The First To Fall To The Jackboot [Prelude to the SEA Invasion, ATTN Groznyj] [Archive]

Groznyj

29-11-2006, 02:18

It was a strange day for the city of Yeltsmin; the once lively fountain lined streets and packed community centers were now desolate and held no greeting of peace and happiness. The now most common sites on the streets of the modern city were marines and militia on patrol or running and your average military convoy. Large supply trucks made their rounds in the city dropping off the weapons from the armory and supplies that the local militias would need. Apartment buildings were fortified with whatever was available; wood planking, sandbags, bricks, anything that was on hand. Improvisation was the name of the day because of Groznyj's lack of preparedness for the massive assault to come. Accross the city at key intersections road blocks were set up ussually with concrete road barriers and random automobiles which were piled up to make life for attackers difficult. In a few areas in the city such as the armory and city hall, charges were rigged by marine demolision experts to kill any enemy forces that had made their way to them. The city militia which orignally consisted of 1200 volunteers before was now a million strong. It was hoped by command that the people would be able to help the proffesional military in staving off the invasion because of the countries compulsory military policy which gave ever person age 18 training in the basics of armed forces.

The subways were converted into field hospitals and military command centers. Kraven Corp. was almost famous for its human rights abuses so it was made sure that no hospital was marked off as such. Sams and AAA instalations were airlifted onto the top of buildings and sky scrapers in the city.

The airbase, now with 250 fighters: F14's F15's and F16's was placed on full alert and the sky above the city was occupied by 40 jet fighters at any one time.

The entire port had been converted into a makeshift naval harbor to accomodate the 100+ ships of war that were now there as well as the multitude of auxiliaries. The radar installations were malfunctioning and had to be taken offline soon for repairs. However this couldn't be done safely until the radar systems on the many outlying isles were all set up.

Back in the barbor a crowed watched as controlled explosions ripped out from side of 13 Iowa class battleships. The lower decks had been sealed off and the reactors isolated from the flooded sections. The ships all sank slowly and deliberately, like an adult easing himself into a hot jacuzi. Eventually with a muffled thud each one hit the bottom of the shallow port. The plan was to beach the ships so that they couldn't be sunk and so that they could provide good gun platforms to help defend the city. ---no one said anything, but some people were getting the idea that the military was getting desperate, and not leaving when they had the chance was a bad idea--- Task Force 2 the naval group designated with direct island defense consisted of 29 Invinsible Class light carriers 13 Iowa Class BBNs 41 Casard Class Destroyers 46 Ticonderoga Class Cruisers 42 Wasp and 19 Ocean Class asssault ships, 30 SeaWolf Class attack subs and 33 Ohio class boomers. The subs spread out in a fan covering a 2 hundred mile raidus from the city. The destroyers and cruisers waited patiently out at sea just over the horizon from the city to greet their doom. The 61 assault ships waited at anchor just north east of the city to provide additional air support and assist in a retreat the the northern island if neccesary.

The land forces and airbase fell under the command of Lt. General Chester McGreen who's plan it was to catch the Kraven troops into a Stalingrad-ish urban fight house to house and then an eventual retreat to the northern island if necessary. The 5th Marine Corps Division was stationed in the army base south of the city. They were adjacent to the city so they weren't far off. The 7th Marine Div would sit tight underground near the port until the time to fight arrived. McGreen felt it necessary to split his forces so as to give the militia and civilians more chance to see them in order to boost moral. Meanwhile plas were made for a mass exodus to the straights in the north of the island.

Task Force One, led by Admiral Uzuyev consisted of virtually all naval air assets as well as a majority of the destroyers and cruisers. The fleets larger Montana Class BBNs were part of TF1. TF1's job was to hang back and provide cover to ground forces and engage the Kraven juggernaught cautiously. The last thing Groznyj wanted was to have its entire navy obliterated before it could finish building new ships.

TF1 consisted of:
16 Nimitz and 12 Charles De Gaulle Class carriers,
12 Montana Class and 8 Iowa Class BBNs
56 Aleigh Burke Class and 13 Dragon Class destroyers
30 Ticonderoga Class cruisers,
22 Seawolf Class and 20 Virginia CLass attack subs.

Aboard the Flagship RNS Falcon (Nimitz Class) Admiral Uzuyev received a report from his XO. It was a casualty estimate for Task Force One. Uzuyev's eyes widened as he read the report. He looked up at his XO;

"this....One Hundred Percent Casualty rate?-" the 2nd in command nodded painfully hearing the words "what report has been sent to the forces in Yeltsmin?"

"Sir the naval command there has been notified of a projected 80% casualty rate. Only Admiral Douglass and Lt. General McGreen know the truth."

The middle aged admiral put one hand on his waste and the other on his forehead, "Allah help us" he said.

Wilhelmsborough

29-11-2006, 04:52

Groznyj, didn't you once say that your country was located where Turkey would be?

The Kraven Corporation

07-12-2006, 22:27

It had begun, in the early morning light of a Kraven winter, the runways of vast airfields became alive with activity, thousands of Novacom made aircraft taxied across the tarmac, their powerful jet engines causing the air to shimmer, as one by one the sleek black craft moved to the edge of the runway, before powering their vast turbine engines to maximum thrust and hammering down the runway at immense speeds…

The first two craft were airborne, followed by another two, the pilots of each bomber circled around effortlessly while the other craft of their formation took off and began to form up, at which point each of the formations that were now airborne began to make way towards the Island of Groznyj…

“This is Alpha 665, we are cruising at optimal altitude, requesting vector orders”

“Understood Alpha 655, this is The Command Relay, your Vector Orders are 63311, Orders are to release over target area…”

“Acknowledged, Target Details”

“None, 655 Your orders are to release at will”

“Acknowledged, 655 wing, beginning Radio silence”

“Understood 655, Command Relay Out”

The formations of Bombers now swept through the clouds, cutting through the air with minimal fuss, their engines roaring in triumph and taking the craft on towards its course…

On the Ground, Totenkopf Capitol Police Troopers stood ready and waiting to begin the ground invasion, as already the massive Kraven Armada on its way to South East Asia Approached, the immense behemoth of a fleet crept towards the small island, and with it came the impending doom of every citizen of that Island…

Kraven Intelligence had understanding that a member of the Groznyj military was a secret Kraven supporter and through him, the Bombers would have an unopposed attack run on the small island, but regardless, Fighter escorts were sent up to assist the bombers and give them much needed protect should they need it…

All Kraven had to do now, was wait for the Bombers to do their work…

Groznyj

09-12-2006, 01:20

The maintenance crews were almost finished with their repairs on the radar stations scattered accross the small isles to the east and in the AirForce Base. By the midafternoon the eastern radar stations would be up and running, their new upgrades making an early warning possible and so too some sliver of hope.

"The only difference between genius and stupidity, is that genius has limits.." - Einstein.

And it was so that on that morning the fate of the world lay on in the hands of one man. A Radio Officer and Kraven sympathizer, Otto Strausemburg. Of German decent, blond hair blue eyes, and a firm atheist, Otto had, the week before, made succesful contact with a Kraven mole in a bar near the Air Force Base. Promised with rank of Reichmarhsal, Otto had instantly jumped on the opportunity. What he needed to do was simple. And in doing so an unstoppable chain events would ensue, forever changing the international face of Groznyj.

That morning it wasn't Otto who was on duty but a fellow member of his contingent. Getting him out of the way was easy; a few too many drinks at a bar the previous night and an offer to fill in were all that were needed. To shut down the radar installation a deactivation code is required. This code is carried only by high ranking personel and by no means accesible to a lowly radio officer. But as with everything else, there was another way.... Arriving early to his post that day Otto quickly made his way to the main radar system. Using a key that he had gotten from the mole he opened the maintenance door to the radar. Inside he found the transmitter cable which sent data from and too the computers where he worked at. He unlatched it and gave it one yank pulling it right out. Otto had completed his mission, the adreneline was pumping through his veins; if he was found out he'd be shot on the spot for his treason.

He walked out and locked the door, throwing the key into a garbage can nearby. Just then the sound of hurried bootsteps could be heard down the hall. Otto made fast to look like he was just walking by, at this point he was sweating. The technician accompanied by two armed gaurds and another man ran right past him and quickly opened the door to the maintenance room. By the time Otto had finished his coffee and returned to his post by the console the transmitter cable would have been put back into place. However it would take up to 15 minutes to reboot the entire system. But the deed had been done. By the time the radar system had been restarted the Novacom-made bombers were 4 minutes from the city. It would take another two before the aircraft became barely visible on radar.
--2 minutes later--
The computers early detection programs had spent the entire time after being brought online searching for the faintest trace of an aircraft's radar signature. A small spec was spotted to the north of the city, invisble to the eye on radar screens, but visible to the radar's computers. It took 30 seconds for the anomoly to be significant enough for the computer's algorithms to determine it a threat.

A red light flashed on the side of the radar console. Otto was nowhere to be seen. Instead his friend which he had filled in for had been forcibly put on duty prior to having to spend the next week in a military jail. The man's eys widened and his jaw dropped: for 2 seconds he stared horrified at his moniter.
--T minus 1 minute 28 seconds--
The man fumbled for the radio and screamed into it;

"SIR!! We have an uncomfirmed sighting to the north sector D588! Bound for Yeltsmin"........................

The future was inevitable and upon all those in Yeltsmin. The Air Base was the only real defense against an air attack. The pilots had been on shifts to maintain immediate deployment ability but by the time they had gotten in their planes the first bombs would have been dropped. By the time the first had taken off the bloodthirsty jaws of Kraven would be upon them...

And in all this drama, there wouldn't even be time enough to sound the air raid siren in the city...

ooc: woo post #300!

The Kraven Corporation

26-02-2007, 20:15

Kraven Attack Wave: 2 Minutes to Midnight....

Wave after wave approached, it was comparable to a swarm of angry hornets, buzzing away, heading towards a victim that had stirred the colony, however this angry buzzing was nothing more than the powerful turbine engines of dangerous black bombers of the Kraven Air Arm, their Capitol Police pilots looking on towards the approaching city with inhuman disregard for what they were about to do…

The pilots adjusted their craft as one by one the craft received their target zone co-ordinates, the chatter of radios breaking the silence that just moments before had given the craft a distinct calm that would betray the sudden and violent act that was about to happen…

The Kraven Air Arm had already pinpointed the location of the air field just outside the city of Yeltsmin, and so a few squadrons of interceptor craft were re-routed from escorting the bombers to attacking the Groznyj craft while they were on the ground, buying the bombers more time to do their work..

The Craft were now approaching the city, the collaborator had done his work and not even an Air Raid siren sounded, the trap had been sprung and now each and every bomber in the Kraven Arsenal flew towards Yeltsmin… Ironically, it was reaching midnight as the bombers had approached the city and like a death bell tolling the final days of Yeltsmins freedom, the bells of clock towers rang out, tolling over and over…

The Bomb Bay doors were opened, one by one as each of the crews bombardiers lined up their targeting systems with the general buildings below, the bombs all High Explosive Incendiary munitions were hanging from their cages, while the bombardier counted down..

“Five…”

“Four…”

“Three…”

“Two…”

“One…”

“Mark…”

As if the heavens themselves had opened hundreds of thousands of munitions dropped from the sky, carpeting the buildings below, the Bombardiers watched as the bombs exploded below, rippling through the city and causing great fire balls to erupt into the sky…

It had Begun, each bomber continued forwards, dropping more and more of the munitions, the two pilots ensuring the craft was held on course and the bombardier ensuring that each of his precious cargo was deployed to the city below…

It had begun…. And Yeltsmin would burn tonight…

Blackhelm Confederacy

26-02-2007, 21:01

OOC: Finally, I was beginning to think I got blacklisted from Kriegzimmer for nothing

IC:
The Griffin Strikes

The Griffincrest 7th and 10th fleets bobbed slowly over the waves behind their gigantic Kraven counterparts. Aboard the deck of the dreadnought, the GNF Thievery, sat Admiral Valerius Redhammer. Valerius was young for an admiral, only thirty eight, but he had still seen more than his share of battle. He looked out at his massive mercenary fleet that was gathered around his flagship, and began to plot out his course of action.

He watched as the Kraven bombers soared overhead and began laying waste to the enemy city. He decided that he too would join in the fray, and ordered his own strike groups into the sky. Over two hundred Folland Gnats, with roughly half that number of F-4 Phantom II's left from the nearly one dozen carriers in the fleet and made their way towards Yeltsin. They would have the more difficult job, as they would arrive after the Kraven bombers and the enemy air force would be undoubtedly alerted to their presence. The planes were all ready for combat, the Gnats all carrying one AIM-120 along with their payload of two 500lb bombs, and the F-4's all packing eight Aim-120's along with nine GBU-10 2,000lb pound bombs. If anybody was still alive in Yeltsmin after the Kraven attack, they would not be for long.

Above the fleet, roughly four dozen old F-14 Tomcats flew the perimeter, keeping their eyes out in case of any enemy retaliation. Should the enemy be spotted in the skies, they would be faced with a swarm of Gnats that would darken out the moon, and dozens of Su-15's and F-14's.

"Make preparations for a landing. Once the Kraven Navy softens them up, I want our marines the first men on shore" the Admiral said, before leaving his position in the window and turning back to the maps layed out on a table.

Groznyj

26-02-2007, 22:21

The First Strike
The first to die was an old warden of the cities tallest clock tower deep in the commercial district. He heard the slow drone of the bombers above him and the recognizable whistle of the bomb that crashed through his torso and obliterated the top of the clock tower.

The bombing was merciless. Most of the casualties were citizens who died in there sleep as their building collapsed. All round the city entire districts were being felled. It was as if the world itself was ending. After the twelfth bell of midnight, like clockwork the dull thuds of explosions in the distance began sounding. The ground shook as high rise after high rise, some over 30 stories tall came crashing down taking other buildings down with them. One incendiary bomb somehow fell right through an open man hole. Inside men were repairing a damaged natural gas pipe. In an instant 6 city blocks went up in one massive explosion similar to a small nuclear device being detonated. A man was woken up by a nearby explosion. His wife sleepily asked what was going on.

"Wha, what was that honey? Come on go back to sleep"

The man thought nothing of it and went back to sleep. Lucky for him. He wouldn't be awake when a bomb hit his apartment building a few stories below blasting his entire floor up into the one above before having the entire structure break in half under its own weight and come crashing down.

All over the city was being pummeled to dust in its sleep. The industrial sector which was farthest to the north was now nothing but a hellish wasteland of fire and burning propane tanks. More explosions rattled out as the munitions warehouses were hit. The shock wave from these were enough to break windows on the other side of the city. After this an outer ring of residential high rises made up most of the city followed by a central business district. Both were indiscriminately destroyed by the Kraven Air Force. The tallest building in Yeltsmin, the 1356 ft tall Almsman building suffered hits to its base and a number of bombs which contacted with its roof almost perfectly, blowing out the core and sides of the building 20 stories below in a spectacular show of destructive force. The entire building, all 68 stories of it came crashing down almost perfectly straight. The debris causing a domino affect effectively leveling the Yeltsmin downtown. The anti aircraft guns on the tops of the towers rang out but were almost totally ineffective. Without proper early warning there was no time to put of a flak screen or prep the SAMs. The result was just random chaos. Buildings fell and Yeltsmin burned in its sleep.

Yeltsmin Harbor
The naval base was next to be hit. With all the anti air cruisers farther out to sea the beached battleships were sitting ducks to the bombers. The single Marine division stationed at the base was doomed as well. In a scene eerily reminiscent of Pearl Harbor every ship in the harbor was either sunk or bombed into a smoldering hunk of scrap metal. 400 ft tall cranes crashed into the water and cargo ships full of tanks and ammunition went up in dazzling explosions. The carpet bombing had scored a direct hit on the barracks destroying almost all of it and the Marines inside. Maybe 500 men were still alive enough to fight.

Yeltsmin International
Meanwhile the blaring of the klaxons at the Airport woke Lt. General Chester McGreen (http://www.cinebyte.com/credits/sparticus.jpg) from his slumber. He jumped out of bed with a weapon in hand ran out of the barracks to see the entire city he was tasked with defending up in flames and explosions in the distance, collapsing buildings, fires and all. He looked to his right and saw a wave of fighter pilots rushing for their aircraft out in the tarmac. It would be a race to get airborne before the Kraven fighters arived to ground every aircraft. Anti-air crews rushed to their posts to man the triple-A. The SAMs were still coming online. They needed time to power and get synchronized with the recently fixed RADAR.

A standoff missile screamed towards an F-15E eagle as its pilot started the engines and both were history. Floodlights pointed towards the sky revealing dozens of interceptors hurtling towards the base and high up in the clouds more bombers.

Groznyj now knew what it meant to be on the receiving end of a Kraven attack.

About 50 fighter pilots took off down the runway gunning their engines for all they were worth. Others were just starting up their engines as the enemy got within range. A salvo of missiles hurtled towards the frantic fighters taking off downing over 30 in the first wave. Another 9 were taken out by Kraven pilots. The rest of the enemy continued for the fighters on the tarmac. All 200 of them. Some pilots tried their hopeless luck and began racing down the runway. Others ditched their planes seeing it was too late. One such pilot, in fact a number of them jumped out of his cockpit just as a missile hit his plane, blowing him and the machine to shit. There were only 14 planes which managed to make it up in the air. These were immediately locked in desperate and heroic struggle against Capitol Police pilots. Triple-A rang out and fighters engaged in close-quarters combat in a life or death struggle.

"This is Blue-1, fight in groups don't engage them one on one there too many of -------" The CAG who had managed to join the fight suffered a missile to the engine. His plane exploded a moment later. The remaining pilots did their best to fight in tight groups trying to stop the enemy from using their number against them.

Back on the ground Lt.General Mcgreen pushed his way passed dying and wounded soldiers and pilots in the hospital on his way to the communications bunker, shouting orders along the way.

"This whole building is going to be bombed. Get these men the hell outside!"

He grabbed a 2nd Lieutenant by the neck and tried to shake the shock out of him.

"Son who is in command here? Goddamit I said who is in command?!"

"I..I am sir"

"Look there are bombers on their way here, You need to get these men out of here NOW!"

He let the man go and ran toward the comm bunker, nearly knocking over a doctor. To his luck the bunker was still operational. Although the men inside it were dead from shrapnel wounds. He found the radio and got out a distress messege to Admirals Douglass (http://www.ccsg5.navy.mil/materials/images/News%20letter.png) and Uzuyev (http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y36/sfbuzz/AdamaStrength-800-600.jpg).

"This is Lt. General Mcgreen speaking. Massive Kraven attack. City is destroyed and fighter support knocked out. Requesting anti-air support. Over and Out."

Hopefully they got the messege. The Admiral would be their only hope now. His job now was to get his men out of the buildings untill the bombers left. Then he had move his troops into the city and rendezvous with the other Marine Division at the base. Hopefully he would be able to organize the militia and hold off the Capitol Police in an urban war. Ofcourse he had no idea there was no other Marine Division. And the damage done to the city was far worse than what he had seen.

Control Room of the RNS Falcon

The entire command staff of the carrier listened to the report from the General as it was broadcast. Uzuyev's face grew grave as he listened to the transmission. Explosions, fighter aircraft, and screams could be heard in the background of the short transmission before it terminated.

"Scramble the alert fighters Get the support fighters on standby. I want two HawkEyes in the air at all times."

"Aye sir" came the reply.

Steam catapults were primed and ready and the first F-14's and F/A-18's got into position to take off of the 16 Nimitz carriers and 12 Charles DeGaulle carriers.

Blackhelm Confederacy

26-02-2007, 22:51

From the bridge of the Thievery, Admiral Redhammer could see Yeltsmin erupt into a fireball as bomb after bomb continuously fell upon it. From forward reports provided by the F-4's, it seemed that the enemy air force fared no better than their city. With the air defenses down and the city in utter chaos, Valerius decided to press his attack.

With a simple order, the Griffincrest armada began to press forward, moving in to engage any remains of a navy around Yeltsin. Thousands of men and machines crowded aboard their transport ships, eager to fight and earn their pay. The dozens of vessels within the fleet, ships of all shapes and sizes, all readied their weapons, everything from regular shells to railguns to missiles, and prepared to shatter the Groznian fleet should it be foolish enough to show itself.

In the skies above the fleet, the F-14's spread out and formed a picket ahead of the rest of the Corporate Armada. Should the enemy scramble against them, hundreds more planes were on standby. The pilots all began to ready their Sidewinders and prepared themselves for comabat.

Throughout the entire fleet, every man thought the same thoughts. Win, and get the pay days of their lives. Lose, and, well at least their families might get something. Every man in the Griffincrest Armed Forces were mercenaries, all fighting for the pay. Some would say this made them less loyal, but as far as the corporation was concerned, it gave incentive to go to war.

Back aboard the Thievery, an old Glen Miller song, It Don't Mean a Thing, started up over the loudspeakers as men hurriedly went about their duties and klaxons began to blare to signify for the men to be at their battlestations.

"It makes no difference if its sweet or hot, just swing that thing give it everything ya got"

The Kraven Corporation

26-02-2007, 22:56

It had been done, the Reichmarshal watched from the orbital relay systems sending him live feed, he watched intently as the swarm of black bombers flew over the city, leaving nothing behind them but the fires of hate and war, death, destruction and pain… the calling card of Kraven..

Already, the Reichmarshal was preparing, they had the advantage of surprise, and they wouldn’t squander it, sat around waiting for naval forces to advance, surprisingly to the Reichmarshal, the naval forces grounded in the docks, to act as a defensive measure had been taken out in the initial bombardment, something he praised the foresight of the Kraven Air Arm for…

“Ready the Assault forces, I want the Centurians on the ground… sweep through the city and capture key points”, The Reichmarshal unfolded a map, and quickly pointed at the government building, or whatever was left of it after the carpet bombing,…

“Here and here as well” He Continued returning to the map…

“What of resistance forces?”

“I doubt they have the will or the time to amass any form of civil defence, if our forces encounter any Civilian hostilities or resistance, they are to sweep the area and exterminate all hostile presence”

“As you wish Reichmarshal…”

“Right, You have your orders, see to it that it is done”

The Kraven Naval Armada

Already, Hundreds of the Assault VTOLS were being prepped and loaded, ready for the assault on Yeltsmin, thick black wire was wrapped onto great spools, that would allow the Centurians to drop from the craft with relative ease…

Alarms sounded inside the huge Ultra Carriers of the Kraven Naval Arm, the carried the sounds of jackboots, hundreds of jackboots that thundered through the corridors, each of them reached into lockers built into the side of the corridor and retrieved an assault rifle, or GPMG, then ammunition, side arms and bayonets, each of the troopers the equipped themselves with the gear using a buddy - buddy system, until on the deck of the Carrier, hundreds of Troopers were preparing to depart…

The First fifteen loaded up into the VTOL, where instantly the crew working on the deck shut the massive side doors and the engines powered up, lifting the craft from the deck with an intense and high pitched whine…

“This is The Kraven Air Arm, your Attack pattern is alpha delta delta five, form up with elements from the 18th Jagdpanzer Battalion and continue onto co-ordinates XXX-XXX Confirm?”

“Confirmed, awaiting further instructions…” The Craft began to circle around the carrier as more and more of the VTOLS rose from the deck and began to circle with the first, they circled until fifteen craft had formed into the formation, where they moved away and headed towards Yeltsmin…

It must be noted that, Kraven Assault VTOLS, were slow moving, but heavily armoured assault air craft, designed to drop soldiers into the most hostile of environments and come out relatively unscathed, it sported twin assault cannons mounted on the nose, and a 110mm smooth bore battle cannon used to support troops, while the craft was on the ground, it could either land and deploy troopers or hover above the ground and drop them via zip lines, from variable altitudes…

The versatility of the craft was endless and has seen many operations under the Kraven Military…

More and more craft entered the sky, until there were fifteen squadrons of fifteen, two hundred and twenty-five craft each of them forming another swarm, another black wave of death that approached Yeltsmin, it was a dark day for Groznyj, and it would get darker with the coming months….

Groznyj

26-02-2007, 23:35

The City

Chaos does not begin to describe the state of Yeltsmin after the last bombers left. Perhaps hell would better describe the scene. Imagine a modern Berlin, except bombed out like it was in WW2, in the middle of the night with so many fires that one could walk the streets and see fine. There were no firefighters. There were no sirens...well maybe a few. The initial bombing run had killed possibly a million or more people. This thanks to the fact that most of the citizens were asleep and no air raid siren had been rung. Doubtless tens of thousands would die in the rubble and flames. And this was only the beginning. In the streets men of all ages were starting to appear. These were what was left of the militia; essentially the whole male population. Men wandered out of their homes in a daze. It was as if they were having a nightmare. Definitely a few had already had this sort of dream. But it wasn't a dream it was real. And slowly some of the men began organizing rescue efforts to help people trapped in buildings. Others made sure everyone had a weapon or tried to contact the Marines. Buildings were still collapsing after the raid. The city was by no means a safe place to be in.

Former Airport

Mcgreen had a dicision to make. There were hundreds of wounded men here. Many of them couldn't walk. But he had to move his forces into the city. He spoke to one of his subordinate officers. 2 companies, 242 men were to stay behind and defend the airport against any land assault. Mean while the rest of the division would head out into the city. Thankfully the HMMV's parked in the underground garage were unharmed. It would only take at most 20 minutes to move every one into the city. Plus there was also some armor in the garage which was used as a bunker. Apparently it had been overlooked as a target by the Kraven forces in light of the fighter aircraft. Mcgreen had his men suited up and ready to go. Soon an entire mechanized collumn made its way down the high way north-northeast into the city. The men were ready to fight and show their enemy what a mistake they had made. A long line of HMMV's, Bradley IFV's, M1A2 MBT's, and LAV-25's made their way into the city.

Eventually the vangaurd of the advance got into the city. A few men cried and others cursed. The view from the airport hid much of the real damage. A truck barrelled down the road in the opposite direction. Inside were a few shaken Marines. They made their way to the general who road in a tank.

"What's this" he said, "Soldier what's your status, where's your platoon?"

"General sir," the private spoke, "Our Commanding Officer sent us here. He told us to tell you that the 85th has been destroyed...We lost almost everyone when the barracks got hit. He's going to try to set up a defensive perimeter around the harbor."

"Son of a bitch" the general said to himself. "You men fall into the back. Marcus!"

"Yes sir?

"Get a link with the 85th, tell them to hold their position for now. If they come under heavy fire to fall back into the city. I want the militia organized we're gonna need'em like hell."

Son of a bitch he thought. 24,000 good men gone like that.

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

Meanwhile as the ground forces began retaking the city and working with the militia the carrier fighters were on their way. 325 fighters, F-14's and 18's screamed forward at high altitude north toward the city.

Durring all of this Admiral Douglass' task force had made first contact with the enemy. He knew his mission. He knew full well that they were all going to die in order to buy the others a little more time. What he didn't know was that it wasn't just Kraven they were fighting.

"Admiral radar contacts. Deffinitely not friendlies."

"Good work son. Get the fighters airborne I want them to defend the fleet against enemy air. Send the order to the battleships. Fire at will. All cruisers and destroyers may commence missile firing on my mark."

He waited until the battleships, all Iowa class, had begun firing. Looking out from the bridge of his Iowa class flagship he waited until the enemy got closer.

"Sir?.."

..

"Mark."

Every one of the cruisers and destroyers began launching their first salvo of anti shipping missiles. Once the enemy was in range they would have begun firing their guns as well. The Av-88 Harrier II's meanwhile began patrolling the forward perimeter of the fleet.

Blackhelm Confederacy

27-02-2007, 00:20

"This is Baron 1-5. We've got hostile contacts on RADAR"

"Roger that Baron, cleared to engage, fire and return"

"Roger, dispensing munitions"

With that brief exchange over, the group of four F-14 Tomcats that had picked up the enemy aircraft unloaded its weapons, each of the planes loosing four AIM-7 Sparrows and four AIM-9 Sidewinders. As the missiles screamed towards their designated targets, the Tomcats veered off back to the carriers.

On the decks of every carrier, crews rushed to their planes as literally hundreds of Folland Gnats and Su-15's blasted if into the sky to greet the enemy airforce and send them crashing into the sea. They would either do that or die trying. For them, there was no retreat. If they retreat, they do not get paid. If they do not get paid, this entire thing would have been a waste of time for them and their families would go hungry back home.

At sea, dozens of anti-missile countermeasure snapped to life and CIWS filled the sky, downing many of the missiles that came flying towards the Corporate Armada. Still it was not enough. One of the twenty five Chieftain class pocket battleships was hit twice in the hull and once in the superstructure, and was listing dangerously as its crew tried desperatly to save the ship. Many other Charon and Krivak class frigates, along with a Rajput destroyer were set ablaze. Men and oil poured into the dark ocean as Um al Maradim attack ships tried to pick any survivors out of the mess.

The armada responded in kind. Railguns throughout the fleet opened up and missiles, thousands of them, spewed forward screaming for the Groznian fleet. The vast majority of these missiles were C-802's fired from the two dozen Volcano class arsenal ships. The rest were from the vast array of ships present, the tiny Um al Maradim attack ships, the Charon and Krivak frigates, the Rajput destroyers, the Neptune class cruisers, the Chieftain class pocket battleships, the Homeland class battleships, and the Kraken class dreadnought, all fired as one as their section of the ocean sprang to life.

Groznyj

27-02-2007, 01:22

[ooc: I made a little battle map (http://img134.imageshack.us/img134/1213/yeltsminbattlemapah1.png) so that we dont get too confused oocly.]

"We got multiple bogies coming in hot, prepare for evasive maneuvers!"
The missiles closed ever closer in to the Groznian pilots. The planes scattered in all directions, some taking advantage of their ability to hover, each one dispensing flares. The result was a flurry of air to air missiles flying in every direction. Still for many this wasn't enough as the missiles were able to lock on to the Harrier's massive heat signature. Half of forward planes were hit and destroyed. This totaled a third of the total harrier force.

"Command this is CAG, hostiles withdrawing requesting permission to pursue"

"This is the admiral. Permission granted."

At that the remaining planes, 102 in all gave chase to their targets. They flew in a double formation with air-to-air aircraft in front and those with bombs and torpedoes flying a little behind. Torpedo planes at low level almost skimming the ocean surface with the fighters a few hundred feet above and a few miles in front and bombers flying at 9,000 feet.
-----

"Admiral the enemy is returning fire."

"Good. Tell the other ships to fire at will and hold their position." There was no emotion in his voice save a hint at the end. The anti-ship missiles rocked the fleet. The impact of the missiles alone puncturing right through the thin armor of the conventional ships. Douglass could see a row of lights...thousands of them in the dark heading his way. It was beautiful in a way.

"Men," he said, "it has been an honor to serve with you."

The CIWS systems sprang to life once the missiles were in range. RAM's were launched as well to take on the advancing salvo. The combined power of the fleet was enough to down a little more than a third of the enemy missiles. And this was thanks in large part to the close grouping of the missiles. The lights grew closer and hundreds of lines of ordinance trails could be seen shooting out. Some of the lights gave out a flash and crashed into the sea. But still the main body came through.

A missile flew straight into the bridge of Douglass' flagship killing him and his staff instantly. His battleship suffered 12 hits to the starboard side. With its superstructure inflames collapsing and nearly its whole side gouged out it capsized into the sea. One of its guns fired at point blank into the water as it went under as if in protest. Every ship in Task Force 2 was hit although a number were still able to fight. All of the carriers, 29 Invincible class ships were sunk outright. 8 of the Iowas were totally destroyed and the others barely able to keep afloat however they still fired. Of the 41 Casard Class destroyers 30 had been destroyed or fully disabled and there were only 14 Ticonderoga class cruisers still operational. Indeed the thin hulls of the ships proved to be their down fall. The rest of the surface fleet would continue to fight until the last ship lay at the bottom of the sea.

Now that the surface fleet had had its moment of glory it was the submarine fleet's turn. With 30 SeaWolf Class atk subs and 33 Ohio Class boomers, submarine commander Aslan Furnstum was determined to undermine the enemy fleets advance. They were no where near the now burning Task Force 2. They were a few miles to the east and closing in in two teams towards the vangaurd of the Blackhelm fleet. The Boomers at once let loose 198 tomahawks from underwater and then dove back down to a safe depth. The attack subs continued forward deep underwater almost totally silent toward there prey.

