NationStates Jolt Archive


Askra’duun Aslamaadusk Ikriun

Jenrak
05-11-2006, 19:48
“I cannot believe this weather. Azhuj is punishing us greatly for our sinfulness.” One of the soldiers murmured to another, as they trudged along.

“Azhuj is not kind to us this year, but we must persevere to please him with our fortitude. Authaulus commands it.”

“I understand what Authaulus commands and I respect my lord’s request, but still, this is a damning mission.”

“Do not talk weary or make no fabrication upon Authaulus. He is a great man, and a devout follower of Azhuj. He knows how to appease great Azhuj. Hail Enkur.”

“Hail Enkur!”

It was a scorching July, the sands nearly steaming with humidity as the airy dunes were drying out in moisture, the soldiers marching along as their massive encampment crawled on treads along them, tied up in the thickening sands frequently as they prodded it out through machine and muscle. Massive azure, steel clad soldiers walked in their drenched, hot suits, trying to move as fast as they could, rushing in the heat as they looked back, their hands sweating beneath the sticky chain mail and their javelins perched in their arms, their muscles seen rippling and vibrating with the veins pulsing beneath their tanned skin. They carried their shields on their massive backs, their shoulder plates visible beyond the thin plastic veil of their uniform, their faces covered by shadows dropping over from their masks and helmets – tall trophies of the sun slashing with heat upon them, the company moving as the soldiers continued to walk.

It was a hot day, it was a hot month, and it was a drenching summer of heat in Jenrak, hotter than usual, even for the heat loving, adaptable Jenrakians. This was one of the hottest years they’ve ever faced in hundreds of years, and for once, the Jenrakians felt battered and baked beneath the golden disk in the sky. The dunes still cackled with laughter, the wind taunting them with a blow of fresh, cool air, before the clouds dissipated away to spy on them from the skies, yet without a burst of lovely rainfall to patter their backs and cool their skin. They continued to march, for it were the orders they were given, trenching through the desert, hiking across dunes, a long line of soldiers moving as tanks whirred in the pits below them, the turrets turning as the engines rumbled in the unbearable heat. The front Temsplace, a tall man in an equally tall armoured suit, his body etched with scars and his arms laden with healing wounds, looked as he held up his hand high, a poisonous green flag in his arms as it swayed in the nonexistent wing. The company stopped, a breathing, straight, broken line. They were hot, and they were thirsty, and while the tasty water in their flasks gave them new energy, they knew they had to continue the march.

The Temsplace looked at the front – he was holy man, yet he knew war quite well. Born in the harsh environment of Jenrak, raised in the brutal and gruelling methods of The Azhujurius, the holy council, he was a man who was loyal to no-one but his god, Enkur of the seven blades. He was in a steaming and baking black armour, slight throbs of burnt skin on his body beneath the shining gleam, yet he ignored the immense pain ravaging through his body. He stayed still, disciplined, unafraid by the uncomfortable feelings he felt in his physical form. Mentally, spiritually, he felt whole and at peace, and that was all that mattered to him, as he stood there still, his flag high as his company looked at him with interest. His thin eyes scanned the terrain before him through sand stricken irises. Below was a drop of a cavernous series of worm-like dunes, the sand stretching beyond the horizon, yet something was seen that made the black armoured Temsplace sigh.

In the distance, visible greatly as a shining obelisk and crystallized city of beauty and stone, stood the giant capital of Haasdra, the whirring bases standing about, the mobile factories billowing out gasses that blocked out the sun, entire sections of the enormous city covered in a dense night fog. He smiled, knowing that finally the march was nearly over, and they could enjoy the rest of their days training in the cool rooms of the large temples along the emerald riverbanks of the hand-shaped Viraigius river. The banks were laden with green, vibrant trees, gardens running along as the balconies were closed, the windows shut down and the whirring of air conditioners evident from a place so far away as where they stood.

From the western end, a series of tanks and a battalion of ships edged along the walled shores of the Viraigius, the giant stone gates opening up to a series of twin dams as large as Enkur’s fingers, the water spurting out sporadically as it cleaned the ships in a soft, subtle spray of cold water, beckoning the Temsplace and his company to walk forwards, to continue their trek towards home. “We are almost there, brothers.” The Temsplace replied on the speakers, the trucks behind them blasting in the air with their speakers. The soldiers sighed, marching on, trying to make their last mile or so a good stretch of exercise.

“We’re almost home.” The Temsplace murmured, whispering, as the city’s beautiful landscape came about, the green horizon visible with a shade of golden precipices that showed the golden towers, glass cities and streets inside the stone city’s walls, people bustling as the anti-aircraft systems and the elongated defences almost snakelike.

