NationStates Jolt Archive

4 men in brown robes (http://www.monolithdesigns.co.uk/update110804/CH081.jpg) walked towards the large buddist temple. Their robes kept them warm in the antartic cold. Hidden beneath their cloaks were hand weapons but strapped around their waist was something even more sinister.
"Brother Typhean, I am still nervous about attacking our own people..."
"They are no longer our people! We belong to the Horde now! We should be happy, for The Bringer of Pestilence-" They all stopped and whispered
"Baoht Z'uqqa-Mogg." After a few symbols made with their hands they continued.
"-has given us the chance to exact his will! The preist gave us his blessing and we shall dance for ever in filth!" They hushed as they reached the temple, looked for security and walked inside....

Galak City in the northern Honshu province was hushed that morning. Most of the city was either asleep, at work, or in meditation. PFC Jenkins shivered slightly and held his assault rifle loosely. Ever since all foreigners had been deported, there hadn't been much to be afraid of. He didn't see much point in guarding the primary access roads to Galak. However, that was his job. That's what he had to do.

(The cultists are members of your nation, who have been converted. Their already inside the city and at the steps of the temple. I'll just rp that the guard is there, if thats ok.)

The four men approached the guard with heads bowed and their hands in prayer. Each had buddhist prayer beads wrapped around his fingers, praying and whispering. They walked passed the guard, seemingly deep in prayer. In the back of their minds they waited to see if the guard would have any problems...

tag for interest and maybe later involvment.

((My bad. I need caffine...))

Jenkins merely nodded to the temple-goers. It was too damned early to be on watch, in his opinion. His eyelids drooped slightly. Once his shift was up he had a nice warm bunk waiting for him. That's what his mind was on.

Safe, the walked inside the temple. It was large and warm, and seemed to be deserted. They quickly began to get to work, lacing the statue of Bhudda with explosives. Under all their robes, they wore NBC protection suits, and quickly zipped them up. After they put a gas mask on, they began to pour vials of liquid all over the floor. It was a rare bacteria, one that would eat the flesh of it's victims. It would survive the tempatures of the explosion, and be pushed outward into the city.

Now ready, the terrorists clasped their hands and issued one last prayer. Then they pressed a button.

The explosion was felt a mile away, and the bacteria was catapulted all over the city.

As civilians were dissolved by the flesh-eating organism, alarms went off across the nation's defense networks. In low orbit, a satellite redirected itself from some two-bit foreign power and focused in on Honshu. The bigwigs at the Office of Domestic Operations were shocked. Never had they thought that, even with all foreigners gone, there could be risks to Feazanthia.

But internal security could come later. A Desolator squad was dispatched to Galak to search for survivors and prevent the spread of whatever the terrorists had planned.

"The time has come! Glory to the Old Ones!" The priest stood before his altar, a throng of 600 followers before him. They each wore brown robes, and underneath they wore NBC suits. Their gasmasks were covered with arcane inscriptions, drawn with their own blood. They had amassed whatever guns they could, and more then a few were armed with only a trench knife.

Still, they were prepared. The church had been built deep withen the sewer, acting almost as a bunker. The heat from the normal operations of the sewer shielded them from any infared detection, and it also allowed them to pop up anywhere in the city.

"The Unbegotten Source, The Demiurge has spoken to me in a dream! Ubbo-Sathla himself has witnessed what we have done, and calls for all life to be absorbed to HIM once again! We must help him, for his will IS the will of the Old Ones! Take to the streets, fly the banner of the Horde, and let our and their cells once more combine!"
The crowd raised their weapons and chanted.
"Glory most high! Glory most high!"

In minutes they had divided themselves into smaller squads, poping out of manholes every now and then to search for victims. Each began to fortify his own area of sewer, operating independently of each other.

The whir of the H-46's blades and the steady hssh-kssh of the heavy gas mask was all that could be heard within the helicopter's belly. Clad in crimson, NBC hardened body armor and armed with special AR-249 assault rifles, the 48 man elite Desolator squad disembarked from the transport 'copters. They were the best of the best, trained to work in hostile territory and in environments where no unprotected human could go. The unit itself also hadn't seen action in over 30 years.

Sgt. Ackerson opened the radio channel.
"Search for survivors. If you find one, radio in for the hee-lohs to come pick them up. Let's do this, people."

And so they spread out in two-man units, searching what was left of downtown Galak. Blackened skeletons littered the streets, half-devoured corpses stuck in the horrible death-throes. A survivor was found, and the helo called in to airlift him to the hospital in nearby Hiimei. Slowly but surely, the Desolator squad moved through the city.