29 Invinsible Class light carriers 13 Iowa Class BBNs 41 Casard Class Destroyers 46 Ticonderoga Class Cruisers 42 Wasp and 19 Ocean Class asssault ships, 30 SeaWolf Class attack subs and 33 Ohio class boomers.

Blackhelm Confederacy

27-02-2007, 01:55

OOC: Damn, you found his Achilles heel with those subs

IC:

Valerius became overjoyed with the explosion that rocked through the enemy fleet and ordered his ships to keep on firing and rush the coast. The rest of the ships commanders, sharing Valerius' joy, did the same, most ignoring the calls of their sonar men. Missiles and shells continued to streak through the sky landing amongst the Griffincrest ships, but their intensity was far less severe. Two more ships, both Neptune cruisers, burst into flame, while a third ship, one of the prized arsenal ships, was literally blown from the water when a shell crashed through the deck and exploded the missiles left inside.

In the sky above the fleet, the outdated Gnats and Su-15's massivly outnumbered the enemy harriers. The Gnats blindly fired rockets towards the enemy jets, basically throwing away their lives in the hope that they dwon an enemy while the old Sukhoi's loosed missile after missile, all firing four AA-8 Aphids and two AA-3 Anab missiles. Through the massive swarm of Gnats and Sukhoi's, the four Tomcats tried to make their escape. Still, one of them was downed before he made it into the cluster, and crashed into the dark sea below.

Groznyj

27-02-2007, 02:21

[ooc: here's the map if you didnt get it b4 jolt ate it >.> PIEBATTLEMAP (http://img134.imageshack.us/img134/1213/yeltsminbattlemapah1.png)]

The extent of anger and pissed offedness written on Sub Commander Aslan Furnstum was so pissed off at what had happened to the surface fleet that it is impossible to describe the extent to which his face was pissed off. Maybe this (http://static.flickr.com/28/42664148_ff49381a17.jpg) would do. He was determined to sink as many enemy ships as possible and then vanish before they could respond.

The subs silently sailed to within range of the Blackhelm ships rushing to the coast. The other group of attack subs went for the eastern flank of the main fleet. Simultaneously each sub rose to teh adequate depth and fired away a number of torpedoes. Those subs near the main fleet then dove back down into the deep depths to attack from another angle. Furnstum didn't want to take any chances after what had happened to Douglass. The group of subs prowling under the wreckage of the fleet would keep up the attack snatching unwary ships out of the water like sharks to their prey.

The boomers in the mean time stayed back a good distance, moving to another position to unleash another salvo of missiles.

Demon 666

27-02-2007, 02:47

OOC: Tagging. Groznyj, I'd like to know if this is open for me, given I haven't seen you in a while. I think I migt lean with kraven on this one, but I'm not certain.

Leafanistan

27-02-2007, 03:03

http://img80.imageshack.us/img80/3486/yeltsminbattlemapah1dd4.png

The Mafia ships had arrived, albeit late, but with mostly antishipping and antisubmarine defenses. The fleet was strange, like a bad joke. Po-2 Biplanes with Mark 46 Torpedoes and a man with a stinger in the backseat. Mi-14 helicopters searched the sea for the submarines harassing the Griffencrest Fleet.

Hundreds of depth charges, ASROCs, and antisubmarine torpedoes lashed out from the ragtag fleet. The command ship, the IMS Portnoy's Complaint, a Homeland Class Battleship, surrounded by hundreds of various small support ships, including hastily modified to carry Kraven-made RIBs and dozens of smaller boats carrying Mafia Marines prepared to storm the beaches.

The 4 modern carriers launched F-4s and Earwig Strike Fighters to join the Griffencrest Forces.

The biplanes soared toward the enemy taskforce. Their torpedoes were modern, their Stingers slightly outdated, their airframes a leftover from the beginning of the second world war. They relied on one strategy. The fact that they were so slow, so small that they had a RADAR cross-section of a house sparrow, and the heat signature of a seagull. Their maximum speed was slower than all of the jet fighter's stall speeds. Without electronically guided gunsights the gunners had to rely on dead reckoning or mechanical gunsights which didn't have such a low minimum speed.

They turned themselves parallel to the enemy taskforce then turned perpendicular to them and launched their torpedoes then headed back. Those who could trained their Stingers on enemy aircraft and fired.

The Krivak-class Frigates and Alpha-class Destroyers opened fire on the enemy with tiny gun shells and outdated missiles. Meanwhile the landing craft worked to get behind the Griffencrest Fleet and follow them to the shore.

OOC: Most of the ships are cargo ships, fishing trawlers, tow boats, this is probably the strangest fleet you've ever encountered. Most the ships are carrying just a few marines and some recoilless rifles and possibly a single Exocet missile.

Blackhelm Confederacy

27-02-2007, 03:22

Torpedoes began smashing into the Griffincrest vessels destroying many of them and maiming many more. Even more bodies and oil were thrown into the ocean as the sonarmen gave their commanders that "I told ya so" kind of stare. The fleet was suudenly thrown into disarray as ships stopped to avoid the wounded and sinking and others contiued on, simply barreling through their sinking comrades. A carrier was hit and began to list heavily to its starboard side, spilling several Gnats and many of its crew off of thedeck and into the black, slimy, oil filled water below.

The Krivak and Charon frigates immediatly fanned out and began their sub hunting duties, firing off an array of anti submarine weapons. It was to late, however, as even the Thievery had taken a torpedo.

Groznyj

27-02-2007, 04:08

[ooc: eh blackhelm, Im confused, which is it griffencrest or blackhelm confederacy? also is it obvious that the mafia is tied to leafanistan or no?]

Furnstum was pleased with the way things were going. It felt good to avenge his fallen bretheren.

"Sir we're getting more sonar contacts from the east! They appear to be another fleet."

First we thought it just Kraven we should watch out for. Now it's Blackhelm and now more? What in fuck's name is going on here?! he thought to himself. He began to look less like an enraged kitty and more like this (http://www.wayodd.com/funny-pictures2/funny-pictures-pissed-off-monkey-0JV.jpg) . It would appear that his golden oppurtunity was beginning to pass. He decided to make one last counter-attack with his group before dissapearing.

The order was sent to the Ohio-class submarines to rise to launch depth and to commence firing. Since there were 33 of them 11 would target the coast-bound ships, 11 would target the main fleet, and 11 would target the newcommers. Some of the missiles had a camera feed to the subs. (this is how it was determined that Griffincrest forces were involved even though no sailor has seen them with his own eyes).

Out of no where, a few miles away from where they had launched the first salvo a further 198 tomahawks jumped out of the sea and broke into 3 groups heading north, east, and west. Once again the boomers dove back to a safer depth and followed orders to standby farther out to sea where it was safer.

Meanwhile Furnstum's wolfpack began a ruthless attack against both the new fleet and the main fleet. His orders to the other wolf pack was along the lines of; keep attacking them until it becomes too dangerous then get the hell out. It was quicky becomming more dangerous by the second. Although a number of the torpedoes had come dangerously close to killing a few Groznian subs, these had been lucky as there countermeasures succeeded in destroying the enemy torps. But there was starting to become an unhealthy amount of torpedoes in the water.

One of the subs in Furnstum's group was hit by a torpedo and all communication was lost. Followed by another and another. Aslan didn't know how much longer they could continue this fight. He his objective was to score as many hits as they could.

Another torrent of torpedoes was launched at the enemy ships. Each sub firing at will. Farther to the east attack submarines made short work of some of the ships. Their MK-48 torpedoes worked by detonating underneath the ship and cracking it in half in a seemingly overly spectacular (http://youtube.com/watch?v=7vaImLvZbPw) way.

A moment later on of the western subs ceased communication, obviously hit.

Leafanistan

27-02-2007, 04:33

~snip~ Also it is Griffencrest Corporation. The Blackhelm Confederacy isn't involved.

OOC: The Mafia managed to get some land and citizens of their own. They are now their own country, but are hiding as Kraven Reinforcements.

The fleet wore Kraven Colors, Kraven Kreigsmarine uniforms, but were in such non-standard boats and biplanes it boggled the mind. The missiles struck the Long Island classes and soon 5 of them were sinking from multiple hits. Some of the various cargo ships and ragtag tow boats and fishing trawlers were sunk.

The helicopters rapidly responded and began homing in on the Ohio-class subs. Some of the biplanes joined them, their torpedoes falling into the water. Krivak-class frigates, which had managed to avoid the missiles by hiding among the conscripted transports. They started to chase the wolfpacks, their active towed SONAR arrays lighting up the subs.

The fleet began to scatter as torpedoes flew left and right, some impacting the tiny launches leaving the various ships. The Mafia Kreigsmarine with Corporate Carbines began moving toward landfall, the explosions of the city their beacon.

Demon 666

27-02-2007, 04:37

Blackhelm Confederacy

27-02-2007, 06:11

From in the middle of the fleet, dozens of massive trasport ships spewed forth. At a set destination, each of these ships loosed dozens of their own smaller Higgins boats, all of which began to proceed towards shore under the cover of the Krivak and Charon class frigates.

CIWS fire filled the air, almost making a wall of lead to keep out the enemy missiles. Still, missiles got through, and the Thieverytook yet another hit to the aft section of the ship. Fires began raging not just aboard the flagship, but on many other ships of the Corporate fleet. In the water, hundreds of countermeasures were being tossed over to distract the torpedoes from the ships, but still, a Homeland battleship was completely destroyed along with another pair of Neptune class cruisers.

Admiral Redhamer strode over to the radio and sent a transmission to the Kraven fleet.

"We have just taken the brunt of their naval forces. Feel free to commence your landing."

He then put the radio down and walked back to his window overlooking the fleet. Ships around him struggled with fire as they unloaded shell and missile upon the surviving enemy. The frigates were all escorting the Higgins boats to shore, and the men aboard each boat hunkered down and prepared to unload.

Outside, It Don't Mean a Thing still played out over the flames and cannon fire.

"It don't mean a thing, if it ain't got that swing
It don't mean a thing all you got to do is sing"

Leafanistan

27-02-2007, 06:21

Cargo ships were aflame, fishing boats attempting to sink, all manner of death and destruction. The fleet admiral looked unto the scene and spotted the Griffencrest ships disgorging their contents; hundreds of landing craft, he nodded then turned to his second in command.

"That is the signal, tell them to launch."

Those cargo ships that remained afloat opened their front doors, unhitched their parasite boats and watched as nearly 150,000 men of the 4th Republican Expeditionary Force soared out. BTR-60-90s, Kraven designed RIBs, BMPs, even fishing boats all rushed to the shoreline. The larger transports carried Technicals for the Mafia forces all rushing toward the beaches.

A division of combat engineers was among them to quickly create a STOL/VTOL base for transports from Kraven by clearing out a section of the city while the rest were to link up with Griffencrest Forces and begin looting the city for valuables.

It was strange to those on shore, like a reverse Dunkirk, hundreds of various boats all rushing, not to evacuate soldiers, but to drop them off, and not to fight to live another day but to die today, at the enemy's hands, all for the mighty Universal Standard Dollar.

Demon 666

27-02-2007, 06:30

Um, Groznyj? I'm acting as if you said yes, and I'm typing my intro post as I might not have much time. If you don't want me in, IGNORE me, and I'll delete my post.

"Hasn't this happened before?"
"I think so, my Emperor. I shall go examine the data files."
Tenarius groaned. As old as he was, he was forced by his body to start taking more nap, even as his soul was still as hard as it was as a Colonel in his younger says. He had been snoozing peacefully when he had been awaken with the news.
"Well, our two oldest enemies, ready to kill each other. Should we do anything?"
"Let's stay out."
"No, let's support Groznyj. Despite their government, Kraven is too powerful- we should support anyone willing to weaken them."
"Support a liberal Muslim government? I'll resign first."
"We've supported them before, Morihume."
"The fact is....."
And so it dragged on for three hours with deadlock and arguing. For the first time in many years, Tenarius couldn't make a decision.
And then an aide slinked in the room.
"My Emperor? You might want to go outside. Onto the balcony."
As the old man and his marshalls got off their chairs, the aide observed,
"I think the decision's already been made."
Tenarius was vaguely shocked. It was a huge crowd outside the Imperial Palace, to say the least. Moreover, it seemed to all kinds of people- construction workers were right next to students. The Praetors stood outside the gates, weapons up in case of trouble.
It was totally silent for a few seconds, then the crowd began yelling.
"Death to Islam!"
"Death to Groznyj!"
"hang Razmen!"
"Crush the Muslim swine!"
And those were the kinder statements. Moreover, Tenarius now saw that many were carrying anti-Groznyj and anti-Islamic signs.
He looked at Marshall Bradley in surprise.
"They got the news less than a day ago. How-"
"did they get to rioting? You do allow them considerable personal freedoms for an Emperor, Tenarius, and the people are not favorably disposed to Muslims, especially after what the rebels did last month."
Stones and bottles began to fly through the air, and a Praetor readied his assault rifle.
"Don't shoot."
The voice of Tenarius rang above the crowd and everyone fell silent. The Praetor shouldered his rifle.
Tenarius cleared his throat and orated in a voice loud and strong.
"My people! Fellow citizens! What have I done to lose your trust so? You did not know what I was going to do- so why did you assume that I would work with Muslims? Have you so little faith in me, that you drew that conclusion?
I have earnestly worked against the Muslims, those dogs of Zhaklid. Have I not driven them to the mountains. You may argue that I have worked with Groznyj- but does Groznyj love us? I think not.
But rest assured all of you, let us destroy Groznyj forever! Let us show the might of our Empire and wipe this Earth of the scourge of Muhammed!"
Where now they had roared their disapproval, the people cheered. While "Death to the Muslims" and Death to Groznyj" were still chanted, one could now hear "Long Live the Emperor" now and then. Tenarius smiled, bowed graciously, and walked back to the meeting room. Once back, however, his countenance changed. He punched the wall, panted, and yelled,
"Damn the people, damn all of the people!"
It was the first time anyone had ever seen their Emperor this mad. he straightened up, looked at his slightly bleeding hand, and sighed.
"Mobilize the Imperial Army. At any rate, I should destroy Groznyj before I die."
The cheers of the people could still be heard.

The Kraven Corporation

27-02-2007, 19:15

The Kraven fleet began to move into position, the Grand Admiral of the fleet, a youngish Kravenite viewed the Blackhelm fleet take the brunt of the Groznyj navy, the explosions that tore through the fleet made the night seem all that more spectacular…

“Move the fleet into standard battle formation and bring the Subjugators to the front, we’ll split the Groznyj fleet in two” The Admiral spoke, wheeling round on his heels and striding towards the Radio operator..

"Sir, The Griffincrest fleet had just dealt the final blow to the Groznyj defense fleet..."

The Admiral paused for a moment... "Very good, plough on, move us into range of the docks, and prepare the ground forces to coincide with the Second Wave... this has made our job a whole lot easier.."

“Send a reply to the Blackhelm Commander..” The Admiral continued speaking to the operator.

“Aye Sir” the operator handed over the mic and patched him through to the black helm fleet…

“This is the Kraven Naval Arm… Hold your positions, The Battlefleet is moving to engage, follow us through and prepare your forces for a shore landing” The Admiral put down the receiver not giving the blackhelm Commander a chance to reply… within a few seconds the massive Subjugator began to lurch as it manoeuvred towards its new heading…

The entire Kraven invasion fleet of well over 3,000 vessels moved from its current formation into a four tier defensive ring, the standard Kraven Naval formation, the main Capitol ships were kept in the centre ring, protected by the dedicated CIWS vessels on the outer rings, however this formation had the Navys biggest and most powerful Super Dreadnaughts, The Subjugators at the front of the formation, instead of hiding in the middle and being used as fire platforms, they would instead be utilized as sledgehammers to crack the groznyj defence…

“Sir” The Weapons Officer spoke, “Our missile ships are within range of the Groznyj fleet we can strike them at long range, until the rest of the fleet moves closer into range…”

“Negative, hold fire until the entire fleet is in range, we shall cripple them in a single salvo rather than sporadic fire…” The Admiral pointed towards a map depicting the Groznyj fleet…

“Aye Sir, as you wish…” The Weapons officer

(OOC: Short post for now, will be making another one either later tonight or tomorow, When im home i'll add my fleet to the map)

Groznyj

27-02-2007, 21:05

[ooc: um Kraven, I dont have a fleet in that area anymore. Griffencrest forces already blew it out of the water. I just have around 50 submarines wrecking havoc on the fllet and landing for forces though. Also my fighters will probably end up ariving at the city the same time your transports do XD. And.. feel free to paint a big X or explosion on my surface fleet icon in the map lol. Not much for me to post ICly I'll wait until someone else posts again. And Demon, keep in mind that this battle is still raging and has only been going on for maybe not even an hour (started at midnight w/ the bombing). So if anything what your emperor does and when your people hear about this will be after my presidents speech which will come after the battle's over.]

Leafanistan

27-02-2007, 21:28

Groznyj

28-02-2007, 02:49

[ooc: good point. Thanks for clearing up a lot of stuff. Though I said my surface navy was already gone hense Kraven would have nothing to shell naval-wise. And also reminding Demon to wait until the proper time to start implementing his forces. Currently No one else in the world who inst in the know, knows what's going on right now.]

A depth charge rocked the crew of the Faithful the submarine Furntsum had been commanding from. Despite aggressive efforts on the part of his submarine taskforce the number of sonar and radar contacts kept growing and growing. There were only 5 submarines in his group left and 7 out of the 15 that guarded the coast.
-Another shockwave jolted the submarine. This time a man standing near a bulkhead fractured his skull as he was thrust violently into the doorway. He lay in a bleeding heap on the floor. The subs comm channel was alive with damage reports and the sound of men groaning to tighten cracked pipes.

In a few short minutes the Kraven Armada would descend on their position and plow through them as if they were nothing. Furnstum had exploited his oppurtunity at payback to the fullest extent to which he could. There were hundreds of ships destroyed and many of them weren't Groznian. He knew he would have to retreat and regroup with TaskForce 1. To stay would be suicide. He was about to shout the order as another shockwave rocked the vessel. This time he flew eye fist into the handle bars of the periscope. The entire command room went pitch black for a moment then the power went back online. The hull creaked and moaned as if like a whale in agony as it fought back the voracious pressures of the deep.

The Naval Captain managed to get back on his feet although shaky. "Damage Report!" He had his hand to his left eye, blood starting to trickle down his cheek. Yelling a command was the only way he could hide his pain from his crew. A sonar officer turned around and answered him,

"Sir they've just taken out the Zhokskay!"

"Get the word to the rest of the fleet, full retreat to coordinates 581, pattern Beta."

"Aye sir."

At once the wolfpacks broke off their attack and began diving as deep as their damaged hulls allowed them, each sub going in apparently different directions however every one would rendezvous far to the south. They had done all that they could. One submarine's ballast system suffered a catastrophic failure: no it didn't explode but worse. As the reactor went offline the sub began an uncontrollable rise. Eventually smashing through a small craft and giving itself away as an easy target to any surface vessels. The 33 Ohio class subs, though participating at a farther away distance had also been spotted by enemy towed sonars. In a surprise attack 13 submarines were destroyed simultaneously by a hail of torpedoes crippling 2 more. Both subs crashed to the depths; one imploding as its hull ruptured from the impact and the fate of the other to be forever unkown to history.

The submarines, although battered and broken had accomplished their mission. They made sure the marines and militia back at the naval harbor had enough time to organize into some kind of coherent force. 155mm towed artillery guns which had been stored in underground bunkers and parking lots had been towed out and moved into position. There was no armor to speak of however, the motor pool had been taken out in the initial bombing raid. 489 Groznian Marines dug themselves in to pre-made dugouts, in buildings, or where-ever they could find shelter. The militia began growing as time went by. Every second that passed another man was given a weapon and orders. There were already 29,000 militia-men, true minutemen moving to support the meager professional force. They all hid and waited. In the shadows, in burned out wrecks, posing as dead automobile drivers, and behind sandbags manning machine guns which had been stowed away beforehand. They waited until their corporate enemy was close enough. Everyone was silent until the first Griffincrest troops hit shore and then the artillery began firing. They would wait until the beach was full of men before detonating the c4 underneath it. Half a mile south in what was left of the port, the men waited until the enemy had scaled the seawalls before firing pointblank at them. This was a fight for survival. Liberty or Death.

Leafanistan

28-02-2007, 03:59

[ooc: good point. Thanks for clearing up a lot of stuff. Though I said my surface navy was already gone hense Kraven would have nothing to shell naval-wise. And also reminding Demon to wait until the proper time to start implementing his forces. Currently No one else in the world who inst in the know, knows what's going on right now.]

The submarines, although battered and broken had accomplished their mission. They made sure the marines and militia back at the naval harbor had enough time to organize into some kind of coherent force. 155mm towed artillery guns which had been stored in underground bunkers and parking lots had been towed out and moved into position. There was no armor to speak of however, the motor pool had been taken out in the initial bombing raid. 489 Groznian Marines dug themselves in to pre-made dugouts, in buildings, or where-ever they could find shelter. The militia began growing as time went by. Every second that passed another man was given a weapon and orders. There were already 29,000 militia-men, true minutemen moving to support the meager professional force. They all hid and waited. In the shadows, in burned out wrecks, posing as dead automobile drivers, and behind sandbags manning machine guns which had been stowed away beforehand. They waited until their corporate enemy was close enough. Everyone was silent until the first Griffincrest troops hit shore and then the artillery began firing. They would wait until the beach was full of men before detonating the c4 underneath it. Half a mile south in what was left of the port, the men waited until the enemy had scaled the seawalls before firing pointblank at them. This was a fight for survival. Liberty or Death.

The pursuit didn't stop with the submarines starting to reach the maximum engagement depth of their SONAR. Dozens of helicopters and biplanes continued pursuit with massive depth charge and torpedo drops. A variety of submarines began pursuit.

On shore it was still quiet. Then suddenly the sound of sonic booms soared over at the same time hundreds of cluster bombs landed. The aircraft were already on their way out. Cluster shells from the Homeland Class battleship and larger cruisers began to rain down in preparation for the landing.

Then the little lights from the vehicles started showing up. Machine gun and autocannon rounds poured onto the beach, targeted via thermal rounds. Dead bodies didn't emit so much heat. The rounds also raked the beach some of them perforating the C4 under water. The thermal sights also revealed recently disturbed earth. Confusing them for land mines the vehicles began to steer aside.

They hadn't even made landfall and they already begun to take casualties. The artillery had taken only a few.

Hundreds of miles away elite marines, rented from the Northern Baltic were being equipped with modern BMP-3s, HT-101-106 Tank Destroyers, and BTR-94 APCs. 60,000 of them got onto the Wasp Amphibious Assault Ships. They would take a full day to arrive, hopefully by then the resistance was quashed.

Mafia ship casualties were significant by now, 30% of them were sunken or damaged. The Griffencrest Corporation ships had taken the brunt of enemy forces.

The Kraven Corporation

28-02-2007, 17:21

The Kraven Corporation

28-02-2007, 22:51

The Assault VTOLS thundered over head, their powerful engines forcing them through the skies, the engines screaming in protest as the pilots pushed every ounce of power from the twin turbine jet engines, the craft, designed for hostile operations circled around twice, looking for possible clusters of resistance, their thermal optical targeting systems, pinpointed various heat signatures thought to be people, the pilots swung the craft around, before deploying several zip lines…

Following the black zip lines were the armoured figures of Totenkopf Centurians, their gas masks glowed with the distinct red that all Kraven soldiers wore, their long trench coats billowed from the downward force of the jet engines as dust and dirt was kicked about, another and another of these huge Centurian Capitol Police dropped to the ground, pulling out their weapons and surveying the devastation that littered the streets, the craters, bombed out buildings, burnt out cars..

Fires still smouldered, burning corpses littered the streets as the Centurians went to work, they moved into the first building that was half stood, they kicked the door that hung limply from its hinges, sending the wooden structure crashing to the ground, the Optical Mags of the Kraven gas masks gave thermal imaging, they quickly switched to night vision, giving them a clear view of the surroundings, the table, the smashed TV, the woman and the child huddled in the corner, crying quietly, but quiet enough so that the sounds of the circling VTOL drowned them out…

The Centurian moved over, using his rifle butt to strike the woman squarely in the face, sending her sprawling on her back, the young child, a small girl of only six years old, cried out even louder, clinging to her mother, as the other Centurian reached out and dragged her from the mother, she was dragged kicking and screaming effortlessly by the huge trooper, flinging her out into the street and forcing her to kneel while her mother was dragged and forced to do likewise…

The VTOL circled once more then the distinct voice of a Capitol Police pilot, the voice pierced the air through loud speaks attached to the hull of the craft, it was mechanical, cold and lacked all humanity…

“THIS IS THE KRAVEN MILITARY ARM… ALL RESISTANCE FIGHTERS ARE ORDERED TO LAY DOWN THEIR WEAPONRY AND SURRENDER THEMSELVES TO THE KRAVEN FORCES PRESENT..”

Already Kraven symbols were being spray painted onto the sides of buildings, indicating that the building and been swept clean, quickly a vast number of survivors had been rounded up and dragged out into the streets, forced to kneel before their captors, vast, heavily armoured and heavily armed Centurian Stormtroopers…

One woman began to cry, spitting at the Centurian stood before her, quickly she was answered with the rifle but of an MG42, her jaw broken she fell back, instantly her husband, who thought it was better to protect his wife and child, rather than fight for the honour of his country stood up, stepping forth and planting his fist into the face mask of the Trooper…

The Trooper barely flinched, turning his head back towards the man, the red glow of the gas mask pierced the mans mind, before he too was sent sprawling to the floor with a rifle butt to the face, instantly a Trooper grabbed two children one six and one seven…

“All Citizens will Comply with the Kraven Military Arm… failure to do so will result in Executions..”

The two children were both shot with a .50cal pistol to the back of the head, their forehead was blown out, splattering both the mothers and the fathers with gore, people howled in protest, cursing Kraven and all it stood for, but being unable to do anything about it…

Kraven was making its mark on Yeltsmin…

Groznyj

28-02-2007, 23:39

"We fight for freedom Allah ul-Akbar!" came the cry from the first of the militia to arrive on scene. Seemingly from every direction Groznian minutemen started appearing, from behind the corner of a building near where civilians were being huddled up a van screached to a hault, a dozen men pouring out of it and using it for cover. Around both corners of the street more men came running out, mostly armed with AK-47's or M16's. They began firing as they came out using the van and other vehicles as cover and also the corners of the two buildings on either side of the road. The men tried their best to not hit the people out in the street trying to shoot high and hopefully get a head shot. Meanwhile more and more men banded into groups, some pre-organized, most on the wing, and began setting up defenses around their neighborhoods. All over the city in any building that hadn't been destroyed snipers and machine gunners got into position waiting for the much talked about enemy to march by. No one had ever even seen a Capitol Police trooper, let alone a Centurian ever before.

At this time, while McGreen and his army moved into the city the 85th Marine Division began fending off the brunt of the Griffincrest landing. More buildings collapsed as the battleship shells blew away much of the developement in the area. Any surviving artillery rang out, aimed north toward the beach where armor was being advanced. Communication with other elements was almost non existent. Anyone able to get a radio working found it almost useless with a great deal of men talking over it at once. Shouting for assistance, giving out enemy locations, etc. A few marines stationed at the beach began firing Javelin missiles at the advancing armor from dug in positions. There would be a hail of rpg's hopefully, once more of the militia arrived.

The militia used vans, trucks, and SUV,s anything they could find as transportation. Some had been armored with welded plate of metal but most were just taken off the street or where-ever.

Leafanistan

01-03-2007, 03:38

OOC: Opps, my bad, I've edited the post a little to make more sense, thats my fault for trying to read it after driving all day

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v399/HorusGodEmperor/Map2.png

Sorry leaf, your fleet was in the way of my Battlefleet, :P

OOC: Don't mind mingling, our cargo ships will probably be leaving as the enemy fleet is pretty much crushed.

The vehicles began landing, a rag-tag army led by a dark Kraven flag began to sweep through the beach. The luxury houses demolished by the bombardment must still hold valuables, important valuables and the mercenaries let loose. Anyone caught fleeing was shot in the legs, occasionally they bled out, most were captured and dragged half conscious to Higgen's Boats to be divided as spoils of war. Half went to the Mafia plants in the Galation, while the rest were sent to Blackhelm and Kraven to feed their war machines.

Gold and silver, fine china, silverware, glassware, televisions, computers, anything that wasn't nailed down was being shoved onto Higgen's boats back to command for resale to outlet stores and the weapons that were found would find their way to the black market.

Many of the mercenary bodies would be found nearly entirely stripped, while veterans would be found wearing many watches.

The initial landings had caused minor casualties. Slat armor had detonated them early and the thermal sights helped them kill those who exposed themselves. 14.5mm guns up to 30mm autocannons sliced through cover and helicopters.

Blackhelm Confederacy

01-03-2007, 22:25

The Griffincrest Foward Advance Team (GFAT) began to make their way to the opposite end of Yeltsmin than where the Kraven forces had dropped down. It would only be minutes now before the main invasion hit the shore. The job of the men of GFAT was to land and secure a base within the ruined city, and than disrupt any resistance forces in the area. A half-dozen Mi-2 Hoplite gunships soon made their way to their destination, and throw ropes were tossed out the sides. Several men slid from each chopper and soon their was almost forty men on the ground. These men would also go building to building, spray painting the symbol of the corporation (http://www.maj.com/gallery/Zukariaa/Maps/corporateflag.png) on each building they cleared. As the men cleared the buildings, theywould often take whatever valuables they thought were worth their time, looting several jewelry stores and apartments as they went. Men would soon find why their vest had so many pockets on them as they packed themselves full of gold and diamonds. Widespread looting was common in every Griffincrest operation, in fact, it was expected by the commanders, who reffered to it as "hazard pay." It was even more incentive for the poor people back in the Confederate slums to join up as a mercenary for Griffincrest.

The mercenaries, however, were very different from their Capitol Police counterparts on the other side of the city, for they were human. They were not the cold blooded killers that was the Kraven troops. When they found any people alive in the rubble, they would not execute them, but would rather pull them out and send them to the detention/medical center set up in a blown out high school gymnasium, which was defended by fifteen of the men who dropped down.

A GFAT lieutenant grabbed a bullhorn and hopped up on to a large concrete slab that had fallen from a building. "This territory is now owned by the Griffincrest Corporation. Do not resist, or you will be cut down. Surrender to our forces, and you will be given quarter and treated fairly." After saying that, he hopped back down off the rubble and began ordering his men to set up three man checkpoints around the Griffincrest controlled area. The men began to fan out over a five block area that they had now claimed as their own and set up their checkpoints, mostly made of rubble and abandoned vehicles. Each post would have a machine gunner in an elevated position in a lesser destroyed building armed with an M32, and two men on the ground behind their barricade armed with the Griffincrest standard G36E.

The detention center was soon becoming filled with the citizens, both wounded and unscathed (although the latter was uncommon), and the mercenaries were getting alittle uneasy. If any of these people were resistance fighters, an attack from both the inside and outside of the gymnasium would most likely end badly for not just the mercs, but also for a number of civilians. The mercenaries all tried to relax and hope that nothing happened. After all, they would be considered the nice guys after people saw what Kraven was doing.

Blackhelm Confederacy

02-03-2007, 04:59

Bullets rattled off the sides of the boats as they brought the men closer and closer to shore. Explosions and splashes tore through the water around the ships as the frigates squared off against both submarines and ground fire. The overzealousness and greed of the admirals had sent thousands of brave sailors to their daths beneath the dark waters needlessly, all because they sought a quick victory and a larger pay.

As the transports continued to get closer and closer to shore, they passed the burning remains of the Groznian fleet, and further back, the smoldering remnants of Yeltsmin. The sight of their enemy's once proud and powerful ships and cities all up in flames gave the men inspiration and renewed hope.

In just a few moments, the large metal doors would swing down, and the men inside would spew forth out onto the beach, fighting and dying for that which ruled their lives. The beach would soon become another victory for the forces of greed. It was not just a show of sthe strength of Griffincrest, but also of the mighty dollar.

