold, heat, fear, or anything else, ripping apart enemy troops with their bare hands when their weapons failed, unconscious to anything except adrenaline.

As the massive ships slowly began to lumber into shallower waters, like elephantine behemoths, their 30mm and 45mm autocannons began to rotate rapidly, spewing hundreds of rounds towards the beaches as shells continued to impact. Larger guns (twelve-inch and above) were now loaded with white phosphorous shells, shaped charges coating areas with anti-tank mines or filled with ball bearings, fuel-air explosives, in addition to the conventional HE shells. The battle was rapidly rising to a climax.

But the climax was yet to come.

The giant transports slowly ground to a halt now in waist-deep water. Then, the front of each transport began to slide upwards—a massive portal, rolling up, revealing only inky blackness beyond...

Then the whistle came, and all hell broke loose.

At first they came in small clumps and groups, Fanatics, screaming a wordless and strangely terrifying cry. Then a constant stream of them erupted from the ships as they charged the beaches, some simply exploding from mines or being hit by the autocannon fire, which soon ceased as the black transports withdrew. They looked for enemy things to kill, and killed them... it was as simple as that. Behind them were more transports, but these carried something almost as horrifying as the Fanatics. They too began to land the Legionnaires in the Fanatics' wake, with tanks and artillery; all along the beach similar scenes were taking place. Amphibious assault ships dropped their troops as helos and strike fighters covered the air, while the skies still rained black with navall shells...

100km East of Tyriandor
We Buy It 'First' Northern Task Force

One-hundred and ninety-two transports roared low over the plains outside of Tyriandor, they were headed for a hidden complex of airfields and underground hangers. Escorting them was the entirety of their Tactical Air Command Forces, 3,120 planes produced a deafening roar that echoed over the land and into the city.

The planes had left their fields, which extended from Kratozerkia to Viel and Saint-Hubris, just two hours earlier to assist the Skinnyian's and Omzian's in their defence of Tyriandor. Tyriandor was a key city for the corporation because it controlled the majority of roads to the mines and oil fields of the north, it had to be held at all cost.

"We're coming to the airstrip!" announced the pilot of the transport. Fighters began to peel off to establish a protective CAP over head but the bombers and helicopters continued into the towards the city it's self.

-------------------------------------

[Air Complex 003]

Transports began to land in the dozens, the complex had 12 airfields of very long length and equipped with elevators that brought the planes down below ground into armored hangars. It already had a single division manning it, along with the accompanying SAM, SSM and artillery emplacements all hidden in the rocky and rolling hills around the complex.

Within a few hours the transports were all unladened and were taking off for their next troop trip.

The trip from the complex to Tyriandor was a short one, it was only an hours drive and the troops would not have to worry about air attacks as the only roads leading out of the base were underground highways or railroads.

One division took the rounds which, when they exit would put them in the southern part of Tyriandor, just outside of gun range, there they had artillery and SAM emplacements already set up.

The second division would follow the rails which would bring them into the north eastern sector of the city, the industrial and rail yards, within gun range of the sea, but the tall buildings around would keep them safe from missiles, planes and hopefully shells for a while, although they also had help from arty and SAMs it wasn't too the degree of the southern base.

------------------------------
Skinnyian Command Post

Nearly one-hundred CH-100 Sergeant heavy transport helicopters roared towards the command post just a few meters off the ground, they were escorted by 50 SAH-27A "Peregrine" Attack Helicopters most of the group had made it, but some had been destroyed or damaged by shell shrapnel or missiles from Bandurian fighters.

They stopped and began to unload, there were 65 people in each for a total of 6500 troops, most armed with standard weapons, but some with MANPADS or MANPAT launchers. About 50 helicopters carried LV-08 'Raptor' Armored Patrol/Light Trucks, half had two quad FIM-100 'Wraith' SAM launchers while the other half had two dual launchers of GWS.78 Roc kinetic energy missiles or GWS.80 Ostrich heavy anti-tank guided missiles.

As the helicopters finished unloading and flew away, the commander of the airborne force, General Iverson ran towards the Skinnyian command post to have a word with his Skinnyian counterparts.
-------------------------------------
Above Tyriandor

Thousands of planes filled the sky east of Tyriandor, leading the vast armada were 144 F-63K Tengriy Air Superiority Fighter, they were flanked by F-620 Xeons and F-73A Eagles. below them were F/A-3 Dragonfly Multirole fighters and FB-177A "Barsuk" Strike Bombers which hurtled themselves towards the enemy transports and ships

"All fighters report in, this is General McGovern, we're going in, arm your Starshell NLRAAM's, take lock on an AWACs or heavy plane you can find."

"Engage at will!!! Fox 3! Fox 3!" Yelled McGovern as his two NLRAAM's launched themselves and steaked at ungodly velocities towards the Bandurian air armada.

McGovern swung his plane towards the Bandurian fighters at high speed, his squadron followed suit and so did most of the fighters. Bandurian missiles streaked back, but the agility of the planes saved some of them except for a 180 unlucky souls who either happened to be piloting the less manuverable Xeon's instead of the quick moving F-73As and F-63Ks.

"Wait till you get a good lock! Then let'em have it!" Yelled McGovern. The radios were a mix of friendly and intercept enemy transmissions of people yelling and screaming in rejoice or agony.

McGovern got on the tail of a Bandurian figher and closed into gun range. "Take this you facist son of a bitch!" He yelled as he squeezed the trigger and sent a burst of AHEAD type shells into the enemy plane which promptly exploded. He swung onto the tail of another and fired a missile into the tailpipe of an enemy attacker.

This scene was copied over the whole of the skies of Tyriandor as Bandurian and We Buy It fighters danced with death.
--------------------------------
Approaching Bandurian Transports

Nearly 432 FB-177As and 432 F/A-3s raced towards the approaching enemy transports, they were armed to the teeth with anti-shipping missiles. Dozens of SAMs and AAMs alike raced to meet them, however with advanced countermeasures, manuverability, stealth, and the fact that they were within 15 meters of the water, helped to keep casualties minimal, but still, 32 FB-177As, and 64 F/A-3s were destroyed.

Pillars of water exploded around them as missiles and AA shells alike hit the water and exploded. But the remaining planes kept on coming.

"This is Colonel Packer, arm your missiles and ready for launch."

They closed to within the optimum launch range (90km). "Fire at will! Fire at will! Fox 2, Fox 2" Yelled Packer as his six Starblast ASMs rocketed off their launchers towards the enemy transports and small surface ships, each had enough power to bring a light cruiser to the bottom with a single hit.

Each missile was engineered to spin and had a tiny amount of ablative armor. The spinning and ablative armor would negate the Bandurians laser defenses because the lasers would not be able to heat up the same spot and it allowed the places that were hit to cool down some. And the sheer speed of the missiles, which was mach 3+ would give the enemy SAMs and CIWS, which were already engaging other targets, almost no chance to engage the missiles.

As the nearly 3136 missiles streaked towards the lightly armored transports, the FB-177As peeled off for home, however, the F/A-3s had one last trick up their sleeves.

Their internal weapons bays opened to reveal two 1000mm air launched supercavitating torpedo. The F/A-3s slowed to only two hundred mph as the torps fell into the water. Almost instantly the engines of the torpedoes ignited sending it down range into the ranks of transports and light ships. They were move manuverable then first generation supercavs but, still suffered from a lack of great manuverability.

However, because of the decrease in speed another 64 F/A-3s were hit, but the rest managed to launch 608 torpedoes towards the enemy fleet.
---------------------------
125km From Bandurian Fleet and Transports

The Bandurian's were probably wondering if it was all over yet, but the We Buy It Inc. Air Force still had a haymaker up their sleeve.

High over the fleet were 96 B-300C's, newly imported or upgraded from Space Union. They carried the real punch of the air armada, they were at 75,000ft and cruising at Mach 2.2 fully loaded.

The bomb bays on half the planes opened up to reveal 72 Starblast ASMs in the belly of each craft, slowly, the missiles started to fall out and ignite their engines. Within seconds all 3456 missiles were screaming towards the enemy, half of them targeted the transports and light ships, while the other half targeted the main force of carriers and battleships and cruisers, but left the SD's alone. The forces of bombers turned away as SAMs raced up to meet them.

The countermeasures and anti-missile missiles the B-300Cs carried did their job, each plane carried over 170 counter measures and the five self defense turrets with their AMMs. Dozens of SAMs and AAMs were destroyed by the 20mm cannons and self defense missiles, and others were deflected by jamming and flares and chaff, and IR seekers were blinded by IR laser pulses. (think laser pointed, except 20 times bigger and more powerful. However, 12 bombers were hit and six plummeted right out of the sky while the others slowly felly apart as their crews ejected.

The second half of the bombers continued on for a bit, taking about 6 hits. They seemed to carry two huge fuel tanks on the pylons. But then theire bomb bay doors opened revealing six more massive fuel tanks, but they were no fuel tanks.

They were bombers, 30,000lb bombs, but bombs none the less. They were modifications of the Guided Demolition Bomb-002s, they had 13,000lbs of gelled slurry explosives(GSX), which equated to over 26,000 pounds of TNT.

The massive bombs were different from the orginals in that they were equipped with range and accuracy enhancing rocket motors, and they were against designed to defeat lasers with spinning and ablative armor, but they had one more trick up their sleeve, they were stealthily shaped and covered in RAM.

The bombs slowly fell from the bomb bays, 8 to each bomber for a total of 384 bombs. The rocket motors ignited and pushed them slowly towards the enemy fleet as the bombers, or what was left of them because another 6 had been shot down, pulled back.

The bombs were GPS, IR and satellite feed guided. They floated down and slowly picked up speed as gravity took over, their targets were the masssive carriers and super dreadnaughts, with secondary targets the battleships, even if they failed to knock them out they would destroy all sensors on deck from the overpressure of the blast.

It would be the fireworks show of the century.

[Task Force Czardas One]

...the air

"Enemy fighters inbound, IFF Silver Skyian, permission to engage?"

"Roger, show 'em your stuff."

The already massive air armada, by now over 1000 planes, swiftly doubled in size, then tripled as more and more planes joined the formation. The Skyian NLRAAMs inbound had already been noticed, but the sheer number of planes in the air ensured that something would be hit. ECM jamming knocked the vast majority out of the sky and towards the city below; SRAAMs and lasers dealt with the rest; nonetheless, over three-score fighters plunged from the sky in flames, the pilots not bothering to eject into the path of the Fanatics. By now a total of 864 IF-24A Wyverns, 720 IF-24B Strike Wyverns, 720 IF-24E Multirole Fighters, and 1,152 IF-19 Medium Fighters of assorted makes were in the air some 30,000 feet above the armada engaging the Skinnies, and every single one of them launched highly maneuverable missiles in return.

Two volleys of 4,176 LRAAMs launched themselves swiftly through the air at high velocities, their gas based thrust nozzles and several guidance mechanisms helping them outmaneuver all but the fleetest of fighters. The Imperial air fleet, meanwhile, was closing at Mach 3, almost immediately launching four MRAAMs each—13,824 missiles in all—and then closing to dogfight range.

The Silver Skyians had unknowingly stirred up the proverbial hornet's nest...

...the sea

Long before the Skyian planes reached the 50km range, the Bandurian ships were launching missiles to meet them. The armament of choice was cruise missile-sized SAMs that arched through the air and showered the planes with ball bearings and cluster munitions, although more traditional SAMs were also used. Then, of course, there were the massive EMPs of the capital ships, which knocked out electronics and sent planes plummeting into the waves.

A total of 2,592 SAMs of the varying types mentioned above were launched towards the incoming planes before they would have a chance to launch their missiles, even as helos and aircraft moved to intercept the Skyians at the same altitude, although with a considerably more formidable array of armament...

...the air, once again

Far from wondering if it were over, the Imperial forces were waiting with bloodlust and anticipation for it to begin.

The bombers were patently not out of Imperial SAM range. From one of the 80x80 LRSAM configured VLS blocks of a Monarch-class SD, all 6,400 missiles burst from the launchers, ignited their ramjets, and hit Mach 4 as they maneuvered towards the bombers, to hit them before they could launch their missiles. As the bombers had no fighter escort, were large and thus unmaneuverable, and would be hard pressed to stop all approximately 67 missiles approaching each one with whatever countermeasures they had, the Silver Skyians had basically committed suicide. The LRSAMs had a range of 175 km, so they could not be outflown; in short, the missiles and bombs would never find their targets.

And that was saying nothing of the armada of really heavy bombers—IB-92s—with fighter escort, swiftly arriving from the north.

Port Khufi

As the battle between the allied forces and Bandurian invaders raged in Tyriandor, Port Khufi was once again becoming a hive of activity. Escorted by an entire Battlegroup, the first transports carrying Republican reinforcements had arrived in the docks of the Port, and were beginning the long process of unloading the troops and equipment from the vessels and bringing the armoured and infantry divisions together so that they could effectively campaign in Czardian territory.

Transports swayed gently in the waters of the Port, and smaller boats ferried equipment and troops from their holds to the shore as rapidly as they could, their crews more than aware that every moment they delayed was another moment that the troops at Tyriandor remained isolated and unreinforced by the men and women they carried to shore. However, even zeal and fervour could not make the process go much faster, and it would take nearly a day before all eight divisions were completely unloaded and ready to move.

However, assembled at the edges of the Port were two Rapid Reaction Divisions, the 2nd Armoured and the 58th Infantry Division. Risking everything on avoiding detection, the vessels carrying these men, women and their equipment had moved at flank speed and arrived nearly eight hours ahead of the main convoy. Moving at the best speed they could, and enlsiting the help of allied personnel throughout the Port, the Port workers had unloaded the troops and vehicles and ensured they were ready to move as the first ships of the main convoy sailed into the safe haven of the Ports waters.

The two Divisions, approximately 20,000 troops in total, were mounted up and ready to move towards Tyranidor. Tank engines rumbled and troopers jumped into the last few trucks availble whilst the latest intelligence was procured from the Port Intelligence Officers. The men and women of the RRDs were aware that they would effectively be on their own for quite a while; although there were some 80,000 more troops being readied in the Port, they knew that these would take some time to assemble and be at fighting efficency; they were also aware that the convoy had been lucky, and that another would take more time to arrive as the CAD naval forces started to patrol the coastline.

However, there was an air of determination amongst the troops as the lead elements of the combined force moved off from the Port defences and moved towards Palma. The plan was to launch a spoiling offensive at the CAD troops stationed at the city and try and relieve some of the pressure from the beseigement of Czarna. With the latest intelligence reports, it would be difficult to move directly to Tyranidor without taking heavy losses. Palma would be the first step towards reinforcing that city, however.


Tyriandor - Ground - Headquarters

As the artillery continued to slam into the defensive positions and the few intact buildings that remained in the once beautiful city, Republican and allied soldiers secured their defensive positions in the city and waited. They knew that the attack would not be long in coming, even as the shells and missiles continued to fall.

In the Republican Command Post, General Yarmouth was crouching by the side of a radio operator and his set. The man was in direct communication with the frontline defences that faced the beaches, and the reports coming in from the defence lines there was not exactly uplifting. Hundreds of transports were heading towards the beaches, and despite persistent artillery fire and now mortar batteries adding their firepower, they were still coming. Yarmouth tapped the operator on the shoulder. "Tell all Baker Units that they are to hold the beaches at all costs, whatever happens!" he shouted to be heard above the din of the bombardment, and saw the man nod and lean towards the radio set to relay the orders above the noise.

He heard the guards at the front of the complex shout out a warning, and then salute. He turned in time to see a man walk into the command post, ducking to avoid an errant beam that had been loosened by the bombardment. Yarmouth moved forward and grasped the mans hand, searching the mans uniform for identification. He vaguely recognised the uniform as that of The Silver Sky, and realised this was the TSS forces commander.

Dust from a near-miss fell on the two men, but Yarmouth shook it off impatiently. "General, it's good to see some more friendly faces here. I don't know exactly what troops you have, but we need them moved into the city and to the beaches themseelves - the Bandurians could be landing any second now, and we need to throw everything we can at them to stop them!" He paused to gather his thoughts, but before he could do so Lieutenant-Colonel Green turned and shouted to him from across the dusty room. "Sir! Baker One reports they are engaging the enemy on the coastline!" He held a radio headset to his ears and frowned for a moment, then shouted again. "Now Baker Two, Three and Five are reporting large-scale landings on their fronts, and are engaging immediately!"


Tyriandor - Ground - Beaches

Private First-Class Antony Franklin peeked his head over the top of the sand dune he was crouched in with the rest of his squad, and stared at the scene in front of him. All around him were the other men and women of the Baker Units, stretching for miles to his left and right. Shells and missiles exploded throughout the defensive lines, throwing up geysers of sand, dust and occasionally body parts that Franklin tried to look away from. To his direct front was the shingle and waterline, and from that direction came hundreds of massive transports. Water spurted up as mortars and artillery fire splashed around the transports, and the ruins of more than a few that had taken direct hits littered the water, but more than enough were intact and nearly at the shore line.

He ducked as a mortar misfired and fell to his front, a fine layer of dust covering his head and shoulders, then gripped the handles of his M60 machine-gun even more tightly than he had before. Besides him his gunner and closest friend Jack Champion was laying down on the sand, belts of ammunition laying loosely in his hands to feed the M60 with. He grinned tightly at Franklin. "Hell of a way to die, huh?" he shouted above the noise. Franklin tried to respond with something witty, but before he could do so, there was a grunting noise behind him. Franklin whirled around, only to relax as he saw the form of his Captain, Phil Taylor, crouch in the dune. Taylor moved up to the lip of the dune and looked out for a second, before turning to the two men. "Okay, those Bandurian sons of bitches are going to come out of those transports any second now. Just keep calm, don't panic, and just keep firing, whatever happens. We don't retreat unless we are specifically ordered to, you understand?"

The two men nodded, and Taylor smiled and made to jump over the back of the dune where he had come from. Before he could do so, the first transports hit the beaches and their fronts slid up. For a moment Franklin could see nothing, but then he saw the first Bandurian soldiers race out of the transports and towards his position. They seemed odd-looking, but he had no time to think about it. Taylor tapped him on the head through his helmet, and his training took over. Franklin looked through the sights of the M60 for a second, taking aim, before pulling the trigger and firing at the enemy troops. Taylor had his M8 rifle and was doing the same, and all around Franklin the rest of the Baker Units opened up with a maelstrom of machine-gun, rifle and submachine gun fire, accompanied by a crescendo of mortar and grenade launcher fire. Dragoon Anti-Tank units fired their missiles at the armoured units that landed behind the first wave of enemy troops, dozens of missiles streaking towards the tanks and APCs...


Tyriandor - Air

The volleys of AMRAAMs had done their job and thinned out the ranks of the Bandurian aircraft, but now Branagan realised that it was their turn. No sooner had the thought entered his mind than his HUD began squawking like crazy as several missiles were targeted on his Raptor. The distance between the two airforces had narrowed significantly, but not enough to stop the Bandurians from launching their own missiles; thousands of them streaked towards Branagan and his own fighters.

As his HUD continued to blare out warning noises and an automated warning, Branagan moved his stick to the left and put the Raptor into a rapid dive, whilst at the same time punching the button that started his countermeasures. Two of the Bandurian missiles had targeted his fighter, and Branagan threw his plane into a series of wild manouvers to try and lose them. Spewing chaff from its rear, the Raptor dived towards the ground, missiles streaking towards it. One hit chaff and exploded, the fragments spinning into the other and damaging it, in turn causing it too to explode just behind the Raptor.

Branagan pulled up again and checked that there were no more missiles immediately coming towards him. Safe for a few seconds, he aimed the Raptor towards the Bandurian aircraft and selected a Sidewinder from the HUD menu. As he did so he pulled down a list of the casualties. He grimaced as he read the lists; more than eighty of his fighters had been destroyed or crippled and forced to return to base. He turned his head to see wreckage falling from the sky, much of it burning or trailing dark smudges of aviation fuel. He swore ineffectively into his mask, then turned on the communication channel.

"All remaining Red flights, go to Short-Range Missiles and engage the enemy at close range alongside the use of cannon." He shut off the mike, then pulled the trigger on the stick again; two Sidewinders shot out from under his plane and moved towards the Bandurian planes, before selecting his Autocannon and moving to intercept one of the many Bandurian fighters before the dogfight became too intense. As he switched, he noticed that more allied planes had begun to show up on the HUD...

[Task Force Czardas One]

[b]... the beaches

Despite the unrelenting fire, Fanatics continued to charge forwards, shrieking the same wordless cry and storming the positions even as bullets impacted their bodies and the cheap armour they wore. Thousands upon thousands of them rushed the positions, aided by artillery fire to destroy pillboxes, machine gun nests, and enemy artillery and mortars; meanwhile small shells were continuing to hit, this time accurately pinpointing the artillery positions. Fanatics now swarmed the enemy troops, outnumbering them over ten to one as they continued their inexorable charge up the beaches, dying even as more splashed through the waters to join their comrades in a symphony of death.

And behind them, the Legions.

Mobile artillery batteries and handheld mortars were returning as good as they got as the Bandurians slowly took the beach, inch by inch of ground. The Legionnaires had been trained from birth, and it showed. Their equipment was near-perfect, their heavy armour capable of withstanding most gun rounds, and they were exceptionally well versed in tactics and strategy.

Heavier naval shells would help ensure that Skinnian positions would be obliterated, as 8" and 12" shells hit in a solid line some thirty meters ahead of the Bandurians, wiping out whatever was there before...

... in the air

The Imperial fighters closed into full dogfight mode. As the Sidewinders approached them, they launched chaff and flares to evade, the larger ones using their lasers to heat the missiles until they blew up. A few planes plummeted to the ground, never to return, and many more suffered severe damage, but the vast majority of aircrafts were still left to begin the dogfight.

Most planes launched copious quantities of short-range missiles, then tried to evade the return fire as autocannons chattered, sending dozens of 30mm rounds a minute into enemy fighters. A few planes were forced to RTB, completely winchester, but more came in to replace them, part of the over 12,000-strong Imperial Naval Air Force armadas deployed to Czardas.

[Task Force Czardas Two]

Archon Duheyev's fleet sailed rapidly closer to Tyriandor now, some two hundred kilometres away from linking up with Nausicus's larger fleet. TFC2, while not quite as large, had a much larger number of Arsenal Ships, increasing its firepower by a good deal.

It was not too much of a stretch to claim that Armageddon was at hand: the forces of the evil one, Duheyev, against... But here one must stop to think. For is there anyone who fights in war, truthfully, who can ever be called good?

Ardaja

The commanding officer at Ardaja raises his eyebrows slightly. “You said what is coming this way?”

“A fleet of airships,” the COMM officer says wearily for the fourth time. “IFF Ollieland, requesting permission to land.”

“Oh, I see. Well, what are you waiting for… allow them to! And leave me alone!”

“Yes, sir.” The COMM officer departs hastily, leaving the CinC at Ardaja to his tequila and mystery novel, while the Ollian airship fleet is cleared to land at Ardaja.

Tyriandor

The Czardaian planes could lose no time in responding to the Bandurian attack. As missiles scream towards them, they release their countermeasures while AA/EWACs use their NEM band jamming capabilities, shorting out the electronics of the missiles and sending them in a free-fall to earth. Two full squadrons of Czardaian planes are hit, however, and the pilots eject, their parachutes marking their graceful descent towards the ground, unlike their former planes which leave small craters at impact.

The Czardaians now close with the Skinnies in a dogfight with the Bandurian forces, launching their SRAAMs and striking in small groups, then swiftly retreating back into the clouds—a highly effective Czardaian dogfighting tactic. As the morning drags on, Czardaians continue to battle their mortal enemies in the air and on land, leaving the sea to those who know it best.

On the beaches, Captain Richard Forrester is part of a mortar crew. The beaches are painted with a myriad of explosions as Bandurian ships approach from the sea, undeterred by the near-constant explosions around them. Shells and artillery explode everywhere as Forrester ducks behind the ruins of a one-family house, launching an RPG from a bent and twisted window before turning back to his crew.

“Not exactly optimal, are they?”

“What?”

“The conditions.”

“Well, no.” The other soldier is nonplussed. Forrester sighs and launches another 155mm round towards a Bandurian ship. Then he hears shouts.

“What’s going on now?”

“They’re launching!” someone screams back in his radio.

Then the first wave of Bandurian soldiers hits the beach in a way that reminds Forrester oddly of a human tidal wave. They seem to disregard the mortar and artillery fire, charging aimlessly and mindlessly towards the beachhead. Forrester fires four shots into one, but the man keeps running, screaming in a high-pitched voice.

“What the fuck?”

Then the mortar position is swarmed by hundreds of them as Czardaians try desperately to hold them in. They aren’t human now, only mindless killing machines. An artillery shell destroys the ruined house almost immediately afterwards, more of the fierce soldiers attacking and attempting to destroy the Czardaian forces. Gunfire and artillery fire is omnipresent, but the Czardaians will never give up the beaches until the last of them is dead…

Approaching Bandurian Transports

Nearly 432 FB-177As and 432 F/A-3s raced towards the approaching enemy transports, they were armed to the teeth with anti-shipping missiles. Dozens of SAMs and AAMs alike raced to meet them, however with advanced countermeasures, manuverability, stealth, and the fact that they were within 15 meters of the water, helped to keep casualties minimal, but still, 32 FB-177As, and 64 F/A-3s were destroyed.

Pillars of water exploded around them as missiles and AA shells alike hit the water and exploded. But the remaining planes kept on coming.

"This is Colonel Packer, arm your missiles and ready for launch."

They closed to within the optimum launch range (90km). "Fire at will! Fire at will! Fox 2, Fox 2" Yelled Packer as his six Starblast ASMs rocketed off their launchers towards the enemy transports and small surface ships, each had enough power to bring a light cruiser to the bottom with a single hit.

Each missile was engineered to spin and had a tiny amount of ablative armor. The spinning and ablative armor would negate the Bandurians laser defenses because the lasers would not be able to heat up the same spot and it allowed the places that were hit to cool down some. And the sheer speed of the missiles, which was mach 3+ would give the enemy SAMs and CIWS, which were already engaging other targets, almost no chance to engage the missiles.

As the nearly 3136 missiles streaked towards the lightly armored transports, the FB-177As peeled off for home, however, the F/A-3s had one last trick up their sleeves.

Their internal weapons bays opened to reveal two 1000mm air launched supercavitating torpedo. The F/A-3s slowed to only two hundred mph as the torps fell into the water. Almost instantly the engines of the torpedoes ignited sending it down range into the ranks of transports and light ships. They were move manuverable then first generation supercavs but, still suffered from a lack of great manuverability.

However, because of the decrease in speed another 64 F/A-3s were hit, but the rest managed to launch 608 torpedoes towards the enemy fleet.
---------------------------
125km From Bandurian Fleet and Transports

The Bandurian's were probably wondering if it was all over yet, but the We Buy It Inc. Air Force still had a haymaker up their sleeve.

High over the fleet were 96 B-300C's, newly imported or upgraded from Space Union. They carried the real punch of the air armada, they were at 75,000ft and cruising at Mach 2.2 fully loaded.

The bomb bays on half the planes opened up to reveal 72 Starblast ASMs in the belly of each craft, slowly, the missiles started to fall out and ignite their engines. Within seconds all 3456 missiles were screaming towards the enemy, half of them targeted the transports and light ships, while the other half targeted the main force of carriers and battleships and cruisers, but left the SD's alone. The forces of bombers turned away as SAMs raced up to meet them.

The countermeasures and anti-missile missiles the B-300Cs carried did their job, each plane carried over 170 counter measures and the five self defense turrets with their AMMs. Dozens of SAMs and AAMs were destroyed by the 20mm cannons and self defense missiles, and others were deflected by jamming and flares and chaff, and IR seekers were blinded by IR laser pulses. (think laser pointed, except 20 times bigger and more powerful. However, 12 bombers were hit and six plummeted right out of the sky while the others slowly felly apart as their crews ejected.

The second half of the bombers continued on for a bit, taking about 6 hits. They seemed to carry two huge fuel tanks on the pylons. But then theire bomb bay doors opened revealing six more massive fuel tanks, but they were no fuel tanks.

They were bombers, 30,000lb bombs, but bombs none the less. They were modifications of the Guided Demolition Bomb-002s, they had 13,000lbs of gelled slurry explosives(GSX), which equated to over 26,000 pounds of TNT.

The massive bombs were different from the orginals in that they were equipped with range and accuracy enhancing rocket motors, and they were against designed to defeat lasers with spinning and ablative armor, but they had one more trick up their sleeve, they were stealthily shaped and covered in RAM.

The bombs slowly fell from the bomb bays, 8 to each bomber for a total of 384 bombs. The rocket motors ignited and pushed them slowly towards the enemy fleet as the bombers, or what was left of them because another 6 had been shot down, pulled back.

The bombs were GPS, IR and satellite feed guided. They floated down and slowly picked up speed as gravity took over, their targets were the masssive carriers and super dreadnaughts, with secondary targets the battleships, even if they failed to knock them out they would destroy all sensors on deck from the overpressure of the blast.

It would be the fireworks show of the century.
The missiles rapidly shot towards the Imperial fleet as klaxons wailed. Narrow-band pulses mounted atop the massive radars of the ADVs began sweeping the missiles, destroying their circuitry and knocking them into the waves. Many more managed to survive despite this, however, and began hitting ships.

The transports were well-protected by walls of escorts, and those began taking hits. An armoured cruiser was hit by missile after missile, rocking in the water and slowly sinking as around it more and more missiles found their targets, CIWS systems switching to engage the missiles but too late for over thirty escorts. Fires swept the ships as crews tried to repair them; others sank, beaching themselves off Tyriandor as the crews and marines clambered off, grabbed weapons, and joined the assault on the beaches as best they could.

The SUCAVs were not quite as lucky, supercavitating ASHUM guns did their work, spraying the massive torpedoes with rounds and ripping them apart. Mines and small 300mm torpedoes were also fired from ASW configured ships, blasting even more of the incoming weapons to kingdom come. Finally, fuel-air missiles hit, sucking everything out of the area and crushing it. Only a few ships took hits from the torpedo launch.

But now a new threat was approaching; SDs and other capital ships began spreading out in the centre of the formation as hundreds of massive bombs descended from the sky. The Super Dreadnaughts wasted no time, launching volleys of SAMs from the reloadable launchers to intercept the bombs and then, when that failed, firing the twin concussion burst launchers aft. Each of those fired a powerful burst of sound, physically pushing the bombs off course and sending many of them plunging harmlessly into the ocean. (Or not quite harmlessly—a light cruiser was pulled into the whirlpool created by ones' landing a few metres from it.)

A few bombs were left, however, and CIWS was the last ditch, a screen of bullets and ball bearings covering the ships and ripping several bombs to pieces. However, damage could not be avoided.

Grand Admiral Nausicus read the damage report with mounting anger. A bomb had barely missed one of the Monarch-class SDs, ripping a hole in the armour. Another bomb had hit a Dreadnaught directly in the VLS fore, igniting the magazine and blowing the ship up. Two bombs had hit a large carrier, completely vaporising even the wreckage, and the Decius Aurelius itself, proud ship that it was, had lost one of its 27" turrets from the concussion of a nearby bomb.

However, that was inconsequential, because Archon Duheyev's force was now preparing to link up with Nausicus's, replacing the lost ships swiftly. The protective escort cordon along the back began to open, allowing Duheyev's flagship and the other large ships in the formation to enter the central isle, and then slowly closed once more. All 2,700 combat ships were now united, and all 2,700 of them were ready to fight. And how.

Tyriandor - Ground - Beaches

Absolute carnage. There was no other way to describe accurately what the situation was on the beaches. Hundreds of sinister black transports lay on the beaches or in the shallow waters by the shingle, unloading tens of thousands of crazed and fanatical Bandurian troops, alongside hundreds of tanks and smaller armoured vehicles. Many of the transports listed to one side or were taking in water as artillery continued to slam into them and the water around them, but there were still enough to unload yet more troops into the hard-pressed allied defences.

Thousands of corpses littered the beaches, and more than a few blazing wrecks of tanks and armoured vehicles, but the rest of the Bandurian troops advnaced steadily up the beach and towards the first line of defensive positions, as shells and grenades threw up geysers of dirt and dust around them. As the advanced, the Baker Units continued to rain down fire on them; machine-guns blazed away, pausing only to replace belts of ammunition or barrels as they wore away from repeated firing; mortar crews sweated under the blazing sun and the artificial heat of the mortars themselves to lob thousands of shells into the crazed attackers, and thousands of riflemen and submachine gunners lined the sand dunes, trenches and bunkers of the first defence line and added their fire to the barrage.

Even with the heavy artillery that was now being redirected by observers attached to infantry units to land amongst the Bandurians, it was simply not enough to stop the attack, and now the defenders began to suffer from the firepower of the enemy troops and vehicles. Bunkers began to take direct hits from tank shells and artillery, and heavy cannon fire raked the edges of dunes and trenches, throwing men and women back in bloody messes, often losing limbs in the process. Adding to the incessant noise of battle were the screams of the wounded and the dying; medics moved amongst the forward positions and tended to the less seriously injured patients, administering shots of morphine and placing dressings on wounds; then dragging or lifting the more badly wounded soldiers back to the forward medical posts, where surgeons and field medics crouched in trenches to try and save the mangled bodies of the wounded.

To the right of the line, Private Franklin screamed wordlessly and swung the M60 from left to right, firing in short bursts. Sand was everywhere, blinding him, and explosions erupted all around him, but he didn't notice it. He merely continued to fire the machine-gun, knocking down Bandurian troopers and sending rounds ricocheting off of tanks and armoured vehicles.

The gun suddenly stopped firing, the belt of ammunition finished, and Franklin whirled to Champion beside him; Champion crawled forward and fed the weapon another belt of ammunition, crawling over the body of Captain Taylor, decapitated by a heavy cannon round. He slapped the belt in and hit Franklin on the head. Franklin pulled back the bolt of the machinegun and pulled the trigger again, sending yet more bullets into the ranks of men before him.

The fire tore into their ranks, but still they got closer, near enough to open fire on Franklin's position, bullets flying over his head or slapping into the sand and scattering. Franklin ignored the fire and kept firing, raking from left to right. There was a massive explosion to his right, big enough for him to notice; the trenchline there had taken a direct hit from an artillery shell, and nothing remained of the squad that had been firing there.

It sobered Franklin enough to stop firing for a second out of shock, and it nearly cost him his life. A crazed Bandurian soldier ran at him, screaming, and it was only Champion grabbing Taylor's rifle and cutting the man down that saved Franklin. Franklin nodded his thanks then resumed firing, noticing the Dragoon and Lancer Anti-tank missiles streaking past towards the enemy vehicles.

They were getting far too close, Franklin's mind screamed at him as he kept firing. He tried to ignore the voice but it kept coming despite his attempts to stop it. He was on the verge of panicking when another Republican soldier jumped into the dune and tapped them both on the shoulder. "Fall back to the top of the beach, now! The airforce is going to start a bombing run, try and stop those sonofabitches!" the man shouted. Champion followed the man, jumping out of the dune and zig-zagging through a connecting trench towards the top of the beach.

Franklin fired off the rest of his ammunition belt, then abandoned the weapon, as it was too bulky to carry. He dived out of the dune just as a grenade exploded next to the machine-gun; Champion grabbed him and pulled him into the trench, and the two ran like hell for the top of the beach, past empty Dragoon positions and rifle-pits. They jumped into another trench just as the first of the Fighter-Bombers roared overhead, jet-engines roaring over the noise of the rest of the battlefield. Franklin grabbed an M8 rifle and propped it up on the trenchline and watched the rest of the Baker Units reform at the second line.

The fighter-bombers screamed over the Bandurian landing grounds and released their payloads, hundreds of AGMs, clusterbombs and conventional bombs over the beaches. Franklin was impressed by their bravery, for it was a suicidal run; they had dealt a lot of damage, but they paid for it. Of the thirty aircraft that had hit the beaches, he counted only six returning, one trailing fuel that soaked into the sand next to him. For a moment the beach was silent, then the Baker Units resumed firing, determined not to retreat from this defence line until forced out...


Tyriandor - Air

The two airforces had now devolved into a single massive dogfight that stretched for miles around, as well as above and below. Thousands of aircraft fired short-range missiles at each other or raked each other with cannon fire. Colonel Branagan swung his Raptor in a tight dive to the right as a Bandurian fighter launched a missile at him, HUD screaming out warnings.

He punched the button for chaff, but the cell blinked steadily, red; no more countermeasures were left. He swore loudly, then corkscrewed the Raptor and moved through a cluster of Bandurian and allied fighters, cannon firing continuously, scoring hits on several enemy fighters.

Finally he saw what he was looking for, and yanked the stick to the right. The Raptor flew right and past a Bandurian fighter; the two pursuing missiles were a fraction of a second late and the enemy fighter passed between the Raptor and the missiles. Without turning to see what had happened, Branagan fired another Sidewinder at a Bandurian plane, then quickly surveyed what was happening.

A Raptor flew past him and blew up in a firey display of aviation fuel and metal as a missile hit it, and a Tomcat lost a wing to a burst of cannon fire, spinning rapidly into the sea below; another Tomcat avenged it's partner, launching a Sidewinder at its attacker then flying past. It was a hellish fight, and Branagan seemed to be losing too many of his aircraft. It was to his relief then, when a new series of IFF beacons appeared at the rear of his HUD; his reinforcements from the Carrier Taskforce and the remaining airecraft from Port Khufi had arrived.

He grabbed his mask and opened a channel to the arrivals. "Blue Leader, engage enemy reinforcements with AMRAAMs, then join the dogfight, over" With that he fired another cannon burst and dived to get away from a Bandurian fighter on his tail...

The Task Force A'tuin was the pride of the Taldaani navy. Seven-hundred ships strong, there was not a single Taldaani seaman who did not dream someday of becoming a member of that glorious armada. Accepting only the best graduates from the naval academies, only the most experienced captains, and the shrewdest Admirals, Task Force A'tuin was universally recognised as the cream of Taldaani naval prowess.

The fact that it had been mobilised now spoke volumes about the battle at hand. The negotiations at Czarna had shocked the Taldaani government, who had at least hoped that the talks could be resolved peacefully. Their chosen diplomat, Tal Bizon, had been selected for the job for his usual pacifism and willingness to bargain. However, the CAD delegates had mostly turned up in full armour, refused to negotiate, and threatened to tear Czardas to pieces. This had understandably generated an argument with the Woodstock Pact delegates, and then after an escalation of tensions at the negotiating table both sides had left swearing to return in force.

The CAD obviously had an advantage in this regard. They already occupied parts of Czardas, and their fleets were fully mobilised. The mobilisation of Task Force A'tuin had taken over a day, and although the naval offensive had not yet begun there was a chance of them arriving too late to find the battle already over and the ocean littered with lifeboats and the ocean floor covered in wreckage.

At the centre of the fleet, behind a double-line picket of ASW and AAW ships, sailed the A'tuin herself. The most prestigious ship of the Taldaani fleet, if it was every Taldaani sailor's dream to sail in Task Force A'tuin, it was their wildest fantasy to serve on A'tuin herself. Although it was equal to the five other SDNs in the task force in design, in terms of respect and history it stood head and shoulders above them. It cut smoothly through the water, waterjets pushing it towards its destination.

On the bridge of the A'tuin, Admiral Hawthorne and the best of his officers from the other ships of the fleet had just finished a light dinner. The plates, cleared of chicken and sauce, had been taken away, a fresh bottle had been passed around, and now the table was covered with satellite pictures, communications printouts, maps, and other assorted documents. The Admiral himself was giving the briefing.

"Progress today has been rapid. Our course will now be adjusted five degrees west to bring us onto a course with the combined Woodstock Pact fleet. Once in range we will rendezvous with them, and it is likely that we will be placed under the command of another admiral. However, this is not an insult. Certain nations, Sarzonia and Praetonia most notably, have naval forces that have carried the day on numerous occasions.

However, close as we are, I ask you to remain vigilant. A CAD strike could come at any time. AWACS patrols must be launched for full coverage of the area up to 500km out from the fleet. We will continue in the dual-picket formation. All ships will be brought to combat readiness, and regular drills must be held to ensure that crews remain in top form. When we hit the CAD naval forces, I want our crews to be in perfect condition. For now, keep a close eye on sensors and be ready to fight."

An ensign burst onto the bridge, face red with running.

"ETA with Woodstock Pact forces is four hours, Admiral."

"Excellent. Return to your post."

For the first time in what seemed like a long time, Sacred Emperor Lucifer prowled the War Room. The massive floor provided live satellite feeds of anywhere in the world (and hundreds of other useful things), and right now about 90% of them were watching various fronts of the Czardaian war. Before, it had been Czardas against several CAD allies, but the CAD was now coming together to destroy allies of Czardas's that had swooped down when they dared not help before. Infidels.

At one of the strategic display tables, High Admiral Ludo Anor was on one of the telephone lines built into it, and the display was of the seas off Czardas. Various CAD fleets were being assembled, but the Woodstock Pact members, and especially Silver Sky, outnumbered the allied fleets.

"We must have additional support," Anor was saying. "The Imperial fleet was not without losses in the initial landing effort, and now we may be set upon by fleets double or triple our size. We need more and more powerful ships, or we will lose the seas."