Beside him, a thin man in a white robe spoke as they cross down into the small pits of the dunes, slipping slightly yet they moved diligently, problems nonexistent. This man beside the black clad Temsplace was a tall man, taller than the large Temsplace himself, yet his arms were thin and skeletal, his face was malnourished it seemed, and he had no lump of cartilage where his nose would be – simple a healed over void of flesh beneath a white plastic skin. A steel cage of teeth was wired in his jaw, latches and microscopic pulleys pulling along as his voice was a cold, dark shatter of a scream in every spoken word. His shoulder plates were thin, and barely protected, his fingers long and his nails unkempt. He had no hair visible, and his eyes were behind the plastic white screen, his lower body covered in a dress of knives that dangled from his torso.

Yet as he moved, the blades upon his lower dress did not slice his thin legs, nor did they clang with a shrieking noise. He moved quietly, speedily, with almost cat-like reflexes as he stared around, before getting up to full length to look around. He sighed. “I have not seen Haasdra in a long time.” He said, seeing the long black and blue trail of the armies march towards Haasdra, the gleaming oasis of safety and civilization long towards them. For there was a reason for this march, this trek towards the capital of their homeland.

Jenrak had been dormant within the international community, intent on the invasion of Krejeistan, a southern neighbour after the death of Saerus Annirak by a group of dangerous fanatics known as the Heidhakrians. Assuming power, Authaulus built a massive empire after his brother’s rule, but as he expanded south, the northern kingdoms under his domain began to revolt from the foreign rules. Jenrak’s people were becoming complacent, its armies stretched and her nobility all but gone. Authaulus returned home, but after an assassination attempt by a series of marauders, he returned his sights to Krejeistan.

After a series of brutal guerrilla tactics by the local Krejei, and his tactics rivalled by their prodigal young General Kassailiun, Authaulus turned his sights back home, before being pushed back south by the orders of the religious overlord – Therax. Through Therax, Jenrak began to brutally crush city after city with her nuclear weapons upon the once valiant cities of the Krejei, planned air strikes through suicidal missions that disable enemy silos. Too much blood was spilt on Krejei soil, many of it innocent blood. Yet victory assumed herself bold, as Jenrak’s campaign came with the sweet fruits of labour, as within years of their initial campaign, the capital was open, and the people of Krejeistan willing to submit to their overlords, the Tsellian. Another Christian kingdom fell to the Azhjurius.

Yet things changed when they arrived home – people did not cheer them, people did not wave flags of Jenrak upon the soldiers who took the long trek home – the homeland was changed so much that in their absence, the empire of Jenrak was split amongst three rulers. The northern Sandurian empire taken early in the history of Jenrak was ruled by the aristocratic and highly religiously devout families of Viraranaar Kataask, a man who felt the eviscerated cut of war yet who felt no safer by preaching at the pulpit. A commander, a holy councilman and a dangerous man to cross ideologies with, he ruled Northern Jenrak with a fist of guilt, the people highly devoted to the Tsellian, a fanatical empire in stark contrast to it’s brothers.

From the western shoreline, the militaristic domains of Gelectriax the Wicked was glistening in iron. The iron curtain of war was their home-style, the thin yet powerful lines stretching from the Archios wall to the Rithos peninsula a beautiful and menacing thing to see, the people living as a kingdom of masochists, a territory where only the strong and the powerful live – the weak serve as nothing more than fodder and practice for the raging fists of stone.

Yet both kingdoms, northern and western Jenrak, fear their eastern brother greatly. For in the control of eastern Jenrak was Aulocos the Unforgivable, and his influence knew no bounds. A financial juggernaut and an economic monster, Aulocos controlled not only a massive portion of the Jenrakian empires, yet he had complete control of the finances of the nation. He feeds the country, builds it, and makes it strong – he was also a Sadicistra, an aging leper and a psychotic cannibal. Children were his preference, though he was not a pedophile. Still, he commanded great respect and fear by people altogether.

In these three kingdoms that an uneasy unity created the empire of Jenrak, from the religious northern to the gun-toting western to the money mongering eastern, it caused great political instability but eventually turned the empire into something strong, something great. It turned Jenrak from a dangerous religious monarchy to a stable and effective oligarchy, rulers wary of others and their possible repercussions.