"Ezikel! Look!" Damug peered through a shattered window at the incoming troops. Ezikel peered through the broken glass, keeping his head down.
"I will go and warn the others, attack them at will."
"May you reunite with Ubbo-Sathla."
"Indeed"
Ezikel sccuried through a hole in the building, disappearing in the maze of sewers. Damug however, was preparing his squad. They numbered only twenty, but were driven by fanatical zeal. "Brother Azikimis, put these underneath your robe." He handed him explosives. "Pretend you are a survivor, and get close to them. We will detonate you and fire upon them."

Without a word the child of only 12 wrapped the belt of explosives around him, under his robes. He exited the back of the building, faked a limp arm and shuffeled onto the road. "P-please...help me. it's gotten..my arm!" He walked briskly towards the troops. "Please...don't hurt me..."

kzzt
"This is Delta Unit, requesting dust-off. Have found survivor. Male, early teens, potential infection."
kzzt

Cpl. Kazansky approached the young boy, placing a reassuring (albeit metal-clad) hand on his shoulder.
"It's alright, son," said the corporal, his voice metalically tinged. Help is on the way. Are there others nearby?"

Kazansky's partner still probed the rubble with his assault rifle a few meters away.

The boy began to make strange symbols with his hand and muttered under his breath "Old Ones, mighty Old Ones..." The c4 that covered the boy's entire torso blew up, sending pieces of him everywhere. Seeing their chance, the small squad that had spread themselves out among the ruined building began to fire their AK-101's (http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/f/f3/Ak-101.gif/250px-Ak-101.gif) into the men.

Between the fire, one of the squad threw a Malvatov Cocktail into the men, hoping to burn them alive.

"Delta Unit, taking fire! Man down! Position: Grid Square oh-three-nine...yaaah!"

Kazansky's partner was pierced by the hail of gunfire, his armor becoming holed in several places. He crumpled against the wall next to the smoking form of the corporal.

"Phai...shaa za...mkhan..." swore the soldier in old Tibetan.

Other squads were becoming attracted to the gunfire. Now 14 more men had joined in the fight, hurling grenades and firing away. A primitive flamethrower was wielded by one, and it spat a 30 ft long stream of flame at the "non-believers." This new group had yet to take any cover merely standing in the road and firing away.

While it was only one cult that had inflicated this attack, the Horde at large was preparing to help. Three Agosta 90B's (http://www.naval-technology.com/projects/agosta/) had already left to help the cultists, and each was loaded with deadly cargo. All throught areas where the Horde had infiltrated in Feazanthia, riots were being led. The Jolly Roger flew from many buildings, and people were being shot in the street. Banks were being robbed on a scale never before seen and entires areas were stripped clean of food.

The Horde was being roused...

OOC : Is this a open RP ? I think its MT but can Ft join ?

OOC: I guess it's open, but it's mt or pmt.

*Bump*

*Bump for Feazanthia*

((Yes, it's open. Slightly PMT I guess...I never took the time to actually classify myself.

Oh, and sorry about that, mate. Midterms and all. I'll try to post later today.))

Roger Roger

Tower of Command, Phoenix City
United Provinces of Feazanthia

The black-armored marine guards stood stoic outside of the Tower of Command, dwarfed by the massive Sabertooth main battle tanks. They saluted, pounding their chests in respect to Defense Minister Sodarty as he strode confidently down the concrete walkway. Above the obsidian doors of the ToC sat a golden statue of the Lord Buddha, his hand facing palm-outwards in a sign of peace. It clashed nicely, Sodarty had always thought, with the heavy tanks that it iself dwarfed. Beneath the tower, in bunkers that sprawled for dozens of kilometers, sat the primary offices of every branch of the Feazanthian military. And, at the top, was the seat of power in the United Provinces - that of the Grand Commander. The UPF’s elected leader was Torroth Halcyon, son of the hero of the Doujin War and one of the leaders of the refugees that survived the nuclear strike of that war.

But now was not the time for recollection. Galak was decimated, its population of over three million probably all dead. Honshu province was on the verge of civil war. SATCom had reported three older attack submarines getting underway and headed at high-speed towards the Feazanthian defensive batteries. The UPS Bozeman had been sent to investigate with a pair of Alfa-II escort subs, but they had not yet reported in. If those subs got to the fortified islands of the north...there's no telling what they could do to the unfinished defenses being constructed there. Those stationary guns and missile bunkers were the only thing keeping Feazanthia safe from the tyrannical powers of the world.