The Kraven Corporation

02-03-2007, 23:04

The Kraven battle fleet had moved in closer now, using a sophisticated array of targeting equipment and various scanning systems began to pinpoint areas of concentrated troop movements and areas on the shore that could possibly harbour any defensive structures, the Massive Subjugators that ploughed ahead turned themselves to face the shore, bringing all six of their main deck guns to bare on their buildings that faced the seas, with a roar and whoosh of spray, the Subjugators swung around and prepared the first salvo…

Sirens echoed across the waters as one by one, the Subjugators main guns prepared to fire, the barrels lowered and faced the shore, the Capitol Police gunners expertly aiming them in an indiscriminate fashion, the sirens continued to blare, until the subjugator was rocked on its hull, each of the massive 28” cannons exploding in a ball of fire and sending dozens of shells screaming towards the shore…

Six of the Subjugators all fired in unison, the crews watching as immense fireballs exploded on the shoreline, and into the city itself, buildings that had been blown out were now collapsed and buildings that had been collapsed were now pounded into dust, the Subjugators fired shell after shell, while transport vessels continued to re-supply the immense Super Dreadnaughts unimpeded by the Gronzyj navy that now lay at the bottom of the sea…

This would be a glorious victory for Kraven, as One by one smaller Assault Boats now started to disembark from Carriers and Troop Transporters, each of them packed with Capitol Police that sat waiting for the vessels to plough onto the sands, the doors to drop and the very gates of hell to open before them, Each of the troopers waited with inhuman patience, no nerves, no lack of moral, just inhuman devotion to their cause, inhuman lack of emotions… pure monsters, built for war, built for this exact purpose…

Each of them watched the shore explode in great plumes of fire and smoke, dirt and debris that flew in every direction, each of them waited for the final call…

Yeltsmin City Streets (Kraven Sector)
The Centurians came under fire, the first one being downed in seconds by sporadic fire, the third and fourth immediately fell back, while the second stood his ground giving fire support to the other two, the fifth was already radioing for support as the VTOL that was circling above, performed a low level attack run, using its twin assault cannons to tear up the road ahead and hopefully either kill the resistance militia or cause them to route and flee…

The Two Centurians that had fallen back, now readied white phosphorus grenades, a standard Kraven terror weapon, three of the canisters were lobbed into the Militia that approached, while the fifth trooper was hit squarely in the face mask by several rounds, this Enraged the Centurians that were left, they had seen their comrades die before their eyes, their brothers of war and had seen the pure heretical nature of these militia men, these people were not fit to be in the Kraven Empire and now the Centurians set about fighting back..

Pin point shots were taken, aiming for the head, while from around the corner another two squads approached, one of them holding a banner of the Kraven eagle high above his head, this inspired the Centurians with the Common Kraven goal, the subjugation of the mankind, they rallied forth, surging in one massive squad, using their Assault rifles to take accurate shots against the enemy forces, while at the same time, flash bangs and white phosphorous were used to cause chaos and confusion within the militia force…

Demon 666

02-03-2007, 23:40

OOC: You are going to inform me when I can join in, right? Just checking.

Groznyj

03-03-2007, 08:03

[ooc: yes I will. However I heavily suggest that give more thought on your offensive no off intended. Just that Kraven is going to be using Yeltsmin as a staging point for his war on SEA. I'm not sure what you would accomplish though by attacking my mainland except for a seemingly random and unprovoked war. If you really want to get involved in some way talk to Kraven about it. Just I don't see clearly how you would fit in to this. But hey thanks... Now.. back to our story...]

Yeltsmin

The clouds above the city were a mix of water vapor, concrete dust, and smoke. Everywhere like the spires of hell reach up to spite the heavens plumes of fire issued from the remains of the city. Every moment the amount of gunfire in the city increased at a decent rate as minutemen took up the call to defend their home and families and the agents of hell itself began to land on the city's shores.

Infront of what once was a 4-star restaurant Ahmed Buzach kneeled behind a an overturned taxi-cab. Ethinically he was a Turk but regardless he was fighting as part of a brotherhood for a common goal. He felt pure fear crouching behind the engine of the cab with a Kalashnikov in his hand. A round bounced off the metal just over his head.

"Raahhhh!!!!"

He only managed to get off 6 rounds before a Centurian shot him in the shoulder. He fell to the ground just in time to see a man he had drunk tea with the night before shot in the face. He tried to look into the man's dead eyes but it took Ahmed a moment to realize his friend no longer had a face but just a crater in his head. He threw up on the sidewalk over his weapon. Then he noticed the blood. And then that his hadn't was clutching his neck the whole time. He eased pressure and blood sprayed out. His fear began to lessen. Maybe because of his loss of blood or because of the shock of battle or a mixture of both. He put pressure back on and picked up the rifle. He was in a dazed state, akin to a zombie. As emotionless as his enemy.

clink

'!!!'

The fear was back. From across the street behind the far corner a middle aged man saw the last moments of Ahmed as he stood arm in swing throwing the white phosphorus grenade. In a flash he was incinerated and the last thing the man saw before taking a bullet to the head was Ahmed's charred remains slumping over the hood of the cab.

The courageous squad was cut down in less than a minute. 14 men in all.

Beach North of Port Yeltsmin

While Griffincrest mercs advanced into the city a small strip of beach closest to the harbor struggled to stop its ever increasing foes.

"This is Alpha Five requesting support along the beach. We can't hold out against these numbers. Theta sector's overrun we're all that's left defending the beach."

The proffesional Groznian Marine spoke into the radio transmitter. He hadn't gotten as many militia reinforcements as he had thought he would have.

"Roger that Alpha Five, the 85th is coming your wa------"

A second later a loud blast issued from where the rest of the division was dug in in the port. Cannon fire from the massive Subjugator Super Dreadnaughts began ripping whatever was left apart. Of the 489 marines left of the 85th there was only the 86 left defending the beach. They would be overrun too in only a short matter of time.

Fuck!

Lt. Khasaan Reygar switched to his platoons radio and shouted his order once before scrambling up.

"Attention, attention! Everyman retreat towards the city."

84 men began running towards the city which was only a few hudnred meters away while others provided covering fire. The other 2 men were killed in an attempt to blow the C4.

The beach was now clear for the corporatist forces to advance forward.

Public Highschool No. 21

Most of the captured civilians in the gymnasium were women and the elderly. Virtually every child had been evacuated to relatives on the mainland as a precaution by parents in Yeltsmin. Essentially every man of able body took up arms against the invaders, a decent chunk of women too. The invading mercs must have gotten a harsh suprise when they broke down an apartment door only to be greeted with a grandfather with a shotgun or an old woman with a frying pan.

Still the bombing had done its work in creating a general shock among the populous. What with being bombed awake in the literal middle of the night to what would seem like a nightmare, many of the people in the gym were totally dazed and confused not having a clue what was going on. However a group of 12 young boys, ages 6 to 14 got ready to execute a plan to free themselves.

They dispersed among the crowd and slowly closed in on a lone corporate trooper. The youngest of the boys confronted the man to distract his attention. The boy began cursing and spit at the soldier's feet. At once 11 boys jumped on the soldier in an attempt to subdue him. Mostly all they had were their bare hands but a few had small pocket knives.

As stupid and hopeless as it would have appeared this was only one more example of the kind of culture the Groznian people had. They fiercely valued their freedom and independence. Even the children were headstrong.

Western part of Yeltsmin; 52nd Marine Division

The trump card of the defense had finally entered into the city. McGreen established a sort of mobile command center in which he could give orders to his men. He didn't want to risk using a building as their was a risk of it collapsing and if they had to retreat he himself would have to move quickly as well. The 34,000 soldiers of the 52nd flooded into the city, on the opposite end from the Kraven centurions in the central east and Griffincrest forces in th north east of the city. APCs and IFVs dismounted their soldiers and began moving out. The 52 was a mechanized division so every soldier had a ride and their was good armor support. In a gaping hole in the side of a building McGreen and his staff set up the command post. From the back of a modified Stryker which was parked back end into the hole they set up everything they needed. A map of the city and of the sewer system, lists of troops and equipment and a flat monitor for use with UAVs. On the way to the city McGreen had made an addendum to his previous support call asking for a UAV. One or two of the F-14's would be carrying a pod with a disposable UAV inside of it. He would be able to conduct commanding far more efficiently with a birds eye view. He looked at his watch.

any time now...

As the sound of tanks and Humvees partially subsided a distant roar could be heard. Followed by many explosions of ordinance. Coming out of his tent he smiled brightly at the shattered sky.

Task Fore 1 Alert Air Wing; over Yeltsmin

"This is CAG speaking, you are free to engage and all targets. Get these sons of bitches back for what the've done to our people." a hint of fury pierced the Air Group Commander's radio message followed by a number of cheers over the radio.

286 interceptors screamed into the airspace above the city. They split into 3 groups which would maintain air cover for those engaged in the city and also maintain a constant pressure on the enemy, letting fighter pilots rest for a moment before going back down into the fray.

At 20,000 ft the burning city was a brilliant portrait of fire and sulfur. Like a photograph of a supernova the reality of what was happening wasn't immediately apparent from such a distance. This only betrayed by explosions and building collapses.

96 F/A-18's screamed down diving toward the burning city. Below hundreds of Kraven transports swarmed in on the city like locusts. Without air cover the Groznian interceptors would have a field day while one air wing maintained a constant vigil. It was like literal swarm of hornets descending upon their prey to defend the hive. Within seconds 96 pilots got tone, a missile lock and at will fired one missile each at their targets. It was agreed that every time an air wing would fly a sortie into the city they would play Richard Wagner's "Ride of the Valkyries" simultaneously.

Meanwhile elements from one of the two 95-plane F-14 air groups flew high over the advancing Griffincrest forces on the beach. Because they did not have any anti-ground ordinance, 5 planes would be out at all times strafing the advancing army, coming out of no where in the night sky and dissapearing back into the smoke. The remaining air group of Tomcats circled above the city waiting eagerly for their chance to defend their home and have revenge. All the while 2 SkyHawks flew high above and out of the way monitoring for radar contacts in the battle.

Meanwhile both UAV's were dispensed from makeshift moorings on two ordinance-less F-14's. These two immediatly turned back towards the carrier group. As they both came online a "Vwala!" could be heard from the Lt. General followed by a "Now we're in business." That too followed shortly by a "Holy God.." as the direness of the situation became glaringly apparent to the commander of the operation. Immediately as the hornets dispensed hell from the heavens, figuratively God's response to the Devil's mocking flames, Lt. General Chester began orchestrating his massive counter attack throughout the city now that he had an eye, two, actually in the sky.

[ooc: Yeltsmin is a totally pre-planned city. It's mostly tall buildings and by land area isn't very big at all. Maybe 9-13 miles at it widest point. Just some good ol'e ooc knowledge to prevent confusion among all of us.]

Blackhelm Confederacy

05-03-2007, 02:35

The mercenary in the gymnasium was not only shocked, but actually overwhelmed as the boys swarmed him. Two other mercenaries approached with riot batons at the ready and began to pummel the children until the ambushed mercenary was able to get back to his feet. Other than a few gashes and a bruise here and there, he was unharmed. The attack would not go unnoticed, however. The fear of a larger uprising caused the Griffincrest mercs to react. Male children were ordered to the northeast corner of the room, female children to the northwest, women to the southeast, and men to the southwest. Since the number of men were relativly few, the medical center would also be in that area.

The GFAT men soon linked up with early elements of the rest of the invasion force. An additional twenty mercenaries were ordered to the gymnasium as more an more men people were being sent there. It soon became apparent that another detention center would be needed as Griffincrest forces began to claim more of the city. A park was selected as the second detention center. Renamed "Camp Baird" after the newly placed mercenary commander of the camp, the park soon was fenced in with barbed wire and debris. Camp Baird would be better defended than the old camp, which was now being called "Camp Kryptonite", after a superman comic found on the floor. Camp Baird would be defended by forty mercenary, two Mercury APC's and a Mars LBT.

The Groznian airstrikes on Kraven and Griffincrest forces would not go unnoticed either. Dozens of Gnats supported by Su-15's swarmed towards the Tomcats attacking the landing men. Dogfights began to explode over the skies and missiles began a brilliant lightshow in the dark.

Griffincrest Chariot tanks began to roll off their transports and engage the remaining Groznian forces. The steady Griffincrest advance was also being supported by scores of AV-18 VTOL gunships, which lit up the beach with their rockets and chainguns fire. It would not be long before the militia attempted ambushes on the mercenaries, and the mercenaries would be prepared. Years of urban conflict had taught the Griffincrest commanders never to let their men be without armoured support. To ensure the safety of the investments, two of the jet black humvees with the golden griffin on each door would accompany each squad of twenty four men, along with either a Mars LBT or Mercury APC, or rarely a Chariot MBT.

In the air above Yeltsmin, AV-18's made sure to keep a steady lookout over the city, and constantly reported any ground activity. Mi-2 Hoplites constantly strafed the ground at any signs of movement, and dropped down their load of mercs into any building that was still standing. If any militia fighters decided to take up positions in the buildings, they would have to deal with the mercenaries coming down from above and APC's firing from below.

Leafanistan

05-03-2007, 03:33

The tiny city confounded the Mafia forces. The preplanning made coordination and logistics too easy. Helicopters and upgraded Gnats, Earwigs, began swarming over the 1/3rd of the city designated by the invasion plans.

A squad of light tanks were pushing as fast as they could down a highway to Griffencrest forces. Thousands of mercenaries poured in, and used their antiaircraft guns to shatter the tall buildings.

The Mafia plan was much less dedicated to preservation but more toward their own troop safety. 203mm Assault Guns fired on any tall building with resistance, Mi-2 gunships tore at enemy Marines and the casualties were heavy.

Thousands were dead from the urban warfare and the commanders couldn't tolerate any slowdowns in action. They couldn't look bad in front of their allies.

Cpt. Maria Ricardo had just gotten off her BTR-60 as a Javelin tore into it and cut in half. The shrapnel cut her arm and neatly bisected a Major who had been shouting orders. She got back up and leveled her G36 at a surprised looking Marine and quickly emptied a burst. The man dropped his launcher, and spilled the contents of his chest all over it. As vehicles moved inland all around her in a frenzied rush, she ran up to the dead man's position.

Inside was a crater formed by a mortar and the scattered remains of his comrades. The Marine had a shrapnel wound in his leg, and in his hand was clutched a picture of his wife. Cpt. Ricardo picked up the picture, and put it to her nose and took a deep breath.

Perfume, a variety called 'Blue' wafted into her nose. She reveled in the smell, as all sorts of death and destruction moved around her. She looked at the face and walked over to a shot up technical. She opened the door and let her fellow mercenary fall out. The body was in terrible condition and was held together more by his uniform than any sort of flesh or bone. When it struck the ground it shattered into dozens of pieces.

She removed his ass and brain splatter from the seat and parked her own on the front seat. She turned the keys and heard the engine try to turn over. She leaned down and a bullet shattered the already bullet riddled windscreen and implanted itself into the passenger's skull.

She sighed heavily, looked up and saw her fellow mercs filling the man with bullets. Cpt. Ricardo shoved the dead body out of the passenger seat as it was overwhelming the smell of 'Blue'. She took the picture out again and took a deep inhale. She was sastified and went off in to her own world, imagined herself with the man's wife, their bodies entangled, her hands running down her spine, feeling that electric feeling, a wonderful fantasy, which couldn't last.

Suddenly the door on the passenger side slammed shut as a Private got into the passenger side, and his buddy got into the gunner position in the rear. She had eyes of fire as she faced the scared looking Private who had a confused look in his eyes.

"Aren't we going to go, get some?"

Cpt. Ricardo kept staring at the boy.

"Get some?"

She sighed again and turned the keys, hoping the engine wouldn't turn over, but it turned over. She turned around, let out a big sarcastic smile and gestured rudely.

"Put your gun up on the dashboard and get ready to shoot."

The Private was still confused. She rolled her eyes as hard as she could.

"Get some?"

The Private smiled and put his gun on the dashboard.

"Lets get some!"

She slammed the gas and roared down the street, guns blazing, the radio barking?

Her fantasy was again ruined by an outside force. She answered the radio.

"Echo-Alpha-Zulu-09 reading, over?"

"Cpt. Ricardo what are you doing in Foxtrot Division's vehicle?"

"Guys were slagged, though I get some real transportation."

"Understood, you are to take over Foxtrot-November's duties."

"Sir, I have a good feeling that..."

"Don't contradict me Captain, get moving to 'Camp Kryptonite' as ordered"

"Yes, Sir."

She braked and turned down a road and began moving perpendicular to the Mafia advance toward the Griffencrest forces.

Blackhelm Confederacy

05-03-2007, 04:32

Lieutenant Julius Goldsmith wandered through the rubble of the city. Fires from burning building provided the only light for him and his squad as the wandered over the debris. Julius was beginning to grow tired of the sniper attacks which effected his troops at regular intervals, and it was clearly taking its toll on the men. To reslove this, he decided to compose a song to keep the morale of his men up. One of his men took out a silver flute stolen from a store they looted earlier, and so it began, with the tune of an old irish rebel song.

"Come out ya damned A-rabs
Come and fight me like a man
Show your wife what you've got
I bet she's mighty hot
Can't wait till us boys find her

We are here to loot your stores
turn your women into whores
and take your sons to be our servants!
So...

Come out ya damned A-rabs
Come and fight me like a man
Show your wife what you've got
I bet she's mighty hot
Can't wait till us boys find her!"

That song soon spread out from the men of the 175th squad, and was soon being sung by mercenaries throughout the city in an attempt to infuriate the snipers enough to show themselves, where the superior firepower of the Griffincrest armour would soon dispatch them.

The Warmaster

05-03-2007, 04:52

OOC: Is there an OOC thread where I can post numbers for my force soon? If not, http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=11966140&postcount=94 this is where it is.

And btw, I'm here because SEA invited me, if that's not OK then I'll leave. Anyway, this is a glorified tag, which assumes that my force near SEA sailed to Groznyj...or if this is before then, that the armada came here first.

IC:

OFFICIAL DIPLOMATIC COMMUNIQUE

To Reichsmarshal Helghan of the Kraven Military

Greetings! We of the Imperium are on your side in this particular conflict, and although you seem to have matters well in hand in Groznyj, we would inquire of you if you need our assistance in any matter. I have quite a significant force at my disposal, easily enough to tip the balance in this theater. I await only target information and other necessary knowledge. Blood and Honor.

High Lord Ishamael Sadow

Leafanistan

05-03-2007, 05:15

The singing was reverberating along the city, it was enlightening. Despite the multi-ethnic Mafia force, these were not sensitive men who were easily offended.

They all began singing, a single song whose racist words would be the rallying cry for the men and women of the Mafia force. It would define the conflict in the history books of the victors.

Cpt. Ricardo's Technical drove over the bonemeal fragments of those caught in the initial firestorm. They were like logs, little blackened logs of those who had been unfortunate enough to catch fire. Their ruined bodies easily shattered under the heavy foam filled wheels of the Technical while its V8 engine roared and protested at the violence it was engaged in.

The Private, who was obviously of Arabic descent had started singing with the men over the local com channels and Cpt. Ricardo couldn't stand the song, it distracted her from where she really was.

The battle melted away from her, she was at home back at her home nation. She could smell her lover, the scent of 'Blue' wafting into her nose. She put on her nightgown, their clothes were scattered everywhere.

She hit another bump and she was back on the road, she swerved and missed a HT-101-106 Tank Destroyer that was rumbling its way to destroy a rather despotic looking fast food restaurant mascot that had a squad of militiamen behind it.

Cpt. Ricardo elbowed the Private as he sang, "I bet she's mighty hot", and he shut up.

She blinked and she was the beach, the radio mumbling something about crackdowns on homosexuals. She embraced her lover, they were alone there and she laid her down on the blanket. The beach sounded so great.

Another calcified corpse was crushed by the truck and the Private in the rear opened up with the heavy dual .50 cal gun at some men trying to run to hide in another building. Cpt. Ricardo was back, she could see the vehicles up ahead were Griffencrest and she needed directions. She blinked away the tears and waved down a Griffencrest vehicle. From the now gone driver's side door she yelled at the tanker.

"Where the hell is this Camp Kryptonite, I've got orders to meet up the local commander to figure out how to divide the prisoners."

Blackhelm Confederacy

05-03-2007, 05:40

One of the men hoped out from the five ton truck and approached the technical. It was obvious that he had spent the better part of his hour in the city looting as his pockets were litterally overflowing with gold and jewelry. He was initially shocked when he first saw that a woman was driving, because women were not allowed to be in combat back in the Confederacy. "Two blocks down on your right."

With that, he turned back to his vehicle and continued on his way, driving to resupply some men across town. Behind him, behind a Mercury positioned near a checkpoint, two of the mercenaries were pulling an attractive brunette out of a ruined building. It was obvious that they would rape her. She looked to the technical with Cpt. Ricardo in it, her eyes pleading for help. Her husband, or perhaps her boyfriend, was dragged out behind her. He was badly wounded, and was likely a resistance fighter. The mercenaries had planned on making him watch as they raped his woman in front of him, powerless to do anything.

Overhead, an AV-18 began circling. Another checkpoint was going up a few blocks down, and a humvee full of mercs drove by, the entie crew of which was screaming the new anthem of the battle. Behind it, a group of mercenaries, completely wasted after looting a liquor store approached the Captains vehicle and began pounding on the hood and sides of the car. "Hey baby can I get a ride?" one of them said. The others were all whistling and hooting as yet another jumped up onto the flatbed of the car and began pounding on the roof of the cab. As far as these men new, she was a civilian in a stolen resistance car, as the technical bore no clear marking it belonged to the Mafia.

Leafanistan

05-03-2007, 05:55

OOC: My Technicals are marked with the standard symbol of the Mafia. Skull and Sickle, painted bright red on the sides and on the front. The rear cab is taken up by the huge gun mount.

IC: The Private on the gunner raised the gun to get a better look at what was happening. His fingers were itchy and the gun discharged into a burning skyscraper.

Cpt. Ricardo screamed, her voice drowning out the sounds of distant battle, silencing everyone. She watched as the brunette stared at her, and to her surprise, Cpt. Ricardo held up two tiny wallet prints up.

One was the one taken from the dead militiamen she had shot on the beach, the other was that of a woman who had died long ago for nothing. She eyeballed the woman, shrugged and drove off, ignoring the drunken men. It must have been heartbreaking to watch what could have been her salvation, shrug and drive off without a care in the world.

Her priority was the prison camp, and the hope that she would find the man's wife there. She had plans for her.

Blackhelm Confederacy

05-03-2007, 06:10

Leafanistan

05-03-2007, 06:18

OOC: Meh, lets say they were to drunk to realize than

IC:

The men dove to the sides to avoid the technical as the man in the back rolled off.They all began yelling and jeering as she drove off, one man even throwing a half finished bottle of wine her way.

Yeltsmin now looked like hell. Kraven forces were on one side of the city, executing any who opposed them with inhuman efficiency and piercing your thoughts with their evil red eyes. On the other, Griffincrest forces were looting and raping anything that looked worth their time. Hordes of drunk mercenaries, many of whom had brought their liquor with them, wandered the streets. With the Mafia forces beginning to move in as well, who knows what their men had prepared.

Humvees and Mercury's drove slowly down the streets, bullhorns blaring. They were telling people to report to either Camp Kryptonite or Camp Baird. These camps were probably some of the safest places in the city, out of the way of the fighting and violence outside. The mercenary guards were on strict behavior, their commanders making sure nothing went wrong that might incite a riot in the already overcrowded camps. Mercenaries, both drunk and sober, continued to sing their song up and down the streets. To them, the battle was over and they won. They were unaware that the Groznians might come back to reclaim their city, and besides, if they did, they still had some sober men.

Cpt. Ricardo was soon stopped at a checkpoint a half block away from Camp Kryptonite. A mercenary approached her car. "What's that, Red Mafia you got there? They let women in? Well, lets see yer papers eh" he said, pulling down his balaclava and inserting a cigarette into his mouth.

Ricardo laughed and elbowed the Private next to her.

"Mafia takes all it can get, most of us are psychopaths."

She looked over at the wide-eyed smiling Private.

"The rest are psychopaths in training."

She handed out her papers, pulled from a gore splattered glove compartment, orders from Mafia command to examine the prisoners and discuss with the commander how to divide them as spoils of war. She included her identification card:

Cpt. Maria Ricardo, Female, a veteran of the St. Mary's Bay insurrection. Killed 12 people with her ceremonial cutlass before Marines arrived to put it down.

She also pulled out a pack of Q's, named for their one quarter marijuana content and tobacco filler. She handed it to the balaclava-ed man.

"These are much better, save 'em for a special occasion."

She looked out into the camp at people milling in and those already lined up. Her eyes scanned the crowd, dividing them up, her mind filling with fantasies. She pulled out the picture of the man's wife and held it up to the man.

"Seen this bitch? Think I nailed her husband down at the beach, I'm looking for her to tell her something."

Blackhelm Confederacy

05-03-2007, 06:27

Leafanistan

05-03-2007, 06:54

"Twelve people with a sword! Jesus, hey Max, get a look at this" he said before handing the papers to his buddy. He than took the Q and thanked Maria while Max, still wearing his balaclava and showing o expression in his eyes, gave her back her papers.

"Man, that is sadistic. Your gunna personally find the guys wife. You guys really are a pack of psychopaths."

Max than spoke up

"If you wanna find her, the women are all in the same corner of the gym. Tell me how it goes"

With that, the first mercenary raised the little wood barrier allowing Maria and her accomplice through.

After she had gone through, Max looked over to his friend.

"That is one psycho bitch man"

"Heh, you're tellin' me"

Maria was happy. She parked the car and told the Privates to guard it and to find a sheet and use their duct tape to create a door for it. She walked into the gym and put her hands on her hips as she looked around.

It was a festering mess of humanity, people were injured, all were soot covered, a few had actually died and the prisoners had isolated their bodies into corners or dragged them to a center pile.

It was in this mess that Maria took out the pictures and looked at them. She focused one eye on the pictures and the other on the crowd. Back and forth she searched the women's section until she found what she was looking for.

It was her, she had found her.

Cpt. Ricardo took out her service pistol and walked into the crowd, they separated and the woman tried to disappear into the crowd. Cpt. Ricardo grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the crowd, dragged her kicking and screaming until she held up her pistol to her head and screamed,

"SHUT UP!"

Silent.

Cpt. Ricardo took out her picture and the other picture. The woman took them into her shaking hands, she was quivering in fear, and looked. A look of realization came into her face, then a look of confusion.

"Where did you get these pictures of me," she asked.

Cpt. Ricardo smiled and said, only the blood stained ones is yours, and took out a wedding band. It was a simple gold ring with an inscription on it. Nothing unusual considering the Private was wearing 3 watches on both hands, and many of the mercenaries were loaded with jewelery, but it had meaning to Ricardo and the woman she had pulled out.

It was her husband's wedding band and the woman looked up in confusion. Then the expression turned to horror as she put together Ricardo's smiling look, the blood stained photograph, and the stained wedding band.

"WHERE DID YOU FIND THIS?!"

Ricardo, smiled and took the other, older photograph out of her hand. She stared at it longingly and sighed.

"She was beautiful, looked just like you."

Ricardo's smile disappeared, she now shoved the photograph into her pocket.

"She was killed by people like you, hateful, spiteful, religious people."

Ricardo took back the wedding band. She held it up to the woman's face, moving menacingly toward her, forcing her to lie on her back in terror.

"Do you know what this means?"

"No."

Ricardo smiled and put it on her finger.

"It means you are mine bitch."

Ricardo called for the Private to assist her as she began to drag the woman, kicking, screaming and crying back to the Technical. The Private ran over, having finished attaching a garbage bag to cover the hole left by the shot out window. The Private was wide-eyed as usual, wondering what in the name of anybody was going on. He naturally helped throw her in.

Cpt. Ricardo stripped off her uniform, exposing her undershirt and pants. The Private helplessly held them as she took her service weapon in there and shut the door.

The screams, moans and beating noises would forever cement themselves into the Private's mind. He didn't bear to look but he heard it all. He heard the original protests, the first pistol whip, and the sounds of moaning and crying mixed together.

Then came a scream from Cpt. Ricardo, and the second pistol whip, and it all started back up again. By now a crowd of mercenaries had gathered and were staring in via the windscreen. The screaming and moaning got louder. The din of the mercenary crowd got louding.

Finally the climax came and the crowd hooted and hollered like never before then the final nail in the coffin of the boy Private came when the sound of a 9mm Glock came out of the Technical. The mercenaries stopped shouting and were silent. The flash burned itself into his eyes and he just stood there as the mercenaries backed off from the Technical and Cpt. Ricardo got out.

Her shirt was pulled up, revealing a scar on her left breast. Her parts were all exposed, and the lower ends were covered in gore. She walked over to Ricardo, that sigh she always sighs was sighed and she picked up her clothes and put them back on.

The Private stared at the open door, the headless body lying on all fours on the seats, brains scattered all over the vehicle.

Cpt. Ricardo had finished putting her clothes back on, the mercenaries were peering into the vehicle at the scene and her hand came to rest on the Private's shoulder.

"You okay kid, you look a bit shaken."

He looked at her and smiled.

"I never caught your name kid."

He looked back at the scene, turned back to her and said,

"What it used to be isn't important."

Cpt. Ricardo lit up a cigarette and took it out and exhaled.

"So what is it now?"

"Used to be Anthony Optiov, now it is the Watcher."

"Sounds profound, Ant."

"The Watcher"

"Whatever Ant, we have a negotiation to go to."

Cpt. Ricardo walked toward the commander's office to get an assessment on what to do with the prisoners. Private Watcher followed.

Blackhelm Confederacy

05-03-2007, 07:15

The crowd of mercenaries stood there in stunned silence. This woman not only raped, but also killed another women. Back home in the Confederacy, they would have never seen that. A couple of mercenaries decided to make a few foul shouts at Maria as she walked by, but mostly they just walked away. The mercenary that Maria had given the Q to now approached smoking the cigarette she gave him. "Man you really are a crazy bitch" he said clapping her on the shoulder.

The commander soon had a guest in his office asking about the prisoners. His resonse was a simple "Noone leaves". He was obviously not a fan of the woman, and had absolutly no plan on allowing any of the prisoners to leave.

Still more and more prisoners were being brought into the camp. By 0400, the camp was no longer taking any new prisoners. All new prisoners would have to be sent to camp Baird. A mercenary Coordinator walked into the gymnasium with a bullhorn and hoped up onto a crate of medical supplies.

"That woman that was removed moments ago was a known terrorist. Do not be alarmed, you are all safe. That is all."

Ezaltia

05-03-2007, 07:57

Snip

OOC: Kudos to you, my friend, for this is the first time I've winced visibly on II.

Demon 666

05-03-2007, 08:16

Leafanistan

05-03-2007, 20:03

OOC: SEA = Southeast Asia

The crowd of mercenaries stood there in stunned silence. This woman not only raped, but also killed another women. Back home in the Confederacy, they would have never seen that. A couple of mercenaries decided to make a few foul shouts at Maria as she walked by, but mostly they just walked away. The mercenary that Maria had given the Q to now approached smoking the cigarette she gave him. "Man you really are a crazy bitch" he said clapping her on the shoulder.

The commander soon had a guest in his office asking about the prisoners. His resonse was a simple "Noone leaves". He was obviously not a fan of the woman, and had absolutly no plan on allowing any of the prisoners to leave.

Still more and more prisoners were being brought into the camp. By 0400, the camp was no longer taking any new prisoners. All new prisoners would have to be sent to camp Baird. A mercenary Coordinator walked into the gymnasium with a bullhorn and hoped up onto a crate of medical supplies.

"That woman that was removed moments ago was a known terrorist. Do not be alarmed, you are all safe. That is all."

Cpt. Ricardo and Pvt. Watcher walked into office, as guards secure the door. She sat down and removed the package of high quality cigarettes the Mafia had a tendency to give good cigarettes when certain death was imminent.

She offered it to 'Ant' as she had affectionately called him. He refused and just continued standing.

She then turned and held out a cigarette for the commander.

The Kraven Corporation

05-03-2007, 20:17

Eastern part of Yeltsmin: Location of Kraven Sturmpanzer Battalion Shore Landing

The waves crashed onto the bloody sands, mixing with the water to create a diluted mix of blood and sea salt, the sand was covered in blast marks, bits of bodies, and destroyed tank traps, the Subjugators initial bombardment was over and they silently fell back into the formation..