Yet as they walked through the long hall-like streets of Haasdra, the split capital, they sighed as the beating sun no longer felt harsh and steaming, but warming and safe, the buzzing air conditioners heard as large screams of mechanical jargon. As they marched to the city square, they heard trumpeting, and a chorus of booming music from a brigade of Temsplace.

Saarakh Akhaduun!
Saarakh Akhakhras!

With that, however, it died down as they reached the square, large numbers of soldiers and Temsplace standing in rows and columns, looking at the woman standing at the podium, her eyes scanning from her large and tall pedestal of stone as she flicked her hair back. She had a silver glaze in her hair, her ears untouched by earrings and her fingers slightly thin. She was a woman of medium height, her thin arms crossed across her chest, her jaw moving around as she slightly wandered about in impatience. Her lips were a fiery red, her skin pale and her eyes bloodshot as if she had no sleep.

Her shoulder small, her waist small and her uniform with a dress of blades – she held a large sword by her side, a blade she carried without sign of difficulty in wielding. Her long sable silver hair fell onto her shoulders, prickling past her back as she looked and scanned still – before a deathly silence filled the square, only the whirring of the air conditioners down the street heard. It was now hot and airy.

She was Rashkta, the Lady of the Tower, and she was the highest General in the armies of the Jenrakian Sadicistra, an army of rapists, murderers and serial killers that were stricken with disgusting fetishes and terrible penchants for cannibalism, carrying sadistic tendencies. They were the psychological armies of Jenrak that broke the steel hearts of men and women, and Rashkta was their Overlord. She was the only person they feared most, a woman who at first seemed innocent and young, her ravishing and unique beauty interesting to note.

Yet she had her own history, a history of consuming criminals and vandals, a history of dark secrets that only lived in her mind – mutilation, torture, murder, cannibalism, sadism. None of these were alien to her – she was experience in them all. Yet here she stood, at the podium, looking at the army that had just come home, she began her speech.

“Let us drink blood and eat flesh – for the flesh of victory comes to us in platter, and the blood of triumph is poured in the waterfall of warfare. We come today, upon the backing and breaking light of the sun to spite the heat with our fervour, our loyalty, and our greatness as the children of Jenrak. We have taught another legion of unbelievers to see the light of Azhuj, the reign of great Enkur. We are a perfect species, a perfect people, that as perfect people, we must be compassionate. And through our compassion, we must help others be near to perfect as us, and they shall prosper because of us. By ridding the filth of intolerant religious from the southern Krejeian lands, we have brought unity and peace towards the continent of Ascherach.

The Krejei have felt our fist, our touching hands of painful assistance, that in our pain towards them, they may grow strong as our people, and in the Tsellia they may grow faithful and blessed to the Tsellia. For in this victory of campaigns, I make this a great day. A day that is to be remembered as the day we reach our last obstacles! This is the day, my brothers! This is the day that Christianity falls within the Akhrodrack.”

That message was played through every outlet in Jenrak. Christianity had fallen against the Tsellia.

OOC: I don't think I need to explain that a religious reason to declare war on me is a good one. Especially if your nation is Christian.
Jenrak
06-11-2006, 03:52
OOC: Bump. I really can't do much until someone does something else.
KooleKoggle
07-11-2006, 02:46
((OOC: Umm just wondering, cuz it doesn't matter to me much. Do you specifically want to win or lose, or just go with the flow of things? Just out of curiosity as I'm up for losing or winning.))
Jenrak
07-11-2006, 03:19
OOC: I adapt.
KooleKoggle
07-11-2006, 03:29
OOC: I adapt.

((OOC: Ok, I'll try to get the post written up before I get too tired.))
Jenrak
08-11-2006, 21:16
OOC: Sure.
KooleKoggle
08-11-2006, 23:24
((OOC: Where's everyone else that said they'd invade? Di dI get turned into a lone wolf?))
KooleKoggle
09-11-2006, 00:54
((OOC: Sorry I couldn't have this up earlier. Yesterday was a busy day.))

As the sun’s rays started to peak out over the eastern ranges of the Garlds, the capitol city of Kandat started to come alive once again. The streets were filled with life that hadn’t been seen in KooleKoggle for decades. Political turmoil and political strife had ravaged the nation for the last century. It had only been six years since the civil war had ended. The event had sparked a new beginning for KooleKoggle. Being shown how one man can cause a nation to collapse the way it had was the alarm sounding for a new system. A more democratic state had formed, but KooleKoggle would never be really free. You can’t move an entire nation out of its comfort zone for long or without great effort.