"We are assembling a fleet here, High Admiral," Lucifer replied. "You are correct, and we must not lose control of the seas. There are still many ships here." It was not exactly true; more and better ships were indeed available, but calling them up would be quite a gamble, making the Empire itself more vulnerable. However, to send anything less would mean that the Czardaian fleet would be crushed, and then the home fleets would still be on unequal ground, despite the difference not being so pronounced.

"You shall have your reinforcements, Admiral. Blood and honor."

[OOC: My land (i.e. Army) forces are with the Omzian forces and my naval forces with the Sarzonian forces. All of this is, of course, secret IC.]

The Skinnian forces were being ravaged by those from Banduria as human wave assault followed swiftly upon the backs of one another. Field Marshal Naseby, far from the front, made his decision.

"It is time we engaged the enemy," he declared. Upon the map of Czardas, he indicated that self-propelled and towed artillery units begin firing extended range guided munitions to destroy tanks and extended range guided submunition rounds to litter the beaches with anti-personnel and anti-tank mines, shooting and scooting to new positions, keeping out of reach of the Bandurian and Warmaster's naval bombardment ranges. Helicopter gunships would take out any heavy armoured vehicles -- tanks, self-propelled guns, and the like -- that attempted to advance inland. UCAVs equipped with anti-vehicle missiles and light air-to-surface weapons would be used to strike at transports and resupply vessels attempting to enlarge the bridgehead.

"Our infantry will establish camouflaged choke points to ambush their mechanised forces, guiding them into kill zones." Uncrewed ground vehicles would make the initial assault, remotely controlled from helicopter and ground stations, tearing into the flanks of mechanised infantry units and spreading discord into the rear areas. "See how their AFVs like an anti-tank missile up the jacksie." Special forces units would go after officers, as well as POL, revetement and rendezvous points, never allowing the enemy to consolidate their position." Battlefield surveillance helicopters meanwhile provided allied ground forces with the enemy's current dispositions, insofar as was possible, as heliborne infantry reinforced Skinnian positions.

All of this was, of course, under the protection of air force fighter squadrons to counter any attempt to suppress either INA reinforcements or attacks, armed with a broad array of air-to-air and air-to-surface weaponry that made their own contribution to the anti-invasion force. The interdiction aircraft would first, knock out the ship's and ground forces radar installations, whilst fighter bombers would go after the transports. Close air support would bombard the advancing CAD forces with long range cluster bomblet weapons and cluster bombs as well as light autonomous weapons capable of breaching a tank's top armour.

"It's time they learned what strength is."

Doomingslandian II Invasion Army

General Septimus Severus was not in the most pleasant of moods, having been driven from the peace conference by those Czardaian barbarians. On his flight over, he'd been alerted to numerous declarations of war. It didn't surprise him in the slightest, although he was quite angry at the betrayal of his people by the Skyians. He had already made the decision that any of their men taken prisoner would immediately be put to death.

Severus' objective was clear: take and hold the city of Dorandor and the surrounding lands. This was at the top of the High Command's to-do list.

Dorandor was a conservative city of Catholics, and would most likely be sympathetic to the Empire's cause. This was something Severus was counting on. If he was correct, he would be at great advantage to secure that region, as it would grant him access to a fresh pool of recruits and supplies, in addition to being a great political victory for the Empire.

The entire army had been landed by now, and already lead mechanized elements began to speed towards Dorandor. The way Severus saw it, he had several options if Dorandor was sympathetic as he suspected they would be: leave a smaller force of Regulars and newly recruited Auxilia in defense of that area and head off to join his CAD allies in battle. Or, he could move all of his forces into that region and turn it into one big fortress.

He personaly was in favor of the former, especialy with multiple major battles engulfing the entire country. However, if worse came to worse...he preffered not to think of that at that particular moment. He had more important things to think about, such as the present situation. Dorandor had to be liberated at all costs.

In anticipation of the arrival of his main body, he had dispatched a number of the Melon Arcanus, better known as the Hunter-Killers, ahead of the force. These men had a reputation for both attrocities and sheer fanaticism, as well as superb skill in battle. These reputations had been earned in conflicts such as Inkana, Buchiania, and Alberia, in addition to numerous others.

However, in this instance, the men of the XXVI Arcani Century had a far different task than ambushing Sarzonian special forces soldiers or massacring a column of rebels. They had a good 'ole PR assignment, something they hadn't done in ages. Traveling with the force were several priests, deacons, and monks, three inquisitors, and a bishop.

With these holy men accompanying the SFs, they hopefully would be able to win the favor of the locals and secure the entire city ahead of the main force. If they could accomplish this task, the Empire would certainly be off to a good start in this bloody war.

The commander of this operation was -technically- Bishop Gnaeus Berius. However, he was a man of faith, not a man of war. The commander of the XXVI was an old Centurion by the name of Lucius Scenius, an veteran of Buchiana, Inkana, and, more recently, ViZion. This man had actualy commanded the raid that successfully snatched twenty-five congress members right out of Praetonian hands. As a result, he was though of rather highly amongst his peers. He thought out of the box, as evidenced in ViZion City by the Praetonians.

That was exactly what was required for this operation. Public relations wasn't exactly a hallmark of the Legions. Propaganda, on the other hand, was. That may be exactly what was needed in this instance.

The force was being transported in a squadron of ten ACI-68E Banshee VTOL transports, escorted by a squadron of Aquilas (which stayed at higher altitude, checking for enemy RADAR, and keeping out of sight), with the Banshees hugging the Earth to keep enemy RADAR systems from picking them up.

These units would be able to reach the outskirts of the city within a few hours. What resistance they encountered up until then, however, remained to be seen...

-MORE TO COME-

Tyriandor - Beaches - Ground

Private Franklin looked down the sights of his M8 rifle, and held his breath for a second. The air rushed into his lungs, and time seemed to slow down around him. Bullets flashed past at a fraction of their speed, and explosions seemed to take place as if in a film, frame by frame. He saw his target move up the beach, and he adjusted his sights slightly, framing the middle of his sights directly on the mans chest. When he was ready, he let half of his breath out and simultaneously pulled the trigger.

Time suddenly sped up to normal; rounds clipped the trenchline he was crouched in, and shells sped past and exploded at the top of the beach. The three shots from his rifle hit the target perfectly, and Franklin turned to the next man; there were certainly enough of them to fire at. He fired again, and again, and again, dust clouding his sight at times, and he had to duck as a grenade exploded a few metres away, shrapnel flying over his head in a deadly arc.

The Baker Units now held the top of the beach-head, and were completely dug-in now, laying down heavy amounts of fire on the ever-advancing Bandurian troops. By now, however, more friendly forces had arrived and begun to lend their own firepower to that of the original defenders, lashing into the attackers. Casualties were still high, however; more than a few troops were dragged and carried past Franklin's position as he continued to fire. Finally he fired his last three rounds and crouched down further, dropping the empty clip onto the floor of the trench and slapping in a new one. He cycled the bolt of the rifle, then slowly raised his head and rifle above the parapet.

He took aim at another Bandurian trooper, but before he could fire he noticed a dull rumble from behind the new Baker Unit positions. The vibrations got more and more noticeable, and at the same time Franklin could hear the whine of helicopter engines and the rapid whipping of blades. Suddenly a trio of Apache Helicopter Gunships skimmed the few buildings on the beachline, insignia of the Grand Monarchy emblazoned on their sides, and hovered above the sand for a moment facing the Bandurians. Then they let loose with a barrage of Hellfire Anti-Tank Missiles and more general HE Missiles which streaked towards the Bandurian attackers.

As this occured all along the defensive line, the surviving helicopters retiring to their bases again, the rumbling grew to a crescendo. Franklin turned for a second and saw a line of Champion MBTs draw up to the edge of the beachtop. For a second they were silent, and then they opened fire in unison, cannons launching projectiles directly down the beach at the enemy armoured units. The first volley was in unison, but the second and third were more ragged as each crew fired at their own pace, but the effect was still the same; shells were rained down on the armoured vehicles and infantry advancing up the beachead. Heartened by the sudden appearnce of some of the Brigade's tanks, Franklin continued firing...

Tyriandor - Ground - Tyriandor City

As the fighting raged at the front, the defences of Tyriandor itself were rapidly improving. Camouflage was now added to many of the hidden machine-gun and anti-tank positions, and more minefields were being laid along the oputer skirts of the city limits. Anti-tank teams were set up on rooftops and in craters to dampen the effectiveness of Bandurian tanks, and more than a hundred snipers had set up position in abandoned towerblocks and church towers, weapons trained on the city limits; they had orders to take out officers and non-commisioned officers first, then take down the grunts themselves. A few tanks were also moved into position, driving into hastily prepared bays in the ground to act as gun positions, although the majority still remained at the rear...


Port Khufi

Word of the heavy fighting at Tyriandor had spread like wildfire through the Port, galvanising the workers into even faster action. By now all of the 80,000 troops and equipment had been unloaded at the Port, and the six Infantry and Armoured Divisions had deployed to the North-East end of the Island on which the Port rested. Divisional and Brigade artillery began a bombardment of Palma, sending hundreds of thousands of shells into the city and suspected Warmasterian positions, whilst the first aircraft took off to commence bombing runs and CAP of the city itself. As the two Rapid Reaction Divisions moved Southwards to try and hook around Czarna and hit Palma from the South, five Divisions, primarily Infantry, began loading onto troop transports and transport helicopters to assault Palma, whilst the remaining three moved southwards to bolster the defences of Orandor, although they would not arrive for some hours...

As per the Skinnies' orders, Czardaians fall back to the edge of the beach, waiting for the completion of the bombing run. Whatever the Bandurians have done to the crazed soldiers assaulting the positions, it doesn't seem to be particularly pleasant, and as former positions are obliterated the Czardaians begin returning to the battle.

In the streets of Tyriandor, Major-General Mark Chang smiles approvingly at a young lieutenant. "Excellent job, Aarthen. Bring them this way."

He is referring to the small formation of trucks and vehicles behind the Lieutenant. Each truck contains a hastily created reactor and is mounted with a railgun; the vehicles are self-propelled artillery from 105mm to 203mm.

"Why don't we blast those fuckers to kingdom come, hmm?" Chang inclines his head.

"Good idea, sir," says a Captain sardonically. "And then we'll sprout wings and fly off to the moon, I suppose?"

"No, actually, we'll stop smoking pot just before going out onto the battlefield," Chang looks pointedly at the man as laughter resounds behind them. Chang cuts it short.

"All right! Fire!"

A dozen and a half Big Ass Artillery Slugs (BAAS), mostly 203mm arty and 155mm railguns, are lobbed into the air and the trucks struggle to keep in the recoil, a wheel falling off and rolling over to rest in the wreckage of an office building, which is promptly hit by a Bandurian shell and lost forevermore.

The crews reload the artillery trucks and eighteen more BAASs rumble through the air towards the Imperial fleet... On dozens of larger streets throughout Tyriandor, similar scenes are taking place. Several trucks fall apart from the pressure, rendering the railguns useless, and due to the ... unconventional ... apparel of one crew, they are forced to retire after developing a nasty case of sunburn... but nonetheless, the Czardaians are returning fire as best they can. All of 60,000 troops are already in the city, and more than 200,000 more are expected to arrive if the Bandurians can be held off just a little longer.

But Chang is not targeting the Imperial fleet—he is targeting the docks at Tyriandor.

The charges are similar to fuel-air explosives, designed to rip things apart specifically and vaporise them in general. As they begin landing on the harbor, the piers and docks are ripped apart, leaving a jumble of wreckage in the middle of the harbor. Bluejay strike fighters and Annuvin attack helicopters, providing air support, begin dropping heavy bombs towards Tyriandor harbor as well, their objectives becoming clear: Prevent the Bandurians from landing; demoralize them; confuse them.

OOC:

FROM THE FLEET:
Subtotal (4 of these): 13,608 Pandemonium II missiles, 57 Colossus shells, and 1,224 Rapier missiles.
Total: 54,432 Pandemonium II missiles, 228 Colossus shells, and 4,896 Rapier missiles.

FROM THE GROUND FORCES:
Subtotal: (12 of these): 25 Colossus shells, 800 115mm shells, 700 145mm shells, 300 155mm shells, and 500 188mm shells.
Total: 300 Colossus shells, 9,600 115mm shells, 8,400 145mm shells, 3,600 155mm shells, and 6,000 188mm shells.

FROM AIRCRAFT: 2,116 Paveway guided missiles, 1,058 AGM-65A Mavericks, 1,704 Vanguard missiles, 504 Gomorrah AGMs, and 16,292 Methuselah missiles.
The defenses at Czarna are not only still active, but incredibly powerful. Czarna, being an ancient historical city as well as the capital and the home of many foreign embassies, is -the- best-defended city in Czardas, matched only by Mariosz in the scope of its defenses.

As missiles stream in, batteries outside Czarna fire some 72 EMP missiles, hardened against themselves, which detonate in the midst of the swarms—frying the electronics of every single missile within range and sending them down, not upon Czarna, but onto the Imperial troops themselves. For each volley the process is repeated, bringing the four volleys down into the midst of the millions of troops swarming outside Czarna.

Thus are the mighty fallen.

The shells are more worrisome, and clumps of SAMs are fired to intercept the larger ones. [ooc:] What's the diametre of a Colossus shell, btw? Some of the smaller ones do manage to hit; one impacts the ancient wall around the city, shattering a portion into hundreds of fragments. Another one strikes a residential neighborhood, and then another. Anti-missile batteries and lasers now open up, destroying shells in mid-air, but the bombardment continues inexorably. Only 35,000 residents of Czarna die that day... but it is still enough for the Czardaians to retaliate. And here the purpose of moving a battlegroup of gun and missile cruisers up the river becomes evident.

The 203.2mm and 254mm main guns of all eighteen ships swivel to face the Imperial troops, spitting a total of 72 shells into the air, then another 72, and this continues for six minutes until twelve volleys of shells have been fired, then a break, then another six minutes. Meanwhile, the missile ships open up with volleys of missiles. Eight Arsenal-class ships are in the battlegroup, and every one of the eight lets loose 1,280 missiles, or a total of 10,240. Barely pausing for breath, the ships fire another 1,280 each, then, their tubes empty, dock on the other side of the river to refuel.

However, much of this is lost in the counterfire. The 2.6 million troops forming a blockade around Czarna are now prepared to do their duty. Artillery from 105mm field guns to 188mm howitzers to 305mm truck-mounted railguns to 460mm self-propelled guns, and everything in between, opens fire in return with six volleys. Emperor MBTs and Scorpion I and II LBTs advance to the front lines, letting loose with their 120mm ETCs and 76mm smoothbores respectively, spitting hundreds of shells into the air.

Strikers and Hailstorms are in the air now, only 144 Strikers and 20 Hailstorms, but it is enough to drop their formidable combined ordnance on the Warmasterians. The ponderous bay doors of the Hailstorms open and hundreds of missiles streak down and out towards Imperial forces, while the Strikers begin dropping assorted bombs and other ordnance.

The Battle of Czarna has begun.

The counterfire totals:

From ships -
24x 36 203.2mm shells, 36 254mm shells = 864 203.2mm shells, 864 254mm shells
2x 10,240 general purpose missiles = 20,480 m GP missiles
[Total: 1,728 large calibre shells; 20,480 missiles]

From land -
6x 2000 76mm shells, 120 105mm shells, 1200 120mm shells, 216 155mm shells, 120 188mm shells, 120 203.2mm shells, 136 228.6mm shells, 64 305mm railgun slugs, 64 406mm shells, 32 460mm shells = 12,000 76mm shells, 720 105mm shells, 7,200 120mm shells 1296 155mm shells, 720 188mm shells, 720 203.2mm shells, 816 228.6mm shells, 384 305mm railgun slugs, 384 406mm shells, 64 460mm shells
[Total: 21,216 small calibre shells; 3,088 large calibre shells]

From air -
20x 100 Severance AGMs, 3 10,000lb bombs = 2,000 Severance AGMs, 60 10,000 lb bombs
144x 6 cluster bombs, 6 concrete bombs, 24 "general purpose" bombs, 4 fuel air bombs, 12 Severance AGMs = 864 cluster bombs, 864 concrete bombs, 3,456 general purpose bombs, 576 fuel air bombs, 1,728 Severance AGMs
[Total: 3,728 AGMs; 60 heavy bombs; 5,760 "normal" bombs]

[Overall Totals: 24,208 missiles; 21,216 small calibre shells; 4,816 large calibre shells; 5,820 bombs]

[ooc: It looks like I'll have to go metric for the land-based artillery, so bear with me here.]

[TFC 1+2]

... the beach

The Fanatics were gone. Killed by one run or another, or brought back aboard the ships, the 180,000 used to start the fighting initially had been dealt with, and now were replaced with the 11th Imperial Legion, which was inexorably marching up the beach.

First came a row of mighty Overlord MBTs, armed with 15.5 cm ETC main guns, and another row, glinting pitch black in the morning light. Then Roach LBTs and IFVs followed, with heavy artillery being rolled along the beachhead. Unlike the Skinnies, all the volleys were fired in perfect unison: volley after volley, showering positions with projectiles. Deathclaw anti-tank vehicles flanked the armoured formation, launching dozens of ATGMs towards the Republican tanks. Meanwhile, the air support was not idle: four squadrons of IH-7s whirled by, launching missiles towards the defences and the city.

The guns of the fleet were starting to fall silent, but Nausicus could see the activity in the city thanks to URAVs positioned under the main air armada. More defences were being prepared, and he was going to stop them. Even as the large guns of the ships continued to pound the city, he broadcasted an order to the submergibles.

Fourty Dominis-class SSBNs surfaced and fired their entire payloads of missiles: thirty 'Hellfire' ballistic incendiary missiles each, or 1200 in all. The powerful incendiary warheads, spread throughout the city, would ignite anything within range, spark raging fires, and distract the defenders long enough for the Imperial Legions to take the city. After firing the missiles, the submarines trundled off to a nearby supply ship to restock on more weapons...

The war was only starting now...

...the sky

The skies were in turmoil, but that did not prevent the Imperial fighters from noticing the newcomers. The squadron leader contacted High Command quickly.

"We need reinforcements yesterday, copy?"

"We copy, but we can't spare any air superiority birds now. Will UAs do?"

"Whatever you have, just send it!"

The UCAVs on CAP joined dozens of squadrons of drone fighters as they were forcibly ejected from their carriers via catapults, winging towards the battle at Mach 4. Upon reaching the air battle, they began launching their own MRAAMs towards everything foreign, remotely controlled from sims on the carriers. Missiles shriek through the air as autocannon fire tears the sky in half, the dogfight raging, the sky black with the smoke of downed fighters.

"In bellum est gloria. In imperium est libertas..."

Tyriandor - Ground - Beaches

Three tanks exploded above Private Franklin's head, hit by cannon fire and heavy artillery shells that once again slammed into the beaches and the outskirts of the city. All along the top of the beach the Republican tanks took similar losses, but their part in the operation was at an end, their purpose served. The surviving tanks fired another volley at the oncoming tanks and then retreated back into the city.

The fresh wave of Bandurian troops and vehicles began advancing up the beach, and the defenders began their bombardment again. Anti-tank missiles lanced towards the larger tanks, Lancers and the smaller AT6 missiles slamming straight into the armour whilst the larger Dragoon missiles conducted pop-up manouvers and detonated directly above the turrets of the tanks, ripping armour open and showering the crews with red-hot shrapnel. Renewed machine-gun and submachine-gun fire met the Bandurian infantry, raking the sandy beaches and destroying what little cover remained. From far behind the landing grounds, newly reinforced artillery began bombarding the beaches with heavy 155mm shells, smashing into the advancing troops with a vengeance, guided by dig-in observers.

Casualties were once again suffered, and the medics constant work continued, dragging casualties back to the more permanent medical centres at the outskirts of the city. Once again the Apache Gunships moved from cover and unleashed several volley's of Hellfire Missiles at the tanks and armoured vehicles, before retiring once again. Finally close air support came into position; whilst four squadrons of Raptorts engaged the enemy IH-7s at close range, two squadrons of A-10 Warthogs flew over the beaches and unleashed a punishing hail of heavy cannon and missiles.

Franklin continued to fire at his targets, three rounds per trooper and ten troopers per magazine before he had to reload. Magazine after magazine went in, was fired, and was ejected; he pulled new ones from satchels being hurried from the city supply centres or from the bodies of those who had been less fortunate in surviving the deadly hail of fire coming from the Bandurians. The fighting continued unabated...

Tyriandor - Ground - Tyriandor

As the heavy missiles launched towards the city, the newly-installed SAM and ASAM defences of the Republican regiments began launching hundreds of missiles at the oncoming missiles, knocking many out of the sky; combined with the Czardian and allied air defences, not many got through. Those that did destroyed entire blocks of houses and industrial areas and began raging fires. Special teams of firefighters were sent to control the fires, but ther majority of troops remained in their positions, ready to fight to the death.


Tyriandor - Air

The battered remnants of Red Flight had been reinforced by the fresh reinforcements of Blue Flight, easily tripling the number of Republican aircraft in the dogfight. The new arrivals launched their AMRAAMs and Sidewinders, then moved into the dogfight and engaged the newly arrived Bandurian UCAVs in a swirling mass of aircraft. The aircraft of Red Flight disengaged and made their way back to their airfields, fuel desperately low and needing new missiles and cannon ammunition...

[Czardas's puppet here. I'll probably be back tomorrow to resume operations. See you then, I guess.]

OOC: Numbers are in the OOC thread.

IC: In blinding speed compared to the mobilization of the first task force, the new and larger fleet was assembled and sent on its way. Ground forces, luckily, had been on alert for a while; the Sacred Emperor had been harboring the idea of sending reinforcements prior to any attack on Czarna for a while, until he authorized the plan for a peace conference, now known to the high-ranked men of the Legions as the Fucking Infidels Plan. With Senazkerkia in ruins, Doomingsland standing with them once more, and Czardas having surrendered, sending more forces seemed completely unnecessary.

That was then. This is now.

Praetonia. Sarzonia. The Silver Sky. Omz222. Skinny87. Isselmere. These were powerful names, names of heathens, to be sure, but powerful nonetheless. The CAD would restore its advantage by any and all means necessary, and right now High Admiral Anor needed a fleet.

It moved across the waves at the nautical equivalent of a full sprint. Every bit of power was shunted to the drives, racing to cross the seas separating the sacred heartland from Czardas. Lord Rahvin could use more troops as well, considering forces from various nations in the Woodstock Pact were assembling in Czardas. He needed to strike fast while his forces were still overwhelming. The reinforcements would mean Rahvin would outnumber the Czardaian defenders of Czarna by almost 5 to 1. A considerable advantage. And faith was an even greater one.

Making the previous fleet’s voyage seem a slow crawl, the fleet drove on, on to the High Admiral’s fleet. They were constantly apprised of all satellite information that the Intelligence Division could provide on the Woodstock Pact fleets, and made sure they didn’t come near them at all.

After 40 or so hours of a desperate race, the Imperial fleet, with many of its sailors running on caffeine, fanaticism, and loyalty alone, reached its destination. The outlying ships of the Imperial fleet under Ludo Anor lay before them...Palma, which was mostly intact after the battle at the base of the Aurdanian spit in front of it, glittered in the distance. The reinforcing armada sent its troopships toward the land, while the gleaming battleships, immense carriers, and other warships sailed towards the heart of Anor’s fleet. Once at shore, the troopships began the long task of unloading over a million Legionaries, as well as great numbers of artillery and armored vehicles.

However, when the reinforcements arrive, they do not find an Imperial army lounging in the spoils of victory but a fleet deftly intercepting shell after shell hurtling in fro the southwest. More shells crashed into Palma’s skyscrapers and abandoned residential zones, causing devastation in their wake. The Despoiler tanks defending the city had 12.7mm AA guns, but it was the ships that were shooting down most of the shells, and the reinforcing fleet joined enthusiastically in...but by the time the waves of shells stopped, around a thousand Legionaries lay dead in the rubble.

OOC: Reply to Battle of Czarna coming soon. But Czardas...don’t you think it’s a little strange to say that 72 EMP missiles COMPLETELY stopped almost 55,000 large firebombing missiles? And that they happened to do so conveniently right over the Imperial formations? The diameter of a Colossus shell is about 500mm...thereabouts. It is armored and acheives a lot by sheer mass, so that might explain excessive size.

Port Khufu

Satellite intelligence forwarded to the Czardian Theatre of Operations had shown that the Warmasterian forces had shipped in substantial forces to reinforce the already numerous troops they had stationed there. The shelling of Palma continued for a short while after the enemy reinforcements arrived, but then ceased for the moment - no amount of shells could stop those numbers. Although this was bad news, it was more than outweighed by the arrival of two of the massive relief convoys that had set sail from Haven several weeks ago in anticipation of the crisis. Now alongside the 80,000 troops already stationed in Port Khufu and the surrounding area, and the two Rapid Reaction Divisions advancing to the south-east, another 250,000 troops, some 25 Divisions had joined the Republican forces there.

Consisting of 9 Armoured, 10 Infantry and 6 Mechanised Divisions, alongside the usual amount of logistical personnel, these reinforcements constituted the first offensive force stationed on Czardian soil. Throughout the night and early into the dawn, the workers and reserve personnel in the Port unloaded the vast quantities of equipment and troops that the convoys contained. By daybreak twenty of the twenty-five divisions were operational and spread throughout the surrounding countryside, and the last five would follow shortly after them.

The CinC of the Port Khufa Bastion, as it was now being referred to, was Major-General Frederick Young. An older man, Young had served during the Civil War and before that conflict in Nerotika and as a young subaltern in the Hitlerreich incident. Now commanding one of the most powerful commands ever assembled by the military, Young planned his next moves. Four Armoured Divisions and Five Infantry Divisions were despatched southwards to Czarna to bolster the Czardian defenses and the 30,000 Republican troops that had just made contact with the defenders there. The forward elements of Taskforce Czarna set out at 07:00 Hrs GMT and would reach Czarna around 18:00 at night; they were tasked with holding the city at all costs.

The remaining divisions were then split into two further Taskforces. Four Armoured Divisions were moved, along with all three Infantry Divisions and a further three Mechanised Divisions north-east to reinforce the troops that were shelling Palma and preparing to invade that city - Taskforce Palma. The remaining troops were ordered to remain in Port Khufa and complete the defensive arrangements already in the process of being created there.

OOC - Friday night, I'll post tommorow. Czardas, your commander at Adarjas better expect a big wake up call.

Port Khufu

Satellite intelligence forwarded to the Czardian Theatre of Operations had shown that the Warmasterian forces had shipped in substantial forces to reinforce the already numerous troops they had stationed there. The shelling of Palma continued for a short while after the enemy reinforcements arrived, but then ceased for the moment - no amount of shells could stop those numbers. Although this was bad news, it was more than outweighed by the arrival of two of the massive relief convoys that had set sail from Haven several weeks ago in anticipation of the crisis. Now alongside the 80,000 troops already stationed in Port Khufu and the surrounding area, and the two Rapid Reaction Divisions advancing to the south-east, another 250,000 troops, some 25 Divisions had joined the Republican forces there.

Consisting of 9 Armoured, 10 Infantry and 6 Mechanised Divisions, alongside the usual amount of logistical personnel, these reinforcements constituted the first offensive force stationed on Czardian soil. Throughout the night and early into the dawn, the workers and reserve personnel in the Port unloaded the vast quantities of equipment and troops that the convoys contained. By daybreak twenty of the twenty-five divisions were operational and spread throughout the surrounding countryside, and the last five would follow shortly after them.

The CinC of the Port Khufa Bastion, as it was now being referred to, was Major-General Frederick Young. An older man, Young had served during the Civil War and before that conflict in Nerotika and as a young subaltern in the Hitlerreich incident. Now commanding one of the most powerful commands ever assembled by the military, Young planned his next moves. Four Armoured Divisions and Five Infantry Divisions were despatched southwards to Czarna to bolster the Czardian defenses and the 30,000 Republican troops that had just made contact with the defenders there. The forward elements of Taskforce Czarna set out at 07:00 Hrs GMT and would reach Czarna around 18:00 at night; they were tasked with holding the city at all costs.

The remaining divisions were then split into two further Taskforces. Four Armoured Divisions were moved, along with all three Infantry Divisions and a further three Mechanised Divisions north-east to reinforce the troops that were shelling Palma and preparing to invade that city - Taskforce Palma. The remaining troops were ordered to remain in Port Khufa and complete the defensive arrangements already in the process of being created there.

OOC: How many troops are going to Czarna, and how many staying?

Many men would have cursed, recoiled, flinched, or otherwise shown anger or despair at the size of the Czardaian counterattack. Not Lord Rahvin. Not this time, anyway. Apparently Czardaian defenses were much heftier than anticipated...but his men knew what to do.

The thousands of planes in the air know that theirs is the greatest burden. There are many, many thousands of missiles flying at the Legions. There are shells as well, just as many. There are bombs. The whole sky is filled with swarms of Imperial aircraft (and a few Czardaian ones), and numberless Czardaian missiles. But they do not panic. Prayers to the Destroyer god rise silently from the mouths of countless pilots...and then they are ready.

Methuselah missiles streak out, ten of them from each Balefire. This accounts for a great many shells and missiles...in fact, most of them. After all, there were over 40,000 of them flaring to life briefly, to expend themselves fittingly, for each shell and missile gone saves the life of...ten? Twelve? Twenty?...Legionaries. The MiGs are faster even than the Balefires, and are very good at intercepting such targets. Soon, all but a very few of the missiles and shells...small-caliber shells, at least...are gone. The large-caliber shells are blasted out of the air by Imperial SAMs, coolly targeting one, then another, then another...

The bombs are a graver problem. They are difficult targets, and ECM would be ineffective; after all, gravity alone is enough to propel these messengers of death. But the AA guns on tanks, the chainguns of aircraft, the missiles of helicopters...these can undertake the task of intercepting these relatively well. The air is empty of Czardaian missiles at last after a short while...but not without cost: around 64,000 Legionaries and perhaps 120 tanks are dead or far too injured or damaged to continue fighting. The aircraft have used a significant portion of their missiles, and word has reached Lord Rahvin that Palma is under bombardment from Skinnian forces (OOC: Is that how you say the adjective? Or is it just Skinny?)

However, there is good news. Vast numbers of reinforcements have arrived at Palma, and are even now disembarking. The fleet’s size has been more than doubled. And best of all, the Legions can now counterattack.

The missile submarines are now much more numerous, and thus so is the amount of missiles they can launch...which they do. After all, sooner or later, the defenses of Czarna will splinter. The A-10 Thunderbolts that accompanied the reinforcing fleet are sent racing to the skies above Czarna...they will be useful; after all, they carry bombs and missiles in plenty. The first step is to target the infidel bombers that attacked them; the MiGs launch 16 of their 80mm rockets each, and 3 R-73E AAMs each as well. And with that, the aircraft repeat their assault.

Again, the aircraft cycled through re-armament; forming a kind of Cantabrian circle, they took turns, each plane getting two chances to fire. The A-10 Thunderbolts that have just arrived, however, need no such refreshment. 1,129 of them, each launching four Paveway missiles and two Mavericks. The stealth bombers that have lurked invisibly above the rest now move forward, and over the guns and fortifications outside the city each drop 80,000 pounds of high explosives. The Harriers each launched three Vanguard missiles, contributing to the waves of murderous ordnance, and finally the A-10s release their guided cluster bombs, each unleashing 12 on the city’s defenses.

Far away, the fleet opened up as well, the new reinforcements greatly adding to its firepower. The sky darkened with missiles and shells from the ships, hurtling towards the enemy, and the volley was repeated six times. A much smaller number were launched in their wake at the troopships that satellites reported were being loaded near Port Khufi, and a few extra Abaddon missiles, invisible to electronics, as well as some Pandemonium II’s, were aimed at the frustratingly powerful ships on the River Nair, currently refueling and helpless. There was probably going to be an attack from there. The reinforcements, it seemed, had arrived just in time.

Meanwhile, back at the Battle of Czarna...

Most of the planes had been re-armed, and the Balefires launched missiles at the ships on the Nair (OOC: Ships taken unaware by planes are at a HUGE disadvantage; look at Pearl Harbor), and on the heels of their massive bombardment a little earlier, the artillery now let loose as well, and the tanks. The Czardaian defenses were formidable...it would be interesting to see how long they could maintain an exchange of fire that numerically favored the Imperium. The mobile SAM installations each launched 6 Sultan AA missiles, equipped with powerful counter-countermeasures systems and electronics, and hardened to all but the most powerful of EMPs, at the Czardaian aircraft above, reloaded, and soon were ready to respond to another counterattack.

(If I put in my totals below something I didn't talk about above...sorry, but it's a lot of things to be firing and still keep track of with my all too human brain)

OOC: Totals:

From the air:
At Czardaian planes: 756 R-73E AAMs and 4,032 80mm rockets.
At Czarna: (2 volleys of the following): 504 Gomorrah AGMs, 4,516 Paveway guided missiles, 24,438 Methuselah missiles, 2,258 AGM-65A Mavericks, and 2,556 Vanguard missiles.
At Czarna: 1,280,000 lbs of high explosives, and 13,548 guided cluster bombs.
At Czardaian ships refueling: 24,438 Methuselah missiles.

From the fleet:
At Czarna (6 volleys of the following): 200 Colossus shells, 3,025 Rapier missiles, 25,128 Pandemonium II missiles, 1,736 Spearhunter missiles, 2,909 6-inch shells, 1,806 Harpoon missiles, 200 Abaddon missiles, and 200 24-inch shells.
At Skinnian troopships near Port Khufi (2 volleys of the following): 2,909 6-inch shells, 1,806 Harpoon missiles, 12,564 Pandemonium II missiles, and 1,736 Spearhunter missiles.
At Czardaian ships refueling (2 volleys of the following): 200 Abaddon missiles and 25,128 Pandemonium II missiles.

From the army:
At Czarna (6 volleys of ALL of the following): Artillery: 800 115mm shells, 1,050 145mm shells, 300 155mm shells, 500 188mm shells, 50 Colossus shells. Tanks: 924 115mm shells and 16,970 120mm shells. LAVs: 14,400 108mm shells.
At Czardaian aircraft: 1,800 Sultan missiles.

Port Khufu

Sirens warbled and screeched, rising and lowering their tone in a fraction of a second as the first volley of missiles and shells began to land within the Port Khufu perimeter. Troops and civilians ran for cover, moving inside buildings, bunkers and even slit trenches that had been dug in the ground for just such an eventuality. The first wave of missiles came into range of the Port Defences, and the outlying SAM units began firing, thousands of smaller missiles arcing into the sky and detonating amongst the larger missiles, destroying hundreds. However, they cannot stop the sheer numbers, and as the missile moved nearer to the Port within seconds, the Inner Defences opened fire; SAM and ASAM Batteries fired into the sky, accompanied by CIWS and Missiles from the Cruisers and Destroyers gathered in the harbour.

The sky lit up as missiles intermixed and detonated and tracer gave the entire preceding a gruesomely colourful overtone. Despite taking a heavy toll on the oncoming missiles, the defences were overwhelmed by sheer numbers, and the first missiles hit the Port. Buildings are destroyed entirely or collapse in on themselves, trapping hundreds and killing many more. Precious transports, sitiing sucks in the water and unable to manouver, are destroyed, sinking to the bottom of the shallow waters, a future hinderence to shipping. The warships fare far better, but even CIWS and Metalstorm cannot defy the laws of physics and odds; more than a dozen Destroyers, Frigates and a single Crusier are sunk by the missile barrage, and several more heavily damaged.

On land, the damage is just as great; thousands of troops are killed and more than twice that number wounded. Supply crates and stores are obliterated, destroying precious equipment, and tanks and vehicles wiped off of the face of the earth. Finally, the barrage ends; all is quiet for a moment, then the first troops and workers emerge from cover and begin the long process of repairing the damage wrought by the attack.

OOC: (That's all for now because I'm tired, and Czardas will have to respond of course. Oh, and Skinnian is fine.)

SuB-1C Hurricane bombers thundered down the runway as they shot up with a fiery roar into the sky. Hundreds upon hundreds of them took off from the large airfield near Port Khufi and sped toward their new home. They instantly broke the speed barrier with a loud shatter sound that resembled glass windows breaking from baseballs impacting them. But they weren't the only ones heading off. Earlier in the day, the entire 1st and 2nd Air Armadas had begun to relocate to the Kaniona near the battlefield in the north. Aircrafts ranging from fighters to electronic warfare aircrafts sped toward the locations at varying speed. While the fighters played as escorts, the others focused on defending the group.

Air Commander Barshin Ocasta watched in triumpt as hundreds upon hundreds of planes swooped through the air in a spectacular display of power of the Space Union Air Force. They would be landing soon and the Air Commander was on one of the Space Union's AWACS. The pilot's voice boomed over the intercom as they neared their destination,

"Commander, we are approaching Kaniona. We already have clearence to land and shall be doing so within 10 minutes," said the pilot before his voice died out.

The room tensed as the clouds dispersed around the plane and out emerged the beautiful city of Kaniona. It had a large airfield, unscathed by the war in anyway. From above, it looked like a puzzle of pavement and lights but all cities did these days to Ocasta.

"What's our current status?" asked Ocasta to his nearest aid, Brian Joo.

"Sir, we have confirmed that over 2,000 aircrafts have already arrived in the base with the rest coming soon," said Joo as he looked up from his control panel at the air commander.

"Good, radio in to get the strategic bombers ready for operations soon. Were going to be linking up with the Omzians to kick some ass," shouted Ocasta with a vivid grin.

"Yes, sir," said Joo as he parted back to his controls.

"Also one more thing, get the fighters ready. They'll be providing air cover for our buddies in the north," repeated the air commander once more as he leaned back in his chair and smoked a cigeratte.

"Very well, that will be done so too, sir," said Brian Joo as he did so without even glancing up. Ocasta let it slide, though, that was improper protocal.

----------------------------------------

OOC: Here's the incoming forces:

2x Composite Air Armada:

28x Heavy Fighter Wings
20x Strike Fighter Wings
34x Multi-Role Fighter Wings
20x Interceptor Wings
6x Cargo Wings
6x Tanker Wings
16x Close-Ground Support Wings
4x Electronics Wing
4x Heavy Bomber Wings
6x Fast Bomber Wings
4x Medium Bomber Wings
10x Air Gunship Wings

Total Aircraft: 22,969 aircrafts

OOC: This is a large post, but I'll probably be unavailable next day, probably not. I'll see. /OOC

TYRIANDOR
Outer Skirts of the City

Colonel Polensky, Commander of the 271st Guards Brigade of the 27th Guards Airmobile Division, winced as he dove the floor in the wake of a volley of shells slamming against the ground above the hastily bunker that he dug. The roar of aircraft crept in through the rifts between wooden beams and sandbags, followed by the whoosh of powerful missiles and darkly destructive bombs, the roar of the explosion reverberating through the interior of the bunker. When the Colonel raised his head once more, he noticed a bloodied female radio operator with a wooden beam slammed against her head, already attended to by a combat medic nearby. The crackles of what seemed like a spreading fire, but it was too far away to garner much of Polensky's worry. Well, this would always continue, he reminded himself, and he got up, a pencil in hand as he checked the map of Tyriandor. He immediately turned to the mass on the map that is central portion of the city, defended by the entirety of his 4500-strong brigade; with another three ready brigades and two brigades in reserve placed throughout divided zones of the city. Dark red symbols moved across the screen as small text popups appeared, fading a few seconds afterwards. The situation is nowhere good.

"...Yes, the Bandurians are landing? Yes... Platoon suffering fifty percent causality? Three-quarters? The lieutenant's a goner? Okay... Retreating a few blocks from the beaches, yes, affirmative," another radio operator babbled into the headset microphone of her radio, overheard by Polensky. The situation is evidentially escalating, the colonel confirmed in his head, just as a lieutenant on his staff rushed up to him and patted his shoulders. "First battalion reports heavy casualties. The threats from the fanatics have subsided, and the majority of those who mixed with our lines are liquidated. They report more infantry attacking in a much more deliberate fashion, and they are now accompanied by heavy armour as well as self-propped guns. 'Falling back from beach to a few blocks away, but holding on steadily. Out.'"

Polensky nodded as he took in the context of the report. Despite the heavy casualties inflicted on the elite troopers under his command, the news also meant that they were putting a fierce resistance against the Bandurians as these hordes advanced slowly, and the men would not give up their positions anytime soon. "Should we send in reinforcements for the first battalion?" the lieutenant asked.

"Keep the other two battalions in their positions behind the first battalion, and I want all of our mobile anti-tank vehicles moved up to stall the armour. Ask the division if they can move some men from the brigade in reserve. Again, let the frontal units pull back from the beach for a few blocks, and get in the position the rest of the battalion is taking," his hand skimmed just below a line representing the beaches on the tablet computer's screen. "They will be resupplied, reinforce their position, and such. I want them to provide the security that will be needed when the Skinny and Czardaian troops pull back from on the beaches, and they will hold off the line when that happens as the other friendlies reconsolidate. For the imperialists" - Bandurians - "slugging through the few remaining buildings and the rubble will be much more of an obstacle than rushing up the beaches. Let them come, and I will have everyone, everything - from anti-tank teams to the battalion's cooks - firing at them, the top of any remaining building, craters, and behind walls. Our main goal is to stall their progress, lieutenant. They may gain the beach, but they shall not enter the city itself."