Before he knew it, Sodarty had entered the chambers of Halcyon himself. He'd been so lost in his thoughts, he hadn't even registered the fact that he'd gone through three security checkpoints.
"Sir," said the Minister, thumping his chest in salute. "The latest reports from Honshu."

The Commander, a young, ponytailed man, took the manilla folder and glanced through it. The position of Grand Commander was much like the president of the old United States of America, not that the United States had been around for quite some time. He was the supreme leader of all Feazanthian military branches, and also acted as Prime Minister for the Parliament. While the provincial governors held sway over their provinces, he held sway over the governors.

"Have any organizations claimed responsibility for the acts? The GCLA? The Zionists? Doujin, karma forbid?"

"No, sir. We have recieved no transmissions of any kind."

"Then put this rebellion down, minister. I want every available troop in the surrounding provinces deployed. As of this moment, I am declaring martial law in Honshu province."

---

Sabretooth tanks and IFVs rolled over the border into Honshu. Air wings flew overhead as soldiers were choppered into the hotbeds of Horde activity. Off the coast, the carrier UPS Mackenson prepared both its weapons and hospital facilities for the worst.

If civil war was going to break out in the United Provinces, then the government would be damned if it wasn't ready.

In areas where the military did not penetrate, rioting still took place. However, most people went underground...literally. Underground structures and sewers were fortified and huge numbers of people began to prepare for death.

Booby traps were being laid on all major roads and children were being strapped with explosives. The three subs that had been sent out by the Horde were moving through deep water, trying to beach themselves on the east side of Antarctica's tail. They were moving towards an altogether uninhabited area, which had only recently become home to cultists.

When the military finally came, a mild defence was given. RPG's were being used to kill tanks and transport copters, and roadside bombs were ripping through the IFV's. Dum Dum rounds were also being used to deliever horrible wounds to the infantry. But perhaps what was most suprising of all was something else they were using: Primitive artillery.

They were basically homemade cannons launching home made shells. The cannons were hoisted to point out of manholes and fired. After that they pulled the thing down again, and moved to another location. Accurate? No. In effective? Not quite. The curve of the shells had been figured out with practice, and so 1 out of five shots hit whatever they were aming at.

*Bump*

"Damnit, Voodoo squadron, where the hell is my air support?" demanded the corporal into his headset as artillery rained down upon his squad's position. They'd taken shelter in the ruins of the bombed-out government center in Hiimei. Across the road, a pair of Sabertooth tanks traded shells with the terrorist artillery.

"This is Voodoo one-seven, inbound to your position Charlie Team. Sorry for the delay."

"JUST BLAST THOSE DAMNED THINGS ALREADY!"

"Roger that. Voodoo one-seven out."

Three flying wings dipped below the cloud line. If one got close enough, one could see the GAU-8A Avenger cannon already prepping itself. The three AF-Z2 "Eraser" attack planes from Voodoo Squadron checked right and skimmed the building line, peppering the streets with cannon fire. Artillery stopped, whether from anihilation or retreat.

"Voodoo one-seven. Mission complete, Charlie Team."

"Confirmed, Voodoo. Good work." The corporal then opened up a channel to the nearest Com Post.
"This is See-Pee-El Yoh of Charlie Team. Enemy located in central Hiimei. They are using the sewers. Repeat, they are using the sewers. Flood 'em out and we'll finish them up."

Flow was redirected from some of Hiimei's suburbs into the mains in Hiimei itself. Walls of water rushed through. As Horde members emerged, attack choppers and UPIC snipers gunned them down. The streets of Hiimei were flooded and starting to freeze over, but the battle for the city itself was just about over.

---

"Penguin oh-niner to Ghost Rider. I'm seein' some odd readings here. Could be a submerged boat...or three. Please confirm."

"Ghost Rider to Penguin oh-niner. Matchstick, we're seeing them too. We're launching the alert fighters just to be safe."

"Confirmed, Ghost Rider. Do we have permission to launch the weapon?"

"You have permission to launch the weapon. Good hunting, Matchstick."

A wing of "Crazy Penguin" AS/SuW bombers flew over the western coast of the Dragon's Tail. A sonar buoy had just relayed to them the possible location of not one but three older nuclear subs. The Singham was still an hour out. It was up to the Emperor Penguin squadon.