Recently, KooleKoggle had become more globalized in an attempt to kick start its economy again. It was a vicious cycle in the nation’s history. War and then fake peace. This was all followed by an overhaul just to be torn down again. It was truly a war torn country. In less than a half millennia, eight vicious wars had ravaged the country. A desperate need of change was felt throughout the country. However, all meetings, speeches, and lectures fell onto deaf ears. It was clear that the government need to do something.

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

Capitol City of Kandat- Lord’s Hall- 8:45 KIT (KoleKogg Internal Time)

“....and so, that’s our budgeting plan, Lord Goplis.”

Goplis rubbed the bridge of his nose slowly. Listening to economics expert after expert was giving him a headache. Every report so far had been different form the last. He was starting to think that The K Circle, as it had become known, was just the way of KooleKogglian Life. He looked up at the thin gangly man and shook his head slowly. The look on the economists face was one of terrible pain. But with some fortitude left, he bowed and walked out of the room. The Lord pressed a button on his intercom noticing his secretary.

“Yes, sir?”

“Call off all of my meetings for the rest of the afternoon. I’m not up for any more today.”

“Sir, one man is already here from the Garlds Territory, what should I tell him?”

Goplis thought the idea over in his head for a moment and after much reluctance, he made his decision.

“Send him in, then call everyone on the list.”

“Yes sir, As the Lord wishes.”

Goplis hated being called Lord, but it was the formality of KooleKogglian government. Not much could be changed about it. Drinking heavily seemed like one of the only options. He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a dusty jar from a well hidden crevice. He pulled the cork and poored some of the contents into a glass which also came from the cranny. The door opened as he quickly downed the contents of the glass. He looked up and in a moment, he was in wonderment. A smile crept up his face as he stood to greet the man.

“Well, I’ll be damned Freps. I haven’t seen you in what? Six years?

The other man shook Goplis’s extended hand eagerly. He wasn’t like the others who had been coming in for months. He was tall and built very heavy. Not to say he was fat, because he wasn’t in the sense of the word, but very muscular.

“Yes I believe so Lord. When we held the summit at V9.”

“Please, don’t call me Lord. I’d rather have my old title of General than that. Just call me Goplis.”

Formalities were the last thing Goplis was worried about after seeing Freps. They’d had a quite interesting history together before the war, but now, he was seeing him again. Looking better than ever, while the old General’s position wore away at him. Goplis held up his jug and passed another grin to his old war friend.

“Want a drink friend? The best bourbon in the country. 60 years old.”

“You know me, Goplis. Was I ever a man to turn down an offer like that? But I do want to talk some business here friend.”

A stern face crossed the man’s visage surprising Goplis while he poured a drink for him. While he knew there would have to be some talk about the crisis, he was hoping he could have a good time catching up first. But Damon Freps was a man to get to business.

“Alright then, Freps. What kind of solution did you have in mind?”

“War.”

He said this as he raised his glass to take a sip of his whiskey. After which, seeing the strange, confused look on Goplis’s face made him chuckle for a second. This, Goplis found even less funny.

“No! No more civil war. After finding out what KCPC had been doing with the last ones, you just want to throw us back in. When we get up on our feet, your solution is to cut our legs off. No. If that’s your suggestion, I’m sorry friend, but you must leave.”

Freps chuckled again at the unamused Goplis.

“No sir, not a civil war. A real international war. What better way is there to boost an economy than loot another’s?”

Goplis was not a man for because of his intimate knowledge of it. But the idea made sense to him. But there were so many question unanswered. An the fact that they were toying with diplomatic talks, but speaking of risking their soldier’s lives. He looked at Freps before downing another shot of the alcohol he’d poured when he heard the mention of war.

“Alright then. I’ve got a few questions though. Like what’s your plan on justifying this? Because we have no declared enemies. And also, what if we lose? That millions of pookadees down the drain. There’s no way we could possibly insure a loss on that massive of a scale. We’d be worst than we are now. There’s holes in this everywhere. I don’t see a positive tin this deal.”

Freps sat quietly for a moment biting his lower lip. Then he looked up with a determined look in his eye. It was now clear to Goplis that he’d planned for these things and he was now very interested in hearing them. Freps sat up straight and look the Lord in the eye.

“Well sir, it’s all simple really. When the genocide occurred, nations from everywhere came to aid the people. Well, that’s what we’ll do. We attack someone with a terrible PR problem already. It’ll improve out international image too. And don’t worry about losses. There’s many organizations all ready for stuff like that. We lose a war in the name of freedom and we’ll have aid from every direction. It’s a win both ways. All we can do is try to minimize our military casualties. But, what can you do? It’s war. So what do you say.”