He grinned, but it was only a superficial grin - a lot of work and concentration will follow, and he may have to move the headquarters near a ravine east if things go on the unexpected route..

***

A Couple of Blocks From the Beaches

Sergeant Kolensky observed through a binocular as his team of forward observers crouched behind a wall with a shattered top, one of the only remains of what had been a supermarket besides the rubble. Despite the continuous bombardment that claimed no less than twenty of the men in the platoon he had been attached to, the craters and other obstacles created by the masonry and concrete were actually offering excellent natural concealment as well as cover, and Kolensky amused himself with the irony of this. Directly in front of him of him, what remained of the frontal Omzian units - two companies on paper, but barely two full-strength platoons in reality - gradually retreated from the immediate area of the beach itself, exhausted but valiant men laying the last cover fire.

All around him, anti-tank teams with man-portable anti-tank missiles and hidden snipers fired away at the advancing Bandurian tanks and troops on the beach, being careful not to hit any of the Skinny troops also firing against them closeby. Not too far away, a crew of a 15.5mm machinegun unleashed a rattle of fire as tracers and AP rounds dashed for the torso of the Bandurians, before it suddenly went silent in the midst of a grenade explosion. Just a second afterwards, a volley of no more than three Weasel light manportable rockets streamed from the windows and shattered walls of a barely-standing building, dashing for the Bandurian anti-tank vehicles. Assault rifle fire followed, a deafening roar to the regular infantryman, but a constant hum for Kolensky and his radio headset.

Scanning the horizon momentarily and then immediately turning his binocular back at the beach, he sighed grimly, trying to distinguish a boundary between the Bandurian troops and the Skinny beach defenders that he might utilize to fall up an artillery strike that would not also hurt those on his own side. A loud roar suddenly pierced through his earphones as an Omzian Peregrine helicopter gunship skimmed by at a treetop level, firing bundles of rockets and anti-tank missiles against the Bandurian troops and vehicles in spite of the streams of bullets now directed at its fuselage. Not too far away, he also noticed a Bandurian helicopter, and then a light smoke trail as a shoulder-launched SAM raced towards the helicopter's engines, courtesy of an anti-aircraft team stationed on the roof of a five-floor apartment building. Looking back at the beach, he noticed splashes of water as mortar rounds - probably Omzian in this case - slammed into the shallow waters and the extremely frontal portion of the beach, which were flooded with Bandurian troops, creating majestic fountains a split second afterwards. "Bravo Zulu Kilo Six, this is Juliet Kilo Tango One. I have a new fire mission for you. Stand by, data will be shortly transferred via network," he spoke as he winced at the sight of three Omzian soldiers being cut down by Bandurian fire just before they reached cover. He grabbed the hard shell that enclosed his PDA, and started to enter the coordinates, sending them digitally over a wireless connection to the fire direction center of the batteries of the Urds - towed 155mm howitzers - a few tens of kilometers to his rear. "Data transferred, over."

"This is Bravo Zulu Kilo Six, receiving coordinates. Copy, will fire spotter round."

"Copy," the sergeant replied. A few seconds later, a high explosive shell landed a bit short of the beach, creating a giant splash as it exploded among the Bandurians rushing onto shore. A bit off, he thought, but he knew what to do. "Five right, three down."

"Splash in...," the voice began to trail off as it repeated the number of seconds until the splashdown of the first shell. "Splash now!"

A split second after the message was received, the first shell fired began to arrive above the heads of the Bandurian soldiers and tanks alike. Unlike the last shell - which was a HE shell fired for the purpose of spotting - these shells began to unleash tens, and then over a hundred, anti-personnel mines and no less than a tens of anti-tank mines, all falling onto the beach that the Bandurian troops and vehicles advanced over. Just when the fifteenth shell delivered its payload, the sergeant suddenly felt a hot, stinging sense behind his back, penetrating into every one of his neurons and flesh overwhelmingly. He tried to make a scream, but there was no one to heard it around him - and he blackened out. This time it was indefinite - so was life, ended by the blast of a tank shell from the barrel of a Bandurian tank.

"Juliet Kilo Tango One, this is Bravo Zulu Kilo Six, do you copy?"

***

In the Air, 400 Kms Outside of Tyriandor

Wing Commander Nolen skimmed over the displays on the instrumentation board of the cockpit of his fighter, acknowledging the latest radio call from his squadron mates with a triplet of clicks. The control stick of a F-120 Darkhawk fighter in his right hand, he checked the display for the powerful infrared search and track (IRST) sensor aboard his aircraft, while at the same time making sure no aircraft in his formation had their radar turned on for whatever reason. The mission would be quite important to securing an allied foothold in the airspaces of Tyriandor - and he was not about to spoil the element of surprise and inform the Bandurians of his aircraft's presence with a malignant radar scan. So for now, he would have to rely on calls from Stormbringer 22, the airborne early warning (AEW/AWACS) aircraft that orbited in a racetrack pattern with twelve fighter escorts another two hundred kilometers from Nolen's own position. But drawing from his experiences, he had no doubt in the reliability of the operators in the AEW birds - they could be quite annoying sometimes, but in the air they were such a big help, exactly as his instructors preached in the Air Force Academy.

He checked his watch, and as the minute hand of the watch stroke '15', he barked commands into his radio, and turned as the lead of the sixteen-aircraft formation that he is now guiding and looking after for. As his aircraft peeled away from the patch of air and descended to an altitude of just one thousand feet, the rest of his flight followed, and soon he would be accompanied by another 71 of his own types - the F-120 - as well as another 144 of the F-109D Seafurys and 216 of the F-28 Ostwinds. The F-120 would be responsible for the air sweep portion of the upcoming operation, while the F-109Ds and F-28s would take on the roles of either air sweep or escort. Behind and intermixed with them soon after were the 144 FB-36A Kunai fighter-bombers, laden with anti-ship weapons and bombs for the strike operation against the Bandurian transports, and another 72 EB-36A responsible for airborne radar jamming and striking Bandurian ship-based air defences.

Above them, at fifty thousand feet, were another 72 F-120s, 216 F-28s, and 72 of the newly arriving F-125G Bateleur high-speed interceptors. Speeding far in front of the force flying low - about 80 km or so - they approached the airspace above Tyriandor at a menacing pace, some even activating their radars and conducting aggressive sweeps. The Bandurian fighters above Tyriandor are still out of their grasps - but soon this would no longer be the case. All knew that the Skinny and Silver Sky pilots above Tyriandor were in need of desperate reinforcement, and they would soon deliver it.

**********

(ATTN Space Union and Skinny)
KANIONA
Airfield, 180 Kms Northeast of Kaniona

The first two aircraft of the Omzian portion of the joint Omzian-Space Unionist operation roared down the runway of the airfield, a couplet of EB-36 Kunai taking off side by side as they rose into the air with a thundering boom as they turned to the north and began their ascent to their planned altitude. While airmen raced towards the individual aircraft they were responsible for, more began to take off in waves upon waves, and even more made their final taxi from the tarmac onto the taxiway, and eventually the runway itself. Radio channels set aside for air traffic control, otherwise silent with sporadic interruptions, became filled with non-stop streams of instructions, commands, and acknowledgement. On the other hand, lounges and quarters that otherwise were filled with young officers and older pilots alike were deserted, the noise of chatter and music alike in the mess halls becoming only memories of the few days before.

So like the weaving of a colourfully patterned fabric, the pieces that would make up this majestic operation began to fall in their proper places. The first aircraft to take off were assembled in a gigantic formation of 48 B-110 Archstream subsonic heavy bombers, and 96 B-101D Bombardier II high-speed strike bombers, escorted by a contingent formed by 48 EFB-101E Halberd IIs (basically a conversion of the B-101 to carry a plethora of AAMs and anti-radar missiles) and 48 F-109D Seafury fighters. Far below at eight hundred feet, and slightly to the left of their axis of advance, were the 144 B-108B Thunderhawk IIs, and 48 B-110 Archstreams, covered by another 48 F-109Ds and 48 EFB-101E Halberd IIs flying at medium altitude. Once they rendezvous with another formation of Space Unionist aircraft, their advance would become much more lethal and purposeful, as their heavy anti-ship armaments already hinted.

***

Kaniona Airport

Efficiently and methodically, the tanks and infantry fighting vehicles of the 202nd Guards Mechanized Infantry Division began to roll off from the last of the cargo aircaft to land on the runways of Kaniona Airport for the time being, their crews along with them to instantly organize themselves into a proper formation as they speeded along a small runway and then onto a road leading to outside of the airport, which then connected to a highway that ran in a northwest orientation directly to the vicinity of Tyriandor. Driven by the urgency incited by both the operational orders and the news of fighting in Tyriandor, the division moved at lightning speed, to catch up with the rest of the IX Shock Corps that were well on their way to the outskirts of Tyriandor.

Together with a light infantry division, a tank division, two mechanized infantry divisions, the tank regiment, and a host of other corps support units, they comprised of the first major reinforcement sent since the arrival of the II Shock Corps just a few days ago. As they moved, they began to establish a corridor from the city extending all the way to Tyriandor itself, military police already set up along the highway, not only to provide traffic and security services to the advancing Omzian forces but also the Skinny forces that would soon arrive an transit along the same road. Once the Corps reached the area around Tyriandor, they would join their Skinny comrades, as well as the 53rd Guards Cavalry Regiment, the 5th Guards Tank Regiment, and the two mechanized airborne divisions, to form an ever-thickening ring around the city. Only the single light infantry division would be sent in to fight there, though commanders were also contemplating sending the tank regiment there as well.

Tyriandor - Ground - Beaches

The word was quickly spread through the lines of Baker Units holding the top of the beach. As friendly artillery began to slam into the beaches mere metres from the defensive positions, runners and raidiomen spread the order to fall back to the outer limits of the city and hold the urban defence zone there. The order to fall back reached Privates Franklin and Champion as a mortar round exploded next to their trenchline, caving in part of the flimsy wicker that held the sand and earth together and putting a hole in their position. Franklin ducked to avoid a burst of submachine gun fire, rattled off a reply with his M8, then moved to the hole and kicked at the wicker, trying to put it back into place; it was pointless, the wood was shattered and wouldn't be of use anymore to the defenders.

Franklin swore, then kneeled down and began firing again, joined by Champion and the rest of the new squad they had joined in the trenchline. The two men did not know the rest of the Republican troops, and vice cersa, but it was not neccessary; all knew their jobs and were trained to work together whatever the situation. To Franklin's right a Dragoon Anti-Tank Launcher rested on a pile of rubble, thick tube poking out over the top of the trench. The loader pushed in a missile and slapped the gunner on the shoulder; the gunner shouted a warning, checked his sights one last time, then pulled the trigger. Franklin ducked to avoid the backwash as the missile flew out of the tube and was guided by the gunner onto the top of a tank turret, where he detonated it.

The loader moved to start another missile loading, but before he could do so a grenade exploded behind him. The fragmentation grenade cut him into bloody ribbons, killing him. Franklin stared at what remained of the man for a second, before he noticed the gunner turning back to see what the delay was. The man, sergeants chevrons on his sleeve, looked at the dead loader for a second, then noticed Franklin. "You, Private!" he shouted over the deafening noise of battle. "Get over here and help me with this goddamned weapon!"

For a moment Franklin hesitated; machine-gun fire swept the space between his position and the Dragoon and another grenade exploded nearby. Then Champion tapped him in the back. "I've got ya covered, buddy!" he shouted, and that galvanised Franklin into action. Waiting for the machine-gun to reload, he raced across the sand and jumped into the Dragoon pit, sand kicking up at his feet as bullets slammed into the soft ground. The gunner turned to him and gestured to the pack of missiles by the loaders remnants. "Load one of those in, and hurry!"

Franklin moved to the pack and unloaded one of the thick, bulky missiles. He had done this a few times in training, and it was quite easy. He dragged the missile to the launcher and swung open the rear of the weapon, sliding in the missile. As he did so, he heard the sergeant shout out a warning. He looked around the weapon to see one of the enemy tanks rumble towards the Dragoon pit, barrel gleaming menacingly. Swarms of Bandurian infantry moved behind the vehicle, but fire from Champion and the squad kept them pinned down. The tank, however, shrugged off the bullets that hit its armour and kept moving, turret moving to face the Dragoon.

Franklin swore and sweat began beading on his forehead and running down into his eyes. He slammed the missile into the tube and closed the aperture, then tapped the gunner on the shoulder. The man nodded and as Franklin dived to the side, pulled the trigger. Nothing happened; no missile flew out of the tube, and the tank rumbled closer, nearing the lip of the pit. Swearing, Franklin went wide-eyed and tried to think what he had done wrong. As the gunner began shouting, Franklin picked up the box of fuses and placed one in the chamber, then tapped the man on the shoulder again, hitting the dirt to the side. This time a missile streaked out of the tube; at that range no movement was neccessary and it slammed into the tank turret.

As Franklin moved to reload another missile, a radioman jumped down into the pit and shouted at both Franklin and the sergeant. "It's a general order - fall back to the outer limits of the city and take up the defences there!" the man shouted. Franklin dropped the missile and helped the sergeant out of the straps that held the missile to him; together they raced over the top of the beach, followed closely by Champion, the squad and the rest of the Baker Units that had survived. Friendly artillery fired constantly to cover the retreat of the Baker Units as radio units called to Czardian defence units detailing the latest plans.

Franklin lost the sergeant in the chaos of the move to the city limits, but met up with Champion and the rest of their new squad in the ruins of a chapel that had been fortified with sandbags and concrete to make a fireposition. Anti-tank launchers and machine-guns poked out of the windows and gaps in the buildings walls, and Franklin and Champion grabbed an M60 and began firing again, short bursts hitting the Bandurian infantry as they came to the crest of the beachtop.

Throughout the city, the remnants of the first Baker Units had retreated to the urban defence zones and taken up the hardened positions there. Of the eight thousand men and women who had taken to the beach defenses, just over two thousand came back. However, they now joined the hundreds of thousands of other defenders in awaiting the Bandurian attack, ready to throw it back.

Tyriandor - Air

As the Omzzian reinforcements streaked towards the massive dogfight that still raged in the sky, the remnants of Red Flight joined them. Refueled and re-armed, and combined with the few aircraft that had survived the beach runs, Red Flight raced towards the furball in front of them.

"All Red Flights, this is Red Leader. Target outer edge of the furball and track all enemy aircraft to the rear. Prepare to launch...now! Fox Four!"

As Branagna shouted the commands into his maskpiece he jammed his finger down on the trigger and unleashed two new AMRAAMs that had been fit under his Raptors wings. They were joined by hundreds more that raced towards the Bandurian aircraft at the edges of the gigantic furball of planes.

"All Red Flight aircraft. Switch to manual guidance and lock on Sidewinders. Prepare to fire on my mark. Three....two...one...Fox Three!"

Two minutes later Branagan shouted these new commands to his command, and more than four hundred Sidewinders roared into action, targeting Bandurian aircraft in the actual dogfight now. Missiloes expended mostly, the Red Flight aircraft dived into the dogfight, cannons roaring. They would not be denied a victory at this point, and surely the Bandurians could not have many more aircraft left...


Kaniona - North-East Perimeter

As the Space Union aircraft and Omzian aircraft and reinforcements landed at the small airstrips in Kaniona, Republican troops began to land there as well. First came the air-dropped Sapper Units, three Battalions of them. They came in by parachute and helped the allied forces ensure the airstrips could take the weight of the numerous aircraft coming in, aided by air-dropped equipment and gliders full of bulldozers and electrical equipment.

Within a few hours the Sappers finished their job and radioed in their approval of the airstrips. Less than an hour later, the first C130s and Hercules transports began roaring into the airstrips and taxiing to the rear. More than a thousand of the aircraft made it to the city, accompanied by hundreds of fighters as escorts. They carried eight Divisions, the second wave of reinforcements into the Czardian campaign. Diverted from Port Khufa as planners realised that would become unfeasible as an operational area for some time, these Divisions were the elite of the Republican military; four Airmobile Divisons and Four Armoured Divisions, including the renowned 21st Armoured Group.

Fortunately the Omzian troops had begun the process of moving North-East towards Tyriandor, and now as the Republican Divisions unloaded theytoo began to move towards Tyriandor, travelling by the same route the Omzian troops had created only a few hours before. The 21st Armoured Group leading the way, the blitzkrieg of armour and elite infantry advanced towards Tyriandor, aided by news of the retreat to the city itself. Within a few hours they would link up with the defenders and reinforce them, more than doubling the number of Republican troops in the shattered city.

Ardaja

The commanding officer at Ardaja raises his eyebrows slightly. “You said what is coming this way?”

“A fleet of airships,” the COMM officer says wearily for the fourth time. “IFF Ollieland, requesting permission to land.”

“Oh, I see. Well, what are you waiting for… allow them to! And leave me alone!”

“Yes, sir.” The COMM officer departs hastily, leaving the CinC at Ardaja to his tequila and mystery novel, while the Ollian airship fleet is cleared to land at Ardaja.



"We're cleared to land sir"

"Great, get us down there."

The first of the transport aircraft starting landing on the runways, disgorging the paratroopers and taxying off to marshalling areas. The The troopers started heading for the fields around the airport as the airship armada stared dropping to the ground. The Airborne troops started unloading from the transports, along with the aircav, over 2,000 combat helicopters, as good as tanks.

General Petrov climbed down from his command zepp, shaking hands with Air Marshall and stomping off to find a Czadian officer.

Forces now based at Ardaja;

1st-10th Army Airborne Divisions (120,000 men)
CMC Airborne Division (12,000 men)
Legion Etranger d'Ollieland Airborne Battalion (1,000 men)
Legion Etranger d'Ollieland Para Battalion (1,000 men)
18 Coys from the CMC Special Ops Regiment (1,800)
Forward elements from the CAF 13th, 14th and 15th Operational Combat Sections

OOC Sorry for short post I've just been called into work.

At Kaniona Airfield:

SuF/A-6 Wraiths roared down the runway in pairs after pairs as they shot up into the sky. With their engines lighted up fully, they sped toward the battefield at supercruising speeds. They didn't want to waste any fuel, even if it made them a tad late, with afterburners. Already, 280 SuF/A-6 Wraith were in the air along with 320 SuF-7 Nightmares, serving as escorts and even direct combat aircraft.

Their destination was Tyriandor, the city of Czardas under attack from the Bandurian forces. As the aircrafts banked to the left to head northwest, the pilot aircraft shouted into his comlink,

"Everyone, I want you to think smart, Understand! Think and you won't die," said the wing leader as he trailed off.

From the reports flowing through the comlinks, the Omzian and Skinnian would need help in air coverage. While Space Union couldn't deliver any land combatants yet, there air coverage would be available. Already another 500 fighters were expected to fly off the base within the next 2 hours to join them in the arena. It was time to light up some Bandurians.

-------------------------------------

Somwhere in the Sky:

The bombers banked to the side as they lumbered toward their target at supersonic speeds, high in the air. The task force of bombers were scheduled to open up a can of kick-ass on the Bandurian fleet alongside the Omzian forces. At around 70,000 ft, the bomber fleet was made up of 125 SuB-1Cs Hurricanes, 200 SuB-2B Skippers, 250 SuB-3B T-Rex, along with 400 SuF/A-6. All three were equipped to the teeth with a deadly payload of anti-shipping missiles. They had a big surprise in store.

The SuB-1Cs would connect up with the Omzian task force's B-110s and B-108s as a high-altitude pentrator and heavy truckload while the SuB-2B would join up with the Omzian B-101Ds to perform high-altitude, high-speed bombing operations. Finally the SuB-3B T-Rexs would serve as low-altitude penetrators along side with the rest of the Omzian fleet. If they were successful, the night would be theres.

The lead captain, Akhil Koomar, positioned his SuB-1C foward as he began to see the make-up of other aircrafts. It was a large fleet of foreign bombers that he knew perfectly, the Omzians. He instantly snatched the comlink from his co-pilot as he radioed in,

"This is Captain Koomar leading Space Union Taskforce 27, we are ready to rendezvous with the Omzian armada. I think we are scheduled to give our friends in Banduria a can of kick-ass," boomed the pilot into the comlink with a humorous voice.

The planes banked once more into their formation as they met up with their Omzian counterparts. They were about to give Banduria a nice slap.

The supernarrow-beam communicator on the A'tuin herself directed a quick burst out to one of the AWACS planes currently running a perimeter around the advancing task force. Flying high above the ocean, and unlike the superdreadnought able to make visual contact with the Woodstock Pact task force, the AWACS plane passed on the message. Using a such a tight beam to transmit the message essentially made interception impossible. The enemy would have had to put a reciever directly in its path to pick it up, and none of the sensors were picking up anything except for the Taldaani and combined Woodstock Pact fleets.

The message itself was quantam-encrypted for safety's sake, so unless the enemy had somehow conjured up ElInt hardware far more powerful than anything yet devised on a direct path from the AWACS to the Praetonian command ship that the beam was aimed at the only people who would ever decipher the contents of the message were its intended recipients. Just in case the data failed to decode at the other end, one final piece of unencrypted data was mixed in: a Taldaani callsign. The message was as follows:

Taldaani Task Force A'tuin seeks rendezvous with Woodstock Pact fleet. Please respond.

At Palma, in the relative quiet on both the Skinnian front there and the Battle of Czarna, High General Yataghan communed with Lord Rahvin in his mobile command center, a twin of which was the nerve center of the attack on Czarna.

“General, I need you to send three hundred of the SAM batteries you received to me. The first of the Czardaian counterpunches was considerable, and we need to be better prepared for them. Any casualties we take should be in honorable face-to-face combat in the city itself, not out here, trading missiles.”

“As you command, my lord. Is there anything else you need? Satellite intel has told me that the number of Skinnian troopships is relatively small. They will likely not have much artillery support, either. Do you need more guns?”

“Guns? Hmm. They would be helpful, but not necessary. No need to send too many, but more tanks would be useful. And LAVs. And have ten carriers’ worth of Balefires...I believe that’s twelve hundred planes...on full alert. I may need them at any time.”

“Very well, my lord. You shall have what you need. Palma out.”

OOC: Troops flown to Czarna:

500,000 Legionaries
300 mobile SAM batteries
25 heavy guns
50 medium guns
50 light guns
600 LAVs
500 M146 Despoilers
500 T-120 Ravagers

Taskforce Czarna

The lead elements of the Taskforce had entered from the western limits of the city; tanks, APCs, artillery trailers and lorry after lorry of mounted infantry poured into the city to reinforce the Czardian defences that were already protecting the defences of the capital. Within a few hours the majority of the 120,000 troops that had been sent to Czarna under the Taskforce had made it to the city and were setting up their own defences. Machine-gun nests and anti-tank positions were set up, and the Taskforce artillery began to set up and target any known enemy positions, although they did not fire yet.

The Commander of Taskforce Czarna was Major-General Jim Houston. A tall, bear-like man in his late thirties, Houston was a defensive specialist, having conducted the defense of Chatham in the Grand Monarchy Civil War, which had held out for more than a month against repeated attacks by tanks, artillery and massed bombing runs by Loyalist aircraft. He jumped out of the jeep he was riding in at the head of the initial column and stood for a moment to observe the city landscape around him.

Any other person would have been awed by the beautiful buildings and ancient structures that the city possessed. Houston ignored the architecture and instead began planning defensive positions, fire zones and kill spots, points of retreat and possible ambush positions. As Champion MBTs and lorries roared past him and into the defences of the city, Houston moved to find the commander of the Czarna defences and give them the good news of the reinforcements...

While the elite naval force of Task Force A'tuin joined the massive Woodstock Pact armada amassing to the west of Czardas, an altogether different kind of force was making its way to Kaniona in northern Czardas. Forgoing munitions for additional fuel tanks, Taldaani aircraft were rapidly approaching the airfields there. Heavy Quetzal bombers were escorted by fast, agile Dragonfly fighters. Although these made up the bulk of the combat air force, they were trailed by AWACS planes, interceptors, low-level attack aircraft, and several massive cargo planes loaded with munitions. The flight had been gruelling, over twelve hours of cruising in formation under a hot sun and strict radio silence. Although the Taldaanis were not yet commiting a ground-based force, their airmen would hopefully be able to deliver merciless bombardments against enemy targets, and with luck help the Woodstock Pact win this war.

Just one amid many, Pilot Mike Swanson sat back in his pilot's chair, occasionally making tiny adjustments to the course of his massive Quetzal bomber, but other than that doing very little. He wore a standard-issue dark grey full-body flightsuit, although he had removed the helmet and goggles which had been placed on the floor next to his seat. He yawned, then turned to his co-pilot, who winked.

"Sleeping on the job, skipper?"
"Well, this is the long-haul flight, and the designers never built these babies to have an in-flight movie."

They both laughed at that, prompting the munitions officer to poke his head through the hatch, his moustache twitching as he chewed on a wad of gum.

"Do you have to chew onboard? It really messes up the interior."
"Well, if you want I can just spit it out of the hatch when we land. Anyway, it soothes my nerves, and if there's anything worse than a cranky, nervous man with over thirty tonnes of explosives to play with I don't want to know what it is."

All three fell silent for a while, then Mike turned back to the munitions officer.

"Tom, how are the other two getting on?"

He was referring to the Defensive Systems Officer and the Sensors Officer, both of whom had to remain entirely focused all through the flight. Their job was second only to the fighter pilots in terms of hardship on this flight, as at least they didn't have to concentrate on every last aspect of the flight.

"I think they're alright. Li seems to be kind of nervous, though. You might want to talk to her when we touch down. Speaking of which, when will that be?"
"About an hour."

Mike turned back to his controls, then moved the stick a fraction to bring them back slightly to the right. One hour to touchdown. With luck the other Pact members would have kept the air corridor open.

Kaniona - Airspace

The airspace around Kaniona and the corridor that was being created from the city to the defenders of Tyriandor was fast becoming one of the most well-defended Woodstock Pact-controlled areas throughout Czardas. Literally thousands of fighters now patrolled the skies around Kaniona and the north-western corridor, operating in large flights to ensure air superiority for the critical operation.

In the cockpit of his F16 Tomcat, Major Heinz Schroder punched one of the fuel injector buttons on his upgraded HUD. The damned button was blinking on and off, on and off with an annoying consistency, and it was beginning to grate on Schroder's few remaining nerves. Finally he snapped and slammed an open palm onto the button, and mercifully it stopped blinking, returning to hormal. Schroder grunted, relieved at the end of the irritation, then turned his attention back to the sector his flight was moving over. He checked his radar screen first; nothing showed up except the IFF Markers of friendly aircraft, literally hundreds of them, ranging from a few metres away to several miles.

The flight of Tomcats flew low over the gently sloping landscape, weapons hot and radars constantly searching the skies for aerial trouble or CAD troops on the ground. Nothing ever came up, however; they were alone in the cloudless sky. Schroder checked his position and angled his stick to the right for a few seconds; the Tomcat changed course and headed towards the forward elements of the 1st Armoured Group, one of the many allied units that were racing towards Tyriandor.

Very soon the tanks and APCs of the Armoured Group were in sight, pennants flapping in the wind. Schroder flew above them and did a quick victory roll to cheer the troops down there, then ordered his flight to take up position directly above the forward elements to give fighter cover. As he did, he noticed a new series of friendly contacts appear at the edge of his radar screen; more than three hundred Republican fighters had just refuelled from inflight tankers and were now moving rapidly to the Tyriandor dogfight that was still raging over the besieged city. He wished them luck; hopefully the numbers would be enough to sway the advantage to the Woodstock Pact forces fighting there. Soon the armoured units that moved below his flight would also be at the outer edges of Tyriandor, linking up with the ground forces there...

Encrypted Response

We are agreeable to your proposal and the required fees have been wired. 1,000 troops will be ready to board your planes when they land in Kahanistan. The international airport in the capital has been rebuilt to the point where it is in working condition.

We wait eagerly for our agents to be transported to Czardas.

Signed,
Col. Igor V. Kaselev,
Kahanistan Republic Guard
Transport Department, We Buy It Inc.

We apologize for the downtime but the transport that we had in mind were being used for an operations, we managed to secure a different shipment for your troops, the 10 planes will arrive in your airport at midnight tonight and bring you too a remote airstip in the Czardian controlled area around Thiam by morning.

[signed]
CEO Steven Miller

When the corporation's planes landed in Najaster, Kahanistan, the soldiers were already waiting for them. Kaselev himself climbed into the first crate, demonstrating to the nervous SCS troopers that they would indeed be flying to Czardas in crates. The Kahanistanians had crates of their own with them, but these contained arms, ammunition, and other supplies that were to be given to the Czardaian resistance in occupied areas.

The soldiers were heavily armed and armored, wearing NBC gear underneath ceramic body armor, and both were concealed under their battle dress uniforms except for the gas masks. They were armed with Israeli TAR-21 Tavor assault rifles, M-24 sniper rifles, M-203 grenade launchers, M-240 heavy machine guns, PG-7V1 tocket launchers, and an assortment of sidearms, MRE's, canteens, and handpumps for water to simplify logistics.

They were going to be in for a long haul in these crates, waiting to deploy and begin operations in Czardas. Little, if anything, found on a captured SCS trooper would identify him or her as a Kahanistanian soldier.

MassPwnage:

"Marcel... what's this with the deployment of our fleet groups?" The Great Leader Li looked quite peeved.

"Doomingsland requested that we help the rest of the CAD in defeating the Woodstock Pact... so I sent a few fleets..."

"Marcel, I appreciate your intiative, but next time please ASK before doing anything this major. If the Doomish asked for control of the entire military, would you hand it to them?"

"Well, I guess not...."

"Precisely Marcel."

~*~*~*

In the Ocean:

"Oh... a false alarm? Ugh." The Admiral in charge slapped his head.

"Yes."

"So what do we do now?"

"We turn around."

"Oh. Right."

"Cities -- they're bitches to defend," Col. James Tippett of the Royal Engineers muttered. The INA Expeditionary Army Group had joined its fellow WP units at Tyriandor, and its engineers were busy establishing the town's defense. Tippett's fellow engineers excavated deep and broad anti-tank ditches with explosives and engineering vehicles. Anti-vehicle and anti-personnel mines were sown by vehicles, bomblets, and by hand to thwart a massive armoured assault upon the town.

The INA was not neglectful of other duties. Observation and relay posts were established along the CAD army's line of advance, along with ambush points consisting of remotely controlled uncrewed ground vehicles, anti-tank guided missile positions, reinforced by attack helicopters and artillery once word had been received. Reconnaissance regiments, armed with light armoured vehicles, probed the Bandurian flanks, listening for signals from the enemy, whilst armoured divisions, supported by heavy infantry, waited on the flanks. Motorised transports and helicopters hurried the civilian population into safe areas.

[Longer, more detailed post later; presently at work.]

OOC: This pic (http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y10/68157Silver/Tryiadorcopy.png) should help with visualizing the first part of this post. If you got any problems just post 'em in the OOC thread.

Tyriandor - Ground - North of City - Rail Yards

The We Buy It Inc. Second Corporate Division had succecdded in establishing a defensive paramitter around their holdings on their side of the city. Luckily most of the workings of the base were underground or hidden in the railyard buildings and had escaped detection. Only the random vehicle or trooper running around could be seen.

Slowly the troops emerged out of the underground and started to take up defensive positions along the hurricane sea wall and other walls around the rail yards.

The hurricane wall was truly to defeat hurriances, at 10 feet tall with a rounded top and 40 feet thick, it was also like a bunker, that was exactly the other purpose it served, the insides had been hollowed and small holes had been cut out to allow infantry to set up machine gun and AT nest. There were also hidden SAM and heavy AT launcher sites along the wall equipped with mid-range SAMs and long ranged AT missiles. Also tank bunkers and motar pits were built into the wall.

As an added precaution the top of the wall was rounded so that grapples couldn't grip it and the walls were made of concrete with titanium, and tungsten backing up to 1 meter thick.

The next part would truly be a surprise, out side the wall were hidden gun emplacements that were disgused to look like oil tanks or large containers. The weapons ranged from dual turrets of hyper-velocity, rapid-fire 76mm (3") Mark X ETC guns to the large 381mm (15") Mark X guns.

The "containers" and "oil tanks" slowly opened to reveal the large guns. Half of them swivled towards the landing Bandurian troops while the others took aim at the approaching transports and their light escorts. Also the artillery regiment, numbering 200 155mm guns, 50 203mm guns and 200 MLRS vehicles, took aim at the landing troops as did the M160A1 tanks in the tank bunkers.

They waited... and waited for more troops and vehicles to crowd the beach. Troop's trigger fingers flinched and wait for the commanders to give the order, gunners slowly traversed the tank's turrets to keep the enemies in the sights. Finally the order came.

They unleashed all hell onto the Bandurian Troops, 500 M160A1 tanks with their 135mm ETC cannons unloaded onto the enemy, half were equipped with HE-FRAG shells that would rip hopefully tear apart the Bandurian troops at the beach about 3 miles away, the other half were targeting the sides of the enemy tanks with APFSDS rounds. Their autoloaders loaded another round for the next salvo.

The half the mobile artillery unloaded their 155mm guns in a quick 3 round burst onto the enemy beach head, aiming for the lighter vehicles and infantry, they firings were timed so that they all hit at nearly the same time. The 203mm guns roared towards the enemy transports and escorts waiting on shore or near it. Next the MLRS launchers made themselves known to the enemy. The 200 launchers emptied their 12 rockets onto the enemy transports and troops, about a 1/4 of them were equipped with napalm warheads while another 1/4 had high-explosive with the remaining half equipped with anti-infantry and anti-tank bomblets.

The MLRS quickly fled into the tunnels to reload while the tube artillery continued to unload onto the enemy, moving after each 3 round burst. The SAMs, which had finished preping opened up onto the enemy air forces, thousands of them from the base east of Tyriandor and from the northern forces, nearly 4000 mid ranged missiles rose at mach 5 to meet the enemy planes both over the city and over the fleet and provide the Skyian pilots much needed relief.

Finally the mech infantry made a name for themselves. Half of the mech infantry and armored brigades moved outside of the rail yard and into the city moving towards the enemy forces. The three column consisted of a total of 500 tanks, flanked by 550 IFVs equipped with either 35mm or 75mm cannons and 15.5mm machine guns, the infantry force consisted of 100 light APCs with 20mm cannons, 300 light trucks with 15.5mm machine guns, and 7,600 infantry with 6.8mm caseless battle rifles, heavy machine guns, AT launchers, and 15.5mm sniper rifles.

They took up defensive positions just inside the city from the beach, destroyed buildings hid most of the force from view. Snipers and machine gunners took up position in buildings and roads, tanks and IFVs took hull down positions in rubble and inside of blow out buildings as their Skinnyian comrades started to pull back from the beach. Infantry joined them in the second line of trenches.

As the Bandurians emerged from the beach the line let loose. Thunderous roars were heard as the tanks tried blasted apart enemy infantry formations with cansiter rounds and tanks with APFSDS rounds while the 35mm IFVs blasted HE and AP rounds down range an the 75mm IFVs fired their beehive rounds into the enemy ranges hoping to induce grim casualties.

Infantry took aim from roof tops and buildings with snipers, AT launchers and machine guns desperately trying to hold back the Bandurian forces and to destroy their tanks and vehicles. Others ducked into shell holes, trenches, and buildings firing burst of weapons into the enemy forces

The LV-08 light trucks and Marauder APCs provided covering fire for tanks and infantry alike with their 15.5mm machine guns and 20mm cannons, some of the LV-08s were equiped with AT launchers that fired on enemy tanks and IFVs.

The battle for Tyriandor had just begun and already Skyian forces were trying to make a name for themselves.

Tyriandor - Ground - Southeast of City - Oil Depot and Divisional Headquarters

The just as the forces in the north engages the Bandurian beach head the forces in the south had finished amassing underground, they waited for orders and guarded the fastest entrace out of the city, the underground highway.

The artillery to the west of the base, which consisted of 155mm to 381mm guns as the north had, opened up onto the enemy beach head and waiting fleet. SAM sites to the southeast opened onto the enemy forces, the mid ranged SAMs numbered in the thousands. Soon after the shorter ranged mobile SAMs moved out of the underground and into the streets to aim at enemy planes in the skies above.

Tyriandor - Ground - East of City - Skinnyian Command Post

General Iverson watched as the Skinnyian commander rushed around for a bit, Iveson waited until he was done and dusted himself off before talking to him again.

"Nice to meet you too sir, I have 150 Attack helos and 5000 men out their waiting to help you, just give me the order and I'll have them proceed, think of them as your own personal replacements."

Iverson quickly searched his pockets for the holo projector. It was a small fat disk like object no bigger then a CD player, he quickly set it on a table and entered the security code. It lit up and showed the positions of Skyian troops and the approximate position of the Bandurian forces and fleets. (OOC: Basically shows all my forces too you, and includes my air complex, which your commander could use)

"Hook this too your battlefield computer so our forces can work more closely with yours. Oh, and for the record, we aren't Skyian troops, we're mercs." Said Iverson as he showed his We Buy It Inc. ID card.

Tyriandor - Air

We Buy It Inc. fighters danced with the enemy trying to avoid SAMs and AAMs along with the occasional gun burst. They fired off their short range Starshield NSRAAMs towards enemy planes while shooting off Starfall NIRDFM's towards the enemy AWACs, tankers and heavier planes. A few took potshots with the Starshells configured in ground attack mode, at the enemy transports, and some even straffed the enemy positions and transports on the beach.

However, even fancy countermeasures couldn't save them all, there were large amounts of casualties, nearly 30% of all of the F-620s had been shot down, with the F-73s and F-63Ks with only 18% and 7% casualties respectively because of their great manuverability.

60km East of Tyriandor - Air Complex 003N

The ground attack fighters had nearly gotten 25% casulaties in their last sortie, they returned to base to reload, but knew that they were very few in number compared to enemy forces. However another air force managed to make it into , this one was actually Silver Skyian Military Command, however, because they were trying to arrive very quickly most of the transports and helos with much needed reinforcements had yet to arrive. However, these fighters and bombers were much needed in their own right.

The fighters launched a huge volley of long ranged missiles, as did some of the bombers which were converted to AAM carrying platforms, nearly 3500 missiles flew towards the enemy forces. They hoped to draw some of them them towards the base and into short range SAM range to relieve some of the fighters over the city.

Meanwhile ground attack fighters re-fueled and re-armed and took off not for the city, but just 100km northeast, outside of Bandurian SAM and AAM range, they flew low to avoid detection.

When the corporation's planes landed in Najaster, Kahanistan, the soldiers were already waiting for them. Kaselev himself climbed into the first crate, demonstrating to the nervous SCS troopers that they would indeed be flying to Czardas in crates. The Kahanistanians had crates of their own with them, but these contained arms, ammunition, and other supplies that were to be given to the Czardaian resistance in occupied areas.

The soldiers were heavily armed and armored, wearing NBC gear underneath ceramic body armor, and both were concealed under their battle dress uniforms except for the gas masks. They were armed with Israeli TAR-21 Tavor assault rifles, M-24 sniper rifles, M-203 grenade launchers, M-240 heavy machine guns, PG-7V1 rocket launchers, and an assortment of sidearms, MRE's, canteens, and handpumps for water to simplify logistics.

They were going to be in for a long haul in these crates, waiting to deploy and begin operations in Czardas. Little, if anything, found on a captured SCS trooper would identify him or her as a Kahanistanian soldier.
The Commander of the We Buy It Inc. planes ran towards the SCS commander and shook his hand. "Col. Kaselev, I'm Commander Jasper, I'll be your main pilot for today."

"I'm supposed to tell you that in the event we're intercepted be an enemy flight we will eject your crates instead of taking you down with us. Because of this each of the crates will be equipped with two parachutes. You'd probably want to tie down your stuff because of this so we put some ropes and boxes in their for you to use."

"The flight should be about 2 hours so you'll get in before daybreak. Also we haven't had a chance to take everything out because we just came from Czardas ourselves, so their maybe a few vehicles in their, you can use those, there should be a few more at the airstrip."

"We hope your flight and stay in Czardas is enjoyable, however, if you want some inflight snacks you're gonna be disappointed." Finished Commander Jasper with a playful laugh. "We'll leave as soon as you're ready" (OOC: As soon as you post)

Silver Skyian 1st Combined Naval Armada, 850km from Czardas

Admiral Sutherland watched over the gigantic fleet, which had been bolstered by the arrival of the Voltaru Fleet, from his bridge seat on his 'Kaitou', and Neptune-Class Trimiran Super Dreadnaught. He was chatting with the other commanders and his bridge officers when the comm officer spoke up.

"Sir, the new transports and the Fifth and Sixth Fleets have all arrived, this brings our forces up too 922,000 soliders."

"That's good, prepare a message to the Voltar...." Said Admiral Sutherland before he was interrupted by the Comm Officer again.

"Sorry sir, but new transmission from command at CINDER, President Maddox feels that with the Voltaru reinforcements and the vast amount of WP ships in the area that the Fifth and Sixth fleets are no longer needed."

Admiral Sutherland grimaced, he needed those reinforcements to break the Bandurian Armada to get to Tryiandor. The comm officer continued.

"She also says that she feels that with over half of the navy out of home water, and our country so close to the action, she wants those fleets for home defence. She says to get some WP forces to help you."