The first of the landing craft slammed into the shore like a great sledgehammer crashing into the continent, the sand was forced upwards as the craft ploughed further onto the shore, when suddenly the huge landing ramp slammed down onto the shore, followed seconds by the thunder of jackboots on steel, twenty fully armed and armoured Capitol Police that surged forwards..

MG42’s hammered away, empty cases spilling out onto the sands, more and more landing craft slammed into the sands, more and more Capitol Police forged ahead, moving forwards like a tidal wave of pure evil, each of them without fear, charging probably towards their death in the servitude to the Corporation and Fathers insane Ideals…

Assault weapons continued to sound, piercing the air with the shrill sound, the distinct sound of the Capitol Police weaponry… each of these inhuman Stormtroopers used their thermal optics to search out any enemy soldiers waiting in ambush or hiding in bunkers during the Subjugators bombardment…

More and more transports hit the shore, disgorging tanks and armoured troop carriers, Leman Russ Battle tanks, charged up the shore, sand being flicked off the huge tracks as the turret traversed looking for possible targets and opening fire on buildings, and possible locations of enemy formations…

Kraven Sector of Yeltsmin

The Centurians had now formed up into a mobile division, 3,760 Centurians now moved as a fluid force, sweeping through buildings and executing anyone who disobeyed, Kraven had plans for the city and unfortunately The Leafanistan Mafia and the Griffincrest Corporation were in the way of this plan, Kraven forces now began to sweep into other sectors of the city…

A message was sent to both the Griffincrest and Leafanistan Mafia force commanders informing them that the Kraven forces in the area will be moving into the city sectors currently held by Griffincrest and Leafanistan to ensure that the operations were going smoothly and to ensure that security of the city was kept optimal, to ease the transition and to allow the allied soldiers time to adjust to the arrival of Kraven forces, they were given 3 hours before Kraven forces would enter those sectors…

The Centurians continued to sweep through buildings, using grenades to clear rooms and flamethrowers to flush out resistance fighters…

The Interceptors that had been protecting the Bombers were still in the area, patrolling and providing vital air cover for the Kraven Assault VTOLS, the craft circled around, protecting and remaining vigilant…

The Groznyj fighters got the drop on some of the Assault Vtols that were circling, the wreckage exploding and collapsing buildings as the burning wreckage ploughed through bricks and mortar, the rest of the craft however were now aware of the attacking fighters, instantly counter measures were activated, heat sigature masking and CHAFF, causing the majority of missiles to explode early, or miss the targets completely…

The circling interceptors now moved to engage the fighters that raced over head, striking at them with missiles and chain cannons, attack from a higher altitude and using their sophisticated tracking systems to lock onto the Groznyj craft and hopefully bring them down, be it by stand off missiles or in a deadly duel of dog fighting…

To: Leafanistan Mafia and Griffincrest Military Commanders
From: The Kraven Military Arm

Kraven forces in the eastern Sector of Yeltsmin will be moving and securing your sectors of the city in three hours, your forces are ordered to comply with the security measures that will be put in place, Once secure, a Military Ambassador from the Kraven fleet will be sent to meet with a representative from your respective companies to discuss the next phase in the Operation, Standby, We Will Advise.

The Kraven Military Arm

Prosperity Through Obidience

Blackhelm Confederacy

05-03-2007, 20:49

The mercenaries had found yet another plan to make money with the news that Kraven was about to move into the Griffincrest sector. Projectors broadcast massive images of Kraven birthing factories and other atrocities, all the while Griffincrest PR managers were saying that this is what happens when Kraven moves into town. Shortly after the projector feed had ran out, the mercenaries made their announcement.

"For the fee of ten thousand dollars a head, we will take you to a promised safe zone. Those that are unable or unwilling to pay will be left to Kraven. Thank you, that is all."

The message created a near riot in the gym and in the park as the thousands of people clamoured to get whatever money they were able to muster and pay their way out of the city. People were practically throwing their money at the mercs as they made for the doors. Some men were making a full years pay in ten minutes as people tried to pay the way for their families freedom.

Out of the nearly two thousand five hundred people in the camps, about a thousand had paid their way out. The rest were all transported into Camp Kryptonite. Camp Baird was being converted from POW camp to munitions depot, and several dozen vehicles now drove in and out of the site.

The commander and Camp Kryptonite maintained his force of fifty men and two Mercury's, and awaited the Kraven arrival. He too, hoped to make a pretty penny by hopefully selling the women in his camp as Kraven birth machines.

Outside of Yeltsmin, mercenaries were beginning to set up another base. An airstrip was being laid down and barracks began to go up. This camp would be known as Point Val, after the Admiral in charge of the Griffincrest forces, Valerius Redhammer.

Leafanistan

05-03-2007, 21:41

To: Leafanistan Mafia and Griffincrest Military Commanders
From: The Kraven Military Arm

Kraven forces in the eastern Sector of Yeltsmin will be moving and securing your sectors of the city in three hours, your forces are ordered to comply with the security measures that will be put in place, Once secure, a Military Ambassador from the Kraven fleet will be sent to meet with a representative from your respective companies to discuss the next phase in the Operation, Standby, We Will Advise.

The Kraven Military Arm

Prosperity Through Obedience

To: Kraven Military Arm
From: Leafanistani Mafia

Understood, we have set up some machine gun nests on our sector and some extra security. We have seen satellite footage of massive military movements, do you care to comment?

[END]

The Mafia men weren't stupid and began rapidly rounding up civilians in their sector and shoving them into red crossed ships going back to their islands for use as slave labor. The looting actually ceased for a while as mercenaries had their commanders yelling and screaming to round up every last man.

The propaganda that Griffencrest was using had filtered to the Mafia men and now using 'retrieved' pamphlets and pictures they were tricking them in the same way to board 'rescue ships.'

The Admiral would remark that this was probably the worst fleecing he had every done on anywhere.

Groznyj

06-03-2007, 03:57

[A little ooc knowledge for everyone: the majority of Groznians are of Chechen ethnicity. If you care you can look it up but generally its an eastern European ethnic in the Caucasus Mtns. The rest are Ingush/Ossetin, other Circassians n stuff. The other major ethnicity are Turks and then some Russians. And a small percentage of the population are other like blacks, and Arabs and what have you. Just in case you though they were all Arabs =P Also Blackhelm, I fail to see how a bunch of disillusioned elderly/women/some men, etc who just woke up and got out of a bombing raid would have $10k on them. I mean Groznyj's a wealthy nation per capita but lol. (nothin serious Im just poking fun at the whole rampage post at Camp Kryptonite)]

Skies of Yeltsmin:

The F-14’s which had pounced on the transport vtols were now locked in a voracious fight against Kraven interceptors. They had managed to lay low enough to avoid being spotted in the utter mess of radar contacts over the city by the two Sky Hawks patrolling the area from afar but after launching their initial attack they were confirmed hostiles. Many of the F-14 huds lighted up with missile lock warnings and the pilots swerved to avoid the missiles and deploy counter measures. If it weren’t for all the death and destruction one could say the sky was beautiful. Although aircraft couldn’t be seen in the dead of night their flares, engine exhausts,.. and explosions shown brilliantly in the flaming night air. 28 F-14 interceptors were shot down outright. The rest broke off from attacking the VTOLs and moved to confront their enemy.

“This is Red Leader, Red Leader, … multiple bogies 4’o clock high. Moving to engage” came the radio report from the leader of the Hornet wing.

“Roger that Red Leader, hostiles inbound, moving to engage.” came the reply from the leader of the F-14 wing which had been attacked.

In the night sky the Tomcats climbed to confront their inhuman enemy. Pilots armed their standoff Phoenix missiles and prepared for the upcoming dogfight. Mean while the Hornets which had been flying corner moved in perfect formation to engage. They would attack after the F14s and Kraven interceptors had exchanged their first wave of standoff missiles and flew past each other.

Although they couldn’t see the enemy planes they were there on radar now. In an instant 67 Aim 54 Phoenix missiles leaped from their hosts. Not every missile was set to use the same attack pattern. The result was a number of missiles going in directly while another climbed steeply at violent speeds to come down at Mach 7 at their targets.

The F14s had a normal interceptor layout, with 6 Phoenix Missiles and 2 side winders. It was the F/A18s which carried a dog fighting layout with AMRAAM and Sidewinder missiles.

Meanwhile an air battle ensued as enemy aircraft attempted to dogfight with the 5 strafing Tomcats over the beach. When they attacked the F14's they immediately started their afterburners and launched into the clouds. With the enemy eagerly giving chase they would be in for a horrible surprise once 90 F14D interceptors descended raining hell out of the clouds.

Quite literally on all fronts in the air It Was On..

Mean while back at Carrier Group Task Force 1, another assault wave of aircraft were prepped and ready for take off, their pilots finishing mission briefings. Unlike the alert fighters these pilots would be more better prepared for what lay ahead of them and would bring the proper ordinance.

Yeltsmin
population: 4.8 million.
population before midnight: 6.2 million.

The charred body of a dog was crushed to ashes by the treads of an M1A2 tank leading a collumn into the heart of the city.

Reports had come that the largest concentrations of enemy forces were to the northeast and east. From what the fighter pilots and UAVs had reported the main enemy, Kraven was to the east, having taken the port and now utilizing the eastern beaches to the north of it. To the northeast came reports from militia officers of a different force, contradicting heavily with reports from militia engaged against teh Capitol Police. It was obvious that McGreen was fighting a battle against multiple opponents. Kraven and one other group, confirmed but unkown. There were also reports of a third force similar to the other unkown. This 3rd entity carried a skull and sickle as their banner. Mcgreen pounded the ruined dinner table.

"Shit!"

Thoughts raced through his mind. From all reports he was already vastly outnumbered. Even though the militia was inflicting horrendous losses on the enemy they still kept coming and acquired more and more territory. At this rate it would be a matter of hours before the whole city was overrun. Admiral Uzuyev had already sent word that anti-ground air support was on its way.

The man, in his thirties, bearing an incredible resemblance to Spartacus (http://www.ocblog.net/photos/uncategorized/spartacus_1.jpg) from the 1960's film, knew that he had to hold out as long as possible. Right now he had his force moving directly into and along the north into the city. 14,000 troops were moving into the city toward downtown and most likely would confront the Kraven Capitol Police there. Another force 15,000 strong rolled toward the north east to engage the unkown entities there. From what reports had said, this force was significantly weaker than the Kraven forces. That still wasn't much good news considering the nature of the CPs but it was enough to convince McGreen to send the bulk of his power in that direction.

McGreen planned on attacking the Kraven forces from two directions, West and South. A force of 4,500 moved through the South of the city which, despite the bombing raid had seen comparatively little fighting. They would attack the Kraven flank once they were fighting with elements from the western-force.

Furthermore reports from militia marksmen had indicated that to the north enemy forces had been conducting mass looting, and heavy drinking. There were also reports of rapes in the middle of streets. This was all the more reason to push forward with a fresh armored force.

There was an explosion up above...

Out of the fiery sky a burning plane came crashing down toward the command post.

Crash

An F14 had been shot down and crashed into an apartment building block away... close call.

McGreen turned back to his tactical maps. An aid came up to him with a radio receiver,

"Sir, report from one the militia's sharpshooters."

McGreen took the radio and answered in a gruff, almost texan voice,

"This is the general, what is it?"

Gunfire rattled from the other end. But then again gunfire could be heard everywhere so it wasn't as if it mattered. The sound of a young man, maybe 19 came through. Most Groznian men were adamant about maintaining their strength and fighting skill even in piece time. So this, combined with the basic training provided to every man of age 18 or out of college proved to make the male populous quite an effective fighting force, as well as good shots. Which is why many of them were marksmen.

"Sir I am at the Preshon Residential Complex. At the corner of Rihmer and Forlain Ave is a prison camp full of civilians. They are holding the people at Public Highschool 21. They just moved maybe a few thousand in their right now. The area is lightly guarded, I see maybe 30 men outside. They seem to be evacuating the hostages. I saw one woman, a hostile, bring a another civilian outside and... I believe rape her in the back of a truck and kill her. Requesting permission to open fire."

"Negative son. Stay where you are and keep me updated. I'm sending in support."

The General's eyes were wide open when he gave the radio back to his aid. It had dawned on him that this was as much a civilian war as military. He couldnt just focus on attacking and maneuvers. It was his priority and reponsibility to see to the safe being of the populous. He looked back at his map scanning his finger around the complex. There it was. Exactly what he was looking for.

"Major!"

"Yessir."

"Look at this. I want you to organize a strike force to capture this prison facility, School 21 over here."

"Sir that's at the other end of the city"

"You'll get through. Look here, the Yellow Line subway leads directly to the highschool. You can get there and retake the school. Resistance in the area is small. You are to free the hostages inside the building and evacuate them out of the city. Don't enter into any prolonged engagements that is an order."

The Major had a scared look on his face. To him this sounded like a madman's plan.

"Major, there are women and the elderly there. If we don't do anything they will be sold into slavery. Move out at once."

The Major shouted "yes sir!" and left the building. The only thing on his mind now was to save those people.

McGreen looked at one of the other commanding officers in the improvised control room.

"Colonel Tigh"

"Sir" responded the man in his 40's with a crew cut and graying hair. Looked the part of colonel perfectly.

"The south of the city here. It still has civilians there. I want in evacuated. You know the evac coordinates"

"Yes sir I'm on it."

Anther force of 4,500 moved out along the south to coordinate the mass exodus. Meanwhile a thousand Marines on foot hoofed it to the public highschool.

McGreen had 7,000 reserves he could use in this fight. He would be needing them soon.

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

Streets of Yeltsmin

Tread the floods
So you can hope to seize
Your own reality
(Be)fore it escapes thee
Watch yourself drown in disarray
It's time to break away
Or we’ll die today

The 120mm smooth bore of a Groznian M1 tank fired knocking out an IFV 4 blocks ahead. The Trivium lyrics blasting in the turret. The northern flank of the 52nd advanced at full pace forward. They would give no warning advanced warning to their enemy, they moved at full speed. Every vehicle had downloaded the city's layout schematics and in the months before the attack the 52nd Mechanized Division's soldiers had spent the time familiarizing themselves with the city.

The lead tank smashed through an overturned dump truck, its 1300 hp engine and 63ton mass throwing the heavy truck out of the way like a piece of garbage. Cheers and war cries erupted around them as men saw the glorious Groznian flag on each of the vehicles. They shouted praise and thanks on the soldiers before continuing on becoming part of a massive charge.

Infact the effect this advance had far surpassed what McGreen had intended. It snowballed as it moved toward the Mafia and Griffincrest forces, blowing the shit out of any scouting units before they could realize what was rolling towards them and radio for help. First their were a few hundred militia men joining the charge, then a thousand. Word spread and men ran to aid the advance. Their trained and fresh proffesional army had inspired the dreary and near hopeless men to fight and reminded them what they were fighting for and that they could strike a blow against the enemy. In only 5 minutes of being on the roads tens of thousands of men joined the advance. Gradually more and more enemy units were seen and summarily dispatched to an express conference with their maker. Most of these were looting parties, or drunk soldiers out on a joy ride in quieter parts of the city. Tank crews were literally having a field day. Seriously everyman was glad to have a chance to use his training and motivated to do their duty for their brethren.

A few tanks rolled over a collapsed building which resembled a small hill, only made out of shattered concrete. Some men were singing the anthem, tank crews had heavy metal music blaring and in general a tsunami of testosterone and force surged forward. In this time the militia commanders and marine officers were able to set up a reasonable communications web for the upcoming battle. Already a hundred and twenty seven fighters joined the 15,000 mechanized marines. The resulting thrust of fire would engulf the entire northern sector of the city spreading from house to hosue building to building, encouraging dug in men to join the offensive.

211,352 very...veery pissed of marksmen charged forwards. Every one of them had basic combat training. Everyone of them knew that their was no such thing as retreat. As long as the Marines didn't anyway. These men, and some women, were fighting to defend their homes. They would fight for their children whom they had sent to the safety of the nativeland. They would fight for their land. And as the Marine Brigades led the charge they left a wake of soldiers charging behind them.

And more reinforcements came all the time. The evil had messed with the spirit of the Groznians and now they were ready to take back some territory.

Then it happened. Finally the main elements of the Griffincrest force had been spotted and positioned relayed by snipers to tank crews and to the rest of the land leviathan. Surprise wouldn't begin to describe what the drunk and money-happy soldiers would feel when they saw the mass coming at them from nowhere. Hell even the sober troops wouldn't be expecting what was coming.

Yeltsmin city streets. Due west of Downtown.

Similar thing were happening to this force of Marines however not as profound and large as that in the north. The forward tank battalion paved the way followed by Bradleys and a column of IFV/APCs with tanks flanking the sides. They would be the first ones to experience full and true hell for they would march straight into the jaws of Kraven occupied Yeltsmin. The men knew that they were going off to engage the "primary hostile force" aside from their orders. Here 21,478 militia joined the brigades' advance. Most of the militia had been moving east and also the downtown was the worst hit sector. These troops would need all the help they could get.

Half Mile from Downtown Sector

Kraven VTOLs began appearing in the skies above in addition to the backdrop of the airbattle raging. (debris and falling aircraft were actually a hazard to those in the city. The occasional bullet casing would be more than enough to cause a severe concussion or death to someone without a helmet.)

An F-14D flew past, only 50 feet off the ground to confirm a kill. The tank commander saw the RIO of the interceptor salute him and his men before disappearing.

The force moved closer towards what was once the downtown of the city.

Now that the Downtown sector was essentially a hilly cratered waste land, it was the perfect place for a massive battle. If Kraven troops decided to fight here it would be both bloody and harsh.

Meanwhile there were still a million or perhaps upwards of 2 million potential militia members that would fight if only they could be organized. Lt. General McGreen was hard at work trying to propagate a call to arms accross the city while still getting as many people out as possible. However these million plus potential recruits would be little more than older men and women as most of the men were already fighting. Bit by bit the population of the city was gradually declining as the minutes went by.

[ooc: Lol let me know if ma' post was too short k guys? thx. =P]

[edit: I just realized I am insane. I put this in word and (minus this edit) this post is (singlespaced and unaltered) 7 pages long, 294 lines, 75 paragraphs, 2,820 words, over 16,000 characters w/ spaces and over 13,000 w/o. Holy Shit. Yeah if your wonderin a tree fellon my driveway tonight cuz of a windstorm. No school tomorrow for me =P]

Leafanistan

06-03-2007, 06:33

Leafanistan

06-03-2007, 06:39

OOC: Kudos to you, my friend, for this is the first time I've winced visibly on II.

This is probably my greatest achievement on II besides the massive amount of AR-550s I've pushed through my storefront.

Groznyj

06-03-2007, 08:45

The enemy counterattack had taken the Mafia forces by some small surprise. The militia units were poorly armed, poorly trained, and poorly armored, so the casualties they inflicted were mostly sending people to the medical BTRs to get bruises and minor flesh wounds fixed up. But these were proper military forces, real men who could do some real damage, and already the forward units were smashed.

However the enemy would run into a real meat grinder. Following the announcement from the Kraven Military Arm, the Mafia had been strengthening their defenses with the addition of 105mm Recoilless Rifle Technicals and mounted Recoilless Rifles. When the enemy tanks met up with the line they suddenly found themselves on the wrong end of High Explosive, Squash Head 105mm Rounds, and a variety of rockets and missiles, enough to strangle an elephant.

Soon HT-101-106 Tank Destroyers, monstrous devices which mounted 6 of those huge 105mm Recoilless Rifles would find themselves brought up rapidly to battle with 'encouraged' labor from prisoners who would pass rounds down the line to feed the devices. Those who disagreed or pretend not to understand quickly found themselves beaten into submission with rifle butts, or summarily executed for disobeying orders.

In the rear HT-101-105 Light Tanks along with limited numbers of Mercury Light Tanks stormed their way toward the enemy and opening fire with missiles and shells in an attempt to blunt the enemy until the real offense began.

Earwig Strike Fighters at very low altitudes began swarming in with cluster munitions to destroy the enemy forces. F-4 Phantom IIs with 20mm Cannon Pods began engaging the F-14's of the enemy air force. Despite the heavy missile fire, the enemy had forgotten a major problem with the Phoenix. It was a Long-Range RADAR guided standoff missile. It couldn't handle the high-G short range turns as it could barely get a lock on. Most of them found themselves victims to ECM or simple misses.

Sidewinders were far more effective and even better were the centerlined 20mm cannon pod which mounted high explosive tracer rounds easily found their way to the enemy aircraft.

The enemy attack had awakened the wrath of the navy at sea and soon unguided long range 300mm Strategic Rockets leapt up from jerry-rigged launchers from on board ships along with guided cannon fire from larger ships.

Despite their cruel attitude and their tendency to loot, Cpt. Ricardo's analysis of 'psychopaths and psychopaths in training' proved frighteningly accurate. While the enemy listened to heavy metal, they couldn't hear the tactical situation clearly, they missed orders, didn't hear rounds going off, and found themselves on the end of a force that turned to disciplined and dangerous at the drop of a hat. Some of them even used their newly acquired liquor, their cigarettes, rags from men and women they had 'used' to create Molotov cocktails, though these were a rare sight.

Hell on Earth.

I would greatly appreciate you not rping my men. Having heavy metal music playing doesn't mean you have to play it so loud you turn the inside of a tank into the inside of a muffler. In addition as I had said before everyman in Groznyj undergoes military training just encase they have to be called on to fight. Additionally this isnt a standard militia. For months before this attack Yeltsmin was under martial law and the militia forces, (in which nearly every able bodied man was a part of) were further trained in combat basics. They aren't on par with your proffesional soldier but they know how to follow orders and shoot and attack in groups. Furthermore I did not say that the F-14's in that area only had Phoenix missiles. They carried 4 Aim54's and 2 sidewinders each. I stated this and acknowledged the Aim54's shortcoming as a dogfight missile in one of my previous posts. And with that many planes in the area how are you going to get attack fighters to appear out of no where with cluster munitions to attack the advancing force? No offense but the way you rp, it sounds like you could singlehandedly kick the shit out of me, Kraven, Automagfreek, hell the whole world. At the same time... Also if your reffering to the citizens as prisoners that are feeding your magazines think again. A Groznian wouldnt mindlessly betray his/her homeland after having it come under attack. Also, how many troops do you have? -btw I think we may need an ooc thread for this if it takes too long- Oh, and sorry this is kinda long for an ooc post; but the militia all have regular small arms, (M16s n Ak47/101s) as well as anti tank weapony, sniper rifles and the like. If you didnt read the posts regarding the setting up of defenses (Mobilization Thread), the entire city turned into a sort of military base with defensive positions all over the place. Bunkers were creatd storing weapons and also the city was supplied from the mainland with all the handheld weapons it would need. The rebels are armed to the teeth dude. Sorry but that's how it is. If these were regular civilians charging to attack yeah I'd agree with your post, but these are trained fighters taking part in a massive general attack. 211,352 nonregulars + 15,000 marines.

I'm just saying you cannot expect to simply waltz over the Groznian forces. Now I don't want this to descend into those other rps where every1 gets pissed at each other and the whole thing deteriorates. If you want we can talk about it over w/e messaging program you use, or just set up an ooc topic to maintain continuity.

(if you didn't know just an example of who the Chechens are and how I am modeling the patriotism/militia of the Groznians after them; 1994-1st Russo Chechen war the Russians invaded the Chechen capital of Grozny and lost 2000 men on the first day alone. By the time they pulled out independent casualty estimates for the Russians ranged from 20,000 to 80,000. Russia had around 150,000,000 pop at the time compared to Chechnya's 1,300,000.)

Anyhoot. Back to the War...]

The massive assault met stiff resistance from Mafia forces. Irregulars began swarming the area around the enemy, moving through buildings and turning the whole local area into a seething hornets nest. Due to the nature of the city long range mechanized warfare was impossible. Nearly everything was close ranged and someone in a good defensive position could too easily find themselves flanked and overrun. As the first shots were being fired the armored force already began dispersing slightly to avoid becoming a sitting goose target. Out in the front an M1 tank squared off with a HT-101-106 Tank Destroyer. Coming right out from behind a building the tank offered a moments chance for the Tank Destroyer to fire. It fired sending a glancing blow, the round hitting the front of the turret at an angle on a vertice sending the round bouncing off and leaving a small dent in the armor. The tank responded in kind sending a DU sabot round straight into the Tank Destroyer's front section effectively destroying it. The same tank was destroyed as it was reloading by another tank destroyer which fired through the smoke of its dead comrade.

It really was hell on Earth. Especially when naval cannon fire and rockets began landing randomly and indiscriminately around the battle fronts. Because both sides were so closely entwined in an urban war whatever commander had made a grave error by firing into the zone. Both sides would take hits from the close naval support.

IFV's unloaded infantry and tank-killer teams and LAV-25's began their work of filling anything moving that wasnt a friendly with 25mm DU rounds. (The Republic relied mostly on nuclear energy due to its large uranium deposits so depleted uranium was a favorite in the army.) While anti-armor teams began supporting tanks against other armored threats with Javellin Missiles.

If the Mafia forces had been expecting to catch the Groznian forces in a small compact killzone they would be horribly wrong. Armor poured through the streets constantly keeping up the pressure and supported by both regular and irregular infantry forces.

With snipers in all different places in various buildings the local zone would be a great hazard to any infantry.

Behind the main advance a number of Earwings strike fighters dispensed cluster munitions on a few blocks full of advancing irregulars. The men were mercilessly cut to shreds and roasted by the cluster munition but they would not go unavenged. Just as the attack planes climbed away a squadron of F/A-18 Hornets began engaging them. The attack plane scattered as a few were taken out by missiles and the rest by gun fire. With every second that went by the Groznian front grew stronger and stronger. Not only were they strengthening a single front though, they began flanking the Mafia from the south instructed so by their commanders. The Leafanistanian Mafia now faced a combined force of mechanized infantry and irregular infantry in a pincer movement from the west and south.

The city was tearing itself to pieces all over the place.

Mean while a single lone sniper, a teen of only 19 years and a student at Farbanti U. who had been here on vacation sat atop a bombed out hulk of a building behind enemy lines. He chose to lay low after being surrounded. Fortunately no one knew of his presence despite quite a few deaths inflicted on his part. 11.

He looked at his watch.. 3:47.

Ah so that's how long they've been fighting he thought to himself.

The teen open the bolt of his rifle, taking a look at the 7.62mm round inside before chambering it again. He dug his hand in his pocket. Only 14 more bullets.

---sorry I have to end it short here. FireFox just ate all of my bookmarks n Im trying to fix that. I'll continue on the 'Lone Wolf' dude later-----

Leafanistan

06-03-2007, 19:58

snip

OOC: Earwig Strike Fighters are being deployed from carriers still at sea. I've made mention of reinforcement Mercenary Forces from The Northern Baltic, 60,000 of them on route to the battle to take over defending my construction of a strategic airfield.

The Mafia counterattack was failing and the swarm of men were overwhelming the forward forces and Tank Destroyers switched to single shots to volley fire, 6 105mm HESH shells at once. However, these were ineffective. Prisoners fled from the burning Tank Destroyers and already heavy casualties were being inflicted.

122mm D-30 guns and mortars on the beach began firing at the forward lines in an attempt to stall the enemy advance. Then a few minutes after the artillery opened up, a massive 122mm Rocket Salvo from BM-21 Grads occured all at once sending hundreds of them toward the enemy. The Mafia was losing ground fast and men, equipment was still coming ashore and meant to reinforce the army on the ground.

The combat engineers had cleared an area that would become an impromptu airfield for STVOL aircraft and already An-2 Biplanes began shipping in ammunition to feed the cannons and mortars.

The sky was so full that all but antiaircraft artillery was authorized for firing. Reports came in of friendly collisions between vehicles of all sorts. Heavy casualties were being sustained from the Earwigs and commanders decided that high speed warfare was becoming wasteful.

The Po-2 Biplanes that so menaced the submarines found themselves reequipped for land warfare. They were strapped with small rockets and antitank missiles meant for deployment to infantry troops. The rear seated gunner was given a pack of Hurtian manufactured Thermobaric Grenades. Yak-9UL Pistol Driven Monoplanes were seen for the first time in this conflict and were sent flying toward the enemy. They were armed mostly with 57mm Rocket Pods.

It was a strange anachronism born from necessity of assembling a slipshod fleet with cargo ships fitted with flight decks. After all, it was far cheaper to deploy these outdated craft than a more modern helicopter. Besides, it wasn't as if men were hard to get.

Flight deck of the converted cargo ship IMS Domino

Senior Airman David Vichy heard the sirens that drew him away from his card games. He was happy because he had his first kill via torpedo and was screaming with his friends who also had tin medals that had a picture of a torpedo. He thought the subs had come back so when he reached the top of the flight deck he was shocked to see torpedoes taken off his plane and 4 Javelin Fire and Forget antitank missiles being hooked up.

He was also shocked to see a medical Mi-14 helicopter arrive filled with not so badly injured infantry appear on the deck. He was confused and walked over to the captain of the ship and asked very matter-of-factly:

"What the hell is going on?"

The captain turned toward him with a sneer on his face.

"You arrogant pilots, gather around and listen up."

The pilots ran over, some still putting on their low-altitude parachutes and others affixing medals to their chest.

"Okay you jerks here is the deal, turns out you are being sent inland because the Earwig Pilots can't handle it."

The pilots murmured to each other. It was a mix of arrogance, boasting and fear; mostly fear.

"Hey you bastards, this is a good thing, you'll finally be better than those damn jet-heads, and you are going to go in when it is too hot for those pussy-footed bastards!"

The pilot's attitudes had changed from fear to arrogance and boasting.

Senior Airman lifted his arm to ask an question and the captain threw him a look that could slice through steel and Senior Airman Vichy winced visibly.

"Go ahead son."

"Well, what are the wounded ground pounders for sir?"

"Good question, these were all anti-tank teams wounded in the initial landing. They are here to help us to run lines to the rear cockpit and do some tank busting work."

Pilots began giggling and laughing but the captain used that same steel shearing look to silence them.

"Look here, no one has done this since dubya-dubya-one but this time we have missiles, and we are doing top attack, so we have a good chance of defeating their M1s. Our wounded compatriots are getting the same breifing and they seem to be up to it. They'll also get a pack of Hurtian made Thermobaric Grenades."

The pilots began to groan at the thought of using Hurtian equipment with the exception of Vichy. He remembered the damage those things have done and were pleased to have these powerful weapons at his disposal.

Senior Airman Vichy began to run to his Biplane to get inside and get familiar with the new controls and tried to remember his dive bombing training. A Corporal with a wounded foot walked into the rear holding a bunch of sights with masking tape numbers on them. Each one had elongated set of wires leading to the Javelin on the wings.

He greeted the man who just nodded and he took off from the flight deck. He could see the burning city up ahead and the flashes of gunfire on the ground. He cocked his machine gun and checked his AR-7 Survival Rifle strapped to his side. The Mafia troops underneath didn't react as the biplanes flew overhead and he began a dive.

He aimed his plane at a tank which was at the time crushing a burning HT-101-106 and told the Corporal in the rear to fire. The Corporal did his trademark nod and wink and activated the missile. It lit up and left the aircraft and the plane dipped to the left slightly as the weight ratio had changed. The missile locked onto the tank and flew straight at its roof.

Meanwhile the Mafia had sent a message to the Kraven Military Arm.

To: Kraven Military Arm
From: Mafia Command

Enemy Counterattack fiercer than expected, taking heavy casualties, losing ground. Will begin artillery bombardment of forward lines.

Requesting authorization to airlift reinforcements via Kraven Arterus and then airlift them to Airstrip One on the beachhead.

[END]

Blackhelm Confederacy

07-03-2007, 00:35

OOC: In the Confederacy, where the majority of these men are from, you don't have to be an actual Arab to be considered such. If your mother is Muslim, you are labeled Arab, regardless if you are an actual Arab or not. Also, the mercs in the camp are not just taking money, but anything that they deem to be worth 10G, be it credit cards, jewelry, money, or even daughters and wives. I hope that this clears things up a little.

The Groznian attack had completely caught the mostly intoxicated soldiers off guard. Chariot tanks traded blows with the enemy M1A2's, each loosing their cannons into the other sometimes at ridiculously close ranges. The Chariot had the advantage in the tank combat, however. Their tanks had thicker armor and a larger caliber gun, a 135mm ETC cannon. The Chariots were also lobbing up mortar shells from the 60mm mortars they carried, giving the Groznians another reason to run for cover.