Goplis wasn’t pleased at all, but it had to do. It was a solid plan. His options were a war with an assured positive outcome or as others have suggested, selling furniture at bargain prices. There was something about the thought of losing good men that made him cringe though. After thinking and drinking in complete silence for nearly ten minutes, he had made a decision.”

“Alright let’s do it. Just one question. Who?”

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

TV’s across the nation flashed onto an urgent news break. They were generally thought to be a nuisance among the countrymen, but all channels were feeding it. Something was clearly important. Just then, Lord Goplis appeared on the screen. Sitting at his desk with the Flag of the Lord behind him.

“Good people of KooleKoggle. It breaks my heart to see our nation in a situation of such distress. It truly hurts my heart to see a country as fine as this eroding away from its heart, out. But what pains me even more is to see countries as great as ours losing people to fanatics. This I know from our own experiences with the Nimov regime. That is why we must stand together and unite. Unite and save nations from the same sufferings. Not only saving other’s lives, but bringing ours together. This is why we must go to war. Recently, it has come to our attention that a religiously fanatic country, Jenrak, has invaded and destroyed great populations. Not because of fear, not because of need, not even because of the ever corrupting power of power itself. Nay, it was to none of these did these countries fall to oblivion. But to ideals. Ideals marked by lunacy. These people cannot be tolerated life. For when their’s are, other’s are destroyed. We must fight this oppression brought by these barbarous people and their crazy learnings. As of now, our military has begun preparations for deployment. We have sent this ludicrous nation out intentions of war. We have told them that we will not tolerate murders by a false being with fake teachings of hypocrisy. Yes my comrades. Prepare for war. That is all. Good day and life to all.”

With that, it had begun. Soldiers left homes in trucks that had started pooling every serviceman in each city. War had been made, and a war they would have to suffer for their nation.

((OOC: And just to warn you. Don't expect all my posts to be this long. I don't have the talent or time to make novels for each post. they will all probably be longer than a page on WordPerfect. But they won't be as long as these first few of preparations.))
Jenrak
10-11-2006, 02:42
It was a cold night, as the television screen atop the small table within Mike Schultz’s house began to flicker, his thick arms throbbing with pain and his stomach gurgling slightly as he took another bite of his salad and chicken, watching the daily news, ornaments and statues of Enkur and Ciranaar dangling atop his ceiling like small angels that whooshed atop his head. His apartment was typical of a Jenrakian citizen – small, simple and humble, living in enormous complexes that provided quick and cheap access to work and the like. His girlfriend was earlier, but due to curfew she left. Now, as he sat there, looking at the television stabilizing itself, Schultz looked as the large form of a man walked onto the podium, his armour a thick azure blue, his shining glimmer of power shown by the massive biceps upon his rippling muscles, his head covered by a helmet that stretched high, his shoulders thickened with fur atop his shoulders. It was Authaulus.

“Hello, Jenrakians.” Authaulus said in a bold, fresh voice, as Schultz from his apartment lifted his salad to honour the massive Temsplace, the holy warrior.

“Hello, Lord Authaulus.” Schultz said loyally, before resuming to eat his salad, watching Authaulus look around at the bustling night crowd, his shoulders strong and broad, his fists almost looking to crush the hapless podium, his size enormous and his gargantuan sable silver blade upon his back a lumbering weapon of destruction. He was a large man, shadowing and towering the Temsplaces beside him, who were naturally also large men.

The silence became noticeable, the people quiet and the Temsplace looking around at the teeming masses around him, though it was not visible – simply Authaulus upon the podium, his strong and booming voice a schism of power. “Bring all the justice upon one slave to another. That is the wise story of Vaazka, fourth Vizi-King of Ascherach. Of course you have probably heard by now that an army marches its ways towards us, seeking to destroy us by any means necessary to prove their blatantly false goals. But alas!” He roared, his hand high into the air. “What comes of this falsehood? That the enslavement of truth comes naught through wit and words, but actions and experience!” He said, as the crowd cheered and yelled in approval, random men shouting encouraging cries in Jenrakian.

“They upon our fabled shores with guns and bombs and tanks and all the manner of blades upon which they forged of blood of others, pierced their war machine within the skin of the unwilling, the unwilling slaves of their people’s whim, the people slaves of their government’s whim, the government slaves of the land. They are slaves, and we fight an army soon! And what army is that? The army of slaves to a crown that exists naught of divinity, but of corruption! We make bright this future with their blood, we must brothers! So I say to thee, what hath we have that they hath not?”