Admiral Sutherland sighed, "Very well then, prepare a message to the Voltaru commander."

[OOC: Following is SIC]

----------------------------
Heavily Encrypted Short Burst Transmission
To: Admiral Dera Saltrow, Voltaru 7th Fleet
V.B.S. Jericho

We need your forces to guard the newly arrived transports, I know you don't like it but the reinforcements we needed for that were pulled back. We would also appreciate if you would route any newly arriving forces to us, we need all the help we can get to break the Bandurian fleet.

Admiral Michael Sutherland, Silver Skyian 1st Combined Naval Armada
S.S.R.S. 'Kaitou'
----------------------------
Heavily Encrypted Short Burst Transmission
To: WP and Questerian Naval Commanders

We are positioned just outside of striking distance from the Bandurian Fleet, but we need at least another 500 more ships to adequately fight them because our reinforcements were pulled back to home waters.

Also, our offer of nearby naval bases in our home waters still stands, we have plenty of room at Comberth Harbor and North Point Naval Base and we have large airfields for fighter and bomer bases.

Admiral Michael Sutherland, Silver Skyian 1st Combined Naval Armada
S.S.R.S. 'Kaitou'

Kaselev took the commander's hand and nodded grimly. "Thank you. We have our own inflight snacks," he said, holding up a chicken, beans and falafel MRE. "1300 calories a pack, that adds up to about five to seven days' worth of rations per rucksack."

He crouched down into the crate with his weapons and equipment, waiting for the lid to be secured. His soldiers followed suit, waiting for the plane to leave and take them to their destination.

In the Southern Ocean of Czardas:

Ashpeer watched as the waves crashed against his command vessal from his tower. It gave him pride to watch as the Space Union fleet drifted ever closer to the Czardas coastline to engage the Parthians. They would come as liberators and leave as victors, no matter what. Already fighting was heating up in the north, where Space Union's allies Omz, Skinny, and Czardas were launching land and naval attacks against the Bandurian fleet. Praetonia, Questers, Sarzonia, Ollieland, The Volturam, Isselmere, and The Silver Sky's fleets were beginning the naval battle that was coming. Space Union, on the otherhand, was in the south while its aerial support stayed in the north assisting the allied effort.

Suddenly one of his Captains, Alex Botten, came in. He stopped before the Supreme Commander before giving his information,

"Sir, we have received a transmission from The Silver Sky," said the Captain as he stood tall and saluted.

"Good, patch it through," said the Commander as he sat down at his desk and accessed the transmission. He scanned through the message quickly as if he was a scanning machine. He instantly turned off the transmission program to access his naval program. A grin broke out on his face as he saw the 4th Naval Armada heading up north. It would do.

He accessed the transmission button again as he fowarded his reply,

To: The Silver Sky Naval Fleet
From: Supreme Commander Ashpeer Singh

We are proud to announce that we have assistance for your fleet in your
needs. The Space Union 4th Naval Armada is nearing your area. It is headed
by Admiral Napal Akooshi and contains above 1,500 ships. That will certainly
meet your needs and give the allied effort the firepower it needs to win the
war in the north. I hope that we will meet again after the battle, to greet
each other in person. Thank You.

Signed,
Ashpeer Singh

[OOC: This was cleared with Czardas in advance via PM at the Draftroom. I hope no one objects. I’m just trying to follow through on Pact obligations without violating any restrictions Azazia would place on me anyways, so my contribution is negligible at best.

Oh, and anyone who doesn’t see what’s going on. I’m transferring aircraft to Czardas – but with a little bit of a twist you’ll catch in the next post. For now, I need sleep.]

1/04 Gabikovo, Poldi’sk, Novikov [9:21 pm, 3.16.2005]

“Sir,” one of the nameless orderlies so common in Novikov’s ancient parliamentary hall spoke up, entering the office of one Alexi Gerchinkov. “Sir, Krištof Frantešk on line two. He says it’s important.”

Gerchinkov sighed. His office telephone had been ringing almost non-stop since morning, and exhausted as he was from the rigors of piecing together his broken nation, his patience was growing thin. He gave a snappy reply, uncharacteristic of the 30-year old idealist. “Krištof who?”

“Frantešk. Embassy to the Woodstock Pact.”

Another sigh. Gerchinkov was tired, and the Pact advisors had been badgering him for weeks – ever since the Czardas occupation began and the question was raised of what Novikov’s involvement would be in the affair. As Minister of Foreign Affairs, Gerchinkov had the task of deciding such action ultimately relegated to his desk, and it placed him in an awkward situation. Personally, he supported the Pact-wide initiative, but as a the Novikovian Parliament was subsidiary to Azazia’s royal governorship, he had to play by the rules. That mean no mobilization. “Fine. Patch him through.”

Gerchinkov lifted the phone . “Máte přání? – May I help you.”

“Alexi,” the voice crackled over the battered line, and Gerchinkov grimaced. Who was this man, and where was the respect his office deserved. Quickly, he remembered the man was a member of his own party, and returned the informal greating, though with a cordial tone.

“Krištof.”

“Alexi, you remember the situation in Czardas, no?”

“I would forget if you at the embassy would let me.”

“My apologies, Alexi. We’ve been working hard to find a politically acceptable alternative, and I think we may have a solution. If I have a bill on your desk by midnight, can I have your signature?”

“If it will work, yes, but I’ll have to read it over first.”

“Good. I’ll have our secretary fax over a copy. Midnight?”

“In writing, yes. What’s so urgent?”

“You’ll see.”

-----

Propad Military Depot, outside Zvolen, Novikov [1:37 am, 3.17.2005]

“Halt!” The traditional cry of every sentry. “Who goes there?”

The line of vehicles rolled to a groaning stop on the gravel road, the drivers peering out at a lone figure blocking their path.

“This is restricted area. Step out of the vehicle.” The lone guard walked over to the door of the lead vehicle, motioning for the driver to come outside. The door creaked open, and a man, face covered in stubble, stuck his head out.

“Aerial Engineers. We’re here to collect twenty-“ he looked down. “Twenty-one aircraft in storage here.”

The guard stuck his hand out demandingly. “Papers.” A file exchanged hands, followed by the engineer’s identification card. Inside the browning folder was a signed authorization for the transfer of twenty-one aircraft to the Zvolen airfield, the signatory none other than Defense Advisor Boris Stanislav. After a momentary review, the private snapped the folder shut and returned it to the owner. “You can go.”

The dismounted engineer climbed back into a running truck, reaching for the onboard radio as he did so.

“Let’s move, boys. We’ve got to get there things ready to fly out in thirty-six hours. Go.”

-----

The designated aircraft – the remnants of two disbanded squadrons, relics of the Kacnerova military buildup – were gathered on a group of 21 specially-fitted transports. The safest option would have been to dismantle and reassemble the aircraft, or to have them flown to the Zvolen airbase. A lack of on-hand pilots, and time constraints prevented either of these options from being carried out. The fighters were tide down as best they could, and, in the course of five hours, ready for road transport to a proper storage facility. Without time for a proper transport, the worry was that the aircraft would be damaged in-transit. All the lead engineer could do was shrug off the concern. He had neither the manpower or the time to worry about such things. If the fell apart en-route, so be it. At least one of the papers in his folder guaranteed his convoy a clear route to the airdrome….

-----

Official Communiqué
To: Czardaian Government
Subject: Equipment Transfer

As part of a the reciprocal agreement between the Novikovian and Czardaian governments earlier specified, this message is to inform you of the transfer of thirteen serviceable Alpha Jet aircraft of the (Disbanded) 113th Tactical Squadron, and an additional six Mirage III aircraft of the (Disbanded) 14th Intercept Squadron. As per the agreement specified above, payment for the aircraft and their cost of transit will be withheld at the current time, to be repaid on a date to be later specified. The transfer may begin within twenty-four hours of receiving a confirmation of the agreement and a designated flight path for the aircraft. To confirm, please respond with necessary information regarding flight path, timing, and basing which will be necessary to insure the safe transfer of said aircraft.

-Signed,
Mayor Aleksandr Pushkin, on behalf of:
Novikovian Defense Advisor, Boris Stanislav

Kaniona Airfield

The airfield at Kaniona was already occupied by aircraft from several nations of the Woodstock Pact, but apparently there was still room for the Taldaani aircraft that were even now descending on it. The first Quetzal swooped down as slowly as was possible without stalling, then its wheels struck the concrete with a heavy thump, the landing gear taking its massive weight. It bounced a little then continued to roll along the runway, its enormous bulk dominating the runway. The crew cheered as they coasted to the end of the strip, then taxied away. They were followed by the remaining Quetzals, flying in a perfect line with only a minute between each. The scene was the same over every runway available, planes ladning quickly and efficiently. The Taldaani Air Force placed heavy emphasis on being able to land or take off in large numbers very quickly.

As his command AWACS plane stopped and the ladder came down, Air Commander Richardson slid down onto the airfield below and made his way to wherever the other leaders were. He had to announce himself and talk with them on what the overall plan was. Behind them the sky was still buzzing with Taldaani planes as they landed.

General Petrov was pleased with the progress so far. The paratroopers had cleared the transport aircraft from the runway and the warplanes from the OpCom Sections were beginning to land now after their long flight. The transport zepps had departed for Ollieland and all he had to do now was organise his troops. He needed to set up airborne patrols to reach the cities of Ardaja and Sameri and assess the situation there. The Foreign Legion units would do for that job. He glanced over and saw a ragged looking soldier swigging beer. Where the hell did he get that from? And why was his uniform so messy?! And why hadn't he shaved?!! WHAT THE HELL WAS GOING ON?!

And just before the pressure in his head boiled over he noticed the soldiers insignia. Colonial Marine Corps Commando Regiment, 1st Special Ops Battalion. Trained killers, every man.

"You there, what are you doing?" he asked.

The trooper looked up and slowly took in the General's pips before standing to attention. "Getting ready for battle, sir."

"Well...carry on, there", Petrov stammered and again stomped off toward the airport's control tower.


Units now based at Ardaja International Airport

1st-10th Army Airborne Divisions (120,000 men)
CMC Airborne Division (12,000 men)
Legion Etranger d'Ollieland Airborne Battalion (1,000 men)
Legion Etranger d'Ollieland Para Battalion (1,000 men)
18 Coys from the CMC Special Ops Regiment (1,800)
Colonial Air Force 13th, 14th and 15th Operational Combat Sections

Total Forces include aproximately 120,000 x combat troops, 218 x APCs and assorted armoured support vehicles, 1110 x R1700 Thunderbolt Attack Helos, 1110 x R1800 Praetor Attack Helos, 838 x R1200 Black Heart Troop Transport Helos, 44 x CAE4 Command Zeppelins, 33 x CAA3 Airmobile Hospital Zeppelins, 33 x CAE6 Counter Insurgency Zeppelins, 71 x CAE1 Freighter Zeppelins, 168 x CAE7 Air Supremacy Zeppelins, 66 x CAE5 Engineering Zeppelins, 10 x CAS5 Stealth Infiltration Zeppelins, 9 x CAE8 ELINT Zeppelins, 18 x CAS4 Firefighter Zeppelins, 686 x SZ17 Galaxy Transport Aircraft, 9000 x SZ11 Twin Tail Fighters, 9000 x SZ3 Skyshark Fighter Bombers, 8100 x SZ4 Warbird Bombers, 900 x SZ5 SNARL ELINT Aircraft

From – Department of Defence
To – Grand Field Marshall Stuart Stubbington, CinC Army of Ollieland

The following forces are to be moved to pre-arranged transport ports and deployed to Czardas as 1st Ollish Expeditionary Army. These troops will be transported by the Colonial Navy and requisitioned merchant shipping. The commander is to be named at your discretion.

- 20 x Combat Divisions
- 20 x Armoured Divisions
- 10 x Infantry Divisions
- Army Engineering Regiment
- Army Reconnaissance Regiment
- Army Medical Regiment (minus units already deployed in Wolfish and hospital staff)

These forces are made up of approximately 600,000 x combat troops, 3200 x R500d Ogre MBTs, 25620 x Ferret Light Tanks, 61212 x APCs and assorted armoured support vehicles, 1650 x assorted combat helos, 36 x R1200 Black Heart Troop Transport Helos, 3480 x artillery pieces, 4960 x self propelled artillery pieces, 10 x CAE5 Engineering Zeppelins, 4 x CAA3 Airmobile Hospital Zeppelins.

Total composition is given as follows in the number of companies, each of 100 men.
2030 x Infantry, 1220 x Light Armoured, 640 x Heavy Armoured, 290 x Artillery, 160 x Mechanised Artillery, 160 x Air Cavalry, 150 x Command, 150 x medical, 150 x MP, 150 x Logistics, 150 x Chemical & Biological Warfare, 300 x Air Defence, 310 x Engineering, 10 x Electrical & Mechanical Engineering, 10 x Signals, 10 x Airborne Engineering, 18 x MASH, 8 x Airborne Medical, 160 x Recon, 10 x Urban recon, 10 x Airborne Recon, 10 x Sniper

OOC: working on exact numbers and types now, will post in OOC


To: Admiral Michael Sutherland
Silver Skyian 1st Combined Naval Armada
S.S.R.S. 'Kaitou'

Message recieved and acknowledged. The 5th and 6th Voltaru Attack
Fleets are mere hours from our position, and are set to rondevous with
us for the upcoming assault. Upon their arrival, Fleet Admiral Ja'rod
Kathon aboard the V.B.S. Revolution will be coordinating the Voltaru
Fleets. We recommend immediate assault on Bandurian assets upon their
arrival.

Admiral Dera Saltrow
Voltaru 7th Fleet



Dera swung in her chair to face the starboard window. The familiar warm feeling of anxiety filled her body - within hours the Skian and Voltaru fleets would engage the Bandurians... and then hopefully on to the south where the real enemy awaited.

"Admiral!" Her comm officer broke in. "We've picked up a sizable Pact fleet headed toward us. Its one of the Space Union fleets. Apparently, they are set to advance with us toward Czardas."

Dera held in a chuckle. The Bandurians would be knocked back into the stone age. "Well lets send them some welcome."


To: Admiral Napal Akooshi
Space Union 4th Naval Armada

Your Voltaru allies welcome you to the Northern front. The Voltaru 5th
and 6th fleets will be arriving shortly, thus commencing our attack on
Bandurian ships. Please coordinate all communication with the Voltaru
flagship, V.B.S. Revolution and Admiral Ja'rod Kathon upon the 5th
Fleet's arrival.

Admiral Dera Saltrow
Voltaru 7th Fleet

Kaselev took the commander's hand and nodded grimly. "Thank you. We have our own inflight snacks," he said, holding up a chicken, beans and falafel MRE. "1300 calories a pack, that adds up to about five to seven days' worth of rations per rucksack."

He crouched down into the crate with his weapons and equipment, waiting for the lid to be secured. His soldiers followed suit, waiting for the plane to leave and take them to their destination.

The flight crews quickly secured the lids of the containers before strapping on the parachutes. The loadmasters barked that they were ready to the pilots who quickly acknowledged them. They crews quickly scrambled to their chairs and respective stations, radio operators relayed their departure for Czardas to We Buy It Inc. CENTCOM who gave them additional orders.

The engines of the C-115 Fastrider Cargo Jets quickly went up too speed and taxied to one of several runways. They requested permission from the control tower which was quickly given. The four turbofan engines roared to life as the lead planes hurtled down the runway slowly gaining speed before lifting off gracefully into the dark midnight sky.

175km southeast of Thiam, Czardas
04:13 Hours

The carge jets barrelled low over the landscape. They were also accompained by a group of F-620's which had joined them when they entered Czardazian airspace.

The load master unbuckled himself from his seat and walked towards Col. Kaselev's box, he opened it and said, "Col. we're about 5 minutes out from the airstrip, we haven't been lit up by radar or other senors yet so we're gonna risk the landing, but command want us up north to help with the airlift so we need to get out of here by day break."

A few dozen minutes later the remote airstrip came into view, the pilots quickly landed, a great feat to accomplish in the near pitch black darkness. The planes quickly set up in the parking fields which were designated by fences and some spot lights. The ramps opened the boxes were opened to let the SCS troopers out.

Commander Jasper quickly found Col Kaselev, "Col., you've got just over an hour and a quarter to get your men all set up, we need to be up north pretty soon, also, we were notified that we have a armored regiment, a mech regiment and a single artillery regiment in the area around the base, plus the mech regiment guard this and the airfield just north, they can aid you if you wish. Oh, here is a satellite map with the approx positions of friendly and most enemy troops." The Commander saluted, "Good luck sir!"

---------------------------------------
Heavily Encrypted Burst Transmissions
To: Supreme Commander Ashpeer Singh
Space Union
From: Admiral Michael Sutherland
Silver Skyian 1st Combined Naval Armada
S.S.R.S. 'Kaitou'

We greatly appreciate your help. We are currently heading towards the
Bandurian Armada at a slow 3 knots and have just reached the 800km
mark. Please state your estimated time of arrival so we can coordinate
plans better. Also, once the fleet arrives have them take up our left flank,
we'll have the arriving Voltaru fleet head up the right flank while we take
up the center. You'll be responsible for protecting the left flank of the fleet
and the transpors from Warmasterian ships. I look foward to seeing you
after this successful battle. Thank you.

Signed,
Michael Sutherland


To: Admiral Dera Saltrow
Voltaru 7th Fleet
From: Admiral Michael Sutherland
Silver Skyian 1st Combined Naval Armada
S.S.R.S. 'Kaitou'

Recommendation recorded. We will begin our assualt as soon as your's and
the Space Unionist Fleets arrive. While we still request you keep a 500 ship
force to the rear to protect the transports, we also would request your
larger force take up our right flank as the Space Unionist will take the left.
We are currently closing in on the 750km mark so prep your weapons and
planes, get everything in the air you can. I look forward to meeting you
after the battle, so keep yourself alive.
---------------------------------------
1st Combined Naval Armada, 775km from Czardas

Admiral Sutherland looked out over the fleet, on the smaller view screen he could see his other commanders on their bridges barking orders to their crews. Sutherland reflected on the importance of the upcoming battle, if he and the WP fleet should fail and the defenders at Tryiandor be unable to hold out, nearly all of Northern Czardas would most likely fall.

He shook his head and cleared his thoughts, he and the other fleets would prevail over the Bandurian fleet and liberate the Tryiandor defenders.

He yelled at his Comm Officer to give the order to shut the combat shutters. No sooner was it sent then did all the bridges on all the larger ship begin to deploy the large plate armor over the glass of the bridge. It came from the sides and met at the middle and the larger main shutter came from above and ended just below the bridge. The shutters were designed to keep small and medium caliber shells from destroying the vital bridge of the larger ships with lucky shots. As they shut the screens began to display the feed from the cameras on the outside of the ship, it was just like looking out the window.

The tension that was apparent as the fleets left Sarzonia for their rendevous with the Allied fleets and the interdiction against the Pwnage fleets had ebbed enough for Goughan to jog along the deck. With his iPod blasting rock music, he gave himself a chance to think about things other than the latest war.

He finished his jog and went back to his quarters and took a shower. When he stepped out, he wrapped a towel around his waist and walked toward the closet to pick out a jump suit for his trip to the mess hall. However, the intercom beeped before he could reach the closet.

"Bridge to Admiral Goughan."

Sigh. Can't a man get one minute away from the bridge?

"Goughan here."

"Sir, we're getting preliminary reports that the Pwnage fleet is ... turning back?"

"Beg your pardon?"

"It's hard to explain it, sir, but it seems as though the fleet is just turning around and heading away."

"What are they, scared of us?"

"Well, I don't think it's that, sir. You may want to contact Navy Command to find out what they're going to do."

"Understood. I'll be at my office in 15 minutes."

"Aye, sir."

Goughan turned away from the intercom with a look of confusion. He knew Sarzonia had severed ties with MassPwnage months prior, before even the recession had begun. He knew the Pwnage were considered enemies by Sarzonia's government, although the loss of Sarzonian contributions to the Pwnage sex market likely had a negative effect on Pwnage government officials.

But how would that explain the Pwnage just turning away? Goughan started to put on his naval uniform. He'd have to contact Navy Command to figure out what the hell was going on. But if Pwnage weren't involved in the war, that would change the fleet's objectives entirely.

"Admiral to the bridge!"

"What is it now?"

"Sir, the Severn and her surface group are breaking off from the fleet."

"What the FUCK is Barnett doing?" Goughan threw on his uniform shirt and pants, not even bothering with his boots or a belt and ran to the bridge. Flag Captain Charles Barnett breaking off from the formation with the Chippewa class dreadnought Severn and a fleet of roughly 50 ships was definitely not in the orders. What if the Pwnage fleet converged on Barnett's? There'd be thousands of ships going against 50 ships. Those were odds Navy Command wanted to avoid.

Someone's going to be in real hot water when he gets his ass back to the fleet, Goughan thought. IF he makes it that far.

"Admiral? What do we do?"

"Continue to the rendevous point. We're going to have to sail on without Barnett's group."

"But sir!"

"We're not going to risk 300 ships over the fate of 50. That's an order!"

Kaselev nodded. This was more than enough time for his troops to climb out of the crates, fully armed and equipped, and research the Skyian map they were provided.

"Thank you, we'll need this," he said, pocketing the map. He then ordered his troops to the most secluded area he could locate that was within walking distance. From there, they would break down into squads of ten and some platoons of fifty. The smaller squads would locate hostile soldiers and engage them, capturing supplies bound for larger units. The larger platoons would locate civilian populations and seek out Czardaians disaffected with the CAD occupiers. These they would arm and train with the surplus weaponry they had brought. Kaselev himself would seek out a high ranking Czardaian general or other important figure, he had something the Kahanistanian government wanted the Czardaians to have.

Once again, he would cross swords with CAD.

Sir Alexander Lloyd was reading the paper. It would seem like an odd activity for anyone to undertake on the bridge of a Super-Dreadnought, especially for a Fleet Admiral, but anyone who would think that did not know Sir Alexander Lloyd. He was still reading when his ensign, Joseph K. Fierman, walked into the room. Without looking up Lloyd knew he was there and said, "Yes? What is it?"

"Sir, we've just received the reports from Czardas. The situation in Tyriandor is... difficult, to say the least."

"Yes, I knew that."

"Excellent. Well, the Bandurian Navy has stationed a massive fleet to unload the troops—well over two thousand combat ships from the satellite readings. However, combined Silver Skyian, Space Unionist, and Voltaru fleets appear to be forming up to duel the Bandurians and buy time for the defenders at Tyriandor to push the enemy out of the North."

"H'rm." Lloyd grunted. "So you're saying we should join them?"

"Yes, sir. They'll need all the help they can get, especially with Warmasterian fleets in the area."

"All right then, I'll leave you to send a transmission to the lead admiral, and we'll be off." Lloyd went back to his paper, scanning something about a war in Juumanistra and the latest developments in Pacitalian politics.

Fierman sighed and shrugged his shoulders heavily. The Fleet Admiral could sometimes be rather difficult. With a slight effort he typed up a short transmission and sent it via an encrypted satellite burst to the Silver Skyians, albeit somewhat sloppily (Mauvasia's satellite network was not known for accuracy and encrypted messages frequently came out encrypted or partially garbled.

>>> Official Transmission to Silver Skyian Fleet:

The MIRNa Taskforce 162 is prepared to assist your fleets in the defence of the Czardaian shores and the battle against the Bandurians. Please inform us where we would be most needed. We are currently some 1,000 kilometres east of Czardaian waters and have a total of 371 combat vessels at our disposal.

Respectfully and in friendship,
Fleet Admiral Sir Alexander Lloyd <<<

[OOC: Feel free to receive parts of the message as completely garbled or mixed up with satellite radio programmes, radio chatter from MIRAF pilots on CAP, or anything else you want. :P]

To:Admiral Michael Sutherland
Silver Skyian 1st Combined Naval Armada
S.S.R.S. 'Kaitou'

Acknowledged. The 6th Fleet will be bolstered and will be deployed to
protect the transports. The 5th and 7th fleets will proceed to the right
flank. Pre-battle motions will commence immediately.

Fortes fortuna adiuvat.

Admiral Dera Saltrow
Voltaru 7th Fleet

Claxons rang out across the deck of the Jericho, as the call went out to the fleet of the impending confrontation with the enemy. Dera watched from the bridge as thousands of Voltaru fighters took to the air, just as the 5th Fleet came into its final position, fitting nicely between her fleet and the Skyian force. She could see the Revolution in the distance, its formidable appearance only matched by its sister ship, the one she presently commanded. She turned and paced back to her command chair, her blood red uniform a sharp contrast to her long and pale blond hair. She turned as a communications node rang at the comm station. "What is it Lieutenant?

"Communication coming in from the Killjoy, Admiral. The 6th fleet is in position. There is also a message here from the 5th fleet. Its the Viceroy, on a secure channel."

"In my office."

***

"Saltrow, Dera. Identification number 4235785-DR5."

The wall in front of her seemed to pause for a moment before the green "accepted" confirmation appeared on the panel. Seconds later, Dera was staring into the eyes of a man she knew very well. He was older than she remembered, more lines in his face. Too much desk work. Too much time in Ohm.

"Viceroy, I am glad you made it in time. I was afraid I would have to kill all of the CAD by myself..."

A smirk crept across Ja'rod Kathon's face. "You know I wouldn't miss the chance for the world, Dera."

"Nice to know the Order let you out of Ohm for awhile."

"Very funny, D. I think we are both glad we are here..."

He paused as both exchanged smiles.

"Now, on to business Dera. I have forwarded you the latest reports we have of the many fronts of this conflict. After we take care of this Bandurian nonsense, I will ask for your opinion on what we should do next. The Premier was very clear - our ground forces are only going in when the country is more secure, so as usual it will be up to us to do the talking."

"Understood Admiral."

"Very well. Then I will await the call from the Skyians to begin the operation. I hope to see you again soon, once this is over."

"So do I. Now go run your fleet, Viceroy."

"Acknowledged. See you soon, D."

[OOC: Warning - Swearing]

Tyriandor - Ground - Outer City Defence Line

Shells slammed into the ground around the ruins of the factory Sergeant Franklin and his men were situated in. The roof of the giant building had long ago collapsed in on itself from the multiple hits from naval rounds and the mortar barrages that had become the bane of the defending troops lives. When it had collapsed, it had done so without warning; more than thirty Volunteer Soldiers had been crushed under a thousand tonnes of concrete, wood, steel and anything else the roof had been built with. A few had been buried alive and dragged out after hours of exhausting work, under constant fire from the Bandurian attackers, but most had been killed instantly, including the Lieutenant and Sergeant that had been in command of the factory position.

A new officer had been found and sent over to the position to ensure that it was held; from the ruins of the factory's northern walls the defenders could lay down an immense barrage of fire and direct artillery strikes onto the intersection that the enemy were advancing up. Ruined vehicles and burning tanks littered the intersection, evidence of a last-ditch stand to try and stop the advance before the artillery had come into play. However, a new Sergeant had been needed, and Franklin was given a field-commision for his actions with the Dragoon anti-tank weapon at the top of the beach.

Franklin, new sergeant stripes pinned onto the sleeve of his ragged uniform, looked over the top of what had been the outer wall of the factory and used a pair of battered binoculars to look at the intersection. He moved back and forth for a moment, taking in the whole of the scenery, before grunting and crouching down again. He handed the bincoulars to Champion who crouched beside him, now a Corporal by dint of being the most experienced surviving member after Franklin, who used them to look at the scenery as well. Nothing was moving; thick black smoke filled the sky, and a fighter streaked past, sonic boom louder than the distant sound of artillery and the spatter of machine-gun fire, but otherwise all was quite.

"Nothing's been moving for the last three hours, Tim. What do y'think's happening out there?" Champion enquired of Franklin after he placed the binoculars in a sturdy case; they were far too precious and valuable to simply place on the floor where they could get scratched. Franklin scratched absent-mindedly at the beard growing around his chin, brushing dust out of it, before replying to the question.

"Damned if I know Jack, damned if I know. They haven't been doing anything offensive for a while now. Just keep sending over the artillery and doing the same damn mortaring they've done for days now. No advancing, no nothin'. It's getting kinda irritiating - at least when they were fighting you knew what the bastards were upto, and you could deal with it. This is different - feels different as well. Heck, they might not be there at all anymore..."

"Artillery! Artillery! Get down NOW!" The frantic shout interrupted Franklin's musings as the Bandurian artillery once again targeted the factory complex. Franklin and Champion dived for cover, curling into a ball by the thickest piece of wall they could find. The walls vibrated constantly as the shells landed, and the explosions buffeted the two men, but the sound was the worst; you could hardly hear anything when the barrages started, and they seemed to go on forever and ever and never stop, no matter how long you waited or prayed or screamed at the top of your lungs. Franklin bit his lips until they were red raw and blood began to drip down into this mouth and chin to stop himself shouting, but even he had a limit. Dust fell onto him from the rafters that were still upright, covering him in a thick grey gauze that he tried to shake off, but couldn't because he couldn't move.

He was seconds from going nuts and screaming his head off when the shelling stopped, as suddenly as it had begun, and silence returned. For a few seconds Franklin could hear nothing at all; the sheer noise of the barrage had temporarily deafened him. He looked around, dazed from the vibrations. The factory looked the same, still in ruins, but the rear wall had fallen into ruins and sunlight streamed in through the massive holes newly made by the artillery.

Republican troops were moving, the men and women under his command rushing from their positions and getting their weapons ready. He struggled to pick himself up; with one hand he grabbed the top of the wall and heaved himself up, other hand grasping for his rifle. He came into a crouching position and slowly raised his rifle, resting it on the wall. Slowly his hearing came back; he could hear the machine-gun fire in the distant and the ever-present rumble of artillery, although nowhere near the factory.

Champion knocked on his helmet and Franklin turned, watery smile on his face as he faced his friend. Coughing a few times and taking a quick drink from his canteen, Franklin spat out a gob of dust and phlegm and shouted out orders to the troops around him. "Move, move, move people! Get that damned machine-gun ready Utah, and Jennings - move that damned grenade launcher so it doesn't go off into whats left of the wall. They'll be coming any second folks!"

Weapons ready, the men and women watched the intersection intently, ready to open fire at the slightest sign of movement. Franklin sighted a car through his rifle, door swung open. He figured it would make a good position for a machine-gun, so he had it memorised. His finger rested on the trigger, ready to pull back and fire, but he had no targets. For ten minutes they remained like that, ready to fire, but...nothing. No screaming hordes of infantry, no tanks rumbling up the intersection, no mortars firing smoke.

Finally Franklin turned and shouted an all clear. The troops rested and moved back into the scant cover of the factory. Medics raced through the complex and rescued the victims of the barrage, placing men and women on stretchers and moving them to the triage centre a street away. Franklin turned to Champion whilst checking his rifle magazines, tapping them on his helmet to check they were each full. "See what I mean? Artillery and shit, but nothing else. I don't know what the hell's going on." Champion moved to respond, but was interrupted by Franklin's radioman, Private Gonzales, running up to their position. The young soldier was covered in dust, but was grinning all the same.

"Allright Gonzales, what's so damned funny, huh?" Franklin enquired. The man's grin grew even wider. "Regimental was just on the line, sarge. Major there says the 1st Armoured Group just broke through to the rear of the city limits - the first reinforcements are here, and they're not stopping!" Franklin was silent for a moment, and dismissed Gonzales, who moved away to spread the news. Franklin looked at Champion. "'Bout fuckin' time. Goddamn armoured pukes always were slow at this stuff."

He then stood up and shouted at the men and women near him. "Awright, you heard Gonzales. The reinforcements are here. But that don't mean you lazy arses get to step down. Make sure your ammo's full up. Jenkins, I said move that damned grenade launcher. And Simmons, run down the street to Third Platoon's position and ask them kindly if they have any .50 Cal ammo they'd like to spare. This ain't over people, although it's gettin' to look that way." The troops moved again, obeying Franklin's orders; they were excited at being relieved by the first major reinforcements, and knew more would come...

Tagged this thread has been.

--Yoda

700km East of The Bandurian Fleet

Admiral Sutherland barked out orders to the officers on the bridge.

"Jackson, get those lazy ass frigates too the front, and tell the Ravagers to form into seperate Dreadnaught Battlegroups, but have them be prepared to form into battleline. Tell those frigates to active on sonar, have the subs move ahead and have the arsenal ships ready their missiles!" He yelled as the troops rmoved into their battlestations for preperation for the Battle of The Czardazian Sea.

The gigantic ships that made up the Neptune-Class quickly formed into a battleline with the flagships at the helm. Battleflags raised on each of the ships, as missiles began to arm and guns began to raise.

Back on the bridge a Comm Officer yelled out, "Incoming message, from the Mauvasian Fleet."

"Patch it through and put it up on screen." Said Sutherland as the message began to appear on his private laptop. He read it and typed up a reply.
-----------------------
To: Mauvasian Fleet Admiral Sir Alexander Lloyd

We greatly appreciate your pledge for help, but we are already running
through pre-battle procedures and your fleet won't be able to hook up
in time for the battle. I suggest you contact the other WP fleet for
orders, we're already engaging. Sorry. Thank you.

Admiral Michael Sutherland
Silver Skyian 1st Combined Naval Armada
S.S.R.S. 'Kaitou'
-----------------------

Admiral Sutherland watch as the fighters and attackers from the fleet began to rise into the air. Thousands of planes carrying both AAMs and ASMs that would annihlate the Bandurian Fleet and air forces. He could strike at them as soon as he reached the 675km mark. He ordered the ships up to max cruise speed inorder to close the gap.

As he breached the 700km mark he began to receive targeting data from Skyian Satellites and AWACs, dozens of radar signatures, both of ships and planes began to pop up onto the radar. He also began to receive radar recon data from the OTH-B Long-Range Early Warning Radars from the Skyian mainland, their 2000-3000km range was coming into play.

Sutherland quickly gave the order to arm the Fireblast ASMs in the VLS tubes. He then prepare a message to the Voltaru and Unionist Fleets.

To: Voltaru Fleets
Space Unionist Fleets

Arm your weapons men, prepare for The Battle of The Czardazian Sea.
I request the maximum range on your anti-shipping missiles, we can
strike as soon as we reach the 675km mark, but we want to strike as
one combned force to divide up the Bandurian SAM and fighter coverage.

Good luck to you all, stay alive because I look forward to meeting you
after this battle.

Admiral Michael Sutherland
--------------------------------

Today would be the first battle for the Liberation of Northern Czardas, there would be no battle as important as this, The Battle of The Czardazian Sea.

4th Naval Armada:

Admiral Napal Akooshi crossed his arms before his chest as he watched the horizon sneek upon the fleet. His middle aged face, slightly wrinkled frome experience with gray hairs popping from his hair and beard, watched the ocean, with his intent brown eyes, carried a sense of peace and tranquility. It was a shame that it would soon be over and instead be replaced by the sounds of guns firing, the screams of sailors dieing, the cracks of metal collapsing, and every sound imaginable in war. It was said that every war sounds different than the last, like snowflakes on a snowy day.

The Admiral continued to stare but his focus drifted to another scene. He peered out as far as possible for the naked eye to see a series of black dots on the horizon. He smiled as just then Captain Cofrai walked in. She was a young aged women with dark black hair, tied up in a bun behind her head. Her emerald green eyes showed a innocence but her mere stance and posture conveyed everything but that.

"Admiral, we have received confirmation that The Silver Skyian Fleet is up ahead on the horizon. We will be meeting them within a half hour. As planned, we will be taking up there left-flank," said the Captain as she bowed before the Admiral.

"Very well, all things are prepared I assume? If so, have the men given one last chat before putting them on high alert. Once we hook up with The Silver Skyian fleet, scramble the 28th Fighter Wing along with the 7th Fighter Wing," said the Admiral without staring back at the Captain.

"Yes, sir. It will be done as you command," replied Cofrai as she turned around and left the Admiral to his own biddings.

_______________________________

Aircraft Carrier an Half-Hour Later:

The SuF/A-6N1 screamed down the runway of SUS Mann as the planes accelerated down before shooting up into the sky. All around the fleet, aircrafts were being scrambled as they sped toward the perimeter of the fleet to guard against missile and aerial attacks from the enemies. The SuF/A-6N1s were the first line of defense against the enemy. Considered by many as one of the most advanced fighters in the world, it was safe to say that it would control the skies with its unheard manueverability and feats of trumphiant.

The SuF/A-6N1s spread out as the fleet entered the left flank of the main "Joint Combat Fleet". They would guard the left side while the other allied nations would guard their own flanks. Armed with 8x AIM-511B Starburst II (long-range engagements and BVR combat), 4x AIM-508B Starshield II (short-range and WVR combat assisted with helmet-mounted system) and 4x missile interceptors, these bad boys would destroy any incoming missiles at high velocities ranging from AShM to cruise missiles.

The leader was Captain Cofrai. She pushed the throttle of her aircraft foward as it lurched foward, followed by her wing men. The aircraft instantly broke the sound barrier as it passed Mach 2, shortly afterwards. She gently pulled the aircraft into a climb, closely followed by the others. They would stay high in the air, 60-80,000 ft, to intercept any bombers. The fighters would make sure that they were at least at least patrol 500-1,000 km away from the carrier.

It was time to kick some CAD ass.

[ooc:] I'll have a post up today. Sorry about the delay.

OOC: Warmaster or Czardas, would you please do me a favor and post a list of the sides of this conflict as of right now, who's allied with who, etc. There are already a ton of posts here and I'm still playing catchup before I annihilate everything in sight. Knowing who's on my side and who isn't might be helpful. Thank you.

OOC: Warmaster or Czardas, would you please do me a favor and post a list of the sides of this conflict as of right now, who's allied with who, etc. There are already a ton of posts here and I'm still playing catchup before I annihilate everything in sight. Knowing who's on my side and who isn't might be helpful. Thank you.
[ooc:] Try the OOC thread (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=473379), there's one somewhere in there.

[ooc:] This (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=10590980&postcount=69) is also a good summary.

Captain Vidal Rusnak was not new to flying, yet as his sleek Twin Tail jet launched off the crowded deck of the V.B.S. Woodstock, he once again felt the familiar rush of flight cycle through his body.

As his jet rose up away from the mighty carrier, Rusnak got his first real look at the power that was assembling in the sky off the Czardaian coast. Nearly 2000 Voltaru planes were now gathering for the first wave against the Bandurian fleet. And that was just the start. The Skyian and Unionist fleets were preparing just as the Voltaru were. The assault would come soon, and Rusnak had a few Ernes for whatever the Bandurians threw at him.

He flipped on his communication.

"Raven Wing, this is Rusnak. The order to attack will be coming soon. Follow my lead and prepare to engage incoming targets, letting the Locusts through to sink those ships. Remember to keep the flank, and lets make these bastards pay!"

***



To: Silver Sky Fleet

Message recieved. Planes in position and waiting for commencement of joint
attack.

Admiral Ja'rod Kathon
Voltaru Naval Command

High Admiral Ludo Anor was in his quarters. Smoking was illegal on the bridge of an Imperial warship, and Anor made it a habit to have a relaxing cigarette a day. Healthy? Of course not. But it relieved stress (for him at least), and a stressed commander was more likely to snap.

The intercom pinged softly. He ignored it at first. Three seconds later, it pinged more loudly. He knew that if he continued to ignore it, it would get louder and louder until it felt like his head would split, and so Anor stood up, walked over to it, and pressed a button.

"What is it?"

"Admiral, this is Captain Uriel. We have the information you requested."

"I'll be on the bridge momentarily, captain."

"Very good, sir. Bridge out."

When Anor arrived on the bridge, he was surprised to find it a hive of activity. Idly he considered scenarios. Had the Skinnians launched their attack from Port Khufi? Had the Woodstock Pact fleet launched missiles at them? No...He would have heard the guns respond if that were the case.

Captain Uriel, commander of the Victorious, was standing beside a communications officer. When he saw the High Admiral coming, Uriel saluted and started to go to another console, but Anor motioned for him to stay. The officer working that particular console stood and saluted when Anor reached him, which he acknowledged with a nod, and printed out whatever was on the central screen before him, then handed the sheet to Anor.

It was a transmission from Korronis, from the Intelligence Division. The military intelligence sector had apparently taken advantage of the quiet on the Czarna front to analyze the Woodstock Pact fleets assembling to combat the increasingly successful attack on Tyriandor by Banduria. Beckoning to Captain Uriel, he explained the situation.

"I can't believe they wasted all this time on this. I could have gotten better intelligence from a damn soothsayer.

"Look. 'Between 350 and 400 Mauvasian ships, 3,000 or more Unionist ships, and roughly 1,100 Omzian ships.' I mean, that doesn't tell us about the Silver Sky or Voltaru armadas. This is ridiculous. Either we or the Bandurians could get attacked at any time by a fleet of unknown size. When I get back, I pray the Sacred Emperor takes away Military Intelligence's pensions. Every one of them." He sighed. "Lay mines."

"I'm sorry, Admiral?"

"I want you to get some mines off the cargo ships and lay them around the entrance of this little bay here. However many you want. Just make sure we have a way in and out."

"As you command, sir."

The order was carried out...a little sluggishly. Mines were spread around in two main fields, one northeast of the Imperial fleet and one northwest. It was a little flimsy of a barrier against thousands of WP ships; but it would serve.


OOC: Tell me if this is way too many or unrealistically few; I've never RP'ed a minefield before.