AV-18's strafed the enemy positions relentlessly with chain guns and rockets while Mi-2's attempted to ferry machine gun and sniper teams into remaining buildings as well as relay the positions of the enemy to the rest of the mercs on the ground. Squads of Gnats strafed over the enemy positions, loosing their own rockets and five hundred pound bombs.

In the streets of Yeltsmin

Coordinator Marcus Diamonddagger felt as if he was one of the few sober men still on the Griffincrest pay roll as the massive Groznian storm swept over his men. A Field Mercenary a few feet in front of him, wearing several gold watches on each arm, a half dozen gold necklaces, having each finger adorned with rings, and reeking of alcohol was caught completely unprepared for the assault. As an enemy M1A2 tank came crashing its way over a rubble mount that the 156th was using as a barrier, the mercenary let out a loud yelp be for accidentally shooting himself in the foot and hitting the floor in pain. In a moment, a mercenary fired a Javelin anti-tank rocket into the turret of the tank, knocking it out of commission.

Around the city, Griffincrest forces were being forced to retreat, all being ordered to form up around either Camp Kryptonite or Camp Baird. Marcus recieved the word over the radio, and ordered his men out into the near pitch black, rubble filled side streets of Yeltsmin. At the same time as the Groznian forces began their counterstrike, Griffincrest forces were still unloading onto the beach. The men who were in Yetlsmin now were just a portion of the force the Corporation had brought, and they were not prepared to sit back and wait as fellow mercenaries were gunned down.

At Sea

Aboard the wounded Thievery, Admiral Redhammer recieved news that the enemy was conducting carrier based strikes upon allied forces. That wasn't going to sit well with the admiral. He ordered the 7th fleet to pursue and destroy the Groznian carrier force. The heavily damaged 10th fleet would remain behind to provide supportive fire for the men on the ground as well as to defend the flagship.

Aboard the flagship of the 7th fleet, the GNF Pride, sat Rear Admiral Horatio Bainebridge. The Pride was nearly identical to the Thievery, both Kraken class dreadnoughts, the only difference was the Pride had a slightly smaller bridge and less anti-air and anti-missile systems. Admiral Bainebridge accepted his task, and ordered his fleet to fan out, with frigates around the edge of the formation and his own ship set in the middle. He was determined to end the Groznian threat in the air once and for all.

Emporer Pudu

07-03-2007, 01:11

Over International Waters off Arterus, Pudite Task Force Zero-Two, Command of General Turbanov
The great black fleet soared high over the turbulent waters, blotting out the sun as it passed over. Hundreds of aircraft screamed through the clouds, coming closer and closer to their target; the Groznyjian city of Yeltsmin. For weeks the Pudite government had been in covert contact with the Kraven government, and now was time to bring the relationship into the open, for the eyes of the world to see. Alternatively, the eyes of a single city, but it was all the same...

Contained within the few hundred light and medium transports at the center of the airborne armada were forty-thousand light infantry, supported by ultra-light armored vehicles and artillery. This would amount to two of the Imperial Air Force's Airborne divisions, the 6th and 7th, respectively. Commanding the operation was the officer-in-charge of the 6th Airborne, General Stepan Turbanov. He and his outfit was one of the few in the air force who had actually done a combat jump before, into hostile territory. Their experience marked them as an elite unit, which is why they were chosen as the advance guard of the oncoming Pudite force.

A few hundred miles behind the airborne force was a smaller, seaborne force of carriers and escorts. These were only the ferries for the refuelers that allowed the task force to fly in, however, in a few days they would become the nexus of an entire Imperial Navy Battlefleet. Over one-thousand ships and submarines were coming together, massive supercarriers down to the smallest strike corvette. All of this, and with it, the real punch; a full Naval Infantry legion. Half-a-million soldiers and a thousand ships. Alone could this force destroy their target, and with the attacks of the Dominions allies already underway, there was no hope remaining fir the defenders of the pitiful island.

For now, though, it would be on the shoulders of General Turbanov to deliver the Pudite strike in the conflict, and that's what he was going to do. No contact had yet been made with the authorities on Arterus regarding the division's landing. As it stood, the plan was to land the 7th division inside Kraven territory and ferry them over, while the more experienced 6th division dropped outside the city to join up with the allied push inland. From the belly of his An-235 Cossack transport Turbanov relayed his message forward;

To: Kraven Military Authorities
From: General Stepan Isakov syn Turbanov, Sixth Parachute Infantry Division, Imperial Airforce

Our Emperor has dispatched to this theater of the conflict, as an advance force, two full Parachute Infantry divisions, commanded by myself. We have forty-thousand soldiers, twenty-six hundred light armored personnel carriers, and sixteen-hundred light infantry vehicles and require a base.

Currently our strategy will only call for a single division, half the force, to land inside Arterus, while the 6th Parachute Division makes the first combat jump into Yeltsmin, while our 7th Division touches down at a friendly airbase, to make a more conventional assault.

We would ask your full cooperation in the operation, to ensure the desired effect, that is, victory. Our light infantry will fight through to the other allied forces in the city, where our 7th Division should be waiting, in reserve.

Before we enter the city, however, we should like to know your plans for the occupation of the settlement. Before we land, the fate of the populace and their homes.

Good day,
General Turbanov

Groznyj

07-03-2007, 04:05

[ooc: bump post. I had to throw this in sometime. Using fluid time this is about an hour or two back in time. OHYES, I forgot; OOC THREAD FTW!!!! (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=519988)]

It was 2:49 in the morning. The halls of the Presidents residence were quite that night save for the frantic tapping of some one running on the beautiful white-black marble floors. He rushed passed security and furiously put his identification as an aid in the face of one guard standing watch in front of the President's bedroom door.

"Get the hell out of the way!" snorted the aid.

He banged on the oak door with his fist sending a low thud reverberating inside.

"What the hell is it?!" came the annoyed reply from inside.

"Sir important messege about Yeltsmin!"

No sooner had the man said this than the president opened the door dressed in pants and an undershirt. He had obviously just been awakened and was intent on hearing the news. The aid gave the president, a strong old man in his sixties, a stack of papers with his hand shaking. Not being able to read them in the dim light he went inside and turned on the light.

Multi-National Attack on Yeltsmin. - Kraven & 2 confirmed unkowns.
85th Marine Division Destroyed.
52nd Marine Division Engaging.
Critical City Damage From Bombing.
- Mass Fires & Infrastructural Damage.
Fighter Detachment Destroyed.
TaskForce2 Sunk At Sea.
TaskForce1 Providing Air Support

SITUATION: CRITICAL

The man's heart skipped a beat as he gasped almost silently. The paper yielded and crumpled under the force of his clenching fist. With paper in hand he he let out a yell of frustration and hit the wall with his clenched fist.

All those people. The entire city.

The aid handed president a folder containing aerial photos of the embattled city taken by UAVs. Two seperate pictures showed the militar emblem of two different armies. Griffincrest Corp and the Leafanistanian Mafia, although no one knew it at the time..

The president thrust the folder back at the aid and began to dress.

"Call together a meeting with the Cheifs of Staff and my Defense council. Now."

Action had to be taken immediately and Urmev knew it. Lives were being lost and so would the city if he didn't act fast.

50 seconds later Ramzan Urmev, the man so many had thought to be a soft, kind old man had burst to life. He approached his secretary on the way to the meeting not even stopping while talking,

"I want you to contact Tigerlan, tell them we are going to need their assistance. Tell them to ready their naval forces we will have to call on them"

Urmev approached the door, the guard opened it for him and shut it behind him. There were already 3 men inside and the rest were on their way. Inside they would decide the nation's next plan of action and decide the fate of millions.

[ooc: kinda important; I wont be here to post agian until saturday afternoon. So dont go crazy posting cuz I wont be able to respond until then thanks! and thx for clearing up that stuff Blackhelm. This is turning out to be a really fun rp]

Leafanistan

07-03-2007, 06:18

The conference was cut short and during the panic Cpt. Ricardo and Pvt. Watcher threw some smoke grenades and ran back to the Technical. She jumped into the driver's seat and listened as the engine turned over.

Watcher jumped into the passenger seat or at least tried until he found himself doggy style on the headless corpse they never removed. Someone was in the gun mount in the back and letting loose a storm of .50 caliber high explosive armor piercing rounds downrange and causing what sounding like a combination of the Wilhelm Scream and celery sticks being crushed by a bulldozer.

Pvt. Watcher wet himself as he struggled for a grip. His hands gripped not the chair but the body's bare breasts and he screamed. Cpt. Ricardo was laughing hysterically as she swung the Technical around and began driving the opposite direction from the combat zone.

Pvt. Watcher in the meantime had used the inertia of the vehicle to get the body onto the side of the vehicle and took a close look at it. It was beautiful, or what was left with it, and he felt naughty thoughts rise up inside of him. He nearly vomited when his eyes were drawn to the stump of a neck and the lower jaw hanging from it, the tongue still glistening from a combination of blood and...what have you. He turned his head so fast toward the laughing, smoking Cpt. Ricardo and tried to give her some sort of mean look, some way to tell her: "What have you done to me?"

Cpt. Ricardo would have none of it and turned solmenly toward Pvt. Watcher. Her arm went out, still caked in gore and what have you, and rested on his shoulder. He winced at the thought of what stuck to her unwashed arms but was comforted by her.

"Ant," she said, "you are a huge pussy."

Pvt. Watcher couldn't believe his ears as she shoved him toward the gaping hole left by the blown off side door that was now only a garbage bag for a door. His back struck the headless corpse and it flew off and landed leg down, snapping the left leg clean off and surprising a squad of mercenaries attempting to set up a heavy machine gun. The rest of the body did some half-assed rolls, and finally came to a rest, most of its skin behind it.

Cpt. Ricardo kept laughing as she drove the thing madly to the rear, her intentions unknown.

Spizania

10-03-2007, 23:53

Fleet Staging Area Charlie-Nineteen, Five Hundred Nautical Miles South-South West of Alexandria Naval Base

The entire active oceangoing Confederate States Navy Surface Combat Fleet was gathered around the collosal platform, its massive births completely filled, with the overflow both standing in the open ocean around it or tied onto whatever empty stretches of quayside the dockmaster had been able find. Four thousand warships were in the area, from the frigates of the Isca class all the way up to the collosal nineteen million tonne supercapital warship Ironside, flagship of the fleet.

This was the first time the fleet had ever been gathered in one place, it would most likely be the last time many of the ships gathered in the crystal clear ocean would ever be gathered, the enemy alliance was too powerful, the summons to the fleet commanders had been issued as soon as the Kravenite War Machine showed signs of stirring from its slumber, and now Sat-Intelligence was filtering down that showed that Groznyj was under attack and was taking heavy losses, the Confederate Navy would not, could not leave anyone to such a horrible fate, and so the fleet would get itself into a fight it would most likely be unable to win.

They easily had enough strength to drive off the currently attacking forces, but Kraven and its allies had additional strength up thier sleeves, and much more worringly they would be within range of land based aviation assets in Kraven, even though the fleet possessed massive numbers of Aircraft and Surface to Air Missiles, those would only last so long before the fleet would be reduced to its flak and light cannon, and even they would not last forever. A rather large force of Confederate Marine Corps shipping was going along, based around five Rhodes-class Landing Support Vessels, with over a hundred transport ships, which would assist in the evacuation of both civilians and military assets.
In addition hundreds of transports and fighter aircraft were even now overflying the fleet in formation, on the way to deploy two entire para-armoured formations on the island, and hold back the enemy until the fleet arrived to cover a large scale evacuation. As the fleet moved out of the area and headed for its destiny, the squadrons of nuclear powered submarines that would be taking part in the operation formed up around the pickets as the largest mass of metal every deployed until the Confederate Ensign went to face the future, and its almost certain destruction, the sun would rise red over the Alexandria soon enough, and one more stone obelisk would soon tower next to the other memorials on Liberty way

Alea iacta est

Groznyj

13-03-2007, 05:55

[ooc: Im gonna wait until my forces get pushed almost out of the city before I do the speech. By then it should be about 8 in the morning. Then Demon n SEA can feel free to do their thing. Somewhat of a bump post.]

A light bulb flickered on, a dull buzz resonated from it as down the subway the emergency lights turned on. Major Said Mustafa's engineers had managed to get the mangled back up power up and running.

"Alright good lets go!"

1132 boots hammered down the subway line toward the Preshon subway platform. Only the tunnel lights had turned on and it was doubtful the enemy would have stationed any sizable force in the subway while there was a battle going on above ground and a camp to defend. Still the 516 Marines made their way to the platform. A few stalled subway trains were in the way, permitting only single file travel slowing progress a little. But since their were always two subway lines on each side of a platform it wasn't so bad. Once they neared the Preshon platform the sounds of gun, tank, and rocket fire could be heard above.

"Must be our boys up there" said the major to himself. Still there was a ways to go.

Emporer Pudu

13-03-2007, 17:39

International Waters, Two-Hundred Nautical Miles off the Dominion, Task Force Zero-Three
The ships sat, in perfect order, arrayed across the sea, forming a second horizon of gleaming, purest white ships… Thousands were gathered, fully four battle-fleets of the Imperial Navy; Sigma, Tau, Upsilon, and Rho. More than four-thousand massive battle-craft lay, as if scattered by a divine hand… That hand was the venerable Grand Admiral and Sea Lord of the Imperial Navy, Neustroi Kadova. He stood, calmly, in the small observation deck of his flagship, the Emperor Pudu XLII, the pride of the Imperial Navy and core of this fighting force. The Emperor Pudu was a Hood-class battleship, fully two kilometers long and weighing literally millions of tons, the ship was a god of war, as befitted the dive hand of the Emperor aboard…

The whole of the force was sitting, in perfect silence, as the great ocean spray crashed against the many frigates and surfaced submarines at tender at the edge of the fleet. By the time the waves reached the center, they had been channeled through more than four-thousand four-hundred ships, reaching terrifying height and ferocity, only to break on the flanks of the steel behemoths of the force…

Thousands of light, anti-submarine warfare helicopters tirelessly patrolled the outer reaches of the fleet, supported overhead by a number of shore-based naval bombers. They would only rejoin the fleet once a friendly air base was presented, or a foreign example captured. Meanwhile, the thousands of planes aboard the Glacier- and Vengeance-class aircraft carriers would do the work they did so well… The fleet and its air armada were prepared, the greatest naval battle in the history of the Emperor’s Dominion was set, and the pieces had begun to move…

The fleet only waited now for the arrival of the second half of their attack; the land-based assets. Literally hundreds of massive Normandy- and Blitz-class assault ships and combat transports were even now making their way out to the fleet, escorted by a minimal number of frigates and light carriers, relying on their presence at the center of one of the four aligned battle-fleets for their safety once at sea.

Kadova stood watching, hands folded behind him contemplatively; this was the single largest armada he had ever seen, foreign or domestic. He was the premier naval commander in the Dominion, he had led the subjugation of dozens of nations and nation-states, overseen the death of countless millions. Kadova knew he should be ready for this, but was he? Soon, the greatest battle his Dominion had ever seen would be born, and he was at the helm…

As the transports arrived, the fleet lurched unanimously into motion, each of the four fleets taking separate formations. Each of the three fleets; Tau, Upsilon, and Rho, made up the leading edge of the massive formation, with Upsilon’s capital ships leading the way, flanked by the other two. Behind these three, battle-fleet Sigma strode, bearing inside its steel body the life of one-hundred divisions of Naval Infantrymen, fully one-million souls, the hopes of the Dominion on the land…

Each fleet was formed into what became their own massive crescent, with the depression in the shape facing the enemy. This would ensure massive potential kills should the enemy be engaged head-on, as well as guaranteeing support for any ship in the formation from at least one other should the combat not move in the Emperor’s favor. The fleet’s planes and rotary-wing assets continued to fly light patrols over the whole force, maintaining a tight grasp on the flanks and fore of the fleet, careful to watch for any sort of enemy interference in the region. Even here, they could not know who their enemies were, caution was the watchword of the Admiral, at least until the infantry force was disembarked…

In eight days the fleet would pass into foreign waters again, the waters off Arterus, to finalize the Pudite assistance to the Kraven presence there, retrieve the eminently victorious Pudite forces, and continue onwards and upwards as the war grew…

Leafanistan

13-03-2007, 18:28

Airstrip One: Beachhead in Yeltsmin

While bulldozers thudded ahead to carve a parallel structure, a shore 800m runway had been carved out of the beachhead by demolishing beachside condos. And already, larger planes began utilizing them. The Il-76 Candids didn't even stop as they flew by. They landed, opened their door, shoved out HT-101s with retrorockets firing and parachutes deploying and took back off.

What did manage to land and come to a nearly full stop were a series of Y-8s, and An-2s of well trained, foreign and Otagian equipped mercenaries. They were to relieve the four mechanized infantry divisions guarding the airfield and their related facilities being built. It meant that nearly 75,000 troops sitting in the beach guarding supply lines could now move toward the front.

These were getting better and better equipped. Older equipment was sent first to be destroyed and now newer BTR-70s and 80s began coming in. BMP-2s along with HT-101-23s were now picking up the relieved men and driving them into the city.

The Technical containing Cpt. Ricardo and Pvt. Watcher slid past a series of 155mm guns and onto the unfinished airfield as an Il-76 roared by, nearly deafening Pvt. Watcher. He watched in shock as a BMD-4 flew out with a drogue chute and retrorockets slowing it down. Cpt. Ricardo still had not stopped laughing at the traumatized Private.

She got out and Watcher stumbled out, his hands covered with gore from the seat. As they left the Technical made a groaning noise and collapsed. The wheels fell off, the engine block slammed to the ground, and everything else dismantled themselves. Watcher stared at it, somewhat upset the trusty Technical was dead and no longer useful.

Cpt. Ricardo turned around and shouted at the staring soldier.

"Do you really miss that piece of shit? You must remember what I did in it..."

Watcher snapped out of his delirium and began jogging to catch up with the walking Cpt. Ricardo. The 155mm guns were loud but they were getting far enough way. Cpt. Ricardo walked up to a soot soaked Sergeant who was doling out new Otagian designed M26 Rifles and M32 Light Machine Guns.

"Do you have one of those for me?"

"Who the hell are you?"

"Cpt. Ricardo, Sergeant, and do I have to make this an order."

The man grunted and looked over to a private who was prying open a crate. The Sergeant surrendered two of his M26 Rifles and two bandoliers of clips for them. Cpt. Ricardo examined them and gave a smile of her approval. The Sergeant went back to arming the newly arrived foreigners.

Cpt. Ricardo threw the bandolier to Pvt. Watcher who was alarmed at this disrespect she had. It rapidly dissipated as he remember who he shacked up with. He watched her gyrating ass, not noticing where they were going, ignoring the An-2 that landed ahead of him and was turning to get back into the air.

He nearly walked into the BMD-2 that was loading up and got in and sat down. Cpt. Ricardo had a concerned look on her face as the engine started up and looked at Pvt. Watcher.

"Hey, you look a bit preoccupied, got a problem Ant?"

Watcher stopped watching her curves and he returned to the reality that was. He was in an Armored Personnel Carrier heading into battle, and a superior officer was questioning her.

"No, sir, I'm fine, just steeling myself for combat."

His false bravado had made an impact on the men in the APC and they all shouted a cheer of approval. A few hands clapped his back, he felt proud but then his eyes returned to Cpt. Ricardo's glassy look. She took a long drag on her cigarette and blew the smoke in Watcher's face. He tried not to cough, but his eyes watered and he blinked a few times. He lost the approval of his compatriots in the vehicle and they all returned to the awkward silence.

"Good."

Pvt. Watcher was almost happy when he heard the antitank missile above his head shot out and demolished an Infantry Fighting Vehicle. The light turned green and a harsh klaxon began to blare. The door in the back fell open and he rushed out with his M26 rifle, and he began firing at the burning men climbing out of the destroyed vehicle.

He opened his eyes and saw the bodies, lying on the ground, fire licking at it. He didn't know what to say, it was his first kill. It was his first 5 kills. He couldn't believe it.

Then he felt himself being pulled on as Cpt. Ricardo shoved him to the ground, her breasts pressing against his face as a rocket flew where he just was and blasted a building behind them.

"YOU STUPID FUCK! ENJOY YOUR CONFIRMED KILLS WHEN WE DO THE PAPERWORK!"

She lifted her M26 and killed the man firing the rocket and saw his body tumble from the window. She started running up to the building, Watcher followed, and they entered the building.

It was quiet compared for a battlefield and they were to start climbing the building when another IFV came up and opened fire on the BMD-2. Its thin armor let the rounds penetrate fully as they bisected the men inside. The autocannon tore through the damaged building and it started to collapse. This time it was Watcher who tackled Ricardo down a flight of steps as the building fell apart.

The structure collapsed, blocking the exit, the debris trapping them in the basement, with only a few small windows letting in light from flares and vehicles. Ricardo groaned and shocked Watcher as she easily shoved him aside. She opened her jacket, and checked her ribs for breaks. She found none and sighed. She turned around and lit another cigarette.

"Well you saved my life Ant."

An...I mean Watcher stood up, a smile building on his face. Praise, he so sought came.

"But, now we are trapped."

Watcher was now standing fully and took it in. She was right, they were stuck in the basement with washing machines and closets containing Gods know what. He gulped.

Ricardo put down some glowsticks and sighed.

"We might be here for a while."

Spizania

13-03-2007, 20:50

Leafanistan

13-03-2007, 23:13

Air Group Unity, Approaching Yeltsmin Engagment Zone

"This is Gold Leader, approaching engagment zone, Hawk wings ten kilometres nose, prepare to engage the enemy, weapons free" the voice came crackling over the radio, "Transports hang back, set up for drop runs on my command"

The Transports and Support Aircraft dropped back, while the Lu-45 Hawks advanced into cover posistions as they approached the area and prepared to commence the first ever opposed drop in the brief history of the Para-Armoured.
With luck, it would not be the last

Naval Strike Group, Nine Hundred Kilometres Out

The fleet was in full combat formation, the escort and submarine rings gathered around the superdreadnaughts and transports, carriers flying huge numbers of CAPs. The fleet was approaching the greatest combat ever fought in Confederate History, and it had every confidence of winning.

Orbit over Yeltsmin

The constellation of eight GodRod sattelites flew in silent formation over the embattled island, and girded themselves for war, each carried eight godrods, and now they all released all they had, sixty four godrods dropping towards their appointment with the new Mafia airbase, which had just be identified in the last sattelite reconnaisance pass, it was time for a little saturation bombardment.

OOC: Just a little continuation post

OOC: There was a reason I posted in the Anti-GodRod thread.

Mafia Airbase

The drops of tungsten needles were in all probability the most terrifying event most of the personnel had ever witnessed in their lives. The sirens and the announcement were probably the cause of the dozens of soiled underpants later found discarded around the airfield.

The Mafia were not stupid and had moved in missiles on landing and now they pointed them straight up. The S-300, S-400 missiles, the entire stock leapt up into the air as everything that wasn't tied down fled. The professionally trained mercenaries proved their worth as they gathered the personnel to escape the blast radius.

Many of them ran to a nearby subway station and began running underground as far away from the airbase as possible.

A few had mounted extremely small tactical nuclear warheads for such a situation.

The first one was reaching its maximum range when the Phased Array RADAR detected it was nearly below the Godrods. It detonated, the blast wave shoving the heavy rods aside. The nuclear missiles kept touching them, EMPs started shorting out devices on the ground. Thankfully, due to the cost-saving measures by using old Vaccum Tube based RADARs the Mafia's detection capabilities burped mildly. The Targeting RADARs were EMP resistant anyway.

The explosions had created a powerful burst and sent each rod tumbling out of the sky. A few began to show stress lines as they descended. It wouldn't be as bad as a focused destruction, but now a deadly meteor shower, with no sign between friend and foe began to rain down on Yeltsmin.

Meanwhile in a destroyed building's basement

Cpt. Ricardo and Pvt. Watcher couldn't even hear the sirens. Their attempts to shout at fleeing personnel were to no avail. They were stuck.

For about 20 minutes they sat in complete silence after their failure to get help. Watcher fulfilled his namesake and kept staring at Cpt. Ricardo, who had discarded her shirt due to the heat. They surmised a fire was burning upstairs, probably started by the BMD that had exploded. They had plenty of oxygen from the shattered windows, but they were going to roast.

They were nearly naked by about 30 minutes. Pacing around the room, Cpt. Ricardo was still smoking, both literally and figuratively to the Private, whose privates had begun to show appreciation. He crossed his legs, embarrassed at his arousal. It didn't comply and simply tried to poke out through the leg holes. His face turned redder than a tomato, as he quickly grabbed his kevlar vest and slammed it on his crotch to disguise his growing organ.

Ricardo turned around, her body slick with sweat and raised her eyebrow. Pvt. Watcher had forgotten the weight of the ceramic and plastic vest and had managed to injure himself. His pained expression was contrasted by the fake smile he had put on to try to look normal, but only succeeded in making him look silly.

"Whatcha got Ant?"

Watcher turned aside, he was shocked, he was at a loss for words, he stammered out a few words like: 'fine' and 'ok.' But he could see she could see straight through him. She walked up, and pulled the vest, sending the heavy jacket as if it was a toy across the room and flying into a rack of detergents, shattering it and causing them to spill to the floor with a loud gurgling noise.

The Private got up fully, and he was standing too. Cpt. Ricardo was staring down, a cigarette burning in one hand, her eyes straight down.

"Privates done some watching too eh?"

Again Watcher found himself stammering something incoherent. He tried to explain himself, he tried to say how smoking she ways, NO!, how pretty she was. He only succeeded in arousing himself further and bent his head down in failure.

"You know, I'm..."

"Yes, I know."

Watcher was back down again, and sat down. He was humiliated, and sat in silence.

Blackhelm Confederacy

14-03-2007, 01:54

At Sea

Admiral Bainebridge's 7th fleet was now preparing for combat as dozens of F-14 Tomcats and F-4 Phantom II's began blasting off from the five carriers and towards the carriers of the Groznian fleet. The 7th fleet continued on as well, every cannon and missile launcher being loaded and prepared to engage the enemy fleet (or fleets) and clear the air of any possible threat.

Back with the 10th fleet, Admiral Redhammer ordered the 32nd Armoured Division to hit the shore and bail out the mercenaries that were currently undersiege. Hundreds of Chariots and Mercury's began cruising onto transports and shipped to Camp Val, which was still under contruction. A handful of Gnats were landing and taking off, making attack runs with rockets or a pair of 500lb pound bombs, easing up the pressure on the AV-18's which were constantly being called in for air support. Several of these gunships sat along the incomplete airstrip as well, crews rushing to refuel and rearm them and get them into the air as quickly as possible.

Overhead, a group of Hong-5 bombers began to come over the city, accompanied by a number of F-4's. As they passed over areas of the city that Groznian forces had taken, they released their payload as literally tons upon tons of munitions were dropped onto the enemy forces below. Building still standing after the initial air raid were now crumbling as this bomb raid was just to much for the structures to take. Several buildings were targeted primarily for the fact that they would collapse and force Groznian forces into narrow corridors, where mercenary machine gunners or gunships can cut them to ribbons, others just merely destroyed for being in an area deemd hostile.

Streets of Yeltsmin

Drunk and jewelry laden mercenaries scrambled around the city, manning machine guns, finding sniper posts, doing whatever they could to retaliate against the Groznian assault. The Griffincrest invasion force of 700,000 men was not even near unloading onto the shore. Of that number, the vast majority were held in reserve for use in the main invasion on Southeast Asia. Only 150,000 of the 700,000 mercenaries were ordered to hit Yeltsmin, and of them only 30,000 men were on shore. The rest of them continued to come ashore, wave after wave of them, filling the beach with their numbers.

Prisoners were being evacuated via Mi-2 transport helicopters to awaiting carriers still with the 10th fleet. These men and women would be amongst the lucky people of Yeltsmin, for they had paid their way away from the horrors of the slavery of the Mafia or the mass executions and birthing chambers of the Kraven Corporation. They would be brought back to the Confederacy and told to go free. They would most likely end up with the countless other refugees in the Paradise City slums. Many would likely go to work for the Griffincrest Corporation in the oil fields or in the offices, and would be encouraged to do so as a means to cover the rent and avoid the slum lords.

Along with the prisoners, the Mi-2's were also ferrying sacks upon sacks of gold and other valuables to the carriers. Each sack would have a name, locker number, and another name for the valuables to go to should their knew owner not make it back to claim them. Should both men die, then the ships crew got to take what they wished. Once aboard the ships, the crews would divide up the bags by ship and sort them out to be taken to the locker of the owner. There they would await their new owner, and their new fate.

Cdntr. Diamonddagger and his men continued through the city trying to make it back to Camp Kryptonite. The progress was slow as many of the men were weighed down by their loot. The wounded man who had previously shot himself in the foot was now being carried by two man and bleeding badly. His body was almost limp as it dangled in between his two comrades, his arms draped over their soldiers. Aiir transports were called in to remove him and some other wounded, and the men moved into a crater left by the Kraven naval bombardment to wait for the chopper.

Not to far from their position, a Groznian IFV tore apart a Mafia BMD, and then proceeded to promptly destroy a building the BMD's occupants took cover in. One of the Griffincrest mercenaries readied his Javelin and trained it on the IFV. Without a word, he loosed the rocket and it screamed towards its target, causing the vehicle to erupt into a ball of flame.

Groznyj

14-03-2007, 02:51

The young man was only 19 years old and had just completed his freshman year at Farbanti U. He was here to visit his girlfriend who studied in Yeltsmin. Before he thought it was lucky for him that he and his girl friend would get breaks at the same time. That was before the bombs hit. He had been riding on a bus towards the dorms when the Kraven bombers made their run. A bomb put a crater directly infront of his bus causing it to crash. He was fortunate enough to have the dumb luck of bending over to tie his shoe laces when the bomb hit. The shrapnel and ensuing crash killed everyone on board but him.

Wandering the streets in a daze in the middle of the hellfire Adam was taken by an entrenched militia unit holed up in a subway. They gave him the only gun they had left, an old M24. This was all a rude shock to Adam, though he liked the armed forces, he had never fired a rifle in his life. He hadn't been required to report to boot camp until he finished his senior year in college.

He tried telling the men he had to get to the college but the commander threatened to kill Adam if he so much as spoke again of such a dishonor as dissertion. An hour later they would all be face to face with Kraven Capitol Police. Adam's unit was cut to pieces within seconds and he barely managed to make it out alive.

The youth would spend the next 2 hours making his way toward the college dorms using a map he had in his backpack. To his horror he would find that the entire campus had collapsed into a massive burning heap. He tried in vain to search the ruble for his love but the searing heat of the flames and hollowed out dormitories told him otherwise. He at this point had a mental breakdown. As Griffincrest and Mafia forces began a sizable headway into the city he laid on his knees clenching fistfulls of grass from the sports field with the sprinklers on and all hell breaking around him. After he had let out enough emotion he spotted his rifle, why he hadn't dropped it on his mad dash to the college is anyone's guess, and made up his mind to kill whoever was responsible for all this.

2 hours, 4 near kills, and a close brush with death later he's fallen asleep in a corner of the 3rd story of a bombed out building with foreign tanks and soldiers moving through the streets past him. He wakes up to find little has changed. What would have been a great weekend is now the 7th ring of hell. There infront of him is a radio with a hundred voices speaking out of it. Apparently Adam never noticed it when he came into the room ( if you can call 3, 1/2 walls and crumbling roof a room). With all the rage and emotion drained out of him he crawls forward to pick it up. His wieght breaks the cracked floor and sends him falling to the 2nd floor. Luckily nothing's broken.

Adam picks up the radio. By now the chatter had lessened so he could actually understand what was being said.

"He..Hello?" he speaks into it.

The voices in the background pay no attention but a few seconds later a middle-aged sounding man answers.

"Yes, who is this speaking?"

For a second Adam was stunned not knowing what to say. So he just said whatever was on his mind.

"This, this is Adam, I'm in a building in the Preshon district. I was here visiting a friend at the college but.. its all gone."

There was a moment of static before the man replied,

"Adam, how old are you? Are you ok?"

"Yeah, I'm 19,"

The man on the other end sounded almost happy; no doubt he was trying to calm the boy.

"ha, 19, my cousin has a son that's nineteen. Listen son, you in the right place at the right time. There's a high school, PS 21, in your area. They are using it to hold people hostage. Your friend may still be alive."