“For within the forgings and trappings of war come the great prizes that lay within. And the greatest prize we gain from this war is the prize of pride ad favour by grand Enkur! We will soon go to war against not a child of Enkur, but a slave child of another false ideal, a religion that is carved in stone, not blood! We are carved in blood! We are the children of the Gods! Can we let them take away our title? Nigh, my brothers! The family of Jenrak calls to every soul within the borders, the family needs you! And as a member of our great family, aid your brothers and sisters to war!” With that, his arms rose, before falling in a graceful pose, the onlookers cheering even more.

Schultz’s heart began to race, his pride growing as his love for his nation began to swell. Jenrak was not perfect, by no means, but it was his homeland, and he was proud of his nations’ multiple aces within the history of the Azhujurius. He was a child and was obedient to Jenrak, and in return, they kept him safe, they gave him a job, money, security, they looked after him. And here within this speech Authaulus was giving Schultz began to nod with his every word. “To arms, my brothers!” The Temsplace continued. “To arms! To brazen shields and battered fists upon the cleavage of steel rifles of which we fight! To Arms! To the kiss of war till the bleak sunset cries, to the death of eagle upon the midnight star! To the blackened rose and the blackened sky, to the blackened heart and until we die! To war, my brothers! To sea to sea, from east to west, unity calls us forth, from worst to best upon the frozen river of war! The sands call nigh upon us within this hour, and blood shalt be spilt! We will make the grass of Jenrak grow green with the blood of our enemies! To arms!” There was a massive onslaught of cheers and roars of approvals, as the Temsplace lifted his arms.

“Kraskra doon!”

From the steaming sands, the heat cooled down slightly, though it was still unbearably hot for normal travelers who would trek through the harsh Jenrakian deserts, though it was now natural for the Jenrakians. They lived and they fought with power within the sands. From the castle within Haasdra, the Necromara, the heart of the dead, Authaulus stood amongst a council of generals, standing at a massive pedestal as they stood alike. From across him, a beautiful white-haired, pale woman of a unique yet ravishing beauty scandalously looked at him, though she still stayed upon her pedestal, her lips fiery red not from lipstick, but from blood. Upon her neck, a number was tattooed upon her collar bone, alongside a simple name – Rashkta Nirandu, the Lady of the Sadicistra. Beside her, a black Temsplace much smaller than Authaulus stood, his armour obsidian and his shine upon his shine bright and gleaming. He wore a look of quiet contemplation, his shoulder covered plates and a massive sword twice his size was tied to his back. Like Authaulus, his face did not show. Sly’lioth was his name.

Yet from the swift candlelight upon another pedestal stood another figure, his teeth like knives and his jaws connected together by steel wires and his shoulder small and lanky, his arms thin and his bony hands visible beneath a white plastic skin-like armour that stretched towards his lower robes, drawn entirely from a robe of silver knives. He looked at them, wing like metal shards emerged from his back. This man was Egos the Mutilator, and his bloodlust knew no bounds –evident from his lack of nose, ripped apart by an angry queen years ago.

Finally, upon the last pedestal, within the bleak candlelight, a black haired figure emerged, standing atop the pedestal, her uniform very much like a suit, a hat atop her head, her lipstick a thick red blood, her fingers within blood stained gloves. She stood with a professional stance, and looked at them all, as Authaulus nodded to the last arrival, the woman Thaurausk.

“As you know, we face a threat from a foreign nation labelling themselves as the KooleKoggles. From my analysis, they have had little experience in dealing with outer threats, as they have been honing their experience with civil wars.” Authaulus claimed.

“Much like us.” Rashkta replied.

“Ah, but we have been in wars against the Sandurians, the campaigns against the Jagites, and the most recent captures of the Krejei, thanks to Authaulus here.” Sly’lioth piped up, his deep voice echoing within the large, quiet chamber.

“Yet they have a logical pattern – we have caught them by surprise. We cannot surprise an enemy this time without damaging ourselves.” Thaurausk noted to them.

“That is true, but also could be worked around.” Sly’lioth said.

“How could that work?” Thaurausk asked, her voice testy.

“We ambush them upon our homeland, along the banks of the Golden Sea. We keep the strait and delta lines to the Viraigius guarded, forcing them to two possible sectors. We can force them through to the northern areas, frozen Sanduras, or we can move them through the iron jungle of Gelectriax’s empire.” Sly’lioth theorized.

“There’s a flaw within your logic.” Egos said humbly.

“What flaw is that?” Authaulus asked Egos, as the others looked on.