Northeast: 240,000 mines
Northwest: 160,000 mines

BTW, Warmaster, I still find your losses from Czarna to be a bit low. I fired four waves of 72 EMP missiles at the missiles from the ships, so each volley would knock out not only all of the missiles, sending them down upon your troops (because realistically there's no way you can spread 7.8 million troops out that much in that portion of Czardas, they'd have to be about as concentrated as in Czarna, which has a population density of approximately 30,000/sq. mi (about as densely populated as New York City)). In addition, they would knock out all communications among your troops, so basically your main body of ships would lose all contact with them. I'm writing up an IC post now, just wanted to make a note of that.

Oh, and anything further relating to Tyriandor, naval battles, &c. should be posted in separate threads.

BTW, Warmaster, I still find your losses from Czarna to be a bit low. I fired four waves of 72 EMP missiles at the missiles from the ships, so each volley would knock out not only all of the missiles, sending them down upon your troops (because realistically there's no way you can spread 7.8 million troops out that much in that portion of Czardas, they'd have to be about as concentrated as in Czarna, which has a population density of approximately 30,000/sq. mi (about as densely populated as New York City)). In addition, they would knock out all communications among your troops, so basically your main body of ships would lose all contact with them. I'm writing up an IC post now, just wanted to make a note of that.

Oh, and anything further relating to Tyriandor, naval battles, &c. should be posted in separate threads.

About the losses, I'm checking them as I write this, but as regards communication with the fleet: If your missiles have an effect radius such that they knock out every communications device or whatever in my army, shouldn't they do the same to such things in Czarna? I can't remember the real number of missiles I fired that you countered with them, but it was in the tens of thousands at least. Something that has a big enough range that seven (I think) of them could take them all out at once would probably reach into Czarna.

Besides, something like the mobile command center that Lord Rahvin has been sitting in this whole time, and that are directing the battle at certain points through the Imperial position, would be EMP hardened.

About the ships; if you mean that the actual severance of communications would prevent them from targeting Czarna...they could just use satellite data. EMPs are a little PMT anyway...but I can't really talk; after all, I used them in the Death to Democracy naval battle. Then again, that was on huge Super-dreadnaughts and battleships. Miniaturizing them to fit on missiles would be much more difficult.

And this isn't to dispute your point about spreading the troops out because there's not much difference, but it's not 7.8 million. Here are the numbers right now.

Palma: 1 million
Czarna: 6.8 million

But like I said, 6.8 million is still too many to spread out well. I just wanted to clarify things.

Is the terrain outside Czarna just a flat plain pretty much?

I changed the losses to 64,000 Legionaries and 120 tanks. Is that still too few?

About the losses, I'm checking them as I write this, but as regards communication with the fleet: If your missiles have an effect radius such that they knock out every communications device or whatever in my army, shouldn't they do the same to such things in Czarna? I can't remember the real number of missiles I fired that you countered with them, but it was in the tens of thousands at least. Something that has a big enough range that seven (I think) of them could take them all out at once would probably reach into Czarna.
Actually, it's 72 per wave, as I mentioned. Their ranges are about 20-30 km each, and they're detonating about that far from Czarna so that the city will be unaffected, while the Legions will not.


Besides, something like the mobile command center that Lord Rahvin has been sitting in this whole time, and that are directing the battle at certain points through the Imperial position, would be EMP hardened.

Point taken.


About the ships; if you mean that the actual severance of communications would prevent them from targeting Czarna...they could just use satellite data. EMPs are a little PMT anyway...but I can't really talk; after all, I used them in the Death to Democracy naval battle. Then again, that was on huge Super-dreadnaughts and battleships. Miniaturizing them to fit on missiles would be much more difficult.

I mentioned that we're still experimenting with fitting EMP techs on missiles, and that the only cities protected by such devices are Czarna and Mariosz. Thus, a bit of PMT is acceptable in this RP. Hey, we accepted railguns, 500mm howitzers, and 40" shells... why not EMP after all? :)

Is the terrain outside Czarna just a flat plain pretty much?
Mostly. Czarna itself is set on the other side of a hill about 40-60 meters high, so the Czardaian defenses run along the hillside. Your soldiers, however, are marching in flat terrain.

I changed the losses to 64,000 Legionaries and 120 tanks. Is that still too few?
I don't really know—a lot of the damage will be caused by your own missiles. :p

Kaselev held the files concealed in his uniform jacket where he had sewn them in, wired to a bomb to detonate himself if he were captured. Kahanistanian soldiers were not suicide bombers, but he could not allow CAD to obtain these files, he would destroy them and himself if taken.

The Kahanistanian Colonel did not use a plane, he had been ferried in by the Silver Sky. Now, he had to get into Czarna without a plane. Better than risking a shoot-down over CAD lines by my allies... Seeking out the nearest concentration of Czardaian soldiers, he simply approached them.

"Take me to your leader," said the Colonel. A simple approach, but one least likely to get him captured by CAD. Even if the worst he had heard of their tortures and killings were just rumors, he wanted to stay as far away from them as possible.

The Czardaian Lieutenant, sitting disconsolately on the floor and obviously under the influence of a powerful depressant, simply murmurs "Ummm.... huh?" several times, and tries to speak, before finally jerking his head in the direction of an inner room.

In this inner room, his superior, a Captain, looks up expectantly as the Kahanistani enters. Scanning the features, he does not register recognition, and says sharply, "You have a permit to enter?"

Tyriandor - Ground - Eastern City Limits

It was an occasion that would go down in the pages of history books throughout the Grand Monarchy. At 09:57 GMT, the First Armoured Group and the Twenty Ninth Infantry Division entered the eastern city limits of Tyriandor. After weeks of constant fighting and holding back an invasion fleet of thousands of ships and hundreds of thousands of troops, the allied
reinforcements advancing from Kaniona had finally joined up with the battered but defiant defenders of the Tyrianor Pocket, as the media had come to label it.

The first Champion MBTs rolled through the ripe fields and into the first line of buildings and streets that signified the change between countryside and a major urban city. Tracks clanking, the tanks rolled through the eastern perimeter and into a myrid of smaller streets, moving past the first shattered buildings and wreckage that signified the hell the city and her defenders had been through.

Leaning out of the turret of the lead Champion, Major Hans
Gottfried lit a cigarette and smiled as his driver manouvered the massive steel beast past the ruins of a bakery, bricks scattered aimlessly on the street, and onto one of the larger roads in the city.

He took a drag from the cigarette and blew a cloud of smoke out, smiling at the coarse fragrance of it. He looked around at the shattered buildings and the dirtied, ragged allied troops that lined the street, manning machine-gun emplacements and anti-tank positions. Many stared at the line of tanks and APCs that rolled past them, and a few managed to muster a smile, but overall they seemed to either ignore the tanks or not even realise they were there.

Gottfried stubbed the cigarette out on the burnished metal of the turret ring, a scowl forming. This was hardly what he had thought the linking up would be; he had imagined the tanks roaring into the streets, metal gleaming. The tired defenders would put up a ragged cheer and mob the leading tanks, all smiles and grins. Gottfried would of course remain modest and smile back, maybe throw them a salute to look good; they should have loved it.

Instead, he recieved no rapturous applause, no cheering; just silence and the occasional hacking cough that rose above the sound of the tanks. Gottfried frowned again, but before he could do anything else the defenses thinned out , and he could see a cluster of men standing by a partially demolished church. He raised his hand to stop the rest of the convoy, then tapped his driver on the shoulder with his heel to indicate he should stop the tank. Dutifully the man stopped the vehicle and Gottfried jumped out, replacing his steel helmet with a red beret he had picked up in Kaniona.

He walked up to the small knot of men, nose wrinkling almost instinctively at the foul odour emanting from them. They wore the uniform of the defending armies; the Grand Monarchy, Omzian, Isselmerian, Czardian and the rest. But they were ragged and caked in dust and powder burns, and each had dirty, mangled beards where they had grown free of grooming.

Disgusted by their appearance, Gottfried assumed they were solvenly Privates and did not salute them. He tapped the one with the uniform of the Grand Monarchy on the shoulder. "I say, you there. I'm from the First Armoured Group, and we're here to relieve you. Where's your commanding officer?"

The man, older than Gottfried had assumed, with a craggly white beard and pale blue eyes that had deep bags, turned around slowly and stared at Gottfried for a moment. Finally he spoke, his voice deep and slow. "So where have you been all this time, then?"

Gottfried turned red, infuriated. This was not the sort of arrival he had been expecting, and the mans insolence just made him even angrier. He glared at the man. "What is your name and rank, soldier? I'll have you down on a charge for gross insubordination! I ask again; where is your commanding officer?"

The man turned and looked at the gathered officers for a moment, all silent and grim. He turned back, face set in the same emotionless expression. "That would be me, Major. Major General Yarmouth, CinC of the Grand Monarchy's defending forces."

The red and purple of a moment before drained from Gottfried in an instant, to be replaced by pure white. He tried to stammer a response, but Yarmouth cut him off by speaking first, a tinge of anger in his voice. "Enough with the damned theatrics, Major. We've no time for them. Take your unit and reinforce the western perimeter, and tell the following units to do the same - all but one in four tank units to remain at the rear. Dismissed."

With that, Yarmouth turned away and began conferring in a low voice with the other commanders. Gottfried walked away slowly, and climbed onto the tank turret and into the top of it. He hit his driver on the shoulder and ignored the muttered swearing as the man engaged the engine and moved off. The reinforcements were finally in Tyriandor; allied forces would follow in mere hours. The Bandurians had failed to stop the reinforcements, and now they would be crushed...

[OOC: Sorry folks! EVE Online is freakin addictive!]

HMS HOWE,CZARDAS OCEAN, 19:32
Phillips stood up and wryly smiled as the Czardas coast hove into sight.

'Mister Shirima. Kindly inform Blighty that we are on station.'

'Right away sah!' Izumi Shirima, the executive officer, saluted and set about sending a message back to the Questers.

The Admiral smoked his pipe - not strictly against regulations - and looked off the observation deck down to the bow of the ship, its huge cannons, masses of vertical launch cells, and her long sweeping bow with the flag flapping majestically at the very fore. In front a number of smaller ships and the battleship squadrons to the side. Behind his fleet the Duke of York and her respective escorts had joined Task Force: Freedom.

HMS ORWELL, CZARDAS OCEAN, 19:39
The swishing of rotary helicopter blades, bleeping electronics, and planes taking off and landing filled the dark sky on the decks of the fleet carrier. The Orwell's marine detachment of 1,200, in cooperation with the carrier HMS Ocean and their detachment, was to be the first to land on Czardas via helicopter. Lieutenant-General Michael Terrus was on the first chinook. Pulling his service beret on and holstering his backpack, Terrus was the first to set foot onboard the landing helos that would lift so many troops in the following days. Settling down to a seat, he nodded and saluted to his men as they boarded the helicopter in synchrony with the long line of chinooks down the deck. The first helicopter was loaded up and set off from a salute by Captain Kurokami from the deck itself, and then seconds later, more and more chinooks lifted into the sky and away. The operation had begun.

In fact, the four helicopter carriers within the fleet were also preparing to drop troops via helicopter. They, of course, would land theirs after Ocean and Orwell, and following those the two supercarriers Impulsive and Indignant followed by their escort carriers; in total, around 22,000 troops.

HMS NORTHUMBERLAND, CZARDAS OCEAN, 23:01
'Alright, first platoon is loaded.' The LCAC drifted out slightly, the three battle tanks gingerly balanced inside. Landing Director James Smith flagged down the next set of tanks, and then the next, until a squadron of tanks were floating in LCACs outside the stationary Northumberland.

'You have clear passage to move. Go, go!' He said into the radio. Seconds later the LCACs turned around and started up their engines. Slowly they began to speed out to land getting faster and faster. Smith turned around to see another group of tanks requiring loading onto the last set of landing cushions. He groaned.

By the end of the first wave (which took an entire night - which highly irritated the landing director), a hundred battle tanks, thirty IFVs, and thirty artillery pieces had been deployed on a beach somewhere west of the Skinnian troops at Port Khufi. A temporary base: Home Camp Baker was established, and the second in command of the operation, Brigadier Charlie Breftan, had constructed a temporay headquarters for his armoured company which was assembling alongside a road with copious amounts of handheld anti air weaponry. Soon they would begin moving to the airport to link up with the main body of troops.

SKINNIAN FORCES, PORT KHUFI, 22:41
The first helicopter touched down on the tarmac at Ianus airport. Troops jumped out the back of chinooks as fast as possible - there was a tight schedule and the helicopters had to be there and right back as soon as possible. Nevertheless, within two trips the entire contents of Ocean and Orwell would be deposited. Terrus, the first out of the helicopters cramped bay, brushed himself down and talking to the nearest Skinnian soldier, requested in a rather arrogant manner:

'Lieutenant General Terrus, Questarian Marines. Where is your superior officer?'


News regarding the Czardas Incident has just arrived. Questarian forces on the other side of the world have arrived in Czardas to displace CAD forces attempting to remove democracy in the sovereign nation. Minutes ago helicopters from the carrier HMS Orwell deployed troops via helicopter to reinforce allied Skinnian forces in the area. The message from the Howe, the flagship of the operation reads as follows.
ENTERED CZARDAIAAN WATERS STOP LANDING INFANTRY FORCES STOP GOD SAVE THE QUEEN END.

Ianus Airport

Even though the Warmasterian missile strike had occured several days ago, the effects of it could still be seen. Buildings were in ruins, falling apart or simply non-existant, a gaping hole where they once stood. Craters and burns from misses were scattered throughout the Port, and the occasional body could still be seen where the hard-pressed medics had failed to police up the bodies. Smoke darkened the sky to the west, where a petroleum bunker set up by the Skinnian forces had been hit by two missiles and set alight; although it had been put out after a night's long and diffcult work it still smouldered and threw out the thick, toxic smoke.

The airport was in better shape; it had escaped the majority of the missile strike, although a few errant and undefeated missiles had cratered the runway. Even as the Questarian forces landed, teams of Sappers were slaving away to fill the holes and ensure that aircraft could safely use the concrete runway. Lieutenant-General Brian Childs held a shovel in his hand and rested it on the warm runway surface, sweat running down his face and jacket. A short, stocky figure in his late thirties, Childs had assumed command of the Port Khufi detachment of more than one hundred thousand troops after his superior, Major-General Richards, had been killed by one of the missiles in Port Khufi.

He saw the helicopters land and hoisted the shovel onto his shoulder; the rest of the crater would be filled in later. He strode over to the Questerian officer and wiped his hand on his jacket before saluting. "Lieutenant-General Brian Child, CO of Port Khufi forces. Good to meet you. Sorry about the appearance but we've all pitched in to clear the runways. How many of your chaps have you got with you?"

Czarna

The bombardment of Czarna is intensifying.

Volleys of EMP missiles continue to strike at Warmasterian missiles, sending the vast majority plummeting to the plains outside Czarna where the millions of troops mass...nonetheless, by now the odd missile is getting through the EMP net. A single Pandemonium II incendiary missile impacts a poorer neighborhood on the outskirts of the walled city, sending it up in flames instantly. While the larger shells are intercepted by the surface-to-air missile batteries in Czarna, smaller ones whistle down to hit in various neighborhoods, the quiet streets, the parked cars. The population of Czarna is now filing into bomb shelters nearer the river, reinforced with several feet of concrete and steel, or bunkers accessible from within the Congress Hall, atop the hill.

Civilians are mainly safe, but the matter remains of military units and the city itself. A squadron of cruisers and one of submergibles have shown up in the river to cover the earlier squadron, now restocking, and SAM batteries counter the shells aimed for the ships, destroying many. The missiles, including the AAMs, have been mostly knocked out by the strategic EMP strike. This did not affect the EMP hardened bombers, which descend to airfields to be replaced in the air by even more Hailstorms and Strikers, all packed with ordnance. Even a few Blue Jay Strike Fighters contribute their payloads.

Heavy artillery meanwhile continues to thunder in the background, striking the sky with volley after volley, as more self-propelled guns and railgun trucks begin to move through the streets, stopping only to fire.

Sooner or later, with the ridiculous amount of ordnance the Warmasterians are unleashing on Czardas, they will run out of ammunition. And when that happens, they will be forced to either retreat to the relative safety of the ships or charge the Czardaian capitol head-on. In Czardas, meanwhile, no such thing will occur: Transport and supply ships, trucks, and planes continue to arrive stocked with ordnance. Houses become gun magazines and mobile missile launchers are placed in strategic points. Machine gun nests are set up everywhere one is plausible. Artillery batteries are concealed craftily in parks, in houses, in the spires of churches.

SAM batteries and AAA batteries now open up upon the aircrafts, mixed in with several EMP missiles to short out the planes' circuits and send them plunging down upon the troops. Ten volleys of missiles and shells are fired in all from dozens of installations even as more are hurriedly set up, the Czardaian tanks now approaching Imperial mainlines, joined by reinforcements from the city itself. Artillery batteries begin moving as well, rotating their ponderous bores towards the Warmasterians and loosing shell after shell. This time, the amount of ordnance is massively increased by the numerous surface-to-air missiles and a much larger amount of very heavy bombs.

Fourteen specially made 400mm Missile Launchers now come into play. They point almost directly up, and with a great roar each one spits out a huge tungsten rod with an attached rocket booster, guiding it up into the upper reaches of the atmosphere, whereupon the rocket booster breaks off and drops to earth while each projectile plunges down upon the Warmasterian troops. Ten target the troop formation; four target the Imperial fleet off Czardaian waters, creating massive whirlpools and waves with their kinetic energy impacts. In Palma port a pair of massive floodgates swing shut to protect the city from the monstrous waves generated by the projectiles.

Forty Hailstorm bombers packed with ordnance, 120 Strikers, and 60 Blue Jays all release their armament towards the Imperial troops and abruptly whirl away into the sky, now clouding over in preparation for a thunderstorm. More bombers and even a few airships are climbing into the skies now, even as the initial strike is launched. Twenty-eight ships and sixteen submarines propel their ordnance into the skies, and the missile ships dock to rearm as their earlier counterparts return to the battlegroups, firing half of their much larger SAM complement at the Warmasterian aircraft.

Totals:

From ships -
32x 36 203.2mm shells, 36 254mm shells = 1,152 203.2mm shells, 1,152 254mm shells
2x 10,240 general purpose missiles = 20,480 m GP missiles
1x 20,480 SAMs
[Total: 2,304 large calibre shells; 20,480 missiles; 20,480 SAMs]

From land & defenses -
6x 2000 76mm shells, 128 105mm shells, 1500 120mm shells, 216 155mm shells, 120 188mm shells, 120 203.2mm shells, 144 228.6mm shells, 69 305mm railgun slugs, 70 406mm shells, 32 460mm shells = 12,000 76mm shells, 768 105mm shells, 9,000 120mm shells, 1,296 155mm shells, 720 188mm shells, 720 203.2mm shells, 862 228.6mm shells, 414 305mm railgun slugs, 420 406mm shells, 64 460mm shells
10x 156 SAMs, 512 88mm flak [from city]
10x 192 SAMs, 600 88mm flak [from defenses]
1x 14 "ground launched godrods"
[Total: 23,064 small calibre shells; 3,202 large calibre shells; 3,480 SAMs; 11,120 AAA; 14 400mm tungsten rods]

From air -
40x 100 Severance AGMs, 3 10,000lb bombs = 4,000 Severance AGMs, 120 10,000lb bombs
120x 12 cluster bombs, 20 "general purpose" bombs, 8 fuel-air bombs, 10 Severance AGMs = 1,440 cluster bombs, 2,400 "general purpose" bombs, 960 fuel-air bombs, 1,200 Severance AGMs
60x 4 Severance AGMs, 4 fuel-air bombs = 240 Severance AGMs, 240 fuel-air bombs
[Total: 5,440 AGMs; 120 heavy bombs; 5,040 other bombs]

[Grand Totals: 23,064 small calibre shells; 5,508 large calibre shells; 25,920 missiles; 24,320 surface-to-air missiles; 11,120 AAA shells; 14 "godrods" as above]

Joint Naval Base & Shipyards, The Silver Sky [secret IC]

"And now let me present to you our latest creation: the Salvatore Class Battlecarrier (http://s13.invisionfree.com/The_NS_Draftroom/index.php?showtopic=1211)."

There is a mass intake of breath, and then all of the gentlemen there applaud, and fittingly. Before them, in a trough leading out to the sea, is a massive ship, displacing over five hundred thousand tonnes. It is the Czardaian Navy's first indigenously designed capital ship, and with good reason. A skeleton crew is currently operating it for demonstrative purposes. As the mighty ship sails out into open waters, the Doctor continues to explain something about the four prototypes constructed and the overall cost of the project.

"The elevators and STOVL ramps on this vessel are capable of launching approximately one plane every forty seconds—" they watch as flights of Blue Jays and Peregrines take off from the pair of ramps, even as more arrive on the abridged flight deck from the elevators— "and the catapults, one VTOL plane every twenty seconds." Six Daggers are hurled into the sky as one, and another plane taxis into each of the six catapults from below. "Finally, the Mk. 110 VLS is capable of launching up to fifty drones." These too proceed to streak into the sky from the vertical launch tubes, joining the formation of close to 190 assorted planes. The gentlemen applaud once more.

"The Czardaian Navy Battlegroup here will escort all four prototype ships to the nearest Woodstock Pact fleet to join in the liberation attempts."

[ooc:] The Battlegroup consists of:
20x Otter Class Light Diesel-Powered Submarines
10x Dorandor Class Littoral Combat Ships
8x Adarion Class Amphibious Assault Ships
10x Motuka Class Frigates
12x Federate Class Arsenal Destroyers
8x Mjenaz Class Arsenal Cruisers
3x Cyrus Class Battleships (CCS Bournemouth, Haven, and Donohue)
1x Czardas Class Command Battleships (CCS Liberty)
2x Warspite Class Superheavy Battleships (depending on Quester's approval)

I'll finish it later, have to go now, but you can RP linking up with the Czardaian fleet if you want and escorting it to Czardaian waters.

The Czardaian Lieutenant, sitting disconsolately on the floor and obviously under the influence of a powerful depressant, simply murmurs "Ummm.... huh?" several times, and tries to speak, before finally jerking his head in the direction of an inner room.

In this inner room, his superior, a Captain, looks up expectantly as the Kahanistani enters. Scanning the features, he does not register recognition, and says sharply, "You have a permit to enter?"

"No, Sir. Colonel Igor Kaselev, Kahanistan Republic Guard," the man said. He pulled out a folder from his jacket.

"A gift from the Kahanistan Military Command," said Kaselev.

The folder contained information on Kahanistan's new tank (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=10521934&postcount=24) design, and a document signed by President Valens granting production rights to the Libertarian Concordance.

"Unfortunately, this tank is still in testing, but we believe you will find it a formidable opponent of CAD forces."

(You can find pics of the tank in my factbook.)

OOC: The actual response to the Czardaian volleys are coming up; I just felt I had to do something. If you want, think of this as happening immediately before the counterattack.

IC: The pause symbol vanished from the screen, replaced by the hard features of Sacred Emperor Lucifer. The Iron Crown on his head and a scowl on his face, he glared at Lord Rahvin as if he could intimidate the man even thousands of miles away...which he could. Very few things frightened Rahvin. A man who could calmly order the deaths of his entire people if it served the gods was one of those things. Rahvin held his silence. Bad enough that he had unexpectedly contacted his master without speaking before he did.

"Lord Rahvin. What news of the cleansing? I hope for your sake you are not here to ask me for advice."

"No indeed, Great Lord."

"Speak then. Why do you contact me now?"

"Divine One...I do not ask for advice, but to inform you of the facts. The defenses of Czarna are formidable indeed. I expect a massive counterpunch very soon, and our options are limited. What with Skinnian forces on Port Khufi, and with reports that these...Questers...have reinforced the garrison there, maintaining a supply line between the fleet's cargo ships and the front line is going to be impossible without withdrawing troops from Palma to guard it. We do not have infinite ammunition, Dreaded One. Sooner or later I am going to have to make a choice: dishonorable withdrawal, or let the dice fly and charge the city itself. As you know, Great Lord, a key element of our urban warfare strategy is to destroy key locations in the target city. Czardaian EMP missiles and artillery are making it impossible to do this. Thus, time is on their side. They only need to hold out until we run low on ammunition. Great Lord, this situation is difficult no matter what. If we take Czarna, it will be a great victory, but it may cost more troops than we can afford."

"Indeed, Rahvin? I cannot do your job for you, my friend. Stay in touch, for I will make that decision soon. I need time for this. Fight on then. Death and Honor. Korronis out."

OOC: Alright, this time I really mean it. I am going to post tomorrow. To facilitate that, Czardas, would you outline what defenses still remain in the Port Khufi area? Of course, you don't know IC that an attack is forthcoming. I just don't want to post and then have to go back and change everything because I was poorly informed. So do that when you get a chance, Czardas. Thanks.

BTW, Warmaster, I still find your losses from Czarna to be a bit low. I fired four waves of 72 EMP missiles at the missiles from the ships, so each volley would knock out not only all of the missiles, sending them down upon your troops (because realistically there's no way you can spread 7.8 million troops out that much in that portion of Czardas, they'd have to be about as concentrated as in Czarna, which has a population density of approximately 30,000/sq. mi (about as densely populated as New York City)). In addition, they would knock out all communications among your troops, so basically your main body of ships would lose all contact with them. I'm writing up an IC post now, just wanted to make a note of that.

Oh, and anything further relating to Tyriandor, naval battles, &c. should be posted in separate threads.

OOC: The EMP-stricken missiles would only fall to the earth and crumple like tin cans. Depending on how big they are and how far off the ground they were, they might cause very little damage, indeed. Also, if you're firing missiles back at the Warmaster, the EMP pulses would disrupt their targeting too, and render them similarly less effective. And do you want me to post my attack on Port Khufi here, or is there a specific other thread for that area? And who is there besides Czardaians? Skinnians? Questers? Anybody else?

OOC: The EMP-stricken missiles would only fall to the earth and crumple like tin cans. Depending on how big they are and how far off the ground they were, they might cause very little damage, indeed. Also, if you're firing missiles back at the Warmaster, the EMP pulses would disrupt their targeting too, and render them similarly less effective. And do you want me to post my attack on Port Khufi here, or is there a specific other thread for that area? And who is there besides Czardaians? Skinnians? Questers? Anybody else?

OOC: I have at least 100,000 men in Port Khufi, Questers has a fair few and of course Czardas has a large number of defenders. Questers has a fleet there, I believe and so do I.

[ooc:] I believe I had some 50,000 odd troops at Port Khûfi, and the CAMERA system there is still active as well (along with artillery batteries, missile launchers and such).

[OOC: Yeah, and when you post, if youre going to do anything from the air remember that my fleet will have CAPs over Khufi too.]

IANUS AIRPORT, PORT KHUFI, 22:43, 22/03/06

Terrus (http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/c/c5/Mountbatten.jpg/180px-Mountbatten.jpg) was hefty. He wasn't fat, per se - although he was bulky - and he stood at almost two metres tall. He looked slightly perturbed at the state of the Skinnian man who was the same rank as him, yet so different. Terrus' officers cap with the 'scrambled eggs', his plain dark green and extremely immaculate officers uniform and his long sabre was a direct contrast to Childs, who had been fighting here for much longer than the Questarian.

'It's no problem.' Terrus remarked with some disdain for the Skinnian commander. 'Approximately 22,000 infantry combatants - a small number of armoured components are landing as we speak. When the rest of my Division arrives I have been tasked with retaking Palma. Whether you wish to follow is your choice. Though, until then, our troops will busy themselves with occupying territory in Port Khufi. Do you by chance have any transport available for requisition?'

Ianus Airport

Childs stared at the man for a moment, scrutinizing him silently. He was arrogant, this Terrus, but when one was at war one did not fuss about allies; especially when one man did not represent an entire military. He shrugged mentally and set his teeth. "Right, very good. I have about fifty thousand troops to the north-east preparing to take Palma; your men can assemble with them and begin the operation. The rest of my chaps are defending the Port, and the Fifth and Seventh Carrier Fleets are protecting the Port a few miles out. Carry on."

With that Childs saluted crisply and moved back towards the crater, determined to fill the damned thing in before another missile blew it to hell and buggery again...

[OOC: Skinny, MSN?]

IANUS AIRPORT, PORT KHUFI, 22:45, 22/03/06

Terrus gave Childs one more searching look. 'Well, that's that then.' He saluted and turned back to his second in command to get things rolling. Within twenty minutes, he had been promised, his men would begin to link up with Skinnian troops.

OUTSIDE TYRIANDOR, 09:01 23/03/06

The C-5 Galaxy, the oldest aeroplane still in active service, soared through the airspace, its squadronmates behind it. Much like their ancestors before them, the 32nd Division of the Royal Marines loved to jump. They loved everything about it, the whistle of air through your ears, the rush of the fall, the steadying of the parachute... still, Lieutenant-General Parker had mixed feelings. This was the first time that his division had been in active combat and he was wondering how he would fare. It wasn't easy combat, either, facing tough enemies that were well experienced and trained. Not some colony-conquering crusade. However, there was not much more time left to ponder as the green light flicked on and Parker stood up behind his radioman to take the jump.

As his ancestors before him, Parker roared into the interior of the plane

'GO GO GO!'

And the jump began.

Colonel Hearth looked into the sky as thousands upon thousands of troops jumped from their planes, white parachutes opening in the perfect morning sky. His armour brigade had made a dangerous drop a few hours earlier, their tanks being almost hoisted by huge parachutes off the air into the ground. He did not know what to think of the drop - in theory, it should have gone perfectly, but he knew nothing every went perfectly. Eighteen tanks unusable because of the drop - 15% of his total heavy armour force. The early morning dark had not helped the process and rounded up crew and vehicles had been somewhat confusing, even with NGVs. IFVs had been lost too, although the trucks had gone smoothly.

'Sir' the aide saluted, approaching Hearth in his command tent.

'At ease.' the Colonel replied, suddenly snapped out of his daydream watching the masses of parachutes

'We're almost ready to roll. Several repairs still have to be made, but they should only be a few minutes to finish.'

'Roger that.' Hearth saluted, following the man out to his tank. Just over a hundred armour vehicles in ragged lines across the road, and around them, about thirty thousand troops still enjoying their morning paradrop.

Imperial 4th Army Command -- Tyriandor

The sound of heels stamping to a steady, methodical march rang throughout the building. Whilst planes unloaded troops, tanks and masses of aviation fuel, a section of staff cars had been purusing the streets of Tyriandor for a building with the suitable neo-classical grandeur to serve as HeadQuarters for the newly formed Imperial 4th Army. Finally, they had found it.

"Very nice," commented the Field Marshal, stuffily. Maps were unrolled on the large oak table that had been shipped in especially for the purpose. Charts were pinned up against the walls, and slowly troops from the best regiments in the army began to surround the building with razor-wire coils, small guard huts and glistening bayonets.

"An excellent choice indeed. Now, gentlemen, down to business." He slammed his finger down upon a red line drawn hastily on the map, smudging the ink and crumpling the map slightly. "Here. I want all of our troops here. The Omzians and Skinnians are being beat bloody. As battalions arrive, have them sent to the front. Once a full two-thirds of our forces are engaged hold the rest in reserve but be on the look-out for gaps in the line. If we can throw them back here then the land-war will get much easier. Give 'em hell, and our navy boys can stop them trying this again."

The other Officers in attendance saluted and went to distribute orders to the formations under their command. Like most of the Praetonian military, this was primarily an armoured-infantry force, with Phalanx tanks, Verdant-made Dragoon IFVs with direct-fire mortars and lots of hard-as-nails Grenadier infantry.

To the rear of the formation, pure infantry formations and small, light vehicles armed with ATGMs were guarding the potential line-of-retreat as well as the routes supplies would have to get through. Self-propelled artillery pieces were setting up just outside the city, and were already beginning to rain 105mm, 155mm and 203mm shells down upon known enemy positions. Tanks rumbled through the streets with IFVs and infantry, lighter vehicles, ELINT hulls and scouts.

Meanwhile, engineers were building another airport a mile away from the first which could be used to ship in more and more supplies, as well as play host to a full bomber wing and several fighter wings which were currently taking up room in the main airport. As more and more transports looped around to the North to avoid any heavy enemy air interception, escorted by fighters, an entire army was moving up to the front lines as it arrived in dribs and drabs. Perhaps not a glorious defence, but an awfully Praetonian defence.

2nd Expeditionary Division Command -- Ianus Airport

Lieutenant-General Horace Woolfensat strode up and down with typical impatience and annoyance. In front of him, he saw beaches being fortified with razor-wire, mined and strewn with vicious-looking metal tri-pronged devices that would impale an attacker's foot even through a sturdy boot and pin him in place. He was furstrated because he knew that it would all be blown away the moment the enemy bombarded the position.

"Keep it up lads!" He shouted gruffly through his thick grey moustache. Some of the red-berreted paras smiled sympathetically at him. They liked their general, but they bloody hated doing pointless, difficult work. They were but a third of the division, with the other two brigades hidden a few miles back behind the safety of the crest of a ridge. They had enough artillery loaded up with mine-deploying shells to cover the beach in a matter of minutes, but they were being horded jealously for later.

"Watch as you go there!" Shouted the Lieutenant-General as he saw a para about to nail a three-metre long mined steel anti-landing craft entrenchment spike into his friend's foot. The para looked down and, somewhat shocked and embarassed, muttered a 'thanks' to his commander before sharing the joke with his friend. Thinking of a Wellington quote he had heard whilst at Uxbridge Military Academy he muttered under his breath "They may not scare the enemy, but by God they scare me."

Off the beach along a small-ish 10 metre high grassy ridge, two trenches were being dug. The first was at the crest - invisible from the beach except for its parapet and razorwire. The mine field was thickest in front of it. Behind there was another trench line completely invisible on the obverse of the ridge, and completely untouchable from the breach to anything but a mortar. So, too, were dugouts being built. If given another five days, those dugouts will be more than 15 metres deep and safe from all but the heaviest of guns. If not... then only time shall tell how well they fare against the initial bombardment.

Imperial Unified Grand Fleet -- PWS Centurion, Flagship

"A magnificent sight," commented Lord Regulus Caronus, Lord High Admiral of the Imperial Fleet, lost in wonder at the sight that met his eyes. From horizon to horizon in all directions, ships were visible. From his vantage point at the top of the conning tower of the PWS Centurion, the most advanced ship in Praetonian navy and quite probably among the most advanced in the world, he could see for miles beyond the normal horizon. Wherever he looked he could see Praetonian ensigns fluttering in the wind, and he knew that there were more he could not see, and foreign ships beyond that. The arrayed might of a multitude of the most formidable maritime powers to grace the waves.

"Quite so, My Lord. One that posterity shall surely long remember," said the Captain of the Centurion - Rear Admiral Sir Gregorious Polax, brother of the Prime Minister. "There must be 5,000 ships out there. More. With more than 3,000 in our navy alone, and another 1,500 submarines ahead of the main formation..." his voice trailed off, silenced by the sheer scale of this undertaking.

"It's like has never been seen before. Hopefully it shall never be necessary again," the Admiral replied. "Once we've smashed a fleets of these C.A.D. devils they won't be bothering us again for a fair while." That was what everyone loved about the Lord High Admiral. He didn't want to put the enemy to flight, or destroy his most prized and powerful ships - he wanted to demolish them so completely that they would never again dare to threaten a Praetonian fleet at sea.

He strolled over towards a map-table protected from the elements of the observation deck by a thick sheet of ultra-fine Troughborough-H glass, beckoning the SuperDreadnought Captain to follow him.

"You see here," he pointed towards the Warmasterian fleet marked on the map. "We have been observing them for some time via satellite. Back and forth they go, mining away their little cubby hole. Quite a challenge to break through and reach them. I do not intend to do so. This fleet and its men are better than their fleet and theirs. Our massed Guntrain shall outnumber their return fire with ease. They are trapped - pinned against their own minefields and the coast with only a few narrow escape routes," the Admiral explained, with a dark expression and a malicious smile.

"Now," his demeanor suddenly becoming more statesman-like, "since no one else appears to want to lead this blasted fleet, I shall do so." He clicked his fingers, prompting an orderly to relay his voice to the rest of the fleet - Praetonian and allied alike:

"As I speak our troops fight in Czardas. From Tyriandor in the North to Port Khufi and Prinzival in the South, our comrades in arms are locked in mortal struggle against the foe. The only things keeping the foreign armies supplied and reinforced are their fleets. Not only are these fleets weaker in terms of numbers, technology and crews, but they are currently in prime position for us to strike - pressed against the coast and pinned in place by minefields.

"The Imperial Unified Fleet shall be leaving shortly to bring the fight directly to these agents of tyranny. I invite you all to join us. It is my belief that there is no force of arms on the surface of this earth mighty enough to compete with our here assembled host, and if any challenge is to be found I have my sincerest doubts that it will come from countries such as The Warmaster.

"Every one of you has trained hard with your respective compatriots for this day. Each fleet assembled here is mighty, but untested. This, I believe, is the final show of force needed to convince the nefarious forces of the C.A.D. that they have met their match in the free states of the world, and that militarily they have certainly missed the bus. With each second we delay, more of our compatriots will die defending the beaches of Czardas, and fighting in the streets of their capital. Onward to victory, and let it be done. God Save the King."

OOC: Praetonia, don't mean to nitpick, but about the minefields, I think I specifically posted that I left pathways through it. Obviously I don't know you said that IC, just wanted to make sure you knew that.

IC:
Prioritize.

A key element of Imperial strategy. Choosing between a wounded comrade and an objective. Choosing between your squad’s lives and the deaths of enemy soldiers. This is also a key element of what is keeping Imperial forces alive.

The planes scatter, shooting apart at maximum speed, the A-10s taking the opportunity to streak over the city, their bomb bays open, scattering tons of high explosive and four Paveways each on the city below. Finishing their flight, they unleash three of their Mavericks each on the ships on the river, taking satisfaction in the knowledge that since the missiles’ flights take them right over the city, EMP is useless without knocking out a huge portion of Czardaian defenses. The stealth bombers, hardened against EMP, simply rise above the electronic storm at a leisurely pace, releasing their own bombs over the city and the ships. However, “real” missiles are on the tails of practically every Imperial aircraft in the skies. ECM packages guarantee the safety of the A-10s and Balefires, each losing three aircraft. The Imperial Harriers have a similar system, and are faster than the A-10s. Four of them plummet down in flames towards the outskirts of the city. The MiG-40s are probably the most maneuverable of the Imperial aircraft present, and only two are lost, like the Harriers falling towards the stone wall of Czarna. It is a testament to the skill of Imperial pilots that so many missiles claim so few lives; some even manage to pull off maneuvers that collided two or more of the missiles on their tails.

The situation below is a little more difficult; Legionaries have an unfortunate lack of ability when it comes to flying out of the way of missiles. The SAMs, now a total of 600 of them, are having a field day, blasting large caliber shells apart, targeting missiles and unleashing storms of fire on them, the best way to deal with such clouds of missiles as the Czardaians use. Of these, few get through; a trio of Ravager tanks is ruined by them, bravely staying in position and using their 12.7mm AA guns to shoot down small-caliber shells. This fire from the tanks takes a heavy toll on the smaller shells. On the orders of their commanders, the Legionaries aim blindly into the skies and open fire; they do not even need to aim. Roughly 6.7 million armor-piercing bullets fill the sky with only one bullet fired by each, and in a single second, the sky is a mass of bullets. This tears many of the smaller shells apart like bread in a meat grinder.

Heavy bombs are less susceptible to such tactics, though of course nothing on earth is immune to countless millions of armor-piercing rounds. Numbers can get somebody only so far, however; the SAMs are forced to divide their attention, for each of these massive bombs that gets through could kill several squads at least. The sky, clouding over, is illuminated by the staccato explosions of bombs bursting in the air, and thunder rumbles in the background. Finally, the fiery scene is quiet, though it becomes apparent that such a wave as the Czardaians have fired has taken its toll. 12,000 more Legionaries are dead, and 21 tanks. For a moment it appears to be over.

Then there is a sound like the sky ripping apart, and in a flash fourteen streaks of metal blast into the air.

In the command center, it is soon apparent that four are heading for the fleet. They give warning, but only one carrier is “lucky” enough not to be destroyed. It is merely clipped, meaning a huge chunk of the hull is torn off, and the tidal wave these rods create smashes two cruisers near it together. Another carrier, a battleship, and a missile cruiser are neatly skewered, absorbing most of the force, but still three frigates and a destroyer crash into each other from the boiling sea.

Ten more heralds of chaos plummet on the Legions.

It is lucky that this seems to be the last of the Czardaian response. The entire SAM complement and the AA guns of the tanks open up on these few targets, and even so it is not quite enough. Five are deflected by the fire poured on them, but five plow into the rear of the Imperial lines. The earth is torn apart, and in an instant five massive craters mark the graves of 10,000 more Legionaries.



The night is descending quickly. Rain falls from the sky; not a flood, to be sure, but enough to get everything pretty wet. Legionaries, Immortals, War-Priests...they all whisper prayers to the Destroyer and the Dragon, two of the Seven True Gods. Final prayers. Then it begins.