The news had wiped the gray sullen look of dispair right off of Adam's face. Again their was a glimmer of hope in his eye.

"Thank you very much sir."

"Allah akbar friend."

Adam stood to get a bearing on his surroundings. Before it was too late he spoke back into the radio,

"Hey I never got your name"

"The name is Ka----"

A harsh blast of static issued from the receiver. Adam looked at the radio not wanting to believe what he knew to be true. Just then the radio shorted out in his hand.

"Ow, sonofa-"

He shook the pain out his hand and took the crumpled tourist map out of his pocket. He looked for where the school would be...PS 21.... it had to be there some where....There! Only 2 blocks away to his south was the school. He was amazed that he would have missed it altogether.

Folding up the paper and putting it into hsi pocket Adam set out of the broken building, being extra careful not to be spotted armed by any patrols that may be in the area. He made it accross the street as a steel reinforcing beem shot out just missing him putting a whole clean through a concrete wall. He turned around in time to see the structure lurch in his direction, concrete cracking and iron moaning in protest. Adam jumped into the hole and ran to the other side of the building as his former hideaway came trying to take him with it. He sprinted out of the building and accross the street to another as the one he was just in collapsed inwards from the force of the 1st building falling on it.

Quite the close call...

Adam made his way toward the school. The school was located inside a loop of avenues with some space for a small field. The avenues were themselves about 20 meters wide and the side walks perhaps another 5 to 10 on both sides. The building was surrounded by patrolling guards wearing the same insignia Adam had seen before. Adam was inside a cleaned out jewelry shop. He took notice of the lack of jewelry and smashed display cases and made a small "hmphf" as he looked back at the patroling soldiers.

Were these the same men that had killed his girl friend? He knew the area was under threat from the Kraven Corp but he had never seen these guys before until he left the college.

Then again maybe she was safe inside...

Either way trying to take revenge on these men outside wouldn't do her any good and would likely get him killed.

Adam reached into his pocket and pulled out a handfull of rounds. He closed his eyes and let them drop to the floor. He took his rifle and left it on the floor against his gut instinct to kill these mother fuckers. Slowly, putting his hands on his head, he stood up and walked towards the school in plain sight. In a few minutes it would start getting brighter. Already things were barely visible without the light from the fires and occasional flares.

Leafanistan

14-03-2007, 03:21

The fire on the building was raging and the temperature rose. They shouted at some Griffencrest mercenaries but soon found their window blocked by debris. Now only a little air came into the broiling room. Cpt. Ricardo's pacing was increasing, she had begun to mutter angrily.

Watcher's head was betwixt his hands, staring at the floor, wondering how badly he screwed up. 'Why her?' He watched her rape and kill a woman for looking like a former lover. Gods that was screwed up. He let the thoughts race through his mind. He wondered what he wanted in life, in a woman when the first GodRod fragment impacted the ground and created a 1 kiloton kinetic kill. An entire platoon of infantry were slaughtered as the building they were setting up with demolition charges collapsed on them. Vehicles nearby were splattered by debris, a phenomenon they called 'the rain.'

Cpt. Ricardo paniked at the sound. She said quietly, the room echoing her words.

"Gods, they nuked us. They are going to nuke us all."

Watcher immediately stood up, his thoughts were disintegrated like the block the tungsten chunk landed on. He could hear the dull thumps, shaking loose dust from the ceiling, and he thought they were more nukes. His panic was different, he walked sternly up to a very quiet Cpt. Ricardo and grabbed her by her shoulders. She dropped her cigarette, the ashes creating a delta pattern.

"What..."

He tried to look the most serious he had in his life, but he realized he was starting to bruise her. He let go, then immediately chastised himself for looking weak. He tried to move forward again, but this time Marie had backed up, her hand was by her holster, not yet unbuttoned the .50 caliber pistol she was entitled to as an officer.

"What are you doing?"

Watcher thought, he knew, but could he muster the courage?

"They are going to kill us, don't you want to go with a bang?"

His voice cracked at the end, his shoulders were cocked at a funny angle. Cpt. Ricardo sighed, and her hand left her holster. They went to her pants and released the strap. The pants clattered to the floor. She walked up to Watcher, he was frozen with fear and longing.

"It has been a while."

Her lips met his, he could barely contain how happy he was. He felt her hands descend lower, his pants falling to the floor. She felt her descend, he felt his fear descend.

Then as quickly as it began, it was over. He was too caught up in the moment that by the time he began to survey his surroundings, Cpt. Ricardo was lying on the ground, with a cigarette in her mouth, lighting it. He was just as embarrassed, no, more embarrassed than before.

His stammering manner reappeared and Cpt. Ricardo started to laugh a little. She pulled out a small pen like device from her top breast pocket of her jacket. She held it up to him, and said, "This is a Dosimeter, if we were being nuked this little thing would have registered it."

She put it back in her pocket. Watcher hadn't said anything the entire time.

"Was this your first time or what?"

"Uh...guh...suh...zuh..."

"You are kidding me Ant!"

She stared at him incredulously, she couldn't believe what she was hearing. Watcher stammered some more as he tried to pull up his pants.

"A virgin to combat, and a virgin to..." She didn't finish her sentence and sighed. Watcher was frozen with a bright cherry red expression. Cpt. Ricardo walked back up to the paralyzed Private, her hands again descended and for a second time that hour his pants clattered to the floor of the room.

The sounds of battle faded away on the dirty floor of that basement. The hundreds of fragments of GodRods began slamming into the city. One especially large piece neatly sliced a Long Island Class Carrier, sending a massive wave, drowning a squad of Marines trying to get their RIB on shore. The ship was alight with secondary explosions, and a single Mi-14 managed to escape with some pilots and was heading for another carrier.

Blackhelm Confederacy

14-03-2007, 04:39

The guards watched as some guy came walking out of the darkness with his hands raised. Two of the mercenaries walked over to him, and one raised his G36E while the other began to speak. "You speak English or Exponential?" Than the man with the gun spoke "It don't really matter does it" and than looked at Adam. "Empty you pockets take off any jewelry and give them to me." They waited for Adam to give up any of his belongings, than the first man, the one that was not pointing a gun at Adam, took out his flexicuffs and restrained Adam, then the pair proceeded to escort him into the school. Along the way, very little was said short of "Why'd you surrender, you a spy?" or "Are you plannin' somethin'? You're plannin' somethin' aren't ya? Either that or your lookin' for someone" to which the second mercenary would always reply "Val, your an idiot, noone is gunna surrender and not have any idea what is gunna happen just to find someone" Val just shrugged and said "Well maybe he can pay his way to the Confederacy.

Once they got into the gymnasium, the massive sprawl of humans would have been a shock to Adam. Men were seperated from women, boys seperated by girls. Barbed wire seperated each group and a four foor wide walkway between them was being patrolled by armed guards. In the center of the gym, as well as in the corners, small mounds of prisoners that didn't quite make it had formed. A small medical center was also erected in the corner of the mens section, and prisoners were wailing in pain as the mercenary medics attempted to remove shrapnel and other obstructions without the benefits of anasthesia. Adam was escorted to a mens section, were a medic gave him a once over, checked his eyes with a flashlight, had him open his mouth to check for any problems, and then sent him on his way into the crowd.

Groznyj

14-03-2007, 07:52

I am the biggest idiot on this planet.

Adam thought to himself after being sent into the crowd. At least before he could have taken shots at the guards or tried to link up with the militia or find a radio and help the resistance. But now he was all but useless. He was surrounded by mostly elderly men and the infirm. With the rare teenager running around. His attention turned to a scuffle taking place in the corner of the gym.

"I swear to Allah take your filthy hands off of it you dog!"

yelled an old man, most definitely in his 80's. Some of the older generation didn't know how to speak English so the elder spoke in his native language (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chechen_language). Adam moved through the crowd to see what was going on. In an almost comic scene there was the old man grabbing his hat (http://giam.typepad.com/photos/uncategorized/circassian.jpg) away from a guard in a kind of tug of war. There was a small crowd of several guards laughing at the two. Having his patience tested enough, the guard took his rifle and bashed it into the old man's face sending him sprawling back on the floor. Adam rushed toward the guard as he picked up his trophy.

"Hey!" he was halted dead in his tracks by the muzzle of a G36E. A fellow guard had it placed directly between Adam's eyes as the guard now wearing the hat looked at Adam. He laughed at the student and turned away, just before spinning around to land a sucker punch into Adam's jaw. The show over the others went to their duties. Adam took a look at the old man, unconscience, as he got up holding his jaw.

I'm an idiot... he once again though to himself.

Adam made his way to the border between men and women and began shouting out his girl friends name hoping she would hear him if she was there.

"Ana!.....Ana!"

A second later he felt a soft rumble in the ground.
--- ---- --- --- ---- --- --- --- ------

By this time the advancement in the north of the city had begun to slow down. The enemy had begun bracing themselves ahead of time for the attack, and reinforcements constantly poured in.

By now if the word hell had been used to describe the bombing raid, the air battle, the initial attack, this was hell on the streets. Scores of men on both sides fell to the voracious fire fight. Tanks blew the crap out of each other left and right, APCs cut squads of soldiers to pieces and air support turned entire streets into lanes of death, the asphalt literally exploding up a screaming wall of death over taking any one in its way like a freight truck. The battle was beginning to slow into a meat grinder when the early morning sky lit up with th wrath of the heavens. In truth the well intentioned aid of an ally gone horribly wrong. Burning fragments of broken tungsten rods fell at supersonic towards the Earth.

Like a scene out of Armageddon meteors fells from the sky toward the embattled units. Once everyone had realized what was going on the gun fire stopped momentarilly. One collumn of Groznian tanks was obliterated in a flash by the kinetic force of the tungsten rod. Tanks and vehicles swerved in all directions attempting to get out of the way of the damaged rods. Men fled in different directions, some looking up to judge where to run. And then they hit. The force of the barrage took out whole blocks of buildings and entire units of soldiers and equipment. Like something out of a kick ass scifi or war film white hot flaming meteorites impacted all around the battlefield. After tearing themselves to pieces in the atmosphere the tungsten rods turned into tens or hundreds of small jagged fragments having the effect of a celestial cluster bomb.

In a few seconds more damage had been done to the fighting sides than both had done to each other. Then like clockwork the gunfire gradually increased in tempo and the fight was back on. Hundreds, maybe thousands perished in the inadvertent friendly fire and scores of vehicles were either knocked out or vaporized altogether. One unlucky F/A-18 pilot had a meteor fly right through his aircraft bisecting it. Amazigly however he managed to eject before his plane hit a teetering 40 story highrise, sending it toppling over onto a royally unlucky mass of soldiers either Groznian or otherwise.

Back at his makeshift command center Lt.General McGreen hit the desk as he heard, and saw, what had just happened.

"Son of a Bitch!...." "Who the hell is responsible for that?!"

His mood wouldn't improve when he would get the news 15 minutes later that the Spizanians had attempted to help without notifying him first.

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

Mean while a massive air assault was being prepped from the sea. Over 700 carrier based aircraft were being readied for take off. The first F-14D's and F/A-18's took off from the steam catapults. Soon the original fighter force over the city would be relieved. By now they had taken sizable losses. This next wave however, would come prepared to engage targets in both the land and the air.

Emporer Pudu

14-03-2007, 17:47

Approaching The City of Yeltsmin, Pudite Airborne Task Force Zero-Two, Lead Plane
Pudite General Stepan Turbanov sat in silence, his helmeted head resting on his hands as he waited… The rest of the plane was silent, although it would have been hard to hear otherwise over the drone of the Cossack’s massive engines.

Suddenly, Turbanov broke the silence; sitting up straight, he slammed his gloved fists into the armored grieves on his thighs, “Damn it! I’m not getting anything from those Kraven… -ites?” he said, pausing to ponder what the hell they were called anyway, “It’s been too long, we’ll all haveta’ jump, seventh division and all!”

The men nearby looked up to him, “It was a slim chance we’d be allowed to land anyway…”

“How are we going to get the 7th down there, the landing strategy was designed for one division?” asked another soldier.

“I’ll be the one to worry ‘bout that, although we’ll probably just have to double all the measurements and land them right on top of us,”

“Risky, with untested jumpers like them…”

“Well, we were all trained proper, weren’t we? We’ve all jumped before, into the jungles back ‘ome!” Turbanov shouted down the belly of the plane.

“Yeah… the insurgents don’t have heavy flack cannons…” mumbled someone at the end of the row of jump seats, although didn’t hear, over the engines.

“Alright,” began the general, after a short pause, “We’re gonna’ be over the jump zone in about six minutes, I’ve already sent a message to the 7th’s commander, and he knows the drill. Just remember to double all previous measurements, and hopefully nobody’s tank ‘ll land on you!”

“I have no idea how much resistance we’ll have going down, but once we get into the city, it’ll be like nothing you’ve ever seen before! Each squad sticks together, each team with his Lynx,” The Lynx being the light armored vehicle the air force had held onto for all these years, for these very purposes, “We’ll meet back up when the fighting’s over! Don’t expect a lot of artillery support, and our fighters ‘ll probably be busy on high, it’s up to us!”

With that, the whole plane broke out in a collective shout, reaffirming their loyalties. Soon, each of them would be pushed beyond anything he had ever seen, and not many of them would live to see it all the way through…

A few hundred meters behind, similar sequences were occurring in the rest of the 6th’s planes, as well as their now significantly more nervous 7th division counterparts. The whole force, forty-thousand men and nearly six-thousand vehicles were going feet-first into hell, as some would see it.

For the Emperor…

Leafanistan

14-03-2007, 21:55

~snip~

The biplane pilot sailed back to his carrier as it was sliced in half by the meteorite storm. He could see the Pudite Planes begin dropping off troops and grabbed his small radio. He smacked it a bit as it was unresponsive. The Javelin operator behind him was having similar problems. The bright flashes above told it all. Extremely High Altitude detonations had EMPed them.

He went to land on another ship, and jumped out. A security team aimed their AR-550s at him but lowered them as soon as they saw his Mafia insignia on his shoulder. He removed his helmet and went up to the ship's captain who was helping coordinate the shattered carrier group he was in charge of. The salute was quick and the captain looked at the pilot in disdain.

"Padi, jost spit et Ɔut."

The man's strange creole confused him for a second but he reacted quickly.

"Sir, there is someone paratrooper."

"Muf Ɔut na da way."

The captain shoved himself past the confused pilot and grabbed a set of binoculars. He stared intently and he proceeded to get on an ancient shortwave radio. A minute later he returned.

"Eats a PƆdight paratroopa divizons. BƆku strong. Ai've kalled in ɔp."

The pilot saluted the man and returned to his plane to order some rockets to be fitted to the wings.

'Waterman' Trucks began roaring toward the paratroopers with large red crosses painted on them. Inside, Colonel Brock Samson was ready to greet these men.

Spizania

14-03-2007, 23:19

Aerial Group Unity, Five Minutes from Dropzone

As the formations of drop aircraft started lowering there drop ramps and formed into drop formations, a message was sent with a high integrity cypher was sent to the allied Ground Commander, informing him of the armies arrival and asking him not to blow the force out of the sky or tear it apart on landing, even then the vanguard company drop aircraft already preparing to push out the enormous drop crates, inwhich two entire divisions of para-armoured would soon be decending to the earth.

The crews performed final checks as SEAD aircraft broke formation and swept the ground, looking for and engaging anything not in Groznjian colours that could interfere with ARMs and conventional electro-optically guided ground attack missiles.
Then it happened, the lead aircraft started dropping, massive drop cages sliding out of the back of the aircraft and deploying braking rockets and camoflauged cargo chutes, within twenty minutes the entire task force would be on the ground, and awaiting to begin evacuation when the fleet arrived in approximately eighteen hours time.
Meanwhile the Hawks went after any enemy aircraft in the drop zone.

Emporer Pudu

15-03-2007, 01:32

North of The City of Yeltsmin, Pudite Airborne Task Force Zero-Two, Drop Zone Alpha
As the nearly one-hundred and seventy planes of Task Force Zero-Two slowed and their side doors slid open. Below the larger Cossack and Bastion aircraft, roughly thirty smaller Coba VTOL transports sped ahead, their rear hatches falling open to reveal a small force, roughly two-hundred soldiers and their vehicles of the 6th Parachute Infantry division, preparing for a low-altitude insertion outside the city, to clear a landing zone for the rest of the now-combined divisions.

As his transport screamed in, only about fifteen hundred meters off the ground, Fedor Spesivtsev leaned out to get a view of his target. Behind him, another nineteen men were lined up in similar fashion, all waiting for the little red light that currently defined their existence to change...

Suddenly, he heard his Sergeant, roughly nine men behind him, call it out, "Green for jump!", and the men behind him began to fidget, moving closer, excited...

Fedor shoved his nearly three-hundred pound-frame out the back of the light black plane, tearing through the lower atmosphere towards the green earth below. Seconds later he ripped his parachute open, and began a slow decent through the last few hundred feet of the decent, his Class II 8.12x42mm assault rifle scanning the suburban landscape...

Above him another twenty men, surrounded by dozens of similar little columns of men, as well as numerous pallets of tanks and armored vehicles... All winding their way towards the ground, and the hell that awaited them...

Fedor hit the ground, tucking his legs in and rolling into a kneeling position in the center of a cul-de-sac, surrounded by a ring of cookie-cutter suburban houses, most probably empty by now, although intelligence had warned of a significant militia presence in the city, so he knew he had to be careful.

Cutting the cords loose and discarding the 'chute, he sprinted over to a darkened house, whose front door had been boarded up and the windows nailed, from what he saw. A good bet there weren't too many insurgents in there...

Followed by his squad, he took up a firing position in the house, after applying some foot-based unlocking technology to the entrance. A light machine gun, as well as a heavy weapons squad from another platoon, reinforced it further. They would wait here, right at the edge of the community that was their landing zone...

Soon, thousands of his companions would be falling, all around him. He was grateful for the rest offered here, before the fighting that was to come...

Groznyj

15-03-2007, 04:02

5:32 Am

Subway Platform B, Preshon District, Yeltsmin

1 Hour to Sunrise

Marines had taken up positions around the subway platform, more were down the tracks. Mjr Said waited in the middle of the cavernous platform for his scouts to tell him the coast was clear topside. 3 quick flashes of light from the top of the immobile escalators gave him his cue. He knew that if his mission was successful he and his battalion would become national heroes although that was the furthest thing from his mind.

With a single hand gesture Said and his men rushed up the stairs and escalators toward the subway entrance. The element of surprise was key. He didn't want to stay topside for more than a minute or two.

Marines rushed out of the subway entrance M4s raised. Not one made a sound, the whole group fanned out, splitting into squads each providing the other cover. The radio was silent and only hand signals and taps were used. In less than an hour they wouldn't need their NV goggles anymore. In 47 seconds Said and 437 Marines had the school virtually surrounded. Griffincrest guards still patrolled the school campus oblivious to the Wolf readying to strike. Groznian soldiers took aim at the guards outside, each squad relying on its advanced marksman (close-range sniper) to make a one hit clean kill.

With his left index finger Said pressed the transmitter switch in his helmet.

"Commence Op."

Instantly the neighborhood around the school lit up like fireflies and then just as quickly fell silent again. Fire support squads remained in their positions as assault units rapidly closed the distance between them and the school. Of one of these squads Said was a part. He tried opening a door, one of the back exits in the school for janitors, seeing it was chained he stepped out of the way for an explosives specialist. The charge set the metal door was blown off its hinges and the squad rushed in after chucking a flash-bang.

The assault teams stormed into the building like an LA SWAT team throwing in flashbangs before charging in full strength and ruthlessly cutting down any surprised mercs in their way.

Said spoke into his mic

"Gamma team what's your status?"

Gamma team was composed of several demo experts and was responsible for blowing open the door on the gym.

"setting the charge now.... ready to blow on your mark."

"Good. Standby Over."

352 Marines stormed the school killing anything that wasn't a civilian. When they reached the gym they would throw in flashbangs and tear gas and proceed in.

Blackhelm Confederacy

15-03-2007, 23:45

The initial assault knocked the mercenaries off balance, and many fell dead without even knowing where the bullets had come from. After the attacks by the snipers, a pair of Mercury APC's sprung to life, opening up with their 30mm cannons in the direction that the fire had come from. Mercenaries ran about, now realizing that they were under attack, firing wildly into the oncoming marines.

The Groznians, whether they had known it or not, had just sent these men into what was now the heart of the Griffincrest occupation. Mercenaries were consistantly flowing in to the camp, following the order given earlier to pull back and fortify the area around Camp Kryptonite, and they were now all calling out their shots and opening up on the small group of marines that rushed for their position. Mi-2 gunships and AV-18's hovered overhead, blasting away at the men as well. For the Groznians, they had just made a horrible mistake.

Around the city, the gunfights escalated as more mercenaries poured into Yeltsmin. The shattered god rods had taken their tool, destroying several groups of mercenaries across the city, but the effect was limited. Mercury's drove around the city, blasting propaganda to their enemies and hoping to convince the militia to surrender.

"The recent attack from the sky was from Spizania, your so called allies. Surrender and you will be treated humanely, resist and be slaughtered"

It was being broadcast throughout the city. Even a few of the Mi-2's had begun broadcasting it. The utter destruction that Yeltsmin had fallen into along with the possibility of surrender would hopefully be enticing enough to get the militia to give up the fight.

Groznyj

17-03-2007, 06:01

This was the first major conflict the Armed Forces of Groznyj had ever been in. Mistakes would be made and the military would feel its growing pains. This was one of them.

A bullet struck Said in the chest knocking him on his back in the middle of his sprint. The same thing happened to many others. In the first charge 48 men fell and would never again rise. Said opened his eyes, a man running in front of him was torn to shreds by gunship fire which pulverized the asphalt around him. A fellow marine pulled the Major back to the relative safety of a building. The charge was immediately halted in his tracks by the encircling helicopters. What Said had failed to notice was that there maybe marksmen on the roof of the school and choppers within quick reaction distance. His mistake had cost the lives of 48 men and nearly his own. 2 dozen men were able to make it across the avenue to the school. While being dragged Said flicked his arm and hand forward signaling that they continue with the mission. They could still do damage attacking from outside and within the school. The 24 marines disappeared inside as Said regained his footing.

Feeling his chest he concluded he was free from any broken ribs, amazingly. The vest had stopped the bullet but was now useless. He removed it.

"Rocket teams take out those helos!" he yelled into his mic while getting on his feet. The element of surprise was lost but there was still a chance to exploit their initial assault.

From around the corner of a building half a helmet peeked out along with an RPG-29. Taking aim at the helicopters midsection the operator let fly the round.

"AT teams, get the APC!"

The few javelin teams the battalion had with them took aim at APCs. From a range this close a hit and kill could almost be guaranteed as long as the operator wasn't spotted. After the first rpgs had been shot at the helos, some had also taken aim at the hovering jets above, 2 javelin operators took aim at the two APCs with a third team running backup.

It was a very dangerous and very REAL situation for the marines. Hopefully Mcgreen had made the right choice in sending out Said, would the young, untested officer crack? or lead his men to victory?

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

"Yes...yes.. ok I'll alert the fighters.. The west and north of the city is under enemy control.. yes that is correct....My men," the general turned over a map, "my men are currently attacking the northern sector of the city and evactuating citizens in the south... you got it.. let me advise you there is a heavy Kraven presence to the east and two forces I've never heard of before to the north.. yes.. thank you sir."

Lt. General Chester McGreen clicked off the radio. He had just been talking with the Spizannian commander. He looked back at his battle maps and the information on the lcd screens.

We're facing massive resistance in the north, Said should be at the school by now.. Shit. though the general. He had expected that the northern advance would be able to push right before the school giving Said and his men an easy time evacuating it.

"Sir take a look at this"

A staff officer handed the general a print out taken from the uav. It showed a strong Griffincrest garrison around the school.

Shit.

The fighters had just begun withdrawing now getting low on fuel, most out of ordnance. It would be a few minutes before the vanguard of the next wave arrived. McGreen looked at the tactical situation around him. For a number of minutes they would have no air cover. That was not good.

"Dammit, give me the line"

"Sir."

McGreen radioed Uzuyev.

"Admiral how long before those planes get here? We need some close air support!"

"7 squadrons of fighter aircraft are closing on your position now expect the full force int he next 10 minutes."

"Dammit Admiral we may not have ten minutes!"

"Your gonna have to hold out Chester we're working as fast as we can."

"Ok. Any word on reinforcements?"

"Transports are 22 hours away but we can carry up to thrity thousand civilians. You didn't ask for it but I've arranged for a squadron of 15 B52's to arrive on your position, it's your call where and what they carpet bomb. ETA 3 hours"

"Thank you Admiral."

"I'll keep you updated. Over and Out."

Just leaving the expanse of home waters, an armada of transport ships were leaving Groznyj. To compensate for the lack of time every luxury liner in the western coasts was commandeered by the navy and every available transport was ordered out. Along with them was a force of 6,000 Marines who upon landing would reinforce McGreens army.

edit:ooc: why is it that every post I make here there's a database error? It's happened the past 7 or 8 times in a row now. :rolleyes:

Emporer Pudu

22-03-2007, 17:35

Outskirts of Yeltsmin, Pudite 6th and 7th Parachute Infantry, It Begins…
Fedor had been holed up in the small, suburban fortress for about thirty minutes, while the contents of two full divisions rained down around him. Some small-scale skirmishes and other sporadic fighting had occurred around the borders of the landing zone marked out by the advance companies of the 6th, but no real attention had yet been paid. The landing was going well, so far…

Recently, though, the order came down the line to move out. Behind him, the divisions were forming up, dividing into smaller and smaller units, better suited for the urban combat to come. Platoons of fifty soldiers, that is, six vehicles, were all preparing to move out, sweeping through the city behind the armored elements of the force. Already small artillery positions were established, fifteen self-propelled guns resting stationary at each, waiting for the command to fire. These divisions were expected to survive, and no precaution was too many. These howitzers were accompanied by a fleet of smaller DLV-42 three-ton trucks, loaded with a supply of gas-filled 125mm shells…

As the platoons formed up, and smaller armored vehicle squadrons, three Lynx vehicles, with the troops dismounted for speed, began to fan out around the Pudite army, the artillery began sighting in. According to reconnaissance and satellite imagery, the Groznian forces were concentrating in the north of the city, and so the first barrage would be felt there. Of course, the gas would spread, but the Pudite troops all sported re-breathers mounted in their helmet, and most soldiers carried full-face gas masks, right?

The force began to roll, with armored vehicles fanning out ahead, followed by two brigades of mechanized soldiers, with the final sweep coming through as the dismounted brigade sought out any remaining threats…

Behind the 6th division’s advance, the 7th division was still busy re-ordering itself, and although they possessed the drilled-in Pudite organization of the Imperial Air Force, they still took far longer than the more experienced 6th. They were accompanied by General Turbanov, who would be establishing his command post with them, as his own unit pressed forward.

Overhead, the Pudite aircraft had all but gone, returned to their carriers for a refueling. Some of the more well-stocked Strakhen Sokol’s remained, but they were few in number, and intended for close-air-support only. Their only air-to-air munitions were intended to hold off any attackers as they retreated…

Below, the assault began… Five-hundred Lynx armored vehicles and fifty LV-08 wheeled light infantry vehicles moved along, outfitted with explosive-reactive armor where applicable, and sporting lightened loads in terms of cargo, to facilitate quick strikes. Above their heads, the first volley of gas-filled shells started to fall among the northern sectors of the city. The gas inside, known to it’s creators as the “Night Lord’s Urine”, would produce quite a beneficial effect, and was rather hard to counter. Any of the gas that found it’s way to an unprotected human eye would affect a number of essential retinal proteins, disrupting the flow of information between the eye and the brain. Blindness. Permanent, immediate, blindness…

The war had begun, the wheels were turning, and the shells were falling…

Groznyj

24-03-2007, 07:04

38 Minutes to Sunrise

Said's men had taken up firing positions surrounding the school. Their surprise attack had caught the Griffincrest forces off guard but by a slight degree. Like punching a hornets' nest...well ok not that bad, but still. Said's assault had been stalled and he new it.

Shit. he thought to himself.

Currently his men were holding off the initial response teams of Griffincrest soldiers. But in this position they would soon be overrun even though they were 500 strong. It slowly came to him, well, nothing comes slowly in battle but it appears so; the realization that his attack had been in vain.

It was time for a Deus Ex Machina

The command radio crackled to life and Said answered it. A foreign sounding voice spoke over it in a reassuring tone. The conversation was concise and to the point. If one were looking at him they would notice a noticable new resolve on his face. There was hope.

"Listen up men; friendly C.A.S. on its way. Green smoke for the school, blue smoke for soft targets, red smoke and red laser for armor."

A chorus of confirmation went up among his subordinate commanders. In the midst of the accelerating fire fight Groznian Marines fired green smoke grenades at the perimeter of the school marking it as a friendly building. Meanwhile others used their 203mm grenade launchers to fire blue and red smoke grenades at enemy positions. This wasn't to difficult a task given the Marines dispersed yet flexible position around the school concentrated as a crescent shape to the west of the school with small elements around. Very soon Spizanian ground attack air craft would be coming in from overhead with the enemy Air kept occupied by Groznian carrier based fighters.

-------------
In The Meantime
-------------

The ground battle west of the school raged on in the mean time. Corporatist and Mafia forces soon found themselves beleaguered by ambushes left and right. The Marines and a load of irregulars may have been advancing conventionally through the streets with their tanks and vehicles, but these men were Chechens... and they were armed to the teeth. Not just that but this was their home. At this point, just prior to the shelling, the battle had reached its peak up to this point. The Groznian advance was gaining ground and the fact that fighters occupied every non-secured area in the city wasn't helping the corporatist aggressors.

Then the shells hit.

The shells were nothing new; there had been artillery from both sides raining down like a hail storm in Michigan for as long as any soldier could tell you. Furthermore, the Marines weren't wearing their gasmasks. They had them as part of their equipement, but none had worn them. It's hard to put NV goggles over a gas mask that already limits your vision. The gas filled shells burst over the ruined streets of the burning city. Wether or not the enemy had been notified, there was no indication. Only men in the frontlines clutching their eyes and falling to the ground. Dozens upon dozens were blinded by the gas. The worst hit were select concentrated areas on the fronts. Armored units would be safe from the gas, the air they breathed was filtered; but those outside would face the consequences of not being prepared. The communications sytem became flooded with reports of blindness and men not being able to see. Most of these were killed shortly after being blinded for obvious reasons.

Hundreds had now been blinded by the surprise gas attack. No doubt the enemy would exploit these pockets of weakness to their advantage. Some units donned their gas masks after putting two and two together, others caught off guard were blinded. Moments after the attack orders came over the radio ordering men to wear their gas masks and beware of the gas. The city had been supplied with ample gasmasks but in the after math of the bombing raid not every fighter would have one. Those who did think or have hte oppurtunity to pick one up were lucky and put on their masks. If one of them died their comrades would take the mask.

In short the gas attack had been a razor thorn in the side of the general counter attack. Almost 10,000 had been blinded and practically every one of them had been killed. However now that the Groznians had their masks on, the Marines anyways, a similar gas attack wouldn't reek so much havoc.

Still the gas attack was just another facet of the overall picture and the Groznians, soldier and citizen alike, wouldn't allow the enemy to simply march through.

| | | | | | | | | | |

While all this was going about the first 2 waves of F/A-18's and F-14D's arrived within visual range of the souther coast line. Their task would be to reinstate air cover and keep the enemy air forces occupied while Spizanian and Groznian CAS flew in to do their work. The 2 waves, one F-14 the other 18, each consisting of a hundred aircraft climbed high into the sky to 35,000 ft. From here they could take advantage of an early sunrise at this altitude. After receiving confirmation orders from the ground supreme commander the interceptors and fighters broke and descended into the inferno like Falcons after their prey striking at their air targets.

Blackhelm Confederacy

24-03-2007, 20:01

Griffincrest forces had finally become fed up with the constant ambushes that they were facing almost without a break in the action, and the commanders had finally decided to do something about it. The order was soon given to prepare for a Lewisite bombardment upon known militia targets, followed up by a tremendous artillery strike by every ship in the Griffincrest fleet. The strike would be concentrated in three areas that had been reported to house Groznian military command posts. Soon, hundreds upon hundreds of shell would rain down upon these positions, hopefully throwing the enemy forces into grandscale dissarray.