“Due to recent conquests, Krejei is still lightly defended. If they have a sufficient force, they could easily race up through conquered Krejeistan and smash past our defences straight to Haasdra. The military domains within Gelectriax’s empire do not necessarily help us when his empire does not stretch to the Krejei coastline. Also, it’s likely that due to the Krejei attitude right now, the locals whom we have not eradicated will turn against us and side with the foreign aggressors, passing on valuable knowledge of our terrain.” Egos argued.

“There’s a very good point in that, Egos. I am with you on that we must defend the Krejei coastline to make sure landings do not happen. Not to mention we need to keep our War Hands in line. We have six War Claws in south, and two more are being deployed. Four War Claws are stationed along the Gelectriax coastline, and twelve are in the Eastern domains. The North contains only one.”

“Ah, but Viraranaar needs only one War Claw, with Kraxihthat at his side. No fighting has ever broken through the swift sword of the Kraxihthat.”

“Do not cite advantages to grow ego - cite weaknesses to grow wise.”

“The wise do not know they are wise for it is wise to not consider yourself wise.”

“Bring naught of your paradoxes, Egos.”

“I believe the thing should commence.” Thaurausk said impatiently, as Sly’lioth agreed with her.

“Fine. Then we will deploy two Claws amongst the Krejei coastline. May Enkur bless us.”

“May Enkur bless us.” They all agreed.
Jenrak
10-11-2006, 04:30
OOC: Bump
KooleKoggle
11-11-2006, 01:45
((OOC: Where'd the other two people go. The one that intitally said he would isn't even posting. I guess I'll just go at it George Bush Style....excpept with a plan.))
Jenrak
11-11-2006, 03:50
((OOC: Where'd the other two people go. The one that intitally said he would isn't even posting. I guess I'll just go at it George Bush Style....excpept with a plan.))

OOC: Heh, lol.
Jenrak
12-11-2006, 04:00
OOC: Bump
Jenrak
12-11-2006, 05:29
OOC: BUMP. Argh Nobody replies (sadness ensues).
Jenrak
12-11-2006, 16:05
OOC: Bump. Why does nobody say anything...
Bekhaera
12-11-2006, 16:57
OOC: mind if I join, seems like a very good post and interesting, but what tech level is it at? it wont bother me which one
Jenrak
12-11-2006, 17:10
OOC: mind if I join, seems like a very good post and interesting, but what tech level is it at? it wont bother me which one

OOC: MT.
Bekhaera
12-11-2006, 17:48
OOC: ah thatgood then, so midn if I join up? and what capcity would you want me to join up as?
Jenrak
12-11-2006, 17:50
OOC: ah thatgood then, so midn if I join up? and what capcity would you want me to join up as?

OOC: Join up as whatever you want. Though I'd prefer you as somebody against me since Koolekoggle loves taking his precious time >_>...
KooleKoggle
13-11-2006, 01:12
((OOC: Oops, sorry for not getting on last night, my family went to the movies. We saw Borat. My dad didn't like it too much, he said it was pretty sick. It was, but it was pretty funny too. I'll get my post up soon))
Jenrak
13-11-2006, 03:40
OOC: No problem, haha.
KooleKoggle
14-11-2006, 01:26
(OOC: Not sure what was wrong, but last night it wouldn't let me on. It said there was a database error or something. It's working fine tosay though. This will probably be the size of most of my posts. I wish some other people would join too so that when I can't get on, it won't move so slow.))

Once again, the sun rose over the cold, foggy KooleKoggle. Nearly every man was away to their local base. Conscription into the armed forces was a requirement of most everyone. The barracks however were in a completely different state. People were crowded in the meeting rooms nearly to the point of suffocation. Nationwide, briefs were being performed by the Generals and commanders. The small underfunded bases were now loaded with people. The men were not thinking about any of this though. They were preparing for war. The thought made them all cringe as they had all seen what it had done to their own wonderful land. But now it was with a foreign power. One they’d never heard of except when news reports briefly went over their international conquests. Fear and anxiety could be smelled more over the actual odor that filled the rooms.

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

Kandat Army Barracks C- Meeting Room- 10:51 KIT

Goplis looked out at the crowded room. Even though he was now emperor, he still wanted to be with the men before they were sent off. He was still very much a general at heart. As he looked across these rugged men, he saw something he had never observed before. Most of the men in the past would have been enemies. This war had been made in an attempt to bring together the country and it was already working. A variety which he’d never seen before was sitting in front of him. But as he thought about this, the soldiers were becoming restless. He knew it was time to begin speaking.