Slowly at first, the Legions, all 6.7 million men and the tanks as well, begin trudging up to Czarna. The snipers in each squad, a total of 559,500 snipers in all, unsling their .50 caliber rifles and take aim through the night-vision scopes at the men manning defensive emplacements. A head here and there...the booming report of rifles fills the air, as Czardaian soldier after soldier falls from their machine gun or artillery piece. Some of these men are unreachable by snipers; this calls for the mortar crews. There is a Grenadier in each squad as well as a sniper, and 559,500 51mm mortars are loaded and fired. High explosive rounds arc over the Czardaian defenses, blasting apart machine gun nests and troops. The tanks following open fire on the stone wall around the city, bombarding it with shell after shell, and it is not long before it has been reduced to rubble in a wide swath in the Imperial path. The defenders can do nothing about this; the trajectories of those shells are too low for the Czardaian anti-air weapons to interfere.

Meanwhile, stealth bombers overhead have been waiting for this moment. Circling invisibly over Czarna, the Lancers let loose with their bombs, in four groups of four, causing confusion across the city. However, three of these four radii of destruction are near the projected entrance point of the Legions into the city. After all, it is a key point of Imperial urban warfare to destroy as much as possible. This objective is much easier when one doesn’t care about causing civilian casualties.

The thunderstorm makes it very difficult for the planes to operate against each other; on the other hand, firing down upon the city is much easier. After all, it’s extremely difficult to miss a target when the city is full of defense emplacements. The MiGs launch another 16 of their 80mm rockets at the city and two Gomorrah AGMs each, and the A-10s each launch four more Paveways. The Balefires unleash a brutal storm of Methuselah missiles, and the AH-166 Twilight gunships, at the edges of the city, fired off three Archer missiles each before falling back over the flood of Imperial troops driving up to Czarna. Finally, both A-10s and stealth bombers unleash a wave of bombs that dwarfs those that came before, and the A-10s are able to add their guided cluster bombs to the mix; six each, to be exact.

The fleet, far away, is aware of the gravity of the situation. Lord Rahvin has put everything on the line, and their job is to support him. The missile submarines unleash another typical Pandemonium II barrage, in waves, and the battleships and Super-dreadnaughts hurl Colossus shells at the city, over and over. In the night, the shells will be practically invisible, and their heat signature tiny; thus they are a powerful weapon. There is a difference this time, though. The Pandemonium II’s ascend into the upper atmosphere before hurtling down over Czarna, a tactic designed to make EMP use impossible without taking out many of the Czardaian defenses. Finally, the advanced Abaddon missiles are launched again, targeting Czardaian defense points. In the wake of this storm of fire, many more Pandemonium II missiles from the cargo ships are transferred to the Silencer missile submarines, which were beginning to run low on munitions.

Outside Czarna, the artillery continue to support the Legions, having spread out more as a defense against a Czardaian strike on them. From light to heavy, guns roar above the crashing thunder in the heavens. Shell after shell soars upwards, destined to blast holes in the Czardaian defenses.

In the air, having unleashed countless missiles down on Czarna, the aircraft break formation and soar upwards, to the Czardaian planes. Each MiG-40 has 2 Gsh-301 30mm cannons, each A-10 has a single Avenger 30mm cannon, each Harrier has a pair of Avengers, and each Balefire has yet another 30mm Avenger. All these 30mm chainguns open fire on the Czardaian aircraft for a brief time as they swarm around the Czardaians, moving as fast as they can without crashing into each other in order to stop the enemy locking on, and after a short period in which countless thousands of the powerful chaingun slugs are fired at the Czardaian aircraft, the Imperial pilots race back to a vigil over the Legions, again cycling to rearm from the makeshift airbases behind what was the Imperial lines. Also, the SAM batteries launch another three Sultan missiles each at the Czardaians, despite the probability of EMP interference.

Below, the Legions ascend the hill, a sea of warriors trudging through the rain. Mortar rounds still pour into the defenses remaining...but these are few, and many of the Grenadiers are saving their rounds for other foes. The bodies of the fallen are crushed under the feet and treads of the Imperial army. Tanks and APCs fire shell after shell into the Czardaian buildings that have gunfire coming from their windows, which is many. But soon the entire sector of the Imperial entrance point grows quieter, but not for long; very soon the Czardaians may muster reinforcements.

Soon the Legions are flooding through the destroyed wall. Separating into groups, whether of squads or platoons or battalions, or entire legions, and with armored support following them, that sea of warriors becomes a river delta, tributaries flowing into the city’s outer buildings. The Battle of Czarna has taken on a whole new, deadly aspect, but now the Legions are in the fight. These are true warriors, the truest of all; they are now in their element, man-to-man honorable combat. No more must they stand and wait while enemy fire and their own disabled missiles rain down on them. Now they are the hunters.
Over thunder, over gunfire, over explosions comes the shouted prayers of the army. Battle hymns and dirges rise from thousands of tongues. The Kregaian language, their native one, sounds barbaric and harsh to any ear but one familiar with it, and now songs, prayers, and wordless shrieks of anticipation mingle discordantly to form a strange mix of roar and howl, the sound of the Legions at war.


OOC: Totals:

Before nightfall:
At the city: 4,504 Paveway guided missiles, 4,504,000 pounds of high-explosive bombs (from the A-10s), 1,280,000 pounds of high-explosive bombs (from the stealth bombers)
At the ships: 3,378 AGM-65A Mavericks.

During advance on Czarna:
From the fleet: 146 Abaddon missiles, 146x8 Colossus shells, 37,692x8 Pandemonium II’s.

From the air: 4,000 80mm rockets, 500 Gomorrah AGMs, 5,936 Vanguard missiles, 6,756 guided cluster bombs, 84,368 Methuselah missiles, 1,104 Archer missiles, 1,920,000 pounds of high-explosive bombs (stealth bombers), 4,504,000 pounds of high-explosive bombs (A-10s).

From artillery: 1,600 115mm shells, 2,100 145mm shells, 600 155mm shells, 1,000 188mm shells, 100 Colossus shells.

At planes: (I’m not sure how to count the numbers of bullets; that’s a little ridiculous. But in total there are 11,844 30mm chainguns firing at your aircraft) 1,800 Sultan AA missiles.

Losses: 22,000 Legionaries, 24 tanks, another 6,000 in the advance up the hill to Czarna.

I of course can edit if you want, Czardas.

A constant storm of fire mixes with the rain descending upon Czarna. The darkening sky and its cargo unleashed upon the city helps put out the incendiary blazes started by the Pandemonium II missiles that are not blown up in mid-air by SAM batteries. Bombs smash into the city, reducing city blocks to rubble and sending up splashes in the river. Czardaian artillery continues to return fire, and 35mm cannons mounted upon the walls fill the air with armor-piercing rounds to block incoming shells. As night falls and the storm intensifies, the defenders prepare for the only thing that can possibly be coming next, digging into their positions resolutely, manning machineguns and field guns grimly, all 2.6 million of them, covering all 45 vertical and 500 horizontal metres between the Legions and Czarna, so many of them that they form a line several kilometres long, hundreds of mortar and gun emplacements dug up to the edge of the wall surrounding the city.

The first thing in the Legions' path is tanks, thousands of them: heavy Emperor MBTs, Scorpion I and II LBTs, and even IFVs with large mounted guns and ATGMs. In the rainstorm they face off now, boots striking the mud in an inexorable charge against the steadfast treads. Shells from the main guns stolidly pound the oncoming forces, as ATGMs target the enemy tanks. Mortar rounds, tracers, and .50 cal rounds arc through the sky as well, lighting up the Legions as the rain intensifies now, making normal vision near-impossible. The surviving tanks continue to pound away at the Imperial forces along with a few automated field guns a short distance in front of the enemy troops. However, getting to these guns and tanks will be a little more difficult.

The Imperial Legions now face a deep trench, about 3.5 m across and 4 m deep, all filled with saltwater. Although it is not visible from above due to the murkiness of the water and the comparative darkness, the trenches are filled with fish: piranhas, electric eels, jellyfish, and other sea creatures transported specially. The first line of Legions to slip in will meet a painful and unpleasant death, and it will remain an obstacle for the rest, especially for tanks. Those who succeed in crossing it will have to get through field guns and mortar nests, the 51mm to 76mm rounds striking with great accuracy. Beyond these is another trench, and the Legionaries will find themselves on an island. In several areas, for the especially unlucky, the two trenches converge into a single and much wider one, larger snakes visible coiling through the waters just below the surface.

The larger guns—305mm, 406mm, and 460mm—have switched to shaped charges, each showering the ground troops with hundreds of anti-personnel mines. Beyond the trenches are the tanks themselves, forming a near-impenetrable barrier, and then along the hillside the millions of troops, each of them firing a highly dangerous gun, mortar, or sniper rifle.

Scattered here and there are Burmese tiger pit variants filled with incendiary explosives capable of blowing a significant hole in enemy lines. Elsewhere, missile launchers spew similar missiles towards tanks, the powerful fire burning everything in its path. A few teams of Special Operatives carry handheld versions of the incendiary bombs, each packing a powerful punch. Hurling the highly powerful explosives towards advancing Imperial troops, they do not expect their damage to be shrugged off.

The sky is now lit only by the flashes of lightning and the SAMs streaking upwards to counter bombs and missiles from the Imperial planes in the air. Czardaian aircrafts begin to fall back, some spiraling to the ground in a burst of fire, and flak and AAA cannons now open up, pelting the planes with hundreds of rounds. Meanwhile, the massive airships and bombers unleash another storm of fire upon the Imperial forces, a song of death, ordnance descending freely as rain, even as chaingun bullets rip them apart. Literally hundreds of Strikers unleash heavy bombs from on high, attempt to engage nearby planes with their cannons, and then fall back. Gunships and helicopters support the assault, sending down bombs and missiles upon the enemy.

Inside the city, batteries continue to launch their shells as self-propelled artillery guns and railgun slugs rocket through the air, whistling down towards enemy troops. It is now near-impossible to assign targets to the heavy 400mm rods in the darkness and rain, but the enemy forces soon will face another adversary.

The early spring night is growing colder rapidly, and troops wrap themselves in ponchos or raincoats over their armor and uniforms as the ships continue to fire, launching shells and missiles towards the Imperial troops. Meanwhile, large passenger ships are going upriver, packed with refugees from the city. Trucks and cars crowded with citizens have crossed the river, and the people are beginning to evacuate southwards towards Mariosz, eastwards towards Adarion and the interior, any direction but towards the encroaching troops. Others remain in bomb shelters or subway systems deep below the city, shivering in the cold, awaiting the end of the raids.

By about 2300 hours, the rain is slowly but surely turning to, first freezing rain, then snow. Ice and frost coats the mud on the hillside as the downpour swiftly becomes a veritable blizzard, snow descending in clumps and gobs. Czardaian troops stay in their positions now because they cannot see much farther than their noses, firing their weapons blindly towards the Imperial forces along the same trajectory. ATGMs plunge into the trenches or fail to hit their targets, guidance confused, as even the tanks, continuing to fire, begin to fall silent as their bores jam. And there is only one thought in the heads of the vast majority of Czardaian troops dug in at Czarna.

It's going to be a long night.

[Totals:
From land:
20x-30x volleys of assorted artillery pieces & ATGMs = about 96,100x small calibre shells; about 13,342x large calibre shells; assorted ATGMs; 2.6 million assault rifles firing repeatedly; 217,000x machine guns firing repeatedly; 217,000x 51mm to 80mm mortars firing repeatedly
16x volleys of 76mm and 88mm flak and AA guns = 8,192x 76mm shells, 9,600x 88mm shells

From sea:
4x volleys of 20,480 guided missiles = 81,920 guided missiles
40-50x volleys of 203.2mm and 254mm shells = 1,800x 203.2mm shells; 1,800x 254mm shells

From air:
Airships (16x) -- 30 guided cluster bombs, 18 concrete bombs, 8 superheavy 10,000lb bombs, 12 fuel-air bombs, 64 "general purpose" ordnance = 480x guided cluster bombs, 288x concrete bombs, 128x superheavy 10,000lb bombs, 192x fuel-air bombs, 1,024x general purpose ordnance
Hailstorms (40x) -- 56 cluster bombs, 64 fuel-air bombs, 18 concrete bombs = 2,240x cluster bombs, 2,560x fuel-air bombs, 720x concrete bombs
Strikers (480x) -- 12 "general purpose" bombs, 20 80mm rockets, 8 incendiary bombs = 5,760x "general purpose" bombs, 9,600x 80mm rockets, 3,840x incendiary bombs
[Total bombs from bombing run:
2,720x cluster bombs
1,008x concrete bombs
128x superheavy 10,000lb bombs
2,752x fuel-air bombs
6,784x "general purpose" bombs
9,600x 80mm rockets
3,840x incendiary bombs

Total "regular" bombs: 17,104
Total heavy bombs: 128
Total rockets: 9,600

Total shells: about 113,042
Total AAA rounds: 17,792
Total mortar rounds: over 500,000
Total missiles: 81,920]

(OOC: Sorry for the sheer size of these last few posts. But there’s a lot going on. Obviously.)

IC: The Legions, still howling defiance and murderous intent, are blind. Blind like bats. Visibility is almost nonexistent; mortar rounds explode among Czardaians and Legionaries alike, hurling bodies around like wet rags. The men manning the AA guns on the tanks fire into the sky with nothing but guesswork telling them where the enemy bombs are falling from. In fact, the only light comes from the occasional bolt of lightning and the deadly light of explosions as bombs, missiles, and shells detonate in midair. It is a nightmare scene; rain rapidly turning to snow, the earth shaking from the force of the barrages and the numberless troops trudging on it. Cold numbs the faces of some, but the desire to kill the infidel keeps blood moving. Some of these troops are even from the Northern Legion, the brutal installations along the Ice Plains in the northernmost reaches of the Empire. To them, such a night is a merely like a mildly cold autumn.

In the air, the planes have withdrawn back well within the cover of AA guns on tanks and the SAM batteries with the artillery below. Their own ECM capabilities and counter-missiles mean that only three Harriers and two Balefires fall.

Tanks are exploding, never seeing the rounds that destroy them until too late. The heavy armor of the Despoilers and Ravagers has saved many lives so far, but for every tank that withstands a missile, another is torn apart. And yet, as the night’s icy touch becomes more and more pronounced, the fire actually lessens in intensity. Heat-seeking missiles and other such things are confused; the lightning plays havoc with electronics. The SAMs, working with data from the mobile command centers, manage to intercept a great deal of the storms of missiles. They have a huge advantage over the enemy; the SAMs, at least, know where to shoot. The airplanes have a similar luxury, with advanced targeting systems not wholly scrambled by the storm. The Czardaian missiles burst in the air as the freshly reloaded aircraft open fire, blasting apart the ordnance directed at the Legions. The Ravagers, also, have their detonation transmitter which broadcasts the signal to detonate (prematurely) to the anti-personnel mines hurtling through the air. Bursts of explosive power punctuate the night as they explode.

The Legions have suffered losses in this march; squads and platoons are torn apart by bombs and missiles, but their numbers are vast and ten times the losses would not stop them. The glimpses provided by the lightning allow them to see Czardaian soldiers manning defenses, and the steady march uphill becomes a sprint. Mud splashes underfoot and the ground thrums to the beat of millions of boots. When they reach the trenches, a few idiots try to jump, but fall and are electrocuted. In response, the rest don’t even try. They simply wait, pouring fire on the enemy. They are well within the range of the Legionaries’ assault rifles, and armor-piercing rounds tear into the enemy lines. Snipers continue their relentless purge of the enemy soldiers manning artillery and machine guns. As the soldiers get closer and closer, grenades are hurled by hand, accompanied in their flight through the air by mortar rounds. The Legionaries are careful to fire in bursts; prolonged fire could jam the weapon in such an environment, like was already beginning to happen to some Czardaian machine gun emplacements.

Only a few seconds later, tanks begin to roll up to the trenches. They are only 3.5 meters wide, and the Imperial tanks are much longer; M1A2 Abrams, for example, are more than 32 feet long. The tanks simply roll over the trenches, stopping in the middle to span the gap. The same thing is happening over the entire trench system; a few tanks serving as bridges, the rest crossing at any point while Legionaries and Immortals swarm over the makeshift bridges in their sprint upwards. Artillery fire sweeps mortar nests, barbed wire, tiger traps, and other such petty mischief out of their way, throwing tons of dirt and mud in the air with every impact. The air begins to thicken with grenades and mortar fire as the Imperial forces draw near to their goal. Screams come more and more frequently, but still they are drowned out by the war dirges of the Legions. Tanks exchange fire on both sides like Napoleonic riflemen, standing face-to-face and shooting and reloading and shooting until they are destroyed. The lighter LAVs hurl missiles at the Czardaian emplacements, and rolling barrages from the artillery below target the heavier guns on the Czardaian side, especially the godrods, which have caused too many deaths as it is. Still, in mere moments, artillery will become useless. Godrods will become useless. The infantry are a mere 50 yards away and closing. Tanks loom up out of the snow. Rockets from LAVs come out of nowhere to blast apart clusters of enemy troops. Screaming their prayers and war cries, some of the War-Priests are among the first to get up close and personal to the Czardaian tanks. Their miniguns unleash a metal storm on the lighter vehicles they face, pausing in between bursts so as not to jam their weapons. Few other weapons could hope to penetrate even light tank armor...but these deadly arms could gun down a herd of elephants in seconds. Their bullets are large and come at blinding speed. Legionaries swarm behind the War-Priests, SG-655 assault rifles spitting death, flashes of gunfire flickering from the muzzles of their weapons. 40mm grenades leap from the launchers mounted beneath the muzzles. The shelling, grenades, mortars, and missiles seem to reach a crescendo as the lines of Czardaian tanks are subjected to firepower as extreme as any barrage since the start of the war.

A-10 Thunderbolts are designed to destroy tanks. They are light bombers as well as fighters, and now they swoop down from the heavens, unleashing missiles and cluster bombs, Avenger 30mm cannons firing on the tanks and IFVs, shredding armor and the drivers within. Stealth bombers unleash tons of high-explosive bombs on the defensive lines. The snow drifting from the sky is now accompanied by an altogether more deadly form of precipitation. Balefires hurtle from their lofty flights, missile after missile streaking away, aimed for the machine guns and whatever clusters of infantry they can detect. Harriers and MiGs likewise continue their attack, concentrating on mortar-bearers. Overhead, C-5 Galaxies, mobilized for this purpose alone, drop thousands and thousands of small devices designed to broadcast the heat signature of a Legionary. Hopefully, the Czardaian commanders would withdraw thousands of troops to fight an enemy that did not exist. It might work, it might not, but such devices were not expensive. Having dropped almost 200,000 devices, the Galaxies flew back to Palma.

Immortals are reaching the tank line now, hurling explosives near the gun barrel (OOC: The weakest part of a tank other than treads). The resultant explosions cripple the enemy armor as surely as a hamstring wound. Snipers maintain a rain of .50 cal fire at the lighter armored vehicles, more susceptible to the armor-piercing rounds of their rifles. The eyes of millions of Imperial warriors shine with anticipation as the single greatest moment of the war approaches, the balance on which the campaign will tip. The vanguard of the Imperial army runs past the Czardaian tanks that are left, as their own tanks unleash a huge volley of fire.

Finally the Legions are face to face with the hated Czardaians. Savage grins, the grin of a predator, appear on the faces of Immortals, War-Priests, and Legionaries alike. At long last, the Imperial forces crest the hill, standing above their dug-in Czardaian foes, and raining fire on them. The Imperials are on higher ground, and it shows as the War-Priests’ miniguns, the Immortals’ and Legionaries’ assault rifles, and grenades from these same troops, unleash hell on the enemy. Now it is a man-to-man battle, with godrods and artillery useless without destroying one’s own troops as well. The setting would test any normal soldier’s morale: freezing cold, snow, mud...but the Legions enjoyed it. Such is the mentality of men who live for war. Every one of them can feel the gods at their backs, looking over their shoulders, giving them strength. To them, the brutal fighting is merely an offering, a blood sacrifice fit for the Seven True Gods.

OOC: Totals:

FROM THE AIR
At armor and artillery: 4,504 Paveway guided missiles, 3,378 BLU-27/b Rockeye cluster bombs, 6,756 AGM-65A Mavericks, 4,504,000 lbs high explosive bombs (from A-10s), 1,280,000 lbs high explosive bombs (from stealth bombers), 1,126 30mm Avenger cannons firing constantly.
At machine guns and infantry positions: 4,000 80mm rockets, 500 Gomorrah AGMs, 5,924 Vanguard missiles, 84,336 Methuselah missiles, 1,104 Archer missiles.
At city: 200,000 infantry decoys

FROM THE FLEET
At city: 146 Abaddon missiles, 146x8 Colossus shells, 37,692x8 Pandemonium II’s.

FROM GROUND FORCES
At all armored vehicles: 557,500 mortar rounds firing repeatedly, 557,500 .50 sniper rounds firing repeatedly, 4,000 9mm miniguns firing repeatedly, 6,700,000x2 million 40mm grenades, 112,680 120mm shells, 5,292 115mm shells
At infantry: (I’m not sure if I should even put numbers up for this and just go by instinct as regards losses and exchanges of fire, but here they are just in case) 6.7 million 7.62mm armor-piercing rounds firing repeatedly, 4,000 9mm miniguns firing repeatedly, 42,000 9mm armor-piercing rounds firing repeatedly, 6.7 million frag grenades.

FROM ARTILLERY
At all armored vehicles: 1,600 115mm shells, 2,100 145mm shells, 600 155mm shells, 1,000 188mm shells, 100 Colossus shells.
At machine guns and infantry positions: 1,600 115mm shells, 2,100 145mm shells, 600 155mm shells, 1,000 188mm shells, 100 Colossus shells.

[ooc:] You know... somehow I doubt that a 32-foot-long tank could actually cross something nearly 12 feet across without falling in. Also, I'm not sure how your soldiers would get across—would they climb over the tanks? I sincerely doubt that anything other than personnel would be able to do that even if it were possible. I'll just assume no vehicles made it past the trench areas until proven otherwise.

[ic:]

The hillside immediately erupts in flames as the Czardaians now begin to battle their opponents hand-to-hand. Artillery and radar-guided missiles dominate the field ever so briefly, blasting away at enemy tanks and the trenches, punching holes in the "bridges" to prevent personnel from crossing over. AA guns pound planes mercilessly as SAMs shoot towards other aircrafts in droves, volley after volley of missiles and shells battering the enemy. Then a murmur goes up among Czardaians, swelling into a mass of sound with no clear words, thunder in the air.

"They're coming...."

The artillery guns fall silent, spraying their last anti-personnel mines as, from the entire slope, a great cry goes up, wordless, a call to arms. A call for battle, for pushing the invaders out of Czardas. Soldiers rush from their positions with guns at the ready fanatically, meeting the Legionaries halfway down the slope, still more than eighty metres from the city...

...And battle is joined.

The line erupts in full-scale hand-to-hand combat now. Machine guns continue to fire as the air is lit up by grenades and tracers. Frag grenades shatter enemy armor as the fighting becomes bloodier by the instant, accompanied by 30mm anti-tank fire and 76mm rockets from the Annuvin Gunships and Blue Jay Strike Fighters. Beyond the surge of the tidal wave of Legionaries meeting the Czardaians in combat, bombs rain down upon the Legionaries far enough from the Czardaian positions to prevent damage from friendly fire.

The Czardaians are blind too, but they need not be otherwise. Here and there a Scorpion of assorted type can be seen, still stolidly blasting away at enemy troops flooding around it, before disintegrating into a smoking heap of metal, very much à la video-game. Fifteen centimetres of snow have fallen by the time the ground troops clash, and the blizzard grows only stronger now, coating the soldiers with snow. Machinegun bursts grow less and less frequent, but mortars never stop firing their rounds as grenades explode, the snow running pink with blood of both Legionary and Czardaian. Assault rifles, bayonets, long knives, and anythiing else that comes to hand is used as the two bodies of troops continue to clash, the Czardaians slowly and inexorably falling back towards the walls of the city as gunners in the walls fire mortars, grenades, rapid-fire cannons, or even railguns towards the nearest known enemy positions. All is chaos, with not even lightning to illuminate the battle, nothing but the flashes and explosions that are now everywhere, the world exploding in red, white, and black.

By 0330 hours the Czardaians are beginning to gain an advantage, pushing the Imperial troops back almost to the trenches, perhaps so far that some fail to detect them in time and fall in. Then the Imperial troops rally, forcing the Czardaians back to the wall, and again and again... people dying in such quantities that it ceased to be a number, they ceased to be people....

The battle rages on all night, people fighting over a few square metres of ground that does not even belong to them.... every centimetre a struggle, every metre a great victory... and every time one is taken away, a loss beyond words, beyond life, beyond anything. The only thing left now is staying alive...

And many, so many, will not. So many will never live to see morning. But that is how it always is in war.

Arguably the largest naval force ever assembled in the entire history of humanity now advanced on Czardas. The flags of many nations fluttered from their bows: the blue of Taldaan, the deep red of Praetonia, the sunrise emblem of Isselmere-Nieland. Woodstock Pact nations all, united in deadly purpose. The Woodstock Pact clashing with the CAD, democracy against dictatorship, freedom against oppression, life against death. To some, good against evil. The coming battle would not only bring the victory of a fleet, but the victory of an idealogy. A victory here would show the world that democracy did not equate to weakness, that the forces of liberty and democracy could fling those of dictatorship and destruction back into Hades.

The two million tonne armoured bulk of the A'tuin accelerated ponderously, moving at a stately pace to follow the Praetonians. Although Hawthorne was not exactly enamoured with the idea of placing Task Force A'tuin under the control of a foreign commander, he respected the vast naval experience that his Praetonian opposite number had. Indeed, had the other commander been anyone less, Hawthorne would have refused to take his orders. Commanding such a prestigious force was not without its downsides: if the task force was defeated or, heaven forbid, the A'tuin destroyed, it would be his job on the line. Better, he decided, to go down with the ship.

The trio of bow waves ahead of the superdreadnought grew larger as the ship gathered speed, before finally levelling off as it reached its cruising speed. The pennant rippled in the wind over the tower, its blue shape standing out against the grey metal. The vast guns, capable of crushing lesser ships in a single barrage, stood silent for now. The VLS cells, several hundred of them, were loaded. The battle awaited, but there was surely no fleet on Earth that could survive the onslaught of the Woodstock Pact.

The forecast? Fair.

Storms gathered, darkening the sky from blue to an ugly steel grey. The waters southwest of Port Khufi turned the same color as the sky, and Task Force Undertaker cruised through the choppy seas. Leading the way was the mighty superdreadnought Inexorable, its decks alive with activity. Battle preparations were being finished, here and all across the fleet.

The carriers and supercarriers launched aircraft as fast as they could; fighters, bombers, troop and cargo carriers, and helicopters all sped off over the horizon, the entire fleet following in their path.

Admiral Jacobus Krimmiel sat on the bridge of his command ship, watching the action onboard the huge supercarrier Pride of Slash. He glanced over at the communications officer.

“Is everything prepared, Lieutenant?”

“It is indeed, Admiral. All ships are reporting full battle readiness. We can begin the bombardment at your command.”

“Then commence firing.”

The bridge crew began relaying orders to the rest of the fleet. Immediately, the entire fleet began launching all manner of ordnance at Port Khufi, 25 miles away. Shells ranging in size from 6” to 36” began blasting from cannons of the fleet, their high arcing flight carrying them towards the fortified city.

AIM-20 missiles also streaked into the sky, trailing exhaust behind them. 14,600 were launched, each packing enough power to destroy a building. Along with the AIM-20s, hundreds of bunker-busting IWDS rockets were fired on a lower trajectory, barely fifty feet above the water. These warheads could pierce five feet of concrete with their titanium tips before delivering a massive payload of high explosives. The greatest advantage of the Independent Warhead Delivery System missiles was its ingenious defense against EMP countermeasures. Also, their mass and armor ensured they could not be intercepted by any but the most powerful SAM missile, or a great many smaller ones. 720 of these murderous weapons followed the AIM-20s on a fiery path to the city ahead.


Colonel Igor Vesliyec led the 110th fighter wing, the famous “Golden Eagles,” from the center of their delta formation. Contained within the larger bent diamond shape of the massive aircraft fleet, the 110th was the most decorated fighter group in the CAD. Vesliyec himself had flown more than two hundred combat missions over Freudotopia and foreign territory. Now forty-one, he had escalated to the leader of his wing and the operational commander of the air force of Task Force Undertaker, codenamed Mjolnir.

His radio crackled as soon as the group reached cruising height and formed into dozens of smaller battle groups within the larger structure of the fleet.

“Colonel, we have only two minutes before we are in range of Port Khufi’s defenses. All planes are armed and dangerous.”

“Roger that, Corporal Vizzo, order all Firestorm bombers to climb above radar and missile range. The Hurricanes will take the lead, and hit those Czardaians before they know what’s coming. Then I want successive waves of Blizzards, Pulverizers, and Vultures. Howies and Theseuses are gonna drop the ground-pounders as soon was we make one pass. Our squad keeps enemy fighters away from the main group.”

“Righto, Colonel. Everyone has their orders. Corporal Vizzo out.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Onboard a C-131 Theseus troop transport plane, a thick-necked sergeant harangued his men:

“Listen up, you slobs! We’ve got approximately ten minutes to drop time! I want every sonofabitching one of you in your ‘chute, with every piece of gear triple checked, and I want it to happen now, if not sooner! Our objectives are to secure all defensible buildings in the city itself, as well as to capture the CAMERA command center. We will do both of these, and we will kill every man who tries to stop us!”

Rousing cheers sprang up, and were quickly shouted out by the sergeant’s booming voice. “Shut the hell up, you candy-assed pieces of shit! Save your yelling for the drop. One more peep out of you and I’ll shoot you myself! You fags have your work cut out for you, and I can’t babysit you all, so get the fuck ready to die!”

The soldiers laughed for a moment, and then went back to checking their parachutes and equipment. They were used to sergeants like this one. Such men had turned these soldiers into professional soldiers, effective, aware, and fearless killing machines. Soon they would be unleashed upon the city of Port Khufi, and they would do their job, no matter how much they had to destroy.

The air group sped forward as ordnance from the fleet closed in on Port Khufi…


-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


OOC: Here are some numbers.

2,000 F/A-25 Blizzard attack fighters
700 B-4 Firestorm stealth bombers
1,500 F/A-110 Hurricane stealth fighter-bombers
800 A-12 Pulverizer attack gunships
700 Vulture H-90 attack helicopters
700 UH-20 Howie multipurpose helicopters
1000 C-131 Theseus cargo/troop transport planes
450 XF-9 Golden Eagle fighters (110th Fighter Wing)


14,600 AIM-20 missiles
720 IWDS bunker-buster missiles

400,000 paratroopers on board the transports

[ooc:] You know... somehow I doubt that a 32-foot-long tank could actually cross something nearly 12 feet across without falling in. Also, I'm not sure how your soldiers would get across—would they climb over the tanks? I sincerely doubt that anything other than personnel would be able to do that even if it were possible. I'll just assume no vehicles made it past the trench areas until proven otherwise.

OOC: IC post for Czarna coming up.

Well, Ravagers at least are heavier at the back than the front. I talked to Freudotopia about this, and he says that the physics of it means that they could span the bridge with half their weight still on the original side. So they at least could pull it off. I don't know if that would work with a completely evenly-balanced MBT.

The tanks don't necessarily have to cross if it feels unrealistic to you. I admit, I did wonder about it when I wrote it. I have no idea how much of a fraction of the length of a tank it takes to make it fall into a trench. But even if they did, after two or three tanks, the trench would be filled just as effectively. Besides, if they couldn't cross immediately, I suppose the dozens of tanks that were destroyed during the way up would fall and form a much wider and more stable bridge. Finally, the artillery barrage might level the ground around enough to make the trenches comparatively a lot smaller. So I'm not saying you don't have a point, but whether or not its physically feasible, there are another possible scenarios that could allow large numbers of infantry to cross.

Another IC post that should be less controversial coming up.

TYRIANDOR, 12:31 23/03/06
'The cavalry has arrived!' Hearth yelled to noone in particular, a grin on his face, as the Champion II MBT rolled into Tyriandor followed by an armoured column of similar vehicles. The first thing noticable was the destruction and the smoke. Hearth was impressed - the Skinnians and Omzians had put up duly amazing resistance in the face of far superior firepower. Hearth knew this was dangerous - his head, only protected by a kevlar helmet, was fully exposed to any sniper around. Still, it was typical command procedure for armour commanders, even if it was pretty silly. Behind him, the antenna flapped backwards in the wind, the large UK flag attached to it waving. Paratroopers wearing boonie hats and kevlar helmets patrolled the streetsides, their weapons ready. The men met hardly any Czardaians, although the ones that did appear seemed especially grateful. What made Hearth nervous though, was the lack of any Skinnians in the area. Three thousand soldiers, all told, rode on tanks and trucks, inside IFVs, and some just walked, into Tyriandor. Hearth grinned as one of his outriders returned on a motorbike, the Questarian flag on the rear antenna of the bike dying down as it slowly lost speed.

'Sah!' he saluted the tank as it stopped.

'Sergeant. What do you have for me?'

'Large building, possibly a manor, about eight blocks down. Heavily fortified sir.'

'I see.' Hearth wondered. 'Alright, thank you.' he nodded to the outrider and ducked back into the tanks compartment, giving his driver movement orders. The Champion tanks rumbled out as the paratroopers jogged to keep up. Within minutes the tank company and its escort regiment would be at what Colonel Hearth suspected was a rebel stronghold, although it was actually a Praetonian headquarters.

CZARDAS OCEAN, 06:22 24/03/06
Phillips nodded slowly. 'God save the Queen. In the name of the Empire, the Commonwealth, in the name of Freedom, in the name of our glorious Monarch and her subjects, and in the name of all that is good and right, ADVANCE QUESTARIA!' the Questarian reply echoed over the international communications channel. The fleet was already facing the Warmasterians - moving slowly at 9 knots - and now, it would advance. The standardised speed for Questarian naval travel was 30 knots - obviously, there were many ships that could go faster, but the battleships tended to move around that speed. Alongside the vastly larger Praetonian fleet, the Questarian Royal Navy advanced to once again defend democracy, pennants fluttering in the wind. Guns crunched and stirred as they turned and elavated to face the Warmasterian fleet - missiles clicked and whirred as the launch systems became operational, and the afterburners of squadron after squadron of Sea Hurricane aircraft hummed gently in the early morning breeze high above the fleet itself. All forms of sensors buzzed and soon the detection officers screens were full of little signs showing theatre ships.

The Questarians fired first - the largest ship in the assembled fleet, Her Majestys Battleship Admiral Howe had elavated its guns to 42 degrees and its loading crew and equipment strained to lift heavy 762mm shells. Slowly, the battleship was ready, and prepared to fire. Phillips puffed something from his pipe and, removing it from his mouth with his thumb and fingers, whispered. 'Open fire.'

Fire spat from the five barrels of the Howe's Number One turret, muzzle blasts shaking the ship, sending almost visible shockwaves over the vertical launch cells and creating a tiny tidal wave around the hull, knocking a pair of frigates off course for a second. The sheer force needed to propel projectiles that far was immense, and despite all forms of hydropneumatic recoil compensation and dampeners, anyone stupid enough to be caught the foredeck would be deafened, sent into acoma, and would suffer from broken bones, even brain damage. Luckily, the Navy wasn't stupid, and noone was caught around the muzzles of these great guns. And then Number Two turret rocked the ship, its guns sounding off could be heard and seen from miles away. Number Three turret followed suit, clouding the front of the mighty superdreadnought, stretching over a road mile long, in heavy smoke, which was dispersed by large fans in the hull. From 690km away, the rocket assisted heavy shells sped through the air towards the Warmasterian fleet. To Howe's starboard quarter, the Duke of York traversed its guns and steadily began to open fire with her smaller 635mm quads - rocket assisted shells too. The enemy fleet was still far too far away for the guns of other battleships to reach, and so after a salvo or two the Howe and Duke of York simply cut off their attacks, to be followed by standoff cruise missiles. The fore VL cells of the Howe slid open, and the first salvo of long range 'Hasting's missiles. The 'Hasting's used the full breadth of the 1m squared VL cells, and stretched to 11 metres long at full. Using SCRAMjets approximately 600 missiles would propel themselves superhigh into the area, leaving the bow of the battleship clothed in thick white smoke, and come down straight on top of the Warmasterian carriers at approximately Mach 17, their deadly 600kg payloads smashing straight into the flight decks of the super and fleet carriers.

The battle had begun.

OOC: I've consulted Generic Empire about this, who is an experienced RPer. You'll see that I say that I push your army back, and you may think that a little dubious. He told me that it is feasible, so I have a professional opinion. Besides, numerically, 2.6 million people, some of them civilian militias (I believe) can't hold back 6.7 million vicious professional killers, especially with a deep racial and religious hatred of their enemy, forever. I don't want to make it sound like the battle is a foregone conclusion. I'm just defending my actions.

IC: The battle for Czarna is epic. To the Imperial soldiers, it seems the Nine Hells have broken loose on the battlefield.

They love it.

Yes, some of their friends are dead, but they have died gloriously, in battle. Surely the gods will honor them for their sacrifice. They should not be mourned, but admired for their heroic deaths. And yet, duty tugs at the souls of the Imperial army. To them, the war has become more than man-to-man, more than Czardaian against Imperial, more than the Sacred Emperor Lucifer against whatever heathen rules Czardas. It is simply, and yet in the most complex way, the faithful against the infidel. It has happened countless times before and will happen many times again, but such cynicism simply cannot exist in the face of glorious battle.

What is death when far worse is to fail in one's sacred duty?

Bombs still pour down, though in smaller quantities. AA guns still intercept as many as possible. The battle is hot, though the snow is getting deeper and deeper; the body heat of millions is filling this space. Blood runs freely down the hill, and the Legionaries exult. Flames from destroyed tanks, and the city beyond, waft smoke up to the heavens, and the faithful know to the cores of their souls that the Destroyer is pleased by the burnt offering. The whole battle is that too. An offering of flesh, which the Destroyer has demanded for eternity and always will.

And so, on this twisted playground, the Legions begin to turn back the Czardaian assault. The Immortals and War-Priests are key to this Herculean effort, but the sheer difference in numbers is powerful. Besides, every last Imperial soldier is a trained professional, while some of the Czardaians seem to be drafted civilians. Love of one's country goes far...but hatred of one's enemy is at least as powerful. Step by step, meter by meter, the Czardaians drop back, never giving up, but falling back nonetheless. It is not long before they are inside the walls. The relentless march continues, as the weight of numbers begins to tell.

Lord Rahvin, secure in his mobile command center, smiles slowly as he watches the tactical display and speaks only two words.

"It's working."

Arguably the largest naval force ever assembled in the entire history of humanity now advanced on Czardas. The flags of many nations fluttered from their bows: the blue of Taldaan, the deep red of Praetonia, the sunrise emblem of Isselmere-Nieland. Woodstock Pact nations all, united in deadly purpose. The Woodstock Pact clashing with the CAD, democracy against dictatorship, freedom against oppression, life against death. To some, good against evil. The coming battle would not only bring the victory of a fleet, but the victory of an idealogy. A victory here would show the world that democracy did not equate to weakness, that the forces of liberty and democracy could fling those of dictatorship and destruction back into Hades.

The two million tonne armoured bulk of the A'tuin accelerated ponderously, moving at a stately pace to follow the Praetonians. Although Hawthorne was not exactly enamoured with the idea of placing Task Force A'tuin under the control of a foreign commander, he respected the vast naval experience that his Praetonian opposite number had. Indeed, had the other commander been anyone less, Hawthorne would have refused to take his orders. Commanding such a prestigious force was not without its downsides: if the task force was defeated or, heaven forbid, the A'tuin destroyed, it would be his job on the line. Better, he decided, to go down with the ship.

The trio of bow waves ahead of the superdreadnought grew larger as the ship gathered speed, before finally levelling off as it reached its cruising speed. The pennant rippled in the wind over the tower, its blue shape standing out against the grey metal. The vast guns, capable of crushing lesser ships in a single barrage, stood silent for now. The VLS cells, several hundred of them, were loaded. The battle awaited, but there was surely no fleet on Earth that could survive the onslaught of the Woodstock Pact.

The forecast? Fair.

The wiley old admiral scanned the horizon. Warships as far as the eye could see. Well, he thought, we might have a small force but we're here. Time to join the party.

To; WP fleet commanders
From; Admiral Oliver McClusky, Colonial Navy, CinC Czardian Taskforce

Greetings allies. We hereby officially request permission to join the fleet. Ollieland's best have arrived.

OOC: I posted in the Death to Democracy thread that battleships, carriers, and superdreadnaughts had EMP defenses. I’m not using these in this post, because it would seem like I invented it randomly. This is for future reference and so I know now if anyone has a problem with it that they didn’t before. CAMERA, however, I can and will use. I averaged the number of missile and torpedo launchers at the various installations and came up with, in addition to the numbers in Czardas’s info thread:

73,333 torpedo launchers
51,666 missile launchers
144 cruise missile launchers
60 lasers
350 SAM batteries
50 AMM batteries (Call me stupid, but what does AMM stand for?)
Assorted cannons (I assume these, like with Port Khufi, are the same types as in Mariosz, namely 35", 30", 27", 25", 20", 16", 12", 8", and 5")

There are 1,980 Balefires in the air by the fleet and 636 Harriers. There are also the 15 stealth helicopters the supercarriers had.