At the Griffincrest air strip, a fleet of Hong-5 bombers were landing, preparing for runs further into the Groznian colony to disrupt the transpotation systems and any other civilian or military targets left on the island. The colonists would regret the day they ever moved from the homeland to begin a new life in Arterus.

At sea, the Griffincrest 7th fleet was continuing to move upon the Groznian forces. F-14 Tomcats began to make runs upon Groznian vessels and Um al Maradim assault ships zipped toward the enemy fleet, loosing torpedoes as they went. The primary target of the 7th fleet was the carriers. After them, the transports evacuating the civilains were going to be targeted.

Leafanistan

26-03-2007, 17:53

The Pudite Gas attack wasn't without precedent. Actually it is a tactic well known with the Corporatists and as such, they carried on their necks; a gas mask. Only a few were immobilized and found themselves carried to corners by their allies, a transponder turned on, and left there for medical BTR-80s to pick them up.

Those in the rear began donning, full plasticized suits with zeolite-based filters inundated with dimercaprol, provided in neat little canisters that topped their utility bags. As soon as they heard the Griffencrest Corporation was firing Phosgene gas, they loaded up their trump card.

Cyanogen Chloride is a deadly blood agent, that has a notorious property of penetrating gas masks due to its small size and highly reactive nature toward organic compounds, occasionally producing the violently reactive Chlorosulfonyl isocyanate, which is highly toxic, hydrolyzes violently, and corrosive.

Now hundreds of these shells, some from shipborne guns are roaring in toward the enemy, prepared to penetrate their masks and let death reign.

The invaders wouldn't mind, this strategy was well known to them, and they were prepared.

Emporer Pudu

30-03-2007, 04:24

Inside Yeltsmin, Pudite Mechanized Assault, Daybreak
As the Pudite chemical attack came to an end, the infantry and vehicles surged forward, breaking into a run at the front, led on by small, extremely light LV-08 light infantry vehicles, whose remote-controlled 40mm grenade launchers and heavy machine guns would hopefully detect and engage any significant heat concentration before the more vulnerable infantry followed through.

Fedor, with his position in the advance infantry line, was now at the forefront of the skirmishing that was occurring as the 6th Parachute Infantry continued their march toward the city. Currently, he and his squad were edging their way down a narrow street, between a large stone building, which may have been a library, courthouse, or any other significantly dignified building, and the buildings steel-stamped opposite. Keeping to the stone, rather than a glass wall, the squad was acting in unison with their platoons pathfinders and light infantry vehicles, to provide their advanced recon in lee of the usual heliborne support.

Suddenly, all in unison, the squad fell into a crouch... The more advance members, including the squads marksman, went prone, while the light machine gunner and rocket-armed man rolled off to the side, behind a conveniently placed pile of stone blocks. There was no noise, and there need be none. In seconds, the cause of their actions was revealed; A small, light armored personnel carrier roared around the corner. It was already identified as Groznian, although it was uncertain whether it was a true military vehicle or not. The civilians here were unusually feisty.

In any case, Fedor needed only to watch silently, as the thing roared along it's course. It had probably either not noticed the small squad, or simply didn't care, passing them off for more mercenaries of some faceless invader...

In the few seconds he had before the vehicle rounded the corner, the intelligence had been transmitted, mapped, and evaluated, followed by orders for each individual soldier, based on a common engagement template loaded into the system. Fedor knew that, even as he watched, a few dozen kilograms of soon-to-be molten copper was approaching the vehicle, and then...

It hit! The small wheeled vehicle seemed to explode outward, but when it cleared, it had become apparent that it had not suffered as much damage as would have been expected. Only a few more seconds... the computer knew. The thing was armed with explosive-reactive armor. Probably military... The armor had deflected the blow slightly, but the line of molten metal had done it's damage, and seconds after the explosion the wheeled thing crashed through the front doors of the tall, steel building.

For a few seconds the squad paused, watching the vehicle for signs of life, and then moved on. Their infrared viewers did nothing, the entire vehicle was blindingly hot, and it was likely that it was shielded or cooled in some way anyway... It did not matter. For all he cared, it was 6th Parachute: one, Yeltsmin: zero.

The assault continued, much as it had before. Conventional artillery replaced the gas shells, although recent reports indicated that a further chemical attack was being launched by allied forces across the city. Soon, the streets would be thick with the gasses of a half-dozen nations, attacks and counter-attacks…

Meanwhile, the Pudite quick infantry surge into the city was coming to a head, and would soon impact the real fighters; the Groznian military. So far, extended skirmishes with patrols and heavily armed civilian groups were the divisions only problems, but soon they would be facing real warriors, and they were ready...

It was only a matter of time now, they had the taste of blood on their lips...

Spizania

30-03-2007, 17:55

Raven Flight, Over Contested City Areas

"This is Raven Leader, multiple soft infantry targets three oclock low; one flight on me, two and three flights break and engage targets of oppurtunity as designated by ground forces."
"Tally Lead"
The squadron of A-146B Avenger Close Air Support Aircraft broke into three components, four fighters following each of the flight leaders. One-Flight headed towards the plume of blue smoke that was rising from the remains of an apartment building, occasionally grenades burst in the building and in those to the south of it, clearing an infantry battle underway.
"Target the blue smoke building only, set arms on Cannon and Alpha-India Submunition Canisters only, safe all other weapons. Rolling in Hot"
"Roger that lead"
"Ready to go lead"
"Green to Go"
The Four fighters rolled and brought there twin armed aircraft to bear on the building, spreading out into a double echelon that gave every fighter a clean cannon and bomb line of fire.
The Flight leader flicked off the safeties for his 2 35mm Rotary Chambered Automatic Cannon and depressed the trigger, filling his cockpit with flashes as his cannon sent hundreds of shells into the building, his wingmates joining in the effort.
Hails of dust rose from the enemy posistion as the round struck home, the volume of tracer rushing across the streets diminished sharply, then they ceased fire and flew over the target.
"Dropping Canisters. NOW NOW NOW"
Two cannisters dropped from each of the 4 A-146Bs, about half way to teh ground they burst open, spreading large numbers of antipersonel and dual purpose bomblets over the building. They hit the ground and exploded, smothering the remaining structure in smoke and flame.
"Target Supressed, mark it off." said the leader lead the climb away from the target, a feral smile on his face. Sooooo good to be back in action, he wondered how hed ever lived so long without it.

Two flight was going after a laser designated target. More precisely, a line of BTRs stopped in the street by a collapsed building. A Team of infantry was visible planting charges to clear the obstruction, and Raven Five thought he could see the sniper who was marking the lead vehicle in the column.
"Two Flight, arm cannon and two AT Clusters each, follow me, rolling in hot"#
"Ready Five"
"Red and Free Five"
"Green Five"

The four A-146Bs dove onto a shallow attack profile on the BTRs, the noise of there engines being noticed by the team working on the obstruction, who immediately decided discretion was the better part of valour and scattered. The people in the BTRs didnt have that option......
The four aircraft opened up with cannon, earning there nickname as they peeled back the "lids" of the BTRs, setting fire to them all and sending disembarked infantry breaking into the rubble either side of the road.... As if that would save them. While the three other A-146Bs dropped AT Clusterbombs onto the road, blowing up the already partialled wrecked BTRs and scattered anti tank and AP Landmines over the road, the leader armed his white phosphous bomb and used his rudder to bring him over the east side of the road, where half of the soldiers had just run. He dropped the bomb at the same time as the clusters were deployed, filling the street with flame and clusterbomb detonations, the resulting explosions setting several blocks of rubble on fire.
Elsewhere, the targets marked by the brave Groznyjian ground troops began to be attacked and most cases destroyed by Confederate Air Force aircraft as the Lu-45s headed for the approaching fleet on reheat, preparing to return with a full fuel load to maintain air superiority during the evacuation.

A Squadron of SuFB-7 Strike Phoenixes went after the Leafy Base, approaching at thirty feet above the ground, loosing ARMs (with backup INS) against the base defensive missile systems as they prepared to reduce it to rubble. While another two Squadrons did the same as hte approached the Griffencrest Forward Base at low level.

The Relief Units had arrived, now it was the badguys turn to bleed.

Groznyj

30-03-2007, 21:55

Five Minutes After Sunrise
Outside PS 21, Preshon Dist. Yeltsmin

The sound of CAS was a very welcomed one indeed. Men cheered as the Spizanian birds let loose hell on the enemy. With the sun just now coming over the horizon and the smoke from the fires heavy in the air it just made the scene all the more cinematic as the Avengers roared in and out of the area. Now was Said's cue to seize the moment.

"How's our situation inside?"

the radio came back crackling with shouts and gun fire in the back ground.

"We're holding for now Major. We've lost a dozen men to the hostiles inside."

"Hold for a little more Sargeant."

"Yes Sir."

Said tapped his comm unit once closing communication. He looked at the scene before him for a fraction of a second, his mind organizing what he would do next. He tapped the comm unit again.

"This is battalion leader to all units. We are storming the school. Support elements get in position to provide covering fire. Out."

Said checked his M4 over and got ready to go. This would be it. The enemy was under attack from the air and ground and any hostile units in the area had been either destroyed or routed. They would storm the school in force, no fuck ups this time.

Said spoke in his receiver once more.

"MOVE!"

Carpe Diem Baby

186 Marine provided cover for the 289 advancing. With Griffincrest forces now subdued, at least momentarily the school was their's for the taking. Inside it would be utter chaos. Something to exploit.

A shotgun blast blew the door off its hinges shortly followed by a boot to bring it all down. A squad of Marines rushed in to clear the room. It was a studio art room. There in the middle was a camera facing a small stage of sorts and the walls were covered in movie posters. The point Marine moved past it without taking notice and approached the door. He unhitched a flashbang from his BDU and quietly opened the door. The battle raging outside was eerily distant inside the school. He rolled the grenade out and shut the door. The door's frosted window turned into a 500 watt lightbulb for a milisecond. The point man kicked open the door and aimed his weapon to the right at the hallway. Simultaneously the man behind took aim down the left. There were two men there. One was knocked out on the floor and the other was coming to his senses, still blinded. The Groznian unhesitatingly dispatched the latter and walked up to the one on the floor putting a bullet in his head. He ripped off the man's patch and took his dog tags. Something for intelligence to look over later. Down the hallway at an intersection another Groznian squad came into view. The two sqaud leaders exchanged a few hand signals and the two point squads advanced through the school parallel to each other. Behind them were more Marines.

Back outside several squads took the ladders and climbed up to the roof of the school. The roof was very uneven, parts were two stories high and others only one. Then there was the gymnasium roof. Any snipers that hadn't been killed in the previous fire fight would find to their horror a flurry of flash bang and fragmentation grenades flying up at the roof. After its experiences in urban peace keeping during the West Corinthian Civil War the Army had put an emphasis on urban tactics. One of these was to make sure you didn't climb up a ladder to be greeted with a claymore in your face. Thusly the lead soldiers climbing up used their rifles to hit aside any claymores directly facing them. In either case the roof was eventually cleared if not by speed then by sheer numbers or a mix of both.

Meanwhile the squad that had previously been holding out inside had now been absorbed into the rest of the battalion once more. Help came for them just in time too. They were just about to be overrun. This part of the school was a death zone. A literal scene out of Counter Strike. Griffincrest soldiers and Groznian Marines took cover behind corners and popped in and out of door ways exchanging shots at each other. Bullets racked the tiled walls sending ceramics and concrete flying all over the place. There were a number of bodies on the floor and it was full of the mixed blood of both factions. What made the scene even more hectic was the constant barrage of smoke grenades. One couldn't see anything past the smoke and anyone who entered it- from either side- was never seen alive again.

Marines wielding RPGs took point and were flanked by Marine's carrying grenades. On a shouted order a dozen grenades flew down the corridor at once. They then were followed by a hail of RPGs. The resulting blasts were more than over kill for the enemy, the entire roof of that section of school collapsed and so too did the walls. The light from outside shone in attempting to break the smoke in the hallway. In the quiet point sqauds advanced forwards. Another checkpoint cleared.

By now barely a minute had passed since the first elements stormed the building the second time. The gymnasium was surrounded by Groznian Marine units and the final firefight in this bloody mission would reach its climax. Griffincrest soldiers were sure to be concentrated in and around the gymnasium. One could only hope they wouldn't try to use the civilians as shields. As the main assaulting force reared to make its strike up above squads of Marines which had secured the roof began rigging harnesses to themselves and to the roof hatches so they would be able to attack SWAT style from the ceiling as well.

=================================================
IN THE MEAN TIME; Back out at Sea, Groznian Naval Task Force 1
=================================================

The Griffincrest naval forces attempting to assault Task Force 1 had made a massive blunder in tactical judgment. The Groznian naval forces, now conducting carrier based operations numbered over 200 ships. Due to the fact that there was a battle going on and that TF2 has been totally obliterated save a handful of subs security would be paramount. And it was. Up in the air a dozen SkyHawk radar aircraft patrolled the skies scanning longrange for any targets to relay to the F-14 interceptors conducting fleet defense operations at a radius of over a hundred miles away from the center of the fleet. There were also numerous F-14 squadrons on alert status just in case any threats to the fleet arose. In addition to this defensive net against air targets there was an even larger one for naval forces as well. Dragon Class (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=11377061&postcount=3425) destroyers manufactured by DMG patrolled the seas around the fleet. They were built to be stealthy ships and were equiped with a full anti air and asw suite as well as three railguns. Furthermore the fleet consisted of 12 Montana and 8 Iowa Class BBs, 86 Ticonderoga and Arleigh Burke Class ships. But what made up the real ocean defense for the fleet were the submarines. Switched to passive sonar and radar they formed a picket hundreds of miles long. Lying perfectly silent in the deep (this was possibly because they were simply waiting for their prey) they waited patiently for their prey and the oppurtunity to avenge their fallen brothers. And this oppurtunity had come.

Ship captains almost thought it was a trap. No way in hell the enemy would do something so stupid as to rush in the direction of the fleet at a full clip with no foreguards. Their loss...

"Rise to torpedo depth."

"Aye Aye captain!"

"bearing 042.. wait...wait........torpedo one away!.............torpedo two away!!"

Soon the submarines were having a hell of a field day on the assault ships. The Dragon DDNs would wait until the enemy had passed the death trap...if they were stupid and lucky enough to do so..both highly unlikely scenarios, to let loose anti ship missiles and pummel any survivors with radar guided kinetic ammunition. At the same time squadrons of interceptors were scrambled Top-Gun style to meet their identical foes. With the enemy armed for attacking naval targets they would have a hell of a time engaging dedicated interceptors.

While all this went on the fleet was already changing its course. Uzuyev broke his fleet into 4 groups, each containing 4 Nimitzes and 3 Charles de Gualles and a proportional number of other ships. These groups would be far away that they could just barely be seen over the horizon and that a major attack wouldn't fuck over the whole fleet but close enough so that any major attack would meet a major counter attack in no time.

While all this raged on hundreds of Groznian F-14's and F-18's converged on the city. Other attack elements went for the enemy bases to the East.

Leafanistan

05-04-2007, 01:53

A Squadron of SuFB-7 Strike Phoenixes went after the Leafy Base, approaching at thirty feet above the ground, loosing ARMs (with backup INS) against the base defensive missile systems as they prepared to reduce it to rubble. While another two Squadrons did the same as hte approached the Griffencrest Forward Base at low level.

The Relief Units had arrived, now it was the badguys turn to bleed.

The Leafanistani Mafia were mostly former military personnel, many high level that had become disillusioned following the Second Civil War. They wandered about before finding themselves promoted, with armies at their fingertips and weapons at their disposal. Many still carried classified data, and the fact was that the Leafanistani Air Force contained many of the same aircraft Spizania was loosing against the Corporatists.

It was a fatal mistake on the part of the Loyalist Army to let so many former high level people disappear to give them 'peace' after the Second Civil War.

Now the antiair systems swivled in their places. 85mm Guns, automatic cannons, deadly SAMs all calibrated for the planes now swooping on them turned toward the enemy.

They were surprised, but not shocked, nor awed.

Admiral Meyerson held the order until the first wave was turning around, and then ordered a salvo, one massive fire, then to free-fire.

And suddenly, hundreds of rounds of ammunition flew into the air, bursting and setting things aflame, and with it, an equally large number of rapidly accelerating missiles with seeker heads set for the SUDI and Macabee built planes. A bit of insurance in case the ineffective and treaty-bound central government ever decided to come into the Colonies to stamp down on the Mafia.

This battle was becoming more irritating by the hour and the command decided to pull out all the stops. Every single biplane left their carriers, flying at low altitudes with torpedoes at ready. The F-14s held in reserve leapt off their carrier decks, shooting off their long range missiles and then returning to the ships to rearm. Their advantage was that by putting them on the defensive, they were able to stay behind and wait until the enemy planes got within weapons range that the antiair fire would cease.

The Admiral was also experimenting with a form of cluster munition meant to be like a shotgun to a duck. Canisters filled with hundreds of two inch diameter balls fired from the battleship guns at enemy aircraft. They would release at a certain altitude, creating a hail of deadly shrapnel.

Groznyj

17-04-2007, 20:51

Entire battalions of men had been lost. Thousands of soldiers had died fighting to protect Groznian soil. By now both figuratively and literally the entire city was up in arms against its attackers. In the north the advance had slowed down, losing much of its momentum and gradually evolving into a meat-grinder. In the south a massive evacuation effort was underway; there was the least resistance from enemy forces there. McGreen's plan was to have the noncombatant civilian populous travel to the airport under the cover of the marines and irregulars and from there they would be transported to any ships that would be waiting offshore. So far things were going ok given the events at hand. McGreen hoped, just a mad hope, that by some grace of possibility they would be able to hold the city. But with the only reinforcements being CAS and his own reserves for now, it seemed a fool's hope almost. His men had been fighting all morning and he could only hope Spizanian ground reinforcements would arrive in time.

Then the report came in. From one of his scouts the general learned that somewhere to the north west of his position a large unidentified ground force had materialized and was moving into the city. Again this force was different from the three that he was currently doing battle with.

A fourth?!

It seemed that all at once the world was at war with Groznyj. This horrific turn of events left only one option to McGreen. He had to deploy his reserves and divert air support away from the main battle in which his forces were in desperate need of some. If he did nothing his whole command position would be seized and destroyed, the battle effectively lost from a strategic standpoint.

In moments fresh troops restlessly waiting for orders while their brethren slugged it out moved out to their predetermined positions. They would set up ambush positions in the streets and have armored units waiting in reserve to flank the enemy once they engaged the dug in troops. From a tank a model-plane sized uav was thrown into the air and took flight towards the area of last contact. Being so small it could hardly be distinguished from a bird (good since vultures and other birds would usually swarm around a battlefield waiting for their chance to feast on the dead) and being a battery powered prop there was no heat signature to be worried about.

Well that's it. The general thought to himself. It was too risky here. He couldn't stay here, not now. With his reserves gone and only a small bodyguard unit at hand they packed up and moved farther south to a safer place from which to command.

Leafanistan

17-04-2007, 21:40

The Mafia troops retreated again. The majority of their artillery was prepared and they let the Groznyj troops advance slightly before the order was given for another salvo.

Troops from the other side would years later remark about how they saw a curtain of flame rise from the ruined city. It was like a sunrise band that continued up and up until it turned back down. It was that deadly sunset, those screaming beams of light that smashed into their lines. Tens of thousands of 122mm artillery rockets, 280mm artillery rockets, 82mm mortar rockets, and a variety of light artillery and mortars all burst in a single massive salvo that crawled forward until finally it was just the 203mm guns firing into the distance that the Mafia charged back into the battlefield.

They surged forward, with foreign mercenaries used as reinforcements to free up rear-line troops. If a building fired on them, it was destroyed by tank shells, and artillery. It was a rapidly mobile advance with an oddly steampunk feel. Due to the heavy air cover, jets were mostly concerned with keeping enemy planes from interfering with their operations. Biplanes and Monoplanes, and the roar of their props were dropping small bombs to help with tactical bombing.

Meanwhile massive 406mm Artillery Guns had reached landfall. They began to bombard positions deep in the rear, while cruise missiles and some antishipping missiles were sent to the rear to interfere with their rear line operations.

Rapidly advancing Nimitz supercarriers loaded with DMG made F-44s were speeding toward the battlefield. They were a reserve meant to preserve air cover, and with the battle turning into a stagnation fest, they increased their speed. They would soon be within range to keep air cover.

Captain Ricardo were sitting inside as all hell broke loose. It was too loud, for the Cpt. to alert Mafia troops rushing by. They were tired. Pvt. Watcher was still in a pit of despair for failing to perform. That was when there was a loud thump above them. They thought nothing of it until an Lu-12 Canary's wing penetrated the ceiling of the building and sliced the water line for the washing machines. The impact knocked out Pvt. Watcher.

He dreamt of a harem, like his father owned before the socialists came. They took him away. He could hear him shouting, he could hear his wives yelling and a soldier shouting that they were free. He remembered the confused look on their face when his mother spoke up and said. "We were never slaves..." Then, they shot her.

He awoke to a shirtless Cpt. Ricardo in his face. A medic was dressing her wounds. He fainted.

He again woke to the same place, he realized it was bouncing, and a large radio set being strapped to Cpt. Ricardo. The medic stabbed a WakeUpStim and a NeuralEnhancer into his arm. He let out a small squeak.

The Waterman opened up and they were dropped off with M26's in their hands.

"What is going on?", he said.

"We've been dropped off to call in artillery missions."

"No rest?"

"No rest."

He hefted his rifle, and felt the drugs shaking up his synapses. They marched with a platoon of Rocket Troopers to try to find something to destroy.

It was only 10 blocks later that they found a massive shopping mall creating a ton of trouble. A few seconds with the slide rule and map revealed they were out of range to all but a cruise missile. And the firebase they were relaying from refused to call on in. So he had only one choice. He spotted the building, called in coordinates and waited.

Less than a minute later, an F-17 Ascender Interdictor aircraft opened fire with its 20mm cannons on the building. The people stopped firing. Then it let loose with its 2.75" Flechette Rockets and two 500lb bombs and demolished the building. A rocket trooper fired a 57mm LAW at an outcropping and he watched through his spotter scope as half a person flew away from the remains of his/her cover. And they continued.

Groznyj

22-04-2007, 00:31

[ooc: as promised in the ooc thread here's the speech. Keep in mind the timezone difference is 3 or 4 hours so the speech will come into effect at the appropriate time]

It was 6:24 and the Parliament building was a beehive of activity. Every delegate was present and everyone of the press seats were filled in anticipation for this historic day. Some heard of what had happened. Others had no clue. As of now there were only rumors circling about the place. They talked and waited for the president to come. They talked and waited.

At this time the president made his way down the black and white marblefloored halls adorned with paintings of the Republic's triumphant independence towards the main chamber. Security was tight this day. Tighter than it had been in a long time. Perhaps the tightest it had ever been. If one had known they would have realized every agent in the President's path was one of the elite guard. Men who were the zenith of years of training and soldiering, each one hand picked from the cream of the crop. Almost fanatics when it came to patriotism. Urmev would have noticed if his mind were not somewhere else. He turned a corner leading to the doors accessing the chair of the assembly. He exchanged nods with his head of security who was standing by the door. Walking into the assembly he was drenched in a flood of light.

/Radio Broadcast:

"The President will shortly be arriving in the assembly hall to give his speech. Although we don't at this time have any leads as to why this is being done so early in the morning I'm sure we'll find out once the President says what he is going to say. The hall began filling earlier this morning at around 3 'o clock and by now is totally packed. Now, as I have said before there has to be something very important going on; the security here is on a level I have never witnessed before --- the President is now walking into the hall, now to the President of the Republic of Groznyj"

"Senators.. Representatives.. Justices.. I have the great honor to present to you the President of the Republic of Groznyj"

There was a great applause from the audience lasting a few seconds. The room fell silent as a tomb as the President walked up to the stand. For a brief moment he scanned the room, probably thinking of what he was going to say. It felt like an eternity to the audience though. He licked his lips and stroked his beard once and began speaking.

"Every now and then there comes a time when members of a generation are caught in the middle of a tragic struggle. One in which they have no choice to be a part of but only what actions they may take.. for the good of their countrymen. Now, gentlemen, is that time. This morning at the stroke of midnight April 21st 2007, a day which will live in infamy.. the colony of Yeltsmin was attacked by forces of the Kraven Corporation and later assaulted by 3 other powers. The battle for the colonial capital has raged since midnight and continues even now.

Ground forces are currently under the command of Lieutenant General Chester McGreen and naval forces under Admiral Uzuyev. They are working together to evacuate the populous while simultaneously defending what is left of the city.

This attack is a wholly unprovoked and barbaric act of war.. It comes with no warning. There have been no threats on either side of hostility and the Kraven Corporation and the Republic have maintained a neutral policy until now. In addition, the main center of attacks have been the civilian population of the city. The CARPET BOMBING of the city in fact. To compound the morning's events we have been attacked by three separate governments which are at the moment unidentified.

Several other points of interest:

Reports of merchant ships being sunk by Kraven and unidentified forces have come in.

Two Frigates have been attacked by forces believed to be Kraven

The Republic Navy has come under attack and exchanged fire with two navies of unidentified origin.

The Kraven Corporation has declared its intent to conquer Southeast Asia. Yeltsmin lies directly between the Kraven mainland and its objective.

...

All things taken into account I want to ask Parliament to declare a state of war has existed between the Republic of Groznyj and the Kraven Corporation. Furthermore.. I ask that war be declared on the despots who have aided Kraven in its display of savagery!"

//

The room burst into applause. In minutes the news would be broad casted all over the vast nation and citizens would awake to an inevitability of war. The applause and shouts of approval lasted for a good minute and quickly turned to seriousness when the President stepped down. The assembly speaker then came to the podium and called for the vote. It took only seconds and the fate of millions.. maybe billions had been decided. With an almost total majority the vote passed. Senators and representatives got up and shook each other's hands some hugged. It had been done. Now a country just beginning o enjoy the fruits of economic prowess would taste blood of all out war. War on a scale never seen before in the Republic.

Groznyj was going to war.

WAR DECLARED!
THE REPUBLIC OF GROZNYJ DECLARES WAR ON KRAVEN CORPORATION!
Vote passes 458 - 42

Emporer Pudu

25-04-2007, 15:11

Inside Yeltsmin, Pudite Advance, First Contact
Meanwhile, in the city of Yeltsmin, Pudite troops were now advancing further and further into the city proper, the resistance turned from small civilian skirmishes and the occasional lone patrol into a great series of deadly ambushes and counter-assaults. The real fight had begun…

The small Pudite advance teams, consisting of the light vehicles and followed closer now by the dismounted infantry and tanks, worked well together, all benefiting from the advanced coordination given to them by their shared combat network. As battle data was uploaded throughout each encounter, reactions became faster and faster. The earliest fights would be the worst.

Fedor and his squad advanced slowly behind their light Fox-class armored vehicle, already having lost their LV-08 to a rocket-attack from and earlier encounter. Because of the speed necessary for linking up with allied forces on the other side of the city, the battle was not progressing in the normal Pudite style, that is, demolition. In any other case, the advance would be waiting behind a wall of artillery barrages and naval bombardment, reducing the city to a series of rubble plains, then to be scaled by tracked vehicles and infantry. That was not here the case, and so Fedor walked.

Stalking behind the Fox, Fedor and his nine companions moved cautiously. With the sounds of battle echoing all around them, it was only a matter of time before they joined their brothers at the front. Suddenly, the large vehicle lurched to a halt, its main cannon swiveling back and forth to survey the narrow road ahead.

A quick message was broadcast through the HUD of each squad-mate, showing them the assumed position of a stationary anti-tank gun just ahead of their column. The squad was given the order to advance, filing around the armored personnel carrier. As they did, picking their way across the rubble-strewn streets, the fighting was growing nearer.

The whole team fell into a low crouch as artillery impacted the building above them. Masonry rained down around them as they sprinted the last few dozen yards forward, up to the narrow T-intersection before them. Even before they reached the nearest corner, the fire began.

Heavy anti-tank rounds tore through the damaged brick of one of the few remaining buildings of the street. The squad again fell to the ground. The sound of voices was heard around the corner of the crumbling building, and a third shot rang out. Edging their way to the intersection, the lead man extended a small camera around the corner…

Displayed on the HUD of every squad-mate was the result; there lay a small gun crew, sitting comfortably behind a significantly less small gun. Surrounding them were at least a half-dozen other soldiers. They were dug in quite effectively, and seemed to be veterans of battle by the way they carried themselves.

The point man crawled back, silently gliding his two hundred-plus pound frame over the rubble. Each man already knew what to do, it had been drilled into their memory over and over again… Without speaking, they set off. Three climbed into the building to their left, on the other side of which lay the target artillery. Two remained where they were, crouched low in the rubble. The final four soldiers set off on a low run back around the target building, to come up from behind the artillery.

Fedor was one of the three inside the building, picking his way through the remains of what was probably once the floor above him, he took up a position about fifty yards from the enemy guards. To his left, his squad’s marksman, Iagrin, lay prone. Beyond him was the final man on the team, Jarek. All sat quietly, waiting.

The two men in the street did the same, their long Pudite grenades, a standard pineapple-style fragmentation grenade, attached to a thick handle for throwing farther, drawn and held ready.

On the opposite site of the building, the last section moved into position… A few quick clicks over the radio confirmed their location, and the operation was set to begin.

Both men laying in the street tossed their grenades. Fedor watched as the target squad reacted, moving calmly and smoothly. One grenade was stopped and kicked out of the hole, while the second was picked up, but as it was being thrown, exploded.

At least one man slumped over, and all dove for cover. At this moment, the four men behind them opened fire, and after that, it became more and more chaotic. Iagrin began popping off shot after shot, and Jarek opened fire with his light machine gun.

The target returned fire with equal ferocity, although as of yet, no bullets had pierced the armor of the Pudite parachute infantry. For seconds the battle raged as such, seconds to any who watched, but surely an eternity to those pinned by fire, peeking around corners of buildings, or laying face-down in the rubble strewn puddles.

Suddenly, a second noise began to overwhelm the senses of the attackers. The gunfire slowed as the noise grew, it was a vehicle, approaching at speed. Even as it, a massive hulking armored beast, turned the corner, a new explosion of gunfire began. This, however, was not of the Pudite’s making, it was coming from across the street. The enemy had moved up, and now they were closing the door on the airborne soldiers.

It was an ambush…

The tank’s cannon tore immediately through the building Fedor and his comrades huddled inside, dropping literally tons of bricks on Jarek, who let out only a slight gasp as his air was crushed out of him. Fedor and Iagrin fast-crawled out the opposite side of the structure, even as another round smashed into it.

Behind them, the sound of their APC’s automatic cannon strafing the building across the street could be heard, attempting to subdue the ambushing infantry. Massive, 30mm rounds tore through the concrete, pock marking the building at incredible speed.

The two men in the road turned and ran, although a burst from the tank’s heavy machine gun reduced one of the man’s legs to a pulp.

Opposite them, the four men there had only the time to fire a single round from their rocket-propelled grenade launcher before they were forced to flee. Although the rocket hit straight on, it was not likely it penetrated the front armor of their murderer.

These men joined up with Fedor and the sniper, and all six turned and ran backwards toward their transport.

Turning the corner behind the building from the alleyway, they were greeted with a blast from an anti-tank gun. The enemy infantry had wheeled their weapon to a position where it could fire through the building, and after that, quite easily disable the Pudite fast vehicle.

The surviving six met up with the single survivor of the roadway, and all the remnants of that squad fled back into the Pudite-controlled city, to await reinforcement.

Elsewhere scenes like this turned into Pudite victories, or further defeats. APCs and tanks dueled in the streets, Pudite guns and foreign artillery met in the cramped alleys, and infantry stumbled into each other, face to face in a deserted, demolished home.

The battle was far from over.

Groznyj

04-06-2007, 02:46

6:47 A.M.
North West Yeltsmin

The Groznian marines waiting in ambush along the north west of the city met mixed results in their encounters with the Imperial troops. Whenever a Pudite advance had been halted and rebuffed the defenders would change their positions, either retreating a ways or advancing a little. This way when the next assault came the attackers would meet resistance before they had last time or find their former battleground eerily silent and devoid of all life. However it couldn't be expected to work this way definitely. Gradually the North-West line began to inch further and further into the city towards the south.