“Good soldiers, we are here together today for a historic event for KooleKoggle. We go to war. Not with ourselves but with an outside power. One of hate and death. So I am here today to tell you how to kill them. I’m here today to inform you of how we must destroy them!”

The men cheered loudly. As loud as they cheered though, nothing could hide the fire in their voices. They knew nothing of this country except its conquests. But they were going to war no matter what. All they could do was listen.

“Ok men, here’s our strategy. I’ll just tell you what I and the generals have discussed this morning. We’re going to...”

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

Capiol City of Kandat- Meeting Room- 7:32 KIT

“....invade from the West. That’s the only way.”

Goplis looked around the room at the generals. It was almost as if the old man was back to a simpler time of his life. After seeing everyone’s faces again he looked down at the glass of whiskey in his hand with a wanting eye. But sobriety was going to be needed for the day, so he passed it to the man that just finished talking. Then another General started talking

“From the West? Are you serious? From what I can tell, going in from their neighboring countries will be the best. Troops have just been taken out of the area and the region is full of opposition to Jenrak. They’ll definitely defend the places, but once we make it past the first defenses, most citizens of the consumed countries will probably help us out. We need as much help as we can. They have us severely outnumbered. We do have quite a nuclear stockpile if it is a last resort we must go to. Our V9 sector is pretty strong too now. That’s nearly half a million of specialists. But the extra help would be very beneficial. Even if they don’t help, I doubt they’ll oppose. Anybody disagree?”

Goplis looked at the other generals for a moment. None spoke out, so he knew he’d have to throw in his two cents.

“Well, I agree with you General Prond, but I have a few problems with that. We can’t solely attack their neighboring region. We can’t let front lines form. I say before the attacks, for at least a week we do random attacks all around Jenrak. East, North, West, South, anywhere. We keep it up too. Even throughout the invasion. Just small waves of 20,000 men hit and run. It’s got to be fast. I also say, we pummel as much coastline as we can from the sea with our ships without taking from our invasion force. Air strikes need to be done too. We must keep them on their toes. Install fear where there was hardiness.”

“As you wish Lord,” all the men said in unison. This nearly disgusted Goplis, but he kept his fortitude. He knew that none would disagree with him, but he also knew it would be the only reasonable way of attack. So with that he knew the meeting was over.

“Okay Generals, report to your bases swiftly. The briefings will be made at 10:45 KIT. Meeting Adjourned.”

The men filed out of the room to be taken to their bases. Goplis left alone in the room looked at the whiskey bottle in his drawer. He took it out and stared at the wall for some time before realizing he’d dazed off. He stared down at the bottle of liquid in his hand before putting it away again after a long debate with himself. Then he himself left to prepare for his breifing.
Jenrak
14-11-2006, 02:57
“What’s the logical assumption of the enemy?” Authaulus asked, as he watched the moving dots upon his map. “What’s the likely enemy trajectories?”

“They’ll try to break us from within. They know this.” Rashkta proposed, her long finger running along the coastline, the red smudge upon the monitor-like table prominent. “They’ll attempt to use fear tactics to instil disruption and faithlessness amongst the masses. They fail to understand our resolve.”

“May Enkur bless us.” Authaulus noted.

“As a matter of fact.” Rashkta agreed, before looking at the screens once more. “It’s likely that they’ll try to resort to some sort of aerial attack. They know that we have a small air force, though they’ll probably try to disable our anti-aircraft guns so that they can start bombings. However,” she continued to run her finger through the lines, “there is a matter of fact of the enemy navy.”

“You forget our water mines, and our drones.” Authaulus reminded her, pointing to a thick blue mass amongst the golden sea, a wall of explosives within the rushing waves.

“I’ll bring my armies to my fortress in Sanduras and bring the Sadicistra to hook them across. Our defences must be at an all-time high. Switch the economic system to warmode, get Aulocos to bring the Ravagers to the front. They’ll be the sword.” Rashkta said.

“Sword?” Authaulus asked. “We are within a shield right now.”

“We feign disorganization. We make it look like we’re unprepared, but as they attempt to bring clashing blades amongst the dunes, we bring the pale axe of execution to their homeland. While they are assaulting the west coast, we hook through the lower Krejei coastline and push an army straight towards their homeland.”

“So, as we fight on the shield we stab through the sword?”

“We take the fight to their homeland. If they launch everything they have, we can defend them, while still have a large enough army to bring to their homeland. Not to mention it is summer. They will not be used to Jenrakian heat.”

“True.”

War was on the horizon, brisk steel cuirasses amongst silver blades as the armies of the Azhujurius began to mobilize.