IC: High Admiral Ludo Anor had rejoiced when General Yataghan had returned with news that the Aurdanian CAMERA control center was under his control. However, it was only minutes later that news came that the Woodstock Pact fleet was advancing.

It was time.

Just as the Legions were fighting with honor in Czarna, now the fleet could fight with honor in the Bay of Palma (This is what I’ll call it from now on...saying ‘the bay near Palma’ is getting old’. So it was that when the Questers fleet opened fire, Ludo Anor was on the bridge in full dress uniform.

“Admiral, they’ve opened fire. We have...15 larger shells, bigger than Colossus shells, and an unknown number of smaller ones.”

“Open fire with Tsunami missiles and CIWS when they get close. I don’t think we’ll need the aircraft yet. Inform Lord Rahvin that if he can spare them, I need his twelve hundred Balefires back. As far as I know, he doesn’t need them urgently.”

The massive shells move quickly indeed, but the tracking systems on the destroyers are equal to the task so far. Tsunami SAM missiles streak from their launchers, locking on to the huge targets. Each destroyer launches two, and over eight hundred missiles are thus in the air in an instant. This creates a cloud of fire that the shells cannot evade, and most of them are destroyed by this action. However, some five slip through. Four are destroyed by the CIWS guns of other ships, but one plows into a battleship, and it sinks slowly to the depths.

“Admiral, the enemy has launched cruise missiles. We have around 600. They’re moving more or less straight up. They seem to be targeting the carriers.”

“Have the carriers disperse. Same drill as last time; intercept. Use the planes this time, too.”

The massive missiles hurtle into the atmosphere, gracefully turn, and then begin to thunder down on the fleet. Ponderously the carriers lumber out of the way as best they can, while the Balefires ascend, opening up both with their 30mm cannons and their Methuselah missiles, trying as best they can to stop the missiles moving at a blinding speed. Some few are destroyed, but more are claimed by the 868 more Tsunami missiles that speed up from the fleet, reducing many to flaming ruins that burn up from the sheer speed of their re-entry. And finally, a few are thrown off by the movement of the carriers. But the carrier that was wounded earlier that night by the godrods, under repair, couldn’t move out of the way, and was blasted apart. Another carrier was destroyed as well.

Anor surveyed the destruction from the bridge of Victorious. Without turning his head, he asked an aide behind him, “Are the infidels in range of the CAMERA guns?”

The man shook his head. “No, sir. Not yet. But if they want to get in range so they can fire something other than cruise missiles and railguns from their very largest ships, they’re going to have to enter CAMERA range as well. Right now our only weapons that can reach them are Pandemonium II’s and Abaddons.”

“Then what are you waiting fire? Return fire immediately.”

A few moments later, thousands of deadly Pandemonium II missiles from the missile submarines streaked upwards. At the top of their arc they turned, much like the Questerian missiles had, and plummeted toward the enemy fleet. The more insidious Abaddon missiles, nearly impossible to detect with electronic equipment, streaked on a much flatter trajectory toward the Questerian fleet.

OOC:
144 Abaddon missiles, 37,692 Pandemonium II missiles.

The roar of the Questarian guns rolled across the water, and Admiral Hawthorne felt shivers run over his body as he heard them. It had been so long since he had directed the A'tuin into battle, so long since he had stood on the bridge shouting orders and feeling battlelust and wardrums throb in his veins. Recognising the inevitable fear gnawing at his mind, he took a deep breath and forced it down. Senses sharpened by the adrenaline rush of a new battle to be fought, he turned to his communications officer sitting at the communications desk.

"Officer, activate onboard intercom and fleet tightbeam communications."

"Yes sir!"

The officer, fresh out of naval school and still somewhat dazed by the magnitude of having a first assignment on the A'tuin, flicked two switches and passed the microphone to the Admiral, who thumbed the "on" button and raised it to his mouth.

"Task Force A'tuin, all ships prepare Eclipse SSMs and ping A'tuin when ready to fire."

Around a minute passed, and then Hawthorne saw the first green light on his screen flick on. Then the screen erupted, red dots winking into brilliant green, seven hundred minature bursts of light. Then after a further few seconds, every light had made its transition. Every combat vessel in the task force had missiles loaded and was ready to fire.

"All ships, open fire on Warmaster fleet. Eclipses only."

And then all hell broke loose as, from every ship, missiles erupted into the air on trails of fire. For brief moments the sun itself was blotted out by the swarm. As the missiles accelerated rocket motors shut down, allowing the ramjets to take over. They raced skywards, preparing for a screaming terminal dive that would bring them almost vertically onto the Warmaster vessels at hypersonic speeds. Many CIWS guns would be made useless by the nature of the attack, foiled by limited vertical traverse and reaction time. The enemy fleet would doubtless be struck multiple times. However, these missiles were no conventional ship sinkers, although they could severely damage lighter ships. These were submunition dispensers, carrying vast stores of bomblets that would hopefully wipe out sensor emplacements and other external systems. Blind and deaf, the enemy would be vulnerable to further attacks.

ooc: 20,000 Eclipse missiles launched

[ooc: Just letting people know, I'm back, and I'll post when someone can update me on the attacks and such I need to respond to.]

OOC: Let’s assume, then, that I do NOT yet have control of the Aurdania CAMERA system. We are assuming that the tunnel down has been dug, but we are unable to access CAMERA. Also, as I pointed out, the Imperial interface works. That’s how the supercomputers plug into the system.

To find out how long this will take, I TG'ed Czardas. The number of characters in the password will determine how long it will take.

IC: “Urgent transmission from High Admiral Anor, Great Lord.”

“Put him on the wall screen,” the Sacred Emperor replied. The page bowed, pressed a button, and left the room, closing the soundproof door behind him.

The screen mounted on the wall of one of the High Command facility known as CHARIOT’s briefing rooms flickered to life, showing the face of Ludo Anor, standing far away on the bridge of the super-dreadnaught Victorious.

“Divine One, I am afraid I have little time, even for such an urgent message as this. Efforts to seize control of the Aurdanian CAMERA system have met with failure so far. If we are to succeed, the Intelligence Division must supply us with supercomputers, as many as possible, and tech specialists. Having CAMERA in our hands will be a potent weapon, Great Lord, as you well know. I beg you to send these resources.”

“Very well, High Admiral.”

“Great Lord, recall that enemy fleets are not so far from the entrance to the Bay of Palma. You must ensure the arrival of the supplies by some other way.”

“I am aware of this, Ludo,” Lucifer replied, allowing a stern look to cross his face. “You shall have what you need. CHARIOT out.”

Turning to Imperator Jakran Vuell, head of the Kregaian Imperial Armed Forces, Lucifer declared, “Make the necessary arrangements. Have the Intelligence Division put some of its supercomputers on some Mammon stealth submarines immediately, along with the experts needed to man them. Have them leave as soon as they’re loaded, and get to Czardas as quickly as possible. The quicker we get CAMERA under our control, the more even the odds against the enemy fleets.”

“As you command, Divine One.”

Less than an hour later, twelve Mammon-class advanced stealth submarines sailed from Korronis’s port, carrying one of the most vital cargoes in the course of the war. Top-quality supercomputers, and the men needed to use them.

They traveled through that morning, through the afternoon, through the night. Driving relentlessly through the deeps, the subs were like invisible daggers pointed at the heart of the enemy. Undetectable to those who would interfere, the convoy came to the Aurdanian spit around 1800 hours on the second day of the voyage. Immediately the sailors set about launching the techs in dinghies toward the shore, not far away, while putting the supercomputers in watertight containers that had small propellers attached. Pointing them toward the shore, the sailors submerged again, having finished their task. Moving southwest, the small force continued to follow its orders, waiting for the right opportunity...

Meanwhile, a few minutes later, the Legionaries and workers on the shore were cutting open the supercomputers, which were whisked away by helicopter the short distance to the site. One by one they were winched down the tunnel, having been widened to accommodate them during their voyage over. Once all the supercomputers and techs had been assembled in the control room or nearby, the specialists lost no time in plugging the combined computers into the CAMERA interface, and laid back and waited as it began cycling through combinations at the godlike speeds of computers. At the same time, a few techs finished setting up a network agreed to by Sacred Emperor Lucifer that would harness spare time on government-owned computers to generate possible combinations, send them to the supercomputers, and form a queue of combinations to try.

There was still an element of chance. The computers might stumble on the correct password almost immediately, if they were extremely lucky. If they were extremely unlucky, it could take more time than the Imperial purpose could afford.

OOC: I'm pausing my Port Khufi attack for the moment, not because anyone has convinced me that my fleet has mysteriously been moved further away from my former (and well established) position, but because I want to give Czardas and Skinny a chance to post some sort of defense. If they don't do so within a reasonable amount of time, I'll just go ahead with the attack. I would appreciate it if anyone who was planning on attacking my fleet from the northwest would also cool their jets for the time being.

Sir Alexander Lloyd was still reading the paper when the paper was forcibly removed from under his nose and replaced with a printout from one of the tactical displays. Lloyd glanced at the ensign and XO, Fierman.

"Honestly, Fierman, I was joking when I told you to do this in case of emergency..." Lloyd smiled.

"Apologies sir, I just thought you should see this."

"H'rm..." The Fleet Admiral continued to read. "It appears that a small Czardaian fleet has set out from a nearby naval base, consisting of some 76 ships... I wonder how they expect to survive in the midst of such battles."

"Well, we thought you should, perhaps, volunteer to escort them, sir," Fierman suggested tactfully.

"That's a top-notch idea, young man," Lloyd said brightly. "Why don't you radio them now?"

"Yes, sir." Fierman retired, and Lloyd watched him. That young fellow will go far...

>>> Transmission to Czardaian Fleet:

We humbly request permission to join forces with you to escort you into Czardaian waters. The MIRNa has a total of 371 combat vessels at its disposal, and we feel that we could bolster your combat capabilities immensely and ensure a safe link up with the Woodstock Pact fleets currently attacking the CAD imperialists.

Respectfully and in friendship,
Fleet Admiral Sir Alexander Lloyd
MIRS Foxhound, Task Force 125 <<<

The Royal Isselmere-Nieland Navy units were twelve hundred kilometres away from that last reported position of the CAD naval forces. Aboard the aircraft carriers strike groups formed preparatory to attacking the invaders. Above them flew the combat air patrols and their airborne early warning colleagues as well as the helicopter anti-submarine patrols with their dipping sonar. It was in the early afternoon when the strike aircraft were fully armed and fuelled and their pilots emerged from the squadron ready rooms to perform the final pre-flight checks. Commander Wilfred Rushden felt the strange mixture of the understandable fear of the unknown and of death as well as the exhilarating thrill that those emotions awoke. As he examined the munitions in the bays and hanging from the wing and centreline pylons and the control services, Rushden mastered the sentiments with experience gained from many years of professional service. Climbing inside the Swordfish attack aircraft he shared with his navigator, Lieutenant Joseph Lowenstein, they smiled grimly to one another and assisted the plane crew to connect themselves to the aircraft. The Spectres of the first three strike groups from his carrier assembled alongside them on the deck. Within minutes, Rushden and Lowenstein joined the CAP in the air with their heavily laden bird and, once the rest of their strike contingent had been assembled, they winged their way towards the enemy’s flanks. Radio silence was absolute beyond the brief secure low-level datalink transmissions between flight leaders as the aircraft gathered and drove onward. Ahead of them went the Thrush and Tern uncrewed combat aircraft from carriers and battleships armed with light air-to-air and anti-radar missiles to overwhelm enemy air defences with targets and threats before the manned aircraft began their assault.

Meanwhile, the guided missile submarines received their command from sonobuoy-delivered coded acoustic communiqués to advance to their own firing positions, their missiles to be directed by aircraft and satellite after launching. Their speed would eventually give them away, but they, too, were preceded by uncrewed vehicles, the Seahorse UUVs. Along with them advanced the speedy patrol boats that had safely traversed the long distance from their home ports for this vital mission.

These attacks would not occur alone, but would coincide with attacks from land-based aircraft – Detmerian Aerospace-built Vulcan strategic bombers each armed with two Hurricane missiles and further Swordfish and Spectre aircraft – to fill the air with aircraft and missiles to destroy, or at the very least overwhelm, the enemy’s defences. On the ground, Woodstock Pact and Czardaian allies would be supported by those land forces that had arrived near Tyriandor, where they had so far been kept in reserve. Soon they would be brought to the front line.

OOC:
26 naval air strike groups, each of
24 Spectre FA.1 (escorts) = 624 total
--2 ADQ.220 Flamingo decoys, 2 Goshawk GWS.75A LRAAM, 8 Kestrel GWS.74A BVRAAM, 4 Kite GWS.65A SRAAM, 3 Peregrine GWS.84A ELRAAM, 2 x 2000-litre fuel tanks (each)
24 Spectre FA.2 (swing fighters) = 624 total
--2 ADQ.301 Firefly decoys, 4 Kestrel GWS.74A BVRAAM, 6 Kite GWS.65A SRAAM, 2 Heron GWS.72A AShM, Pelican GWS.52A AshM, 2 Pigeon GWS.50A ARM, 2 x 2000-litre fuel tanks (each)
12 Banshee ADS.1 (air defence suppression) = 312 total
--2 ADQ.301 Firefly decoys, 2 ADQ.220 Flamingo decoys, 2 Kestrel GWS.74A BVRAAM, 2 Kite GWS.65A SRAAM, 4 ALARM GWS.46A ARM, 2 Pigeon GWS.50A ARM, 3 Ptarmigan GWS.73A ARM, 2 x 2000-litre fuel tanks (each)
4 Wraith EF.1 (electronic warfare) = 104 total
--2 ALQ.222 Finch jamming pods, 2 ADQ.301 Firefly decoys, 2 ADQ.220 Flamingo decoys, 2 Kestrel GWS.74A BVRAAM, 2 Kite GWS.65A SRAAM, 4 ALARM GWS.46A ARM, 2 Pigeon GWS.50A ARM, Ptarmigan GWS.73A ARM, 2 x 2000-litre fuel tanks (each)
12 Swordfish S.1 (strike aircraft) = 312 total
--ADQ.301 Firefly decoy, 2 ADQ.220 Flamingo decoys, 2 Kestrel GWS.74A BVRAAM, 2 Kite GWS.65A SRAAM, 2 ALARM GWS.46A ARM, 2 AGM-154C JSOW, 2 Pelican GWS.52A AshM, 2 x 2000-litre fuel tanks (each)

1064 Tern DA.2 UCAV
--2 Kite GWS.65A SRAAM, 3 Pigeon GWS.50A ARM (each)
160 Thrush DFA.1 UCAV
--2 ADQ.220 Flamingo decoys, 2 Kestrel GWS.74A BVRAAM, 4 Pigeon GWS.50A ARM (each)

1044 x Spectre FG.3
--armed as above
744 x Spectre FGR.4
--armed as above
432 x Scimitar F.1
--3 ADQ.220 Flamingo decoys, 2 Goshawk GWS.75A LRAAM, 4 Kestrel GWS.74A BVRAAM, 8 Kite GWS.65A SRAAM, 4 Peregrine GWS.84A ELRAAM
162 x Tiger F.1
--2 ADQ.301 Firefly decoys, 2 Goshawk GWS.75A LRAAM, 2 Kestrel GWS.74A BVRAAM, 4 Peregrine GWS.84A ELRAAM, 2 x 2500-litre fuel tanks
324 x Swordfish S.2
--armed as above
81 x Vulcan B.1
--2 ADQ.220 Flamingo decoys, 4 Kestrel GWS.74A BVRAAM, 4 ALARM GWS.46A ARM, 8 Heron GWS.72A AShM, 2 Hurricane GWS.58A AShM, 4 Pelican GWS.52A AShM
342 x Banshee ADS.2
--armed as above
180 x Wraith EF.2
--armed as above

[ooc: Jolt ate my post. Come on, it's like it's my fault this library computer doesn't have MS Word or even a simple NotePad installed. :headbang:

Anyway:

The missile and gun strike is detailed below:

From arsenal ships - 8 volleys of 11,520 Deathsword SSMs; missiles that ascend into the upper atmosphere and cruise at Mach 3 before plunging down in a terminal dive and reaching a projected final velocity of Mach 10.

From cruisers and destroyers - 8 volleys of 17,600 Sunstone SSMs; sea skimmers at Mach 2.5 armed with high explosive warheads; low IR and radar signatures; every twelfth warhead contains sophisticated directional narrow-band jamming that plays havoc with electronics, adding six contacts for every real incoming missile on some computers or only one contact for six real missles on others.
[Time-on-Target; i.e. each pair of volleys will arrive at the same time, for a total of eight volleys of 29,120 missiles.]

From Super Dreadnaughts - 6 volleys of 40 27" shells, 176 24" shells, 128 14" railgun slugs (all with rocket assist to bring them to 700 km)

II and III Corporate Armadas are also en route, about 1000 km to the northwest of the joint fleet.

I think that just about covers it. Anyway, consider the battle officially started.]

OOC: Sorry about the wait and inability to get involved, I had two trips over the past two weeks and was unable to really post. Would anyone mind if instead of breaking the RP flow by posting stuff I would have done had I got the chance, such as grouping my fleets and military with the other CAD members that are involved, I just go from that point?

IC:

Corps III, Outside Czarna

Division upon division of tanks and mechanized infantry now moved into the fight, joining into the fray, hoping to break the Czardaian assault with the influx of sheer numbers.

Artillery along the line opened up on the advancing Czardaians, cluster munitions and incindiaries mixed with airbursting shells unleashed from the barrels of 7,000 guns, tens of thousands of shells sent towards the advancing foes. MLRS systems added to the fire, each unleashing ATGMs, zeroing in on the heat signatures of armored vehicles as they flew over the battlefield, diving down upon their roofs with the DU penetrator and hundreds of pounds of high explosives. More joined in as Parthian M-29s moved into dug in positions, firing away with ETMAS guns upon enemy armored vehicles with DU sabot rounds.

As Czardaian aircraft continue to move near CAD lines, F-78s are sent into combat, over 500 in number, they each unleash HAMRAAM medium range missiles at the nearby Czardaians. Guided by millimetric wave radar and maneuvered through the use of 3-D thrust vectoring, each of them accquires a target and shoots forward, rocketing towards the Czardaian aircraft. SAM batteries on the ground join in, firing away with more munitions upon the enemy aircraft.

"Admiral? We have approximately 20,000 Taldaani missiles. They will arrive from a vertical angle, sir. Your orders?"

"Each ship is to target the missiles approaching another ship. That should cover us all."

"As you command, Admiral." The man bowed and hurried off to relay the orders to the fleet.

As the thousands of enemy missiles approached, storms of fire rose from the fleet. The super-dreadnaughts, battleships and missile cruisers were the most potent of the fleet's defenses: the former two unleashed storms of deadly fire, raking the clouds of missiles with bullets, shells, and more missiles, while the smaller missile cruisers fired many of their own missiles at their targets. Few of them were destroyed or even damaged; but the smaller ships, frigates and destroyers, were considerably more vulnerable. The Balefires intercepted many more that the other ships missed, but in the end almost a score of ships were destroyed or completely disabled.

When the losses were reported to High Admiral Anor, his fists clenched, but he accepted them. "Very well; return fire. Launch Abaddon missiles, and have the submarines fire their Pandemonium IIs. Make sure the latter missiles fall from above the Taldaani fleet. I want as much damage as possible."

OOC: Losses

8 frigates, 7 destroyers, 3 cruisers, 1 missile cruiser

144 Abaddon missiles, 37,692 Pandemonium II missiles

Uhm...bump. Hope an IC post is coming soon...not to rush you, Czardas.

OOC: I don't want to be a stiff about this, but I don't want this thread to roll over and die either. So, I know Czardas is travelling, but Skinny needs to post. If he doesn't, I'm ignoring whatever fleet he says is there, and assaulting Port Khufi with everything I have in an effort to jumpstart this whole thing.

Sorry Czardas. I'm worried that this thread might be dead by the time you get active again, so I gotta do what I gotta do.

"Admiral, we have contacts on air search radar coming in from airborne radar and the outer escort ring, almost certainly missiles. We've got a few seaskimmers, and swarms of top attacks. We still have minutes to impact, so plenty of time for defence, but we'll likely take losses."

"How many contacts?"

"Around fourty thousand."

The admiral blanched, but ordered missile defences to be used.

The Taldaani missile defence system, codenamed Tortoise after the Roman formation of the same name that protected soldiers from arrows, was three-tiered. The first layer, and the longest ranged, was the anti-missile missiles, fired in swarms from the VLS systems. Although the original bombardment had emptied many tubes, and reloading would take a while longer, many of the other launchers still carried missiles. Fifty-thousand radar-guided AMMs burst from the launchers aboard the ships, sweeping towards the incoming missiles and blasting many of them from the sky. The seaskimmers too are struck, prematurely detonating most of them harmlessly above the water.

As the remainder close in, they enter the zone of protection of the second layer. The 75mm flak artillery guns mounted on the ships swing around and fire, razor-sharp shrapnel slicing more of the incoming missiles apart.

However, no missile defence is one-hundred percent efficient, and some of the incoming missiles struggle on, having avoided the deadly blossoms of flame and metal shards. They are met by the third layer, the CIWS guns. These are partially neutralised by the top-attack missiles, although some of the ships are able to defend each other. Against the seaskimmers they are more effective, blasting them as they approach. The surviving missiles smash into hulls, some ships sinking, others surviving the assault.

"Whats the damage to the fleet?"

"We lost a few ships. The defensive pickets took the brunt of it, so mainly frigates and destroyers. Five Wildheart DDNs sunk, another burning end to end, likely to be unrepairable. Some of the crew got off, some didn't. The Marianas FFAAs took a beating as well: seven confirmed kills, two we've lost contact with although they may just be damaged, and one took a hit to the deck and is still floating but won't be fighting any time soon."

"Anything else?"

The officer grimaced, then went on.

"One of the Lionfish CGNs took a couple of hits, and is out of the battle. Its been evacuated because they think that the ammunition stores are going to go up any moment. We've also got reports that a missile got through and hit one of the carriers. Its still mostly operational, but they won't be launching any helicopters."

The admiral motioned for the officer to leave, then turned away from the door and began to think. The VLS tubes were empty, and reloading would take fifteen minutes. For now, the battle would have to be fought with gunfire, although they would have to close in, leaving them vulnerable to any few missiles that the enemy had left. In gunnery the Taldaani were probably superior, but satellite data showed that the enemy had laid mines around their fleet. Still, although this meant that they couldn't close much, it also meant that the enemy would have to leave through channels. And as he knew, the bottleneck would be a good place for an ambush...

Using their long ranged ETC guns, the superdreadnoughts opened fire on the enemy fleet. Using rocket-assisted shells they could engage the enemy from the edge of their range and hopefully outside that of the enemy guns. Although only 126 shells could be fired in a volley, as only the SDs were able to attack, the triple-mount 24" cannons could likely wreck any escort ship or cruiser, and inflict heavy damage on the capital ships.

The second technique was both more and less subtle at the same time. The deployment of the aptly-named Shrieker submersible drones would allow valuable information about the minefield. Travelling towards the enemy and blasting active sonar, the drones were obviously easy targets, but at the same time would be able to discover channels in the minefield without risking a submarine, and at the same time discover enemy submarines. Released from the forward ships, they closed in at fifteen knots, sonars likely deafening any enemy listeners, and at the same time reporting back to the Taldaani fleet.

OOC: I've been having Uni problems, but a TG asking me what was happening would have solved the problem, no? Anyway, here we go...

Third & Fourth Naval Taskforces

The taskforce was one of the largest ever assembled in the history of the Grand Monarchy. More than four hundred vessels of varying shapes, sizes and configurations were sailing less than a hundred miles off of the coast of Port Khufi and the allied troops assembled there. Frigates and Destroyers moved at the edge of the massive formation of vessels, ploughing through waves and the rolling waters, Sonar and Ladar constantly scanning sailed the larger Cruisers and Battleships of the two armadas, massive guns pointed outwards, ready to fire at a moments notice at targets miles away from them. Joining these massive vessels of war were the Carriers and Supercarriers, aboard which were thousands of fighters, fighter-bombers and other aircraft that were used to defend the taskforces and strike the first blow on any attacker.

In the middle of this formation that stretched for miles in concentric circles lay the jewels in the crown; three SuperDreadnoughts, purchased from Questers less than a year ago. The three massive vessels dwarfed the other vessels that sailed with them, massive gun barrels gleaming despite the waters that swirled around the ships. It was onboard the lead SD, RSS Illustrious, that the commander of this armada stood, rain pealing down onto the decks of the vessel. Rear-Admiral Hugh Yardsmouth, veteran of the Civil War, stood on the deck of the Illustrious and looked through the pair of high-powered binoculars that he held in his hands. He peered again, but could see nothing but windswept seas and huge, rolling waves.

He paused for a moment, letting the rain soak into him, through his whole body, before moving back into the relative safety of the Command Module of the SD. He took his hat and waterproofs off, handing the to an aide, before moving to a transparent map table positioned in the middle of the cramped area. Yardsmouth looked at the map for a second, digital figures constantly changing, before turning to the men and women of his staff. "We're sure that they're there?" he asked shortly.

There came a chorus of agreements and nodding from his staff. Yardsmouth clasped his hands behind his back and looked out to sea for a moment more. It was a momentous decision, his; with one word, he would unleash the firepower of this entire taskforce on the enemy. Hundreds of thousands would be killed, even more wounded. He grimaced, but turned; there was nothing to do but fight and try and win. He looked at his staff.

"Execute"

With that single word, hell was unleashed on the Freudotopian fleet. From the wet, slippery decks of the Carriers and Supercarriers were launched more than seven hundred fighters, fighter-bombers and conventional bombers. This huge aerial force took off in the wind and rain and, within an hour had reached their launching points. As the fighters took up positon above and in front to prevent an ambush, the other aircraft launched their payloads at the enemy fleet. Thousands of Anti-shipping and heavier missiles were launched at the Freudotopians, dropping down to sea-level and skimming the waves there, heading straight for the enemy vessels.

As the aircraft launched their payloads and began to return to the carriers to reload for another strike, under the freezing, murky waters the next stage of the Skinnian assault began. Twenty-five Seawolf and Virginia-Class SSNs launched more than six hundred Broadsword and Silver missiles shot out of the flooded tubes and moved slowly to the surface of the raging waters. There, they blew their ballast and fired, motors causing steam to appear everywhere before launching into the sky. They flew for a second before coming down to wave-top level and skimmed the waters as they headed for the enemy fleet. As they moved, they would initiate randomised po-up and other manouvers that would make interception more difficult before detonating. With this done, the submarines moved forward into the murkey waters and prepared to fire conventional Bayonet torpedoes; they would fire as soon as the first missile wave hit, but would stay out of range until then.

Finally, as the thousands of missiles streaked towards the enemy vessels, the massive guns of the SDs began to move into position. Soon the two fleets would come into firing range, and then the mighty weapons would unsleah their own style of warfare...

OOC: Taldaan, I saw you said that your ships would be vulnerable to “any few missiles that the enemy had left”. Just so we’re clear...the Pandemonium II missiles from before are only carried by submarines, and there’s more where they came from, at that. The various cruisers, missile cruisers, destroyers, frigates, etc of the fleet hasn’t fired a shot yet, having had lots of time to reload since the end of the battle with Czardas’s fleet way back when. I just can’t use them until you advance closer, as you’re 690 km away at last count. So...have at it.

IC: Striding to the tactical display, High Admiral Anor looked around at the various officers controlling it. “What are the estimated losses to the Taldaani fleet?”

“Less than fifteen ships sunk, Admiral,” one replied. “Around twelve, to be exact. Mostly smaller ships; destroyers and frigates, but at least one carrier has been damaged. Possibly enough to incapacitate them. Time will tell, sir.”

Anor raised his eyebrows at the temerity of the man, telling him to wait. He was about to remind this officer how things worked in the Imperial fleet when another officer walked up, bowed hurriedly, and recited, “High Admiral, we have 126 contacts from the Taldaani super-dreadnaughts. Shells, sir. Estimates of the size are from 22 to 24 inches.”

“Very good,” Anor replied, waving the man back to his station. “Have the Balefires do their best to intercept with cannons only. No missiles. Afterwards, have them begin returning to the carriers in staggered order. I want them refueled and rearmed. Outer screen is to fire at will.”

Seconds later, the destroyers, frigates, and a few missile cruisers that made up the outer screen of ships opened fire. AA guns hurled “shredder” rounds at the shells; essentially oversized tungsten-alloy bullets with teeth. These rounds were spun extremely fast on leaving the barrel, and coupled with their speed and density, could tear through missiles and many shells like a hot poker through butter. This deadly metallic storm spun outwards from ships, as missiles streaked from launchers, whether the Tsunami missiles of frigates or the Umbra short-range missiles from missile cruisers. Dozens of the shells were torn apart by swarms of the shredders, or crumpled by missiles, but many kept coming, met finally by a barrage of fire from point-defense guns, their incredible rates of fire functioning similarly to the shredders. And yet, for all that, 24-inch shells were, to say the least, resilient. Two slammed into a missile cruiser, which exploded, killing the crew. The outer screen withered slightly as ships sunk or crumpled beneath the sheer mass of the shells. More shells penetrated to the inner circles of the fleet, setting a battleship’s stern decks on fire. Two more shells were blasted apart by a super-dreadnaught, while a third struck it, damaging the ship and immobilizing it for the time being. In all, six destroyers, two missile cruisers, three frigates, and two cruisers were sunk, with a super-dreadnaught and two battleships undergoing fire-control and repair.

The Victorious, however, had escaped damage. On its bridge, damage reports flooded in, and Ludo Anor listened to them impassively. The Taldaani fleet had drawn blood, but the losses were irrelevant.

Far more interesting to him were the drones reported to be probing the edges of the minefields, and literally shouting their position to him. It was an interesting dilemma. They posed some sort of threat, but the fact that they were begging to be destroyed intrigued him, and Anor wondered about the wisdom of simply destroying them with all speed. There were three likely possibilities he saw. One, they were traps, and would attempt to destroy anything that came near them, to guard a Taldaani advance. Two, they were spies, reporting on the minefield, to facilitate a Taldaani advance. Three, they were just making noise to cover for a Taldaani advance.

Anor’s paranoid mind spun out possibilities, most of them connected to a probable enemy offensive. He thought, while damage-control systems worked on the damaged vessels, and aircraft were rearmed on the carriers. The question still remained: what to do about the drones? They would no doubt obtain valuable information even by their destruction; they might discover the channels through the field...but there was nothing to be done. Ships dispatched to get there would have to come through the channels, obviously, and thus the drones would have their job done for them simply by transmitting the route the Imperial ship had taken. The only thing to do was ignore them, and let the mines take them out. Meanwhile, Anor ordered ten attack submarines to be dispatched to the mouth of each channel on the side closest to the Imperial fleet. Any ships coming through the channels would be met by an ambush force that could sink many ships before the Taldaanis even knew what had hit them.

OOC: Sorry, this was rushed. It's also kind of secretive...

IC:As Lord Rahvin gazed out at the first glimmerings of dawn, a dawn in which the battle still hung in the balance, he reached for a phone. Opening a secure line to the Victorious, he instructed High Admiral Anor to send a special cargo to the rear base of the Legions. At the same time, he ordered the 16 stealth bombers to withdraw and land at the same makeshift airfield as the cargo transports.

Time to kick out the jams.

[ooc:] Hog, Skinny, feel free to insert one or more of your officers into this meeting if you’d like and offer suggestions, or anything.

[ic:]

Port Khûfi Military Base, Czardas

The Brigadier General in charge of the base, Frederick Milan, feels a faint twinge of uneasiness as he nears the briefing room in the central base. He has learned to rely on his intuition. For many years it has served him well: during the Scellian War, the Amyntos incident, even the War of Imperial Aggression as many Czardaians knew it—and now he feels it again, warning him against something.

As soon as he steps into the room where the five-star officer, General Ezekiel Shaestri, is waiting along with several aides, he knows something is wrong. The tactical display in front of him is a typical one, showing Czardaian forces in green, allied forces in blue, and enemy forces in red.

One of the aides says, “We’re glad you could come, Brigadier General, and we thought you should see these reports.”

“All right then.” Milan turns to the tactical display, watching the roiling mass of red Freudian vessels off the Czardaian coast, and the Skinnies engaging them, in blue. “What is it?”

“As far as we can tell, the Skinny87 forces here appear to be rather heavily outnumbered here. They have deployed only three superdreadnought-class vessels to over twenty similar Freudian ships, and approximately four hundred escorts and submergibles to some fourteen hundred or more on the Freudian side. While I do not doubt the Skinnies’ ability to hold their own in naval combat—” the aide smiles— “they could still do with some support, so we’d recommend helping out a bit.”

“All right.” Milan smiles too and flips open his satellite cell phone, speaking a few words in a low tone, and then shuts it. “But that wasn’t why I was called here, was it?”

“Well… no, sir.” The aide turns to another part of the display. “Despite all the action going on around here—Czarna, Port Khûfi, and such—we couldn’t help but notice a lot of activity taking place along the Aurdanian spit, apparently by Imperial forces.”

Milan looked carefully. “Hmmm… they have deployed several thousand troops to the area, even though the city and surrounding area was razed to the ground…Switch it to satellite with IR overlay.”

The display switches abruptly, zooming in closer thanks to a swift manipulation of the controls by some hidden tech, somewhere. The blackened and ruined craters of the upper spit come into view, and between the battles raging off the coast are several faint but distinct IR trails left in the wake of submarines and their heat-emitting engines, the subs themselves long gone…

Milan feels his blood run cold and panic begins to rise in him as he says, “Feed back all the sat displays for T-minus forty-eight, northern spit.”

Close-in pictures à la Google Earth begin to show in accelerated motion, the Imperial troops arriving, explosions, then the submarines appearing and disappearing rapidly… Milan comprehends what he is watching a moment after it appears and sits up after transport planes flash across the screen, very alertly.

“Wait. What was that? Take it back a few frames and zoom closer.”

Milan watches, transfixed, as the shots show transport planes paradropping large, bulky packages into the holes created by explosions at the site of the now ravaged city…the submarines departing, leaving their trails behind as they vanish into the cold depths… What were those packages? Explosives? No… the Imperial troops had plenty of those. Tanks or other vehicles? The number already in Czardas was massive; more were not needed. Weapons of some sort? The Imperial troops would have brought them with them earlier if so, not requiring the appearance of mysterious stealth submarines.

Then, with a sickening feeling, he realizes. Zooming out, he overlays a map of the prewar spit. The site of Imperial excavations and the paradrop corresponds exactly to the former location of the ANCC and the CAMERA headquarters.

Flipping open his satellite phone, he says, “Get me Airya Wong, yesterday. And pick up reports on all computer activity detected along the Aurdanian Spit.”

CAMERA III, Port Khûfi

The thousands upon thousands of missile/torpedo launchers slowly begin to rotate along Z axis, ascending to an angle of some 45º. As per Milan’s pre-recorded orders, missiles begin to slide into the launchers, AX-2 and A/iX-17 missiles, the same types used against Freudian shipping earlier. Twenty thousand launchers spit AX-2 missiles into the air, their course preprogrammed to avoid the Skinnian fleet; another eighteen thousand and four hundred fire A/iX-17s. The total of 38,400 missiles rockets through protective bubble sheaths out of the launchers and into the air, ascending with a great rush of noise before entering their respective trajectories, the AX-2s arching down with a shell-like screech clear of all Skinnian shipping and detonating to release their real cargo, a single keelbreaker torpedo each; the torpedoes descend in a reverse arch, then coming up under the hulls of the targets with an estimated reaction time of five seconds or less following the detonation of the missile “carriers”.

Meanwhile the A/iX-17s enter their eerie flameless main stage, shooting through the upper atmosphere at Mach 2.7, before descending down upon their targets with ear-shattering noise, reaching terminal velocities of Mach 9—far too fast for a missile or gun to intercept. The Freudian fleet will have its metaphorical hands full tonight.

[Secret IC:] Dorándor, Czardas

The man sent out to bring the message to the Doomies failed to return, and now Petrus Kristofski has a mission. Searching among his disorganized desk, he finds old unpaid bills, letters from his family, business cards of telemarketers… but not what he is looking for.

Kristofski ignores the file cabinet, which contains nothing useful, and the safe, likewise. He ends up in the spacious library of his small townhouse, looking for the books on Roman Catholicism. When he comes to that section of his bookcase, he runs his finger along the high shelf, looking for The Book. Passing several copies of the various versions of the Bible, a history of Christianity in Czardas, pamphlets by the Dorandor Christian Front advocating for the throwing out of the heathens in charge of the country, and such, he finally discovers what he is looking for.

The Book is small and black, about 20cm x 12.5cm, and gives no title, author, or subject. It simply begins with a stream of words that Kristofski barely glances at. He flips to the back, where one of the pages has something stapled to it. Glancing only at this page, he nods, then descends to the kitchen and makes himself a cup of coffee.

A short time later, mug in hand, at his computer screen, Kristofski picks up his cellular telephone, carefully routes the call through several dozen countries and satellites to make it virtually untrackable, and then punches a few buttons. He has been in touch with the Doomies, and they ought to have told the Warmasterians about him and his resistance plans… indeed he doubts he'd have Lord Rahvins personal cell phone if they hadn't... but one never knows, and that is why he has taken his precautions.

He takes a deep breath as it rings and waits for the Lord Rahvin to answer.

[ooc #2:] Battle of Czarna coming soon, I promise.

[OOC: Warning, bad language]

Port Khufi Military Base

The sound of tank engines and the squealing of tracks that had not been recently oiled attempted to drown out the sound of Major-General Yarmouth as he replied to the Czardian officers briefing. He turned to the tactical map that was constantly updating with fresh information. Taking the cigarillo from his mouth, Yarmouth tapped the blue symbols that represented Rear-Admiral Yardsmouth's forces.

"Our naval forces have taken the offensive, launching carrier-based airstrikes at the enemy fleets, as well as submarine-launched heavy anti-shipping missiles. As y'all can see, the missiles are at this moment streaking towards the Freudotopian fleets, and when they hit they'l be joined by two more waves of airstrikes, torpedoes and conventional guns from the SuperDreadnoughts and other vessels.

"We'll do our level best to hit them with everything we've got, and hurt them, but I'll be honest here with you gentlemen" - Yarmouth droped the cigarillo on the flor and stamped on it - "We are not a naval superpower, and we weren't epecting such numbers from the Freudtopians. I can't se us winning on our own now. That of course is where your forces come in. Between us, we may be able to blunt their forces enough to make 'em pause for breath.

"That should buy you enough time to launch your fancy CAMERA systems, and give our defenses enough time to finalise their preparations. If those sonofabitches land here, they'll pay for every inch of ground, lemme assure you of that." Yarmouth paused and stared out of the room, as if looking through the wall and at the outside. "Only way they'll get this Port is when they pry the rifle from the last of my people and blow up the last tank; they'll bleed for it gentlemen, don't you worry 'bout that..."

Tyriandor - Ground - Urban Defense Perimeter

The map that was scrawled on the ground had neat little lines marked on it, each one in a different colour and each with its boundaries and obscure lettering. According to the piece of thick paper, the factory that Sergeant Antony Franklin and the men under his command were sheltering in from the ever-present Bandurian artillery was 'Point Baker-Two' of the Urban Defense Perimeter. Placing half of a brick on the edge of the small map, Franklin peeked over the edge of the broken wall that he was crouching by, and scanned the area before him quickly, before crouching down again.

He spat in the dirt, then rubbed a grimy hand over an even grimier face. The action did little to improve his looks, as his friend Corporal Ben Champion reminded him a second later. "Christ Antony, you look like one of the poor bastards we dragged out of the ruins of the smelting irons this morning." Champion said as he moved next to Franklin and passed him his canteen, unscrewing the threaded cap as he did so.

Franklin grunted and decided not to deign the remark with a reply; his throat was parched from breathing in the thick dust that seemed ever-present in the factory. He grabbed the canteen greatfully and placed it at his lips. He swallowed the fresh water with a greedy series of gulps, then poured a little into his hands and splashd it on his face, finally removing some of the ingrained dirt and dust present there.

He screwed the cap back on the canteen and handed it back to Champion, before nodding to his left. "Are those tankies still there?" Champion nodded. "Yeah, they've moved up to the other factory ruins and positioned the tank company there, or there abouts anyway. Thank god those reinforcements got here in time. A few more pushes and they would've broken us in two and taken the whole city. As it is now, we've got tanks an' trucks and god knows how many coalition troops in the city that I doubt we'll ever get shifted out."

Franklin raised an eyebrow at his friends impassioned words. He said nothing for a few moment, pulling the magazine out of his M-8 rifle and checking it for dud rounds. Satisfied that there were none present, he clicked the magazine back into position and cycled the bolt once. It gave a dull click, and Franklin put the weapon back down onto the floor. He looked at Champion. "That's true, but the Bandurians are still on the beaches...somewhere. Word's coming down from on high that in a day or so those armoured boys are gonna earn their pay for once. Gonna storm the beaches and wipe the buggers out in one push hopefully. Airforce'll probably go along with 'em to kep them company and take care of the fleet out there. And guess who the poor bastards are who'll have to dig those fanatics of theirs out of their positions. You, and me, and everyone else here."

Champion nodded sagely, then looked upwards as a sonic boom sounded overhead. The forms of dozens of coalition aircraft could be made out, pasing over the frontlines and towards the enemy. The battle for reinforcements had been won, and Tyriandor held...but the Bandurians still ha to be turfed out once and for all. That would take time...and blood.

Milan nods thoughtfully. "Major-General, we're no naval superpower ourselves... I certainly understand. As I speak we are preparing a missile strike from CAMERA to discourage the Freudotopians. However, I've just been informed of a few important developments. The following message was received by one of our overseas fleets."

>>> Transmission to Czardaian Fleet:

We humbly request permission to join forces with you to escort you into Czardaian waters. The MIRNa has a total of 371 combat vessels at its disposal, and we feel that we could bolster your combat capabilities immensely and ensure a safe link up with the Woodstock Pact fleets currently attacking the CAD imperialists.

Respectfully and in friendship,
Fleet Admiral Sir Alexander Lloyd
MIRS Foxhound, Task Force 125 <<<

"While we've never heard of these Mauvasians before, they appear to be offering aid, and in conjunction with the eighty-something vessels they're proposing to join forces with—including the Salvatore prototypes, and several new battleships just purchased from QAE—we could hit the Freudians from the other side and, in short, wipe them out," Milan says. "It'd just be your task, and ours, to try to hold them back until reinforcements arrive, which will be several hours at the very least... but I hope we can last long enough to take the edge off their attacks."

Milan sits down once more as transmitters pick up the faint, heavily encrypted signal from the Czardaian lead prototype, the BBVN-1 Solace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~
Transmission to Mauvasian Fleet [Encrypted]:

We are delighted to hear of your offer of aid and will join with Task Force 125's vessels to help destroy the Imperial fleets. I have been informed that the best course would be to aid the Skinnian Fleet against the Freudotopian Navy, and thus it would be best for the combined fleet group to deploy in a south-easterly direction, in order to be able to strike at the enemy within four hours.

~ BBVN-1 Solace, Czardaian Prototype Fleet, IV
~ BBAN-4 Washougal, Czardaian Prototype Fleet, V
~~~~~~~~~~~~

[ooc:] No time now. I'll be back for a Battle of Czarna post etc. after lunch. Sorry Warmaster.

[OOC: Fleet composition (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=10703922#post10703922).]

Fleet Admiral Lloyd was alert and at the proper station for once when the message from Czardas came in. Barely waiting for the radio operator, he seized the message himself and read it through twice, before nodding crisply and putting it aside. Turning to the XO, he said, "Have the fleet move up and join forces with the Czardaians while setting a due course for the following co-ordinates."

He named the appproximate co-ordinates of Port Khufi.

Fierman turned back to Lloyd in protest. "But sir, there's a rather large enemy fleet blocking the way to those co-ordinates..."

"Just do it, ensign." Lloyd sounded mildly irritated, and Fierman hurried to broadcast the message to the rest of the fleet. Once alone in his officer's quarters, Lloyd punched a button on his comlink and the face of Rear Admiral Fraser flickered into view.

"Admiral. Do you copy the location of the enemy fleet outside Khufi?" Lloyd asked.

"Yes, sir, I do," Fraser answered hesitantly.

"Estimate, if you will, the probable chances of our defeating them."

Fraser began to speak as he searched the computer records. "The fleet appears to contain slightly over a thousand combat vessels, IFF Freudotopia. In a direct conflict, the probability of victory for the MIRNa Taskforce 125 is estimated at 20%, with a margin of error of up to four percentage points." He took a deep breath. "However, as the said fleet is currently engaging Skinny87 and Czardaian forces, the chances of victory increase somewhat to 37%, with a similar margin of error. If the Czardaians utilise their missile defence grid as well, this may increase further, although we are not sure of its total strength."

"I see," Lloyd said. He glanced at his own computer and the satellite printouts, then punched another button, which broadcasted the message he was about to speak to the rest of the fleet. "Well, sir, at the moment we're completing the incorporation of the Czardaian fleet group and preparing to attack the Freudians in order to blaze a path through to the port city... and I have just one thing to say to all of you.

"This isn't going to be easy for any of us. We have Skinnies and Czardaians on our side, but let's face it... we've never used these ships before, and we're going up against nations that revolve around militarism. But we're going to keep fighting until the last bit of Mauvasian wreckage is sitting at the bottom of the sea. I want every one of you to do your best, and that's an order.

"We're going to make sure that no imperialist or warmonger will ever set foot on democratic soil... It's time to show them that democracy isn't all endless talk and inefficiency." Several officers and seamen tittered slightly at the irony, but the vast majority remained stonily silent. "And... well... Reactor crews—full power."

Expecting some kind of eloquent flourish, there was a momentary deathly silence before the reactor crews sprang into action as the cheering began once more, starting near-silently before ascending in a crescendo of sound, Mauvasian flags fluttering as the MIRAF planes began to take off from the carriers with the fleet, first just a few of them rocketing into the air, then dozens more. Within minutes the sky was a swarm of Raptors, JSFs, B-52s, and B-1Rs flying alongside F-21 Coronets, F-20 Valkyries, A-3 Sky Sharks, and R-15 Dragons as the massive aerial force contained on all twenty-four carriers ascended towards 50,000 feet, a sonic boom rattling the ships below as the planes hit mach.

The fleet was closing towards the Freudotopian fleet, which was still some 700+ km away, but the aerial strike would come first. With the aid of radar-jamming, the planes would also remain nearly undetectable until they were several hundred kilometres closer. By which time, of course, it could be too late.

Through the darkening sky and hammering rain, the planes kept onwards, driving an inexorable path to destruction. But it was the destruction of the enemy.

Fleet Admiral Sir Alexander Lloyd smiled grimly as he watched them. Soon the two fleets would be within missile range to launch a strike at the Freudotopians.

And about time too.

OOC: No time for a reply now, but just so you know, Czardas, I'm working on it. So nobody doubt my activity.

[ooc:] WARNING! Incredibly long post here.

[ic:]

Joint Task Force

The Czardaian ships begin to pick up speed as well, joining with the Mauvasian armada as the joint fleet heads for Port Khûfi. Alongside the Mauvasian aircraft launch the Czardaians too release their planes. VTOL Daggers and STOVL Peregrines and Blue Jays begin taking off, the catapults tossing planes into the air as the strike fighters take off from the ramps. Meanwhile, the Mk. 110 VLS systems of the four prototypes spew forth all 50 drones each, ejecting them into the sky like missiles. More drones take off from the six massive battleships in the fleet, as ASW helicopters join the whirring noise, a massive air fleet uniting.

The prototypes carry a total of 320 Daggers, which ascend towards 80,000 feet, high above the rest of the aircrafts. 120 Peregrines and 120 Blue Jays join them, each armed with deadly air-to-air ordnance to turn back enemy air attacks. Even a few Striker Light Bombers are in the air tonight, armed with a terrifying array of ordnance for their size.

But the real punch will come from the two hundred drones buzzing through the air.

Each one is literally packed with bombs and explosives, some cluster munitions designed to knock out sensors to facilitate shipborne destruction, some heavy tungsten penetrators for punching through flight deck armor, some regular ordnance for causing further destruction... Each one is also a kamikaze; once out of ordnance the drone will plunge from the sky at speeds exceeding Mach 6, causing about as much damage as an average 711mm shell...

All 800-odd aircrafts are rapidly approaching the enemy now, and they are not the only ones.

From the other side, a massive force of six groups of Czardaian aircraft, 2304 planes in all, is now joining the Skinnian planes as they launch their missiles towards the Freudian fleet. The air force contains no fewer than 48 Hailstorms and 576 Strikers, and these prepare to unleash their own anti-shipping missiles and bombs upon reaching range. Dashing at supersonic speeds towards the enemy, they will catch up to the Skinnies within minutes... and with a quartet of Chimaeras patrolling the skies behind the fleet, SAMs will be useless.

Through the grey dawn and blizzards now coating most of Czardas, the planes roar triumphantly through the sky, prepared to do what they have always done, fight. And fight they will.

Revenge is sweet.

Czarna, Czardas. Dawn.

Slowly, inexorably... as though it was meant to be... Through the rushing snow she watches, an injured soldier, cringing at every blast of pain shooting through her limbs... Thrown hurriedly behind a blasted bush, she watches.

Parthian and Imperial troops advance side by side now upon the city, Czardaians falling now like the encroaching snowflakes... She hears the calls to regroup, and then she turns her head with a spurt of pain, towards the sky...

Somewhere, amid the snow, she sees the faint orange glow of rainclouds, and the faint pinks and purples of dawn... a new era is soon to dawn, of what type none can say. And there are planes, Czardaian planes, with the last of their fuel still unloading bombs upon the enemy, before hurtling down in a last desperate drop, sending up massive explosions among the enemy... Artillery shells whistle through the air and the noise of battle is overwhelming.

But suddenly, and abruptly, she feels a sense of inexorable calm, of clarity... She knows now she is going to die. As she always knew. But there is, perhaps, a life beyond death, an immortality in obscurity. She tries to rise to her feet, feeling no pain, but is merely restrained by a kindly hand. She takes a last strained look towards the walls of Czarna where Czardaian troops now man their positions, the barrage of mortar rounds, machinegun slugs, and artillery shells intensifying swiftly as there is no longer a danger of friendly fire...

Then with a sigh of contentment she watches the sky once more, snow descending around her now in the early morning light, obscuring everything behind walls of white, until it is no longer snow, but merely whiteness... an absence of color that is all colors...

She never feels the heavy boot of the first Immortal in line as it snaps her neck.

***

Lieutenant-Colonel Freeman is worried.

Not that he has any reason not to be. Czarna cannot hold out much longer, and the additional troops requested from Mariosz may take hours to arrive... allied troops, perhaps longer. But he is no longer worried about the big scheme of things; only the moment-to-moment existence matters now, everything else distantly hidden beneath the swirling walls of snow.

He is worried because he is out of salt crackers. Worse, no-one in the squad has any either, and Freeman is starving. He is also deathly tired, but he has learned to dull that. Hunger is omnipresent.

In frustration Freeman calls over the nearest Private and says, "You're sure you've searched the whole house?"

"Yes, sir," says the Private tartly, "unless you want to eat rats." He holds up an animal carcass.

"Rats are private fodder," Freeman retorts. "Officers get at least crow."

The Private chuckles wryly. "All right then. Morty, you got a match?"

Freeman turns back to the window, aiming his SMG for practice. He is in charge of the neighborhood, its ruined houses serving as cover. Somewhere along the walls, the real fight is going on as the Imperial advance is stalled. But for how long?

Alarm klaxons break out as Freeman's radio buzzes. "Lt-Col, we've just had reports from the west gate... A fist of heavy infantry's broken through and they're heading your way, fast. Get your troops to man all defensive positions, and blow those fucktards to hell. Got it?"

"Yes, sir!" Freeman responds, then turns to his men, who are unsuccessfully trying to light a fire under the dead rat. "Have all squads hit the defenses, now."

The salutes are repeated as, from houses lining the streets around the east gate, a firestorm rains down upon the Immortals gathering there. But even as Freeman's troops exchange fire, more and more calls come across the radio chatter.

"Breach in the north wall!"

"Legionaries at the gates!"

"We've lost contact with most of the eastern positions!"

"Parthians hitting the west!"

Freeman grits his teeth. Czarna is a massive city, but with the equally massive number of troops approaching it, the positions within the city will undoubtedly be overrun.

The 2.6 million troops engaging the Imperial forces have been joined by thousands of volunteers and even more reservists, all able-bodied men and women choosing to remain behind to fight, rather than joining the masses leaving Czarna for the USNSEA, Adarion, Kahanistan, Sarzonia... anywhere within reach. Freeman's block is swelled by several hundreds trooping in from the streets, some with nothing but their dated weapons and hatred for the enemy...

Legionaries now rush through a breach in the wall, and Freeman and the squads under his control begin raining down fire upon them, but there is only one way it all can end. Overlords and Scorpions fire their main guns as hidden missile launchers send missiles hurtling into the midst of the oncoming troops.

If the radiance of a thousand suns were to burst at once into the sky...

Freeman grits his teeth as he reloads his gun, pausing to fire an RPG in the meanwhile. He is still hungry, and between bursts he continues to search the cupboards of the abandoned house for food. Protected from the elements by an overhanging portion of the roof, Freeman rummages. Nothing. Cursing, he unloads more destruction upon the Warmasterians and Parthians before departing hastily, getting a coating of snow as he crosses into the basement of the next building over while mortar rounds impact around him.

Then he gives a cry of delight. A dead Czardaian soldier lies here, his rations untouched. Scarfing the unidentified protein source, stale form of carbohydrates, and chocolate, he feels his strength returning. Now he can truly lead the battle against the invaders. However, he also discovers something else: a large stash of an unidentified drug hidden in the man's shoe. Further investigation reveals huge baskets of it hidden in the basement itself, the home of one of the top drug dealers in Czardas, as Freeman soon discovers. Freeman ingests a little bit and his life begins to change.

...that would be like unto the splendor of the Mighty One...

"We've lost contact with the eastern positions."

"Legionaries broaching the river gates."

"Parthian troops hitting the south."

Freeman's radio continues to buzz, but he is no longer listening. He feels now much like one of the Imperial troops. There is no longer anything but war and death, and his sole purpose is to fight it. The Lt. Col. returns to battle now, unloading clip after clip into the enemy, as his troops share in the stash, then passing the word (and baskets) along. Soon the Czardaians fighting are just as crazed as their adversaries, or more so. They fire again and again. Freeman loses contact with building after building as the fierce house-to-house fighting progresses, but he no longer cares.

Someone, somewhere, knows that the Western Positions of Czarna were always doomed, and that is why that someone has ordered the line of tanks to move to form a blockade, beyond Imperial artillery range, to block the enemy from coming any further. This, itself, beyond the wall of dead bodies, Imperial and Czardaian, already forming somewhere between the enemy and the Czardaian.

...I am become Death...

"Lieutenant-Colonel Freeman, do you read me? Lieutenant-Colonel Freeman?"

Dimly Freeman is aware of his name being called, but he is not listening. There is only the joy of the fight, the joy of blood. There is only death, death amidst life, or both. There is everything and nothing. As the commander of most of western Czarna begins to lose his grip on reality, the battle spins into an everlasting void, a funnel of destruction, a maddening pinwheel of light and sound, of grey within color. Colors within colors. White. Eternity....

"Lieutenant-Colonel Freeman!!!"

...The shatterer of Worlds....

Admiral Marcus Krimmiel whirled around at a shout from the communications officer.

“Admiral! Radar and satellite feeds show approaching ships, sir.”

“Nationality?”

“Skinnian, sir. At their present speed, they will intercept us in less than an hour.”

“How many?”

“Satellite indicates over four hundred, sir.”

“Makeup?”

“Plenty of capital ships, sir. Frigates, destroyers, cruisers, and battleships, plus three superdreadnaughts.”

“Your analysis, lieutenant?”

“We should be able to handle them without too much trouble, Admiral.”

“Thank you. Inform Fleet Command that we are about to engage the enemy, and sound a general battle alert. I want the whole fleet ready for action as soon as possible.”

So saying, Krimmiel turned back to the central command station, keyed on his microphone, and began relaying orders to his flagship, the supercarrier Pride of Hudson. His bridge crew began formulating strategies and contingency plans, calculating ammunition levels and firepower ratios. The ship quickly became abuzz with activity.

The massive fleet of Task Force Undertaker drifted into a diamond formation, with the superdreadnaughts in the lead, battleship and cruisers on the front wings, frigates and destroyers on the flanks, carriers and supercarriers bringing up the rear. As soon as they were in position, Krimmiel signaled for a missile launch. The capital ships opened fire immediately. The twenty superdreadnaughts led the barrage, spewing forth hundreds of missiles from every launcher on board. The fleet launched 7,200 AIM-20 StS missiles, which sped into the sky, each with a slightly different trajectory. Some flew in a high, arcing path, others skimmed the waves. All of them were programmed to reach the fleet within seconds of each other.

Satisfied that the initial missile wave was well away, Krimmiel contacted the captains of the carriers in the fleet.

“Gentlemen, I want you to launch 700 of the Vulture helicopters. I’m sure that the enemy will be using submarines to try to take us by surprise. We will not give them the satisfaction. They will move out on a wide, low patrol, on submarine detection and destruction duty. Make sure that each one is equipped with depth charges and sonar buoys. Deploy all the attack subs and torpedo boats in a defensive net. Authorize them to fire at will.”

After receiving acknowledgements, Krimmiel turned to the front window of the bridge just in time to see the last missile disappear over the horizon. He reflected that the coming battle was only a small step on the path to Port Khufi. His thoughts were interrupted by the comms officer again.

“Admiral, radar shows that the enemy fleet is launching aircraft. Should we scramble the F-24s and F-26s?”

“Immediately, lieutenant. I want 700 F-24s to guard the fleet. Have 800 F-24s and the entire 110th intercept enemy aircraft.”

“The entire 110th, sir?”

“Indeed. I want to end the air battle as soon as possible so we can get their fleet in range of the big guns of the superdreadnaughts.”

“I’ll see to it at once, sir.”

On the flight decks of every carrier and supercarrier in the fleet, pilots scrambled to their aircraft. Colonel Igor Vesliyec, commander of the 110th fighter wing, jumped into the cockpit of his XF-9 Golden Eagle fighter and primed the engines for takeoff. His group of 450 aircraft was the most decorated fighter wing in the CAD. He taxied his plane into position, and waited as the ship’s crew readied the catapult. After a few seconds, he received the go signal, and opened the throttle. The catapult hurled the plane forward and he pulled back on the joystick, pulling up and away from the Pride of Hudson. He circled for several minutes before his entire wing was up, and then he assumed his position in the middle of a large delta formation, leading his group towards the enemy. As soon as they were clear of the fleet, the 110th dropped their altitude rapidly, until they were skimming barely a hundred feet above the water.

Meanwhile, the F-24s circled above the fleet, flying in groups of three. The defensive pattern extended from the front of the fleet for several miles, all monitored by the powerful aircraft control computers onboard the supercarriers. At a moment’s notice, the flight officers on the huge supercarriers could order planes to attack and defend specific targets, move to coordinates with pinpoint accuracy, and coordinate missile launches.

The F-26 fighters shot straight forward at maximum speed, ready to open fire as soon as the enemy aircraft were in range. Their commander, Captain Jonathan Edwards, relayed orders to the group.

“All right, lads, typical intercept-envelop-eliminate tactics. We launch Starling missiles on my mark, then the wings pivot forward to encircle the enemy. Try to get as far behind them as you can before you swing in and attack. Target the bombers. Center group, our goal is to smash through their formation and destroy as many planes as possible. Remember, the Golden Eagles will swarm from below and pick off the bombers. We just have to keep the fighters busy. Over and out.”

At that very moment, Colonel Vesliyec was giving his own pilots their instructions.

“All units, listen up. This interception will be a standard swarm maneuver. We will come from below and attack the enemy bombers while the F-26s occupy the fighters. As soon as we’re in range, everyone will launch two Snakebite AAMs and close the distance as soon as possible. Stay in formation until I give the order to break up. Remember, if the enemy retreats, get behind them if you can. Herd the bombers and fighter bombers back towards our fleet, so the interceptors and ship defenses can finish the enemy off. Understood?”

All his officers signaled affirmatives. He tightened his grip on the joystick and prepared for the sudden climb.

Back on the Pride of Hudson, infrared satellite feeds showed missile launches from a position far ahead of the main Skinnian fleet. Admiral Krimmiel was alerted and sent out the necessary instructions to his own attack submarines and torpedo boats.

“All subs and picket ships, remain on alert. Stay in defensive formation. Judging from the pattern of these missile launches, we predict no more than thirty-five enemy submarines approaching your coordinates, possibly fewer. We are moving the main fleet forward to support you, but I have every confidence that you can deal with them on your own. Krimmiel out.”

Once his orders had been acknowledged, Krimmiel turned to address his bridge crew. “Do we have radar confirmation of those missiles yet?”

“No, sir. Judging by the satellite feeds and the lack of radar contact, I would say they launched on a low trajectory, less than fifty feet above the water, maximum.”

“Damn. Well, at least a few of them will be a bit off-course. But we won’t be able to counteract with our own missiles as effectively. Time the enemy missiles’ speed and predict a position so that we can use saturation fire to knock out most of them.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll get right on it.”

“And send word to all ships to activate and man all point defense systems. Make sure each ship has firing solutions for rockets and anti-missile shells.

“Good. Make sure to keep the fleet on high alert. The air engagement will begin any second now, and I want to make sure the Skinnians don’t use it as a distraction. We will catch any surprise attacks early. Do I make myself clear?”

A chorus of “very clear, Admiral” came back at him from every officer on the bridge.

The guns of the superdreadnaughts, battleships, and cruisers opened up, launching CM-12 anti-missile guided rockets. Rather than targeting the individual missiles, which would have been all but impossible, the rockets were fired at a fixed position, a position most of the enemy missiles would pass through at about the same time as the rockets exploded. Each rocket carried a powerful explosive charge that maximized the area of the blast rather than its power, and also spread magnetic chaff and conventional flares over a wide area, for the purpose of knocking any surviving missiles off course.

As Admiral Krimmiel was organizing the fleet’s defense, Captain Edwards and Colonel Vesliyec led their air squadrons at the foe.

“Coming in fast, Ace-1! Looks like fighters in front,” reported one of Edward’s wingmates.

“Roger that, Ace-3. Launch Starlings on my mark. Three…two…one…fire!”

The F-26s released their deadly cargo and continued on a straight line for the enemy air force. Eight hundred Starling air-to-air missiles locked onto their targets and accelerated. Close behind were the F-26 fighters, ready to lay waste with rapid-fire rockets and machine-guns once the enemy planes broke formation.

Far below, Vesliyec gave his pilots the order.

“Pulling up…now. Repeat, all fighters begin climb. Prepare to launch Snakebite AAMs on my count: four…three…two…one…fire missiles! Now punch in maximum speed. Stay in formation and prime your close range weaponry! Give those enemy bombers everything you’ve got.”

The XF-9s blazed upward, flying at an 80 degree angle. Nine hundred Snakebite AAMs blasted towards the Skinnian bombers and fighter-bombers, closing at alarming speed.

“Yee-haw! Let’s go get ’em, boys,” someone yelled into the radio. Tightening his grip on the joystick, Vesliyec didn’t bother to reprimand whoever it was. He maintained a more professional veneer, but he knew exactly how his men felt. It was go time.


OOC: So that’s 7200 missiles fired at the main fleet, 800 at the fighters, and 900 at the heavier planes.

EDIT: No off-course missiles.

Oh, and a fleet list. I can also post an aircraft list if you need/want it. Of course, you wouldn’t know aircraft reserve levels IC, and neither would I, for obvious reasons. I have quite a few planes stashed, just in case.

1440 warships total

20 Enlightenment-Class Supercarriers

20 Inexorable-Class Superdreadnaughts

200 Emancipator-Class Carriers

300 Devastator-Class Battleships

200 Imperium-Class Cruisers

300 Legion-Class Frigates

300 Victory-Class Destroyers

100 Predator-Class Attack Submarines

100 picket ships and torpedo boats.

OOC: Czardas, I'll get a post up responding to your latest actions on Saturday.

OOC: I'll see that, and raise you two.:)

IC: Subaltern Azael Jamaane, commander of forty Immortals, shrieked in triumph. His forces, and the numberless host behind him, drove relentlessly up the hill, the earth shaking under the footsteps of the pure. War was the purification, Czarna the altar, victory their offering. And the gods accepted. This much was clear from the rivers of blood, from the trampled bodies, from the fires burning in the city, wafting the ashes of idolatry to the heavens.

Artillery shells arced over his head, blasting the Czardaian defense lines. The screams and the shouts and the explosions were a masterpiece. Lord Rahvin was truly an artist. True, countless Imperial bodies lay beneath.

What is death to the faithful?

Ascendance. A key tenet of the Imperial religion. That same urge to climb to the gods was the force propelling millions of crusaders up to the defiled city, spewing its pillars of ash and its towering fires. Snow continued to fall, making the masterpiece poetic, soft, contrasting blatantly with the dead and the dying.

On other faces of the city, Parthian and Imperial troops were unquestionably victorious. Units from squads to battalions, and some larger, hunted mercilessly through the city for the infidels, some exulting in the slaughter, others cut down by surprise defenses. The bombs raining from above were invaluable; the more of the city was destroyed, the less had to be secured. An intact city required incredible manpower to pacify; a ruin required much less.

A mortar-man targeted his squad and let fly. He managed to get out two before a tank fired, blasting limbs into the air. Scattering as best they could, his squad lost four.

What is death to the faithful?

Subaltern Azael, howling in fury, continued forward. A Czardaian blocked his way for a second. Then Azael's knife ended up in his throat, and the man fell. Withdrawing his knife, the officer waved his Immortals forward. Swinging rifle butts shattered jaws and skulls. But the advantage belonged to Parthia, and to the Legions. The front lines withered visibly as they drew nearer to the defenses, machine guns boring holes in the ranks. Bodies crowded the ground. But still, the deaths were ignored, and the Legions surged through, exulting as they fired upon the hated Czardaians. The line of battle was now indisputably, on this front at least, on the Czardaian defenses. Imperials fell, true, but it took quite a few bullets to keep a Legionary down.

Death, to the faithful, is only the sign of victory.

2nd Czardiazan Tactical Air Command En Route to Czarna

Over 3,000 planes streaked through the skies east of Czarna. They were the entirety of the Tactical Air Command Stationed in Central Czarna.

Over 192 bombers of either B-300C or B-301 models were in the vast armada of planes heading towards enemy lines. As they neared the 300km mark from their targets they activated there ECM and jamming systems, fighters circles around them prepared to intercept any enemy fighters or SAMs.

Also with the group was an armada of transports, 384 in total, they made there way to a systems of 4 remote airstrip just 175km to 225km outside the eastern part of the city, they carried the entirety of 4 heavy divisions, 2 divisions already manned the airfields along with associated SAM batteries.

The transports began to land and unload there 92,200 troops. 1/4 of the fighters stayed back to provide cover for the airfields.

The remaining fighters and the bombers and attackers continued to the 150km mark.

As they neared it 48 of the 96 B-301s opened up their bomb bay doors and released their 133 AGM-326D Buzzblade Air-Launched Anti-Radiation Missiles on the enemy SAMs or any vehicles operated Air Defence Radars, each carried a 45kg HE-Frag weapon, more then enough to take out even armored radars. This equated to a total of 6,384 Buzzblade ALARMs targeting Warmasterian and Parthian SAMs and ADVs at Mach 6 in equal numbers. After launching the bombers raised there altitudes to 80,000ft and blasted to Mach 3.5 back towards there home airfields.

Next came the third of three deadly blows, the remaining 48 B-301s opened up and fired their 95 AGM-531C Bumblebee-ER New Long-Range Tactical Air-to-Surface Missiles each for a total of 4,560 missiles. Half contained 24 20kg Anti-Armor Submunitions while the remainder contained 48 10kg Anti-Personal submunitions. They used laser fuses for air bursting and small IR and RADAR sensors for seeking out targets thus rendering shortstop type systems useless.

Finally it was the turn of the B-300Cs to strike out. Each carried 2 GDB-001'Super Nova' bomb for a total of 192, they were massive things weighing in at 30 tons and equipped with 13 ton warheads. They were equipped with rockets and wings to extend there range to 125km from 65,000ft. THey were targeted 2km from the Czardazian line.

They would dig underground and cause a massive explosione with their 26,000lbs of GSX (52 tons of TNT) each. The would hopefully create 192 125m deep and 1km wide holes, or more like a constant 1km wide trench around the city from the southwest to the north inflicting massive casualties and blocking the Imperial advance while bottling some enemy forces inside the city.

The next hammerblow to come would be from the 384 GDB-002s carried by the bombers, they were half the size of the GDB-001s. They were not targeted directly at enemies, but layed out in pattern that would bridge a gap between the gulf near Czarna and the GDB-001 trenchline. The GDB-002's would create a trench 75m deep and .5km across from the gulf to the GDB-001 trench. This would cause water to pour in from the gulf and fill the trenches, thus making the world's biggest man made moat.

Next the fighters made themselves heard. The 1,872 fighters escorting the bombers opened up on the enemy, each fired 2 AIM-509B Starshell II Long Range AAMs for a total of 3744 targeting enemy fighters bombers and attack craft. After firing they began to close range.

SAM sites from 100km to 400km away began to open up with long and medium range SAMs at the enemy planes, a total of 1,500 medium range and 1,500 long range SAMs rocketed upwards to meet the enemy planes.

Another wave of ground attacks came from both air and ground. 432 F/A-3 Dragonfly's rocketed low towards the enemy forces, as they reached the 70km mark they released their 16 Bumblebee New Tactical Air-to-Surface Missiles each for a total of 6912 missiles, half containing 120kg penetrating blast fragmentaion warheads aimed at light vehicles, SAMS, infantry, and command post. The other half contained 75kg triple HEAT warheads aimed at tanks and armored vehicles.

432 F/B-177s streamed after them, each carried 28 Bumblebee New Tactical Air-to-Surface Missiles. They each released half of there weapons, a total of 6048 missiles, and turned and tried to zoomed back to staging points near the airfields to provide fast CAS to ground troops.

The last blow to the enemy forces would come from outside of the enemy's range. 500 launchers had been positioned on rails ways and in tunnels or bunkers near the eastern border of Czardas. They contained 3 BGM-503 Arquebus Long Range Cruise Missiles each. They launches raised and turned towards the city. Suddenly all of the missiles began to roar out of there tubes. They missiles rose into the sky and reached Mach 5.4 as they streaked towards enemy command post and large troops concentrations west of Czardas. The 1500 missiles would strike at Mach 6 and carried nearly 2 tons of high explosives.

Ground Forces

All while this was happening 1,844,000 troops, over 80 divisions, amassed just 150km east, southeast of Czarna. They began to move towards Czarna and the Warmasterian flank. They had thousands of tanks and SAMs and would hopefully turn the tide of battle.
-------------------
OOC:
At Ground Forces From Bombers
6,384x Buzzblade ALARMs missiles targeting radar sources and SAMs
4,560x Bumblebee-ER NLRTASM missiles containing submunitions.
384x GDB-002s targeted from gulf to where the GDB-001s will land
192x GDB-001s 2km from Czardian front lines all the way from the southwest of city to the northern tip.
At Ground Forces From Fighters
12960x Bumblebee New Tactical Air-to-Surface Missile
At Ground Forces From Rail and Mountain Launchers
1500 BGM-503 Arquebus Long Range Cruise Missiles

At Air Forces
3744x Starshell II Long Range AAMs
3000x SAMs

OOC: To avoid confusion with the RL B-1 Lancer, I’m changing the stealth bombers’ name.

IC: Pulling off from the airbase, four of the B-6 Paladin stealth bombers soared up, the MOABs in their bays slowing them down somewhat. When they reached their target altitude, they stopped their climb, cruising over to the battlefield.

Looking down, the front lines of Imperial and Parthian troops seemed to be doing well. At perhaps a dozen points around the city, friendly forces had broken through, with heavy armor pushes straining the rest of the Czardaian line. Millions more troops waited near the base of the hill, and on the plains below, artillery hurled shell after shell into the unbroken points in the Czardaian defenses. Above, Imperial planes swooped down on the points of strongest resistance, pummeling them with smart bombs, AGMs, and a host of other fire. However, huge numbers of these planes were peeling off at maximum speed to face a new threat: Skyian aircraft, thousands of them.

The four planes, neck-and-neck, spread out, far above their target areas. The MOABs would liquidate Czardaian resistance in the outer city; they would crush buildings and flatten the places most heavily fortified against a final Imperial push. And just in time, too. It was obvious the Czardaians were on the back foot and couldn’t hold out alone much longer, but the problem was they weren’t alone. Almost two million fresh Skyian troops were on the way, along with a sizable air fleet. The millions of troops not crashing into the Czardaian lines below, however, had gotten a taste of blood, and would be sanguine at the prospect of meeting another foe, to say nothing of the Parthians. They were fierce warriors as well.

As they reached their targets, their bays opened, and one by one, six MOABs plummeted from each one. 22,000 pounds of high explosives per bomb soared on the Czardaian defenses, guided by GPS and their own sensors. A few Imperial troops would die, true, but their deaths would open the city up at last. The Czardaians might as well put out a welcome carpet; in the minds of the pilots, at least, it was effectively over. Pilots can be arrogant like that.

Meanwhile, at a considerably lower altitude, the Imperial air armada was under attack. Over six thousand enemy missiles were headed their way, and many thousands more at the Legions. Many missiles were confused by the jamming systems and ECM packages on the Imperial aircraft, but the majority continued on, only to meet storms of cannon fire and SRAAMs. This hail of fire took out thousands of missiles, but the air armada was forced to temporarily disperse, every plane twisting through evasive maneuvers. More than a dozen planes were destroyed in the first few moments, but as ECM continued to take its toll, very few were destroyed subsequently. Those closer to the ground had fired off missiles at the Skyian missiles headed for the Legions, but their capabilities were highly limited, as they were busy saving themselves.

However, the Imperial SAM batteries were aptly named; they were much more than a simply rack of anti-air missiles. They were essentially fortresses designed to intercept missiles and provide defensive and offensive capability against aircraft. They required a large crew for a vehicle, and all six hundred of them let loose with a ferocious barrage of fire, 20mm cannons blasting away while interception missiles rocketed skyward and shredder rounds tore through enemy targets. Their counter-measures packages were far stronger than on the individual fighters, and many missiles were thrown off course. The missiles, in short, were met by a response that hurled them from the sky in droves, but even so, they could not be everywhere. Five SAM batteries were incapacitated; three destroyed, two severely damaged. However, the rest, having weathered the storm of fire aimed at them, turned their attention to the threat menacing those who could not protect themselves, namely light vehicles and infantry, as well as the mobile command centers. There were a number of smaller missiles that didn’t seem to be targeting anything, suspiciously, and so with typical Imperial paranoia, nearly a hundred batteries targeted them, blasting dozens apart, but thirty-nine were too far gone to be destroyed, and they detonated on the ground, each blasting huge holes in the ground. More followed, but they were spread out in a far larger target area, and many were headed for areas far from the Imperial lines, down by the Zair Inlet, the working title that the mouth of the River Zair had received. Thus, most of the SAMs turned their attention to helping destroy the missiles aimed at Imperial ground troops, with only forty-seven of the GDB-001s intercepted.

Meanwhile, tank crews were opening up with their 12.7mm AA guns, mounted on the vehicles themselves. Thousands of air-to-surface missiles were destroyed by these, and almost as many more by the SAMs. Nevertheless, many still impacted all over the Imperial lines, mostly in the front, killing thousands and destroying dozens of LAVs, along with a smaller number of MBTs, given their superior armor.

The first Skyian punch, though having blooded the Imperial air armada and army, had failed to achieve a decisive shift in the odds. And to make their attempt, their aircraft had spent a large proportion of their munitions. It was time to counterattack.

Six more stealth bombers took off, ascending like the first four to 80,000 feet. They climbed over the Skyian army, far above it's air support, and dropped their MOABs. Thirty-six 11-ton bombs plummeted down on the vehicles and infantry below. The Imperial air fleet came into range of their Skyian enemies and opened fire.

Each of the Balefires launched six Methuselah missiles. The A-10s let loose on the ground forces with AGM-65A Mavericks and Rockeye cluster bombs, firing four and three each respectively. The MiGs unleashed two Gomorrah AGMs each, and the Harriers fired 5,924 Vanguard missiles at the planes. Meanwhile, far away, the missile submarines accompanying the fleet launched 72 Pandemonium II missiles each at the Skyian army.

OOC: At planes: 38,778 Methuselah missiles, 5,924 Vanguard missiles.
At ground forces: 4,488 AGM-65A Mavericks, 3,366 BLU-27/b Rockeye cluster bombs, 36 11-ton MOABs, 492 Gomorrah AGMs, 25,128 Pandemonium II missiles.

Parthian Army, Near Czarna

The missiles streaked inwards, triggering responses from the Parthian SAM batteries, each pinpointing the clouds of missiles streaking towards Parthian lines with massive responses of FAE equipped SAMs, designed to destroy large numbers of missiles. Within minutes, the vast majority had been intercepted before hitting Parthian lines through the action of the 650 SAM batteries attached to the corps. Anti Air batteries joined in, firing rounds designed to explode towards the oncoming missiles, ripping them apart with shrapnel.

However, even the intense counterfire from the Parthians had failed to eliminate the threat, several SAM batteries had been destroyed, and the Parthian army had lost over 250 vehicles, and perhaps over 3500 men. Now, however, came the turn of the Parthians to face the Silver Skyan army.

The strategy was simple, break through Czarna's defenses, then utilize a turn to reset Parthian lines to face the Silver Skyan army directly, concentrating on creating a flanking force within Czarna itself to outflank the enemy army moving upon the combined Warmasterian-Parthian force. Artillery rang out at positions indicated as probable points of Czardaian resistance within the city, showering them with incindiary and high explosive rounds. MLRS fired their weapons, each unleashing massive loads of cluster muntions.

In the skies above ACI-73D air superiority fighters moved in, their stealthy design allowing them to cruise undetected as they prepared to escort Ten B-9D stealth bombers into Czarna. Moving quickly into the city, each of them dropped a pair of Fuel Air Explosives, hitting the city with the powerful weapons designed to target points of heavy Czardaian resistance and to further eliminate any units that were not either pulling out of zones of Parthian advance. Another group moved towards the Silver Skyan army, joining the Warmasterians at 80,000 feet before each of them unleashed a further ten MOABs upon the Skyan lines. Below them, ACI-73s and A-12s moved in, with the ACI-73s on front to help saturate the Silver Skyan Air support with missiles before the ground attack aircraft would act. Each of the 1500 ACI-73s unleashed a single missile from their undercarriage, HAMRAAM medium range missiles using millimetric wave radar and 3-D thrust vectoring to ensure both optimal detection and maneuverability beyond anything even the best aircraft could preform. A-12s, from a safe distance, joined in, unleashing a total of 2500 AGM-65 missiles at enemy armor and ground forces, hoping to blunt the point of their attack before they even reaced distance where Parthian ground forces would be able to engage.

A final barrage joined in as specially converted MLRS fired a total of 2500 SSMs, each designed to fly to an altitude of 25000 feet, use infrared sensors to detect enemy tanks and armored vehicles, then to dive down directly upon them and utilize the DU penetrator and several hundred pounds of ONC explosive to utterly destroy the enemy vehicle.

OOC: Czardas, here is the peace treaty, as you asked.

IC: LET IT BE RESOLVED BY THE SIGNATORIES OF THIS TREATY:

1. That official hostilities between Czardas and the Imperium and their respective allies have ceased, and

2. Further aggression by any party on another will be regarded as during peacetime.

Article One: Concerning Imperial Dispositions in Czardas
1. The province of Aurdania is hereby considered to be an Imperial Independent Protectorate. This means that security will be provided by Imperial forces. Citizens in this region will pay taxes to the Imperium, and may apply for Imperial citizenship like any resident of an Imperial overseas territory.
2. Human sacrifice in the Protectorate shall be illegal, and so shall animal sacrifice without adequate compensation. Those accused of a crime may have their case heard by a jury, but shall be held by Imperial guardians of the peace until such time as they may be declared innocent. Residents of the Protectorate may not be tried multiple times for the same crime.
3. Residents of the Protectorate shall have free choice of religion and perspective in social and governmental matters. They may elect whatever officers or councils they deem necessary for local or provincial government.
4. All government councils must have an Imperial representative on them, appointed by the Sacred Emperor or the Prefect charged with the governance of the Protectorate. Also, all government executives must have an Imperial advisor who shall have power to veto their decisions. Imperial representatives in both cases shall inform the Imperium of the actions of the Protectorate’s government. Prevention of such information reaching the Imperium is considered to be a capital crime.
5. War damages to nonmilitary buildings in the Protectorate and Czarna shall be paid for by the Imperium, in full.
6. A number of Imperial infantry not to exceed 100,000, except in cases of severe unrest, shall be provided by the Imperium for the defense of the Protectorate and the prevention of disturbances.

Article Two: Concerning Czardaian Relations with the Imperium
1. In addition to the reconstruction of the Protectorate, the Imperium shall pay Czardas twenty billion dollars in recompense for its invasion of Czardas.
2. Any and all Czardaian government or military officials who initially proposed the invasion of the Empire shall be extradited to the Empire for trial and execution in accordance with the will of Sacred Emperor Lucifer.
3. Imperial cargo ships shall be permitted to dock in the following Czardaian ports: Port Khufi, Palma, Tyriandor, and Mariosz. Czardaian cargo ships shall be permitted to dock in the following ports: Korronis, Slivan, Mon Serat, and Secutor. No warships of either nation are permitted to dock in any port of the other nation, excepting in the Protectorate, without the explicit permission of that nation’s head of state.
4. An embassy to the Imperium shall be constructed in Czarna to Imperial specifications, and an embassy to Czardas shall be constructed in Korronis to Czardaian specifications.