Colonel Khassan was in charge of this defensive line aimed at giving the rest of the soldiers time to complete their mission. He had to hold until air support had arrived. A Blackhawk circled overhead and radioed a vital peice of information to him. Due to the Kraven bombing raid it was obvious that much of the city had been leveled. However there was more: Yeltsmin was built as a tall city rather than a sprawling one. The result of the destruction of so many tall buildings, some upwards of 40 stories, was immense piles of rubble insurmountable by vehicles and dangerous target fields for snipers. A few hundred yards behind the North West Line the rubble of city had formed a number of key choke points. 9 roads, 3 narrow streets, and 1 highway were left open. The rest a winding pile of concrete and iron. With this information at hand he decided to pull back his troops behind these choke points and wait for the enemy there. Additionally he placed Javelin and RPG teams in the buildings in front of the choke points. This way they could discretely report the advance of any enemy elements and also fire AT weapons from behind the enemy advance.

Innercity 5 was the name of the highway. It was a large road and served as a major thorough fair through the dense city. It was connected to a larger network of highways meant to make transits efficient and led south east and curved eastward after the choke points to arrive in the center of the city. Running north west it ran directly into a minimally developed highway which encircled the city (although this was full of craters big enough to fit buses due to the Kraven bombardment). IC-5 ran for about a hundred meters between hills of rubble before reaching the other side. 100 meters. The thoroughfare was wide enough to accommodate 6 Abrams tanks rolling abreast. This was where the bulk of Khassan's ambush force would lay in wait. 9 Abrams MBTs hidden behind makeshift walls of rubble laid in wait another 180 meters from the entrance to the "canyon". Another 16 towable howitzers were in concealed positions aiming at the highway and an assortment of Bradleys and LAVs also kept aim. There was no time to set explosives on the highway so there would be none of that. Just an old fashion choke point ambush with lots of mechanized armor. Fun. Forces guarding the choke points were not particularly huge; they did not have to be. Any more than a few thousand and they would bog themselves down. Instead, with 1,500 men guarding the passages and another thousand behind them, a force of about 3,000 marines moved around towards the north with the goal of striking the enemy in the eastern flank (the Pudite's left) as they entered the choke points. These consisted of armor supported by infantry. By now much armor had been lost in fighting and dismounted infantry would support armor so that the enemy couldn't sneak up and dispatch them easily.

To the west a much more daring operation was underway. Led by Lt. Tank Commander Yusuf, an armored column of a hundred and thirty Abrams MBTs and Bradley IFVs rolled northward toward the suspected Pudite landing site. They rolled in a widespread staggered formation so that any hit wouldn't take out multiple vehicles. They went north at about a klick west of the encircling highway, taking advantage of the slight slop in terrain to make them difficult to spot at a distance. They would then curve around and strike the enemy where they would least expect it using hit and run lightening tactics characteristic of a blitzkrieg and dependant of a very high level of mobility.

Charging northwards and bathed in shadows of the shadows of a dead and burning city in the rising sun this collumn split into two groups. The first continued toward the enemy encampment and the other took a detour to arrive at a later time when the first group had completed its initial assault. They were knights in steel horses applying an adapted medieval tactic. All the while tank commanders scanned the horizon for enemy contacts just impetuous to give their gunners a target.

Leafanistan

06-06-2007, 04:24

The Rapid Reaction forces trying to encircle the Pudite landing sites and giving them the ability to set up were the first to encounter the armored battalion attempting to encircle them.

Their light vehicles, mostly Sou'frican made RG-32s with mounted machine guns or grenade launchers couldn't take the powerful hits from Bradley's or the Abrams. Local commanders quickly began to abandon their vehicles to reduce casualties. They began returning fire, with RPG-7s,-16s and Javelin Antitank Missiles.

HT-101-106 Recoilless Rifle Carriers with turbocharged Griffencrest engines were quickly responding. They would be a temporary measure. It was now up to the flyboys to attempt to stall the advance and prevent significant casualties.

Po-2 Biplanes equipped with Javelins and 2.75" rockets began to come in, slowly but surely, unleashing their fiery revenge. Hopefully the Pudites could respond fast.

Groznyj

08-06-2007, 03:19

Leafanistan

08-06-2007, 06:08

0640 Hours,

West of Yeltsmin

The southern half of the moving battalion fanned out to minimize losses. With the lack of much open field it was difficult to perform evasive maneuvers however this was alleviated by the fact that they were in such close proximity as to deliver a knockout blow to their would-be ambushers.

As the Groznian armor made its way at full speed around, toward, and through the enemy formation the second flank, which was farther north east swung around and started firing at the enemy. The two armored collums enclosed the Mafia force in a hammer and anvil double envelopement maneuver and began to rip apart at their enemy. Armor and AT vehicles were blasted apart by Abrams tanks being careful not to hit their compadre on the other side. Infantry that dismounted literally jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire. In an open field surrounded by armor on all sides they would quickly come to regret their decision to dismount and faced an onslaught of an unforgiving hail of 25mm chaingun and .50 cal machinegun fire. The explosive anti personell and anti light vehicle rounds of the Bradleys turned men in the open into pinnatas - exploding with a shower of candy everywhere.. except it wasn't candy but a spray of blood and bone. The two armored collums began to form a shooting circle around the severely unlucky Mafia troops and hammered away at their targets.

Time was everything and in less than a minute they would reform and continue towards their main objective.. with a few units watching for any would-be rocketeers of course.

Those trapped in the crossfire were helpless. They were cutdown, giving themselves up to the desire to die. The onslaught became a new priority for the Mafia commanders who had just a few hours earlier found themselves victorious. They rerouted large biplanes equipped with white phosphorous charges. The high-altitude aircraft would be dropping on the dying elements of the Mafia rapid reaction group, but those who were left were quickly going to be dying in some way, Willy Pete eroding holes in their bodies and vehicles or a 25mm shell tearing off a limb would mean no difference to the people who had to bury those bodies.

The barrage of Lewisite and Sarin began again, to try to slow down movements by clouding their vision, giving the Pudite soldiers chance to establish themselves and begin an effective counterattack. They were heavily equipped and stood a chance, especially with Mafia men and women buying them time.

The smaller biplanes who had been taking their time began to unleash their rocket and missile fire, sending a sheet of flame, flechettes, and shrapnel hurling at the enemy vehicles. The lighter rockets were designed for the thin skinned armored personnel carriers, while the heavier Javelin Top Attack antitank guided missiles were targetted at the large M1s leading the formation.

Meanwhile,
37 miles south of city

Meanwhile the first wave of three made its way ever closer to the souther shoureline south of the city. Consisting of roughly 250 F-14s and F-18s fitted for either air to air or CAS missions the planes screamed towards their target at supersonic. Miles from shore squadron leaders were finally able to see land again. The sun light shone like a glowing orb of amber adrift in the far off sea. It bathed the landscape in a beautiful golden light. This coming of a new dawn was offset by the stark silhouettes of thousands of enemy ships grouped around the western water front of the city and extending into the horizon.

Aircraft squadrons split up into their assigned groups and flew towards their preplanned way points. The entire formation broke simultaneously as fighters climbed up above the few clouds in the sky and others lowered their altitude.

Bravo Leader to Formation.. Arm weapon systems.

Almost a dozen voices replied in confirmation.

Let's give these fuckers hell.

Over the radio squadron leaders gave hollars and sounds of approval.

May the Lord God be with us all and damn these assholes said one.

Amen reverend.. replied several.

At different speeds the fighters screamed towards hell with presents for the party. High altitude F-14's Let loose their Aim54 Phoenix missiles and switched to AMRAAMs. F/A-18s armed their missile pods and ordnance and proceeded towards their targets of the north eastern airfield and beach head.

32 Hornets let loose stand-off AGMs two each at the enemy fleet before switching to bombs.

Mafia hackers were working swiftly, isolating various signals, and trying to disrupt enemy communications. The various antennas on the older cargo ships refitted for combat operations weren't communications antennas, but the Mafia's keen understanding of the importance of the information war. They were analyzing the frequency of the frequency jumps and how the wavelengths changed. Using pattern analysis, they were quickly able not to decode the enemy transmissions but begin following them without interruption. They were regular in a strange, obfuscated pattern. They began broadcasting a harsh, loud, and fairly rapid beeping of a very high frequency on the frequency they found the enemy speaking on. Occasionally it would merge with a Mafia frequency, but the hackers, some working at home via telepresense, were working rapidly to have their frequencies shift at a different phase than the enemy.

The outdated planes of their Naval Air Corps found themselves facing oddly similar enemies, with many pilots finding themselves confused at whom they were supposed to be blasting apart. Soon a streak would fly by some of the enemy aircraft, an explosion there, a flash of bullets or a missile rocketing by. They were DMG built F-44 Mach 3 capable interceptors, and they were a last resort, as the Corporate Fleets only had a few squadrons, compared to the droves of Phantoms, Biplanes, 'Copters, Hornets, and Gnats they could throw at their enemies.

Meanwhile,
210 miles south west of Yeltmin, The Arterusian Ocean

While all of this was going on Admiral Uzuyev struggled with a dilemma. He had to provide air support to his compatriot's but with elements of the enemy fleets dogging him he could not get in close enough to give real naval support. Not to mention the eternal headache of evading pursuing ships and launching a full compliment of fighters.. and retrieving them. To make matters worse he had to cover the entrance and escape of a horde of merchant vessels commandeered to evacuate the city. He just did not have the resources to occupy three theatres like this. He made his decision.

Ensign!

Yessir!

contact Captain Beyhan. Inform him that he is to detatch his forces and sail towards the enemy fleet with caution.

Aye Aye sir! with a crisp salute the officer went to fulfill his task.[/QUOTE]

Swarming around the Mafia fleet like flies around a bloated corpse, were dozens of smaller launches, some only RIBs with an SA-14 site jerry-rigged on it. They were the small Patrol Boat Corps, attached to large ships and unleashed near coastlines to act as litorral harrassers and enforcers. They moved in like vultures at nearly 40 knots toward the enemy fleet commanded by Captain Beyhan.

Many of them were equipped with Russian supercavitating torpedoes, a few carried the newer Corporate-built Bladerunners, with powerful zirconium-alloy tips designed to chew through hulls. They began to loose their undersea arsenals at the enemy. Relying on the fact that despite the torpedo's relative sluggishness compared to the missile, because SONAR was much slower than RADAR, a 40 knot torpedo could be effectively five times faster than a Mach 3 antishipping missile. [ OOC: http://www.its-noesis.com/publications/pdf/surface_ship_torpedo_defense.pdf Read the bottom of Page 4 and top of Page 5 ] And with the multitude of types of torpedoes, from unguided underwater rockets moving at blinding speeds, to wake-seekers, to wiggling torpedoes, even active SONAR seeking torpedoes, and a few magnetic torpedoes, there would be no universal way to counter all of them. There were far too many variables, and with SONAR and short range underwater LIDAR the only effective methods underwater, he could only figure out the unguided wigglers or the active SONAR seekers.

The Captain would have to think of something quick or suffer massive casualties.

Spizania

08-06-2007, 15:00

Landing Site Charlie-Three, Friendly Controlled Airbase

The Gas Turbine of the Nakil main battle tank was already spinning up before the drop crate each touched the ground, and as soon as it did so, the tanks commander hit the release button that lowered the front side of the crate into a ramp and opened the way for the vehicle to leave.
The Driver hit the throttles and the tank charged down the ramp before the cages parachutes draped themselves of it, the gunner turning the tanks turret slightly and testing the aiming systems using the Coax Machine Gun.
Across the open ground surrounding the field, numerous lighter vehicles and Main Battle Tanks were touching down, the latter in drop cages, but the IFVs and light vehicles were not, they simply had three parachutes, the crews had jumped with them but had most likely had horribly bumpy rides, and the issue of anti motion sickness pills had become standard amongst the para-armoured.
Rather than waiting to form into companies, the vehicles followed the finest traditions of the service, and began to roll along the road towards the city in groups of two or three, massive confederate flags flying from the tops of most of the tanks.
Now we would see what happened when the good guys had armoured units too, they would probably be able to hold the Corporate Forces off long enough for the evacuation to be completed by the Ships of the Spizanian Navy, which was now only 9 hours from missile range against the Corporate Fleet that was standing off of Yeltsmin.

The CAS birds continued what they had been doing since they arrived, blowing up ground designated targets, with squadrons flying back to the task group only to return later fully rearmed and ready to continue the attack.
The Corporates had thought they would be able to overrun Yeltsmin, but now they faced a combined enemy who would be able to drive them back into the sea from whence they came.

Blackhelm Confederacy

09-06-2007, 08:07

Merenaries all over the city were soon alerted to the assault being launched by the local forces. Tens of thousands of highly trained,wellequipped mercenaries were being given their orders, and soon, a three pronged assault was devised to not only cripple the Groznian assault, but to also ensure that the prisoners held in internment camps throughout the city were not reclaimed. The prisoners held there would make for valuable mercenaries and oil workers, and the Corporation could not afford to lose them.

The attack was to sweep the center, north, and south of the Groznian lines, with the majority of the Griffincrest armour focused in the middle and the flanksbeing mainly infantry. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of Mercury's, along with Mars light tanks and Chariot MBT's began to press heavily into the bulk of Groznian forces, opening up with everything they had. Above them, dozens of AV-18 Luna VTOL gunships started to pummel away at the opposing forces with their chain guns and rockets, unwilling to cede any territory to the enemy and giving everything they had in them to gain more.

The mercenaries, the vast majority of them drunk beyond belief, began stumbling forward, opening up on anything and anyone not wearing a CA badge, and even a few men that were. At one intersection, the 32st division's 7th brigade engaged in a horrible firefight with the 2nd divsions 10th brigade, each side thoroughly believing the other to be the enemy. By the end of the firefight, thirty men were killed and over seventy men were wounded, but this was just what everybody expected when the Griffincrest mercenaries were hired from the low lives of society.

At sea, the Corporate fleet began to throw its weight in full into the Spizanians, bringing all of its guns to bear and beginning to move in an attempt to cross the Spizanian T. F-4 Phantom's and F-14 Tomcats began filling the skies, preparing their missiles to ensure that no Groznian civilian from Yeltsmin would make it out without experiencing what it meant to stand against the Corporate Alliance.

While the Griffincrest mercenaries began stumbling into the firefights, they fought with an unnatural will to die. Although their fire was far less than accurate, the drunken unwillingness to give up land would surely cause tremendous problems to the advancing enemy. To ensure that the thoroughly shit faced mercenaries did not attempt to flee, the more sober men began to lay our land mines on every major roadway and in a number of buildings, letting the men know that fleeing was a more likely way to die than fighting.

And so, the Griffincrest forces enacted Operation Stardust.

Groznyj

09-06-2007, 15:31

Said stood on one side of the aluminum door looking across to his doorman wielding a battering ram on the otherside. He put his fingers to his neck.

"Report"

"Roof Go."
"Courtyard Go"
"Power Go"

An explosion shook the building. The smell of ash and fire was everpresent. Golden rays of light shone inside through the windows, illuminating rectangular sections of hallway.

Said gave the hand signal to his doorman.

"Execute."0

Almost simultaneously the power to the building went off -the backup systems already disabled- , several hatches on the roof of the gymnasium broke open and zip lines fell down followed immediately by Marines aiming for the holed up guards. At the same time the door to the school courtyard was blown open with c4. Said's doorman broke the door open with their ram and a third soldier thew in a flash bang. From every direction several flash bangs were thrown in the room and exploded. Screams erupted and civilians hit the deck exposing any standing guardsmen to the unforgiving sights of the Marines. The firefight, if it could be called that, did not last long. Any corporate soldier holding up a weapon and not his hands was filled with 5.56mm holes.

As the hostages recovered they were hastily evacuated from the building along a predesignated path to the subway. The emergency power was restored.

It was only over a minute and the gym was empty of civilians. A few dead bodies on the floor, some hostage, some Griffincrest, and for some reason a dog.. Said walked over toward a group of corporate soldiers bound and kneeling on the floor. He finished reporting over his comm and spoke to a fellow soldier,

"Which one has the highest rank?"

"This one sir."

"Good. We'll take him with us."

"The others sir?" responded the soldier, now full of a want to exact revenge along with the others with him.

Said did not even look at the POWs.

"We take no prisoners here.

------

Meanwhile outside Said's battalion enjoyed the temporary shield of Spizanian CAS. With the subway literally only across the street the problem wouldn't be getting to it but fitting over a thousand people in it quickly.

"If they cannot walk fast enough carry them!", Said barked to his men. He took a look at his watch and looked up towards the east. He knew his enemy would mount a counter offensive to retake their war prizes as soon as they could. It was his plan to get into the relative safety of the subway and blow the entrance before they could navigate through the treacherous rubble clogged streets and collapsed buildings and sniper lanes to get to him.

The subway entrance extended quite a bit down ways, about 150 feet along a normal incline. The escalators did not work so all three ways, 2 escalators and 1 set of stairs ferried the people down wards. Those that could not walk fast enough were carried by soldiers or strong civilians. At the bottom they were greeted by more soldiers who led them onto the tracks on both sides. Once they had made it this far they were for all intents and purposes safe.

Said looked at his digital watch again. He had it on stopwatch for the entire raid. Including the first failed assault it was at 8 minutes. The most interesting 8 minutes of his life... or maybe 2nd most considering the time he 1st lost his virginity. By now most of the people had made it inside. The Marines formed a defensive perimeter around the entrance and as people ran inwards c4 was being placed around the entrance. With ever second the perimeter tightened and less people were topside.

------

Meanwhile,
Task Force 1

Captain Beyhan had received his orders. From the fleet 14 Groznian Battleships, 8 Iowa Class and 6 Montana Class steamed in the opposite direction of the main fleet. They were accompanied by the 13 DMG made Dragon class destroyers, and 20 Ticonderoga Class Cruisers. Under water was another story. Submarines had set up a defensive perimeter around the fleet and now a contingent of 11 SeaWolf and 9 Virginia Class Attack subs quitely and cautiously scouted ahead of the main body.

Throughout the battle F-14 interceptors flew fleet defense around the fleet, mostly concentrated around the north east where the enemy fleet came from. The flotilla of tiny craft was almost missed by the Tomcat pilots and it was one RIO that called attention to them that sealed their fate. Not sure what the hell so many tiny ships were doing out here in a war zone the two F-14s dove lower to get a better visual.

<A radar spike was detected and lock on warning>

"Shit! They've got a lock on.... Where the hell is it?!" The F-14 pilot gunned his engines and swung into high-G evasive maneuvers.

"Not yet! Not yet!... Now!" his wingman had been watching the SAM climb towards him and told him when to deploy flares for the best effect.

Flying through a cloud the F-14 pulled a 9.5 G turn at 952 mph and deployed its flares. The SAM streaked towards the jet and at great speed decided at the last second to go after the flares.

"How are we looking Red 2?"

"Your clear Red 1. Arming."

"Copy that. Fly on my lead."

The two jets linked up and flew towards the group of boats. Flying at 1,200 mph out of the clouds they let loose their bombs at the enemy fleet. After this they split up following what their training had taught them. Swinging around one jet strafed from behind the fleet and the other from in front sending 20mm explosive gattling gun munitions at the tiny fleet in both directions. The planes made 4 passes before running out of ammunition. Radioing in the enemy's position they returned to their carrier to refuel and rearm. Meanwhile Beyhan's detachment had received word of the skirmish and got into formation. A few minutes later some torpedoes had arrived. One unlucky Ticonderoga cruiser was hit by one and in a massive explosion detonating all its ASM warheads the ship was lost with all hands.

---

Over Yeltsmin

By this time the first wave of fighters had just begun arriving at the city. Having received their orders they split into different zones of operation and proceeded to attack.

Emporer Pudu

11-06-2007, 15:16

City of Yeltsmin, Pudite Advance, Consolidation
Fedor and his five squadmates fell back about three blocks, moving in single file and with perfect ordered precision once the retreat was underway. Each man was covering his own field of fire, and the pace never let up. As the reached the end of the fifth block, they all stopped. One of Fedor's companions knelt down and placed a small explosive charge at the base of a building, right beside a basement window. In unison, the remainder of the squad fell back across the street.

A thundering explosion, lost among the noises of battle all around, opened the way into the lower areas of this particular building. All six men silently slid down the rubble pile and began to take stock of their situation.

"What should we do now?"

"We have to contact company headquarters," came the quick response, a protocol uttered by the vehement sniper.

"We are in no position to return to the fight, as of yet. What can we do?"

"True, we've already uploaded the combat recordings, division knows what's going on, it'll filter down."

"We have to report, and we have return to the fight," The sniper maintained.

Fedor spoke, "We cannot leave our position in the line, but consolidation os of no consequence. We'll fortify this road."

"And report?"

"There is no need, for we have done nothing out of the ordinary. They'll know of the foreigners gun emplacement-"

"What if they should move it? If we report it now, we can hit it, if we let division filter it down, it'll be gone," The sniper interrupted.

"We have to hold this position, we cannot afford more casualties," Fedor replied, and the rest of the squad nodded. "We can send you ahead, you can eliminate the gun crews yourself,"

The sniper nodded, and crawled back out of the basement. The remaining five members of the squad then immediately began to pile up rubble at the top of the basement wall and knock out firing positions covering the street outside.

All at work, they hardly heard the door swing open behind them. Surprised, Fedor spun about immediately and drew his service autoloader.

Almost immediately, however, he lowered his arm. Standing in front of him, silhouetted against the light behind, was an Imperial Commandant Officer. A Commissar. He stood a head taller than the squad, enhanced by decades of physical training and genetic modification, much along the lines of the Emperor's Praetorian Guard. He was encased from head to toe in olive green and black body armor, leaving only his head out to the air. His face was angular and chiseled from years of front-line service. Scars adorned him, and his eyes were sunken inside his skull. A commanding presence, without a doubt.

"What number are you, soldier!" He demanded, addressing the first man he saw, Fedor.

As per the protocol, Fedor transmitted his identification number to the officer, a fourteen character assembly of letters and numbers, marking him as a specific one of the Emperor's sons. The commissar nodded, and spoke.

"What is it you are doing here, your unit is assigned to advance, not hold." He stepped into the room, the footfalls of his iron-shod combat boots reverberating through the small space.

"Sir, we've encountered heavy resistance at the front, we've consolidated our position,"

Silently looking over the five battle-worn men before him, this battlefield exemplar of the Emperor's doctrine judged them...

"You, commander, are hereby ordered to return unto the battlefield. We will tolerate none of this cowardice, we-"

Interrupted in mid-sentence, the commissar looked suddenly down to his helmet, which was buzzing with the low hum of an incoming broadcast. He lifted it to his head from beneath his arm, and fitted it on. Now the picture was complete. Armored from head to foot, he was the ideal image of the faceless justicar, of the universal enforcer of a silent will...

Moments later, he removed the helmet and looked over the squad again. "Our orders have changed, you are to consolidate your position and return to company headquarters." He spoke this line with perfect clarity, as if he had not been, only seconds before, reprimanding them for that same behavior.

Fedor spoke once more, "Sir, where might we find company HQ?"

The commissar stepped a foot to the side, letting the light of the room beyond pour through. Inside they could see a small room, adorned with a simple table and buzzing with perhaps a dozen rear-echelon commanders and lower-ranking radio officers and aids.

Fedor just sighed. They were in company HQ...

Meanwhile, all across the rest of the city, the situation was unfolding. The enemy forces had been putting up fierce resistance, stronger than expected, but the advance had so far been inexorable. Suddenly though, the targets disappeared. The ponderous advance that had saved lives only minutes before, only met with empty streets and abandoned positions. Scouts reported that they had fallen back to a series of extremely well-defended chokepoints.

To go around would mean abandoning the entire city and marching overland for hours. To got through piecemeal would mean death. They had to regroup. Air support was becoming more and more regular, as the aircraft began flying in shifts. Strakhen Sokol air superiority fighters began arriving on the scene, flying over command points and large collections of troops in number. At any one time, it was expected that roughly one-hundred and twenty could be present. Five Coldun electronic warfare and ground attack planes also made periodic appearances alongside their faster counterparts, making efforts to disrupt enemy radio contact and bombing strong points with increasing frequency.

Units of battalion strength began to coalesce along the battle line, roughly a mile off the enemies line of fortifications. Of the forty battalions present, fifteen had seen combat, and they were still pulling together at the front. The other twenty-five had already formed up in the rear. Reports showed a large armored force moving around the left flank of the two divisions, moving to encircle them as they advanced by capturing the suburbs they had landed in.

Ten of the reserve divisions dispatched to intercept them. Their course was understood, and the ten battalions moved to intercept as they entered the residential districts. Armored vehicles of these battalions were light, and they were kept in the rear, as they would be no match for advancing tanks. Light, 105mm and 155mm artillery pieces were towed into position from the artillery emplacements further ahead, which were otherwise totally occupied with barraging the chokepoints in preparation for the coming attack.

Ten-thousand soldiers, artillery, and light vehicles were all that stood between the advancing armor and the rear lines, and encirclement, of the 6th and 7th Parachute Infantry Divisions of the Imperial Air Force. They would not fail…

Groznyj

11-06-2007, 21:28

Gun fire had become a never ending background theme song like a CD-player set on repeat. Rays of light poked through dusty windows and hollowed out hulks of buildings. After almost seven hours of burning many of the fires in the city had died down; with the odd gas main or building complex being the exception. Colors of black and red had started to become replaced by a surreal white and gray. If there was anything like the battle of Stalingrad.. this was most surely it.

High over the city a squadron of Hornets received a close air support request in the north of the city. Allowing their comrades to keep any interested aircraft busy the squadron closed in on a jail facility adjacent to a district police station.

"That must be target right there.."

"Copy that Soar 2. Arm pods. Get into formation"

"Copy that."

"Copy Soar 1."

Thirteen F/A-18s spread into four wings one in front of the other and armed their rocket pods. As they got closer explosions and the shots of tank cannons became visible. One after another the fighters launched rockets into the jail complex and surrounding area. So awesome was the destructiveness that the entire side of the building collapsed into the street.

"Woohoo. Nice run.. -- Thorn Company how you doing down there?..

There was no response.

"Repeat, air support to Thorn Company, you requested close air support. How are you-"

"Sir... I think we just hit Thorn Company..."

"Holy shit.."

Circling around the smoking ruin once more the squadron checked for any signs of life or a radio response... none was found. They returned to refuel and rearm, and possibly throw-up once the day was over.

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

Meanwhile a fighter wing of 87 F-14s closed in on sky over the entrenched Marines.

[I]"Radar Contact!"

"Copy that, 5, scratch that..15.. holy shit..massive air wing north at 11'O'clock, High"

"Let's show these pigeon's how it's done"

"Wooo! Hawks of the sky baby!"

"Fist 1, Echo 1,"

"Yessir.."

"Sir."

"Take your squadrons high, make sure-------------"

"What was that Falk 1?"

"Make sure they get a reception after the flyby."

A moment after the wing leader finished thirty aircraft of the Echo and Fist squadrons climbed into the air at a 78 degree angle. The others spread their formation and climbed to greet the late party guests.

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

(ooc:Will get to northern front and naval parts in the next post)

Southeastasia

24-06-2007, 15:58

[OOC: I’m absolutely sorry folks for the very, very slow progress. But now that the IGCSEs are over…well, let’s ROCK AND ROLL, people! Oh, and in case you people are interested, do check the links below this message. It’s nice to have things to do besides war machines and what not.

VLT Automotive Main Thread: http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=522631

VLT Automotive Market Expansion Thread: http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=522758

Anyway, at least I won’t have to care much about my results until August 2007…now, we begin the story! One political speech for TKC to come later, stay tuned, and do enjoy the read!

Yours Sincerely,
The Player Behind Southeast Asia]

Many things make everything, the man pulled back, recalling events of the past as he reclined in his black executive chair in his office. And one of those things that make up everything and arguably is the most critical factor of them all, is judgment. The man indeed was leaning slightly in his chair all right, with his feet flat on the floor, yet there was something about that pair of feet that indicated movement of flesh that was relaxed yet tightened, prepared for a situation. His eyes were gazing into a document, and as it were not made of transparent or opaque material in which the human eye could see through; it blocked his face from view.

There were two men in the room besides the reclining man in the executive chair. One was wearing a preferred navy-blue colored suit of his and wore gold-colored titanium-framed spectacles which harkened back to the days of glasses of the old to some degree. He would be slightly taller than the man who was sitting in the black executive chair. He was sitting in a chair specially prepared for him, a maroon leather color. An identical chair contained another individual. Also a fellow Asian, but there was a something about his posture which indicated that he was not a figure of as great importance. The man whose suggesting posture wore a concatenation, that he was only one small part of the big picture.

Indeed, that man was not of much great importance. But he was interconnected to yet another of great importance—the Minister of the Home Interior. The man was an aide, and the Home Interior Minister’s way of interconnection to a relaxed yet vigilant person in his goal to be his nation’s leader. The aide was a Javan in his thirties, and the reason why he was working as part of the Emerald Executive Recluse’s staff for the cabinet was because of his skill at organization.

The head-of-state and head-of-government of the United Sovereign Nations glanced up. His thought was that of sympathy. Poor guy. He had been looking at a frozen, printed off the computer screen video frame of a particular event in what was now the former Czardaian Libertarian Concordance, now in a state of civil war. The frame had a charismatic, good-humored diplomat that had an excellent grasp on sarcasm, the cameras catching half of his face. Neo of course couldn’t be sure what was Mr. Alhoun was thinking in his last moments of his life in that shot from a Czardaian news outlet, but he had come to the conclusion by analyzing the flexing of facial muscle on what of his features could be displayed, was a half-smile. Mr. Alhoun looked fairly decent a man for his age, if not youthful. The navy-blue suit of his was yet as prim as ever…at least before his final moments, which now in all likelihood was ripped apart and rendered to shreds by bullets, explosives, and what not an angry mob wields. It also would not take much to guess what were his final thoughts or his last words. The men in the room would all agree that the late Mr. Alhoun was a likeable soul and a consummate individual versed in the arts of international relations and diplomacy. And they would all agree (and likely Alhoun himself, if there was another worldly plane such as Heaven or Hell, or Purgatory, or whatever place you believed in if there turned out to be an afterlife) that it was a most ironic, mutually contradictory end of appropriateness and inappropriateness, for a consummate, diplomat like Mr. Kari Alhoun.

“Most ironic a situation is it not?” asked the darker-skinned individual.

“Yes indeed.” Neo responded. “Yes indeed, Mr. Leong.”

“Those events of several months past in Yeltmsin are paralleling this—with the Spizanian Navy and the refugees from the said colony…the Ministry of the Home Interior did have its concerns given the mass of refugees flowing in.”

“Now, the sandal is on our foot, so to speak.”

The aide spoke up. “My superior has told me that though Haven is far away, we still have a significant presence of Southeast Asian nationals. We’re caught between a hard rock and a—”

“—hard spot.” Neo answered for the aide. “Deploy troops to assist in their retrieval and what Czardaian citizens we can take, we risk losing what every enlisted individual in the armed forces which count to defeat the Second Corporatist Entente. On the other hand, we don’t want to stimulate the anti-war movement too much, and letting them die is just unsound.”

Neo stated flatly the two paths the trio of men had been discussing of which decision.

Leong spoke up. “I recall the details from the Minister of Defense…he said that we should be able to coordinate a movement away from the Union without them being attacked or crippled too badly by corporatist forces.”

“I shall contact the Minister of Defense on this matter myself.” Neo responded. “We shall do what we can…”

“Inform the Home Interior Minister of the arrivals, and to make preparations.” Leong had acquiesced with his superior, by giving an order to the aide. Leong was essentially agreeing with him.

“Meeting dismissed.” the President and Prime Minister of the United Sovereign Nations said simply.

With that, and the two men departed the Office of His Right Honorable Prime-Executive Leadership. They left the head-of-state-and-head-of-government all alone, and with time to reflect. Time to look back on an event so far, yet so short.

Emerald Executive Recluse Staff Meeting Room
A Discussion Involving Yeltsmin…Sometime Ago…

Daniel Chan sighed. The President and Prime Minister of the United Sovereign Nations of Southeast Asia, had displaying his judgment on the situation indecisive. It wasn’t that Neo was an incompetent leader. It was just that in this moment, Neo was simply not sure that if it was worth it. No role-model, be they a head-of-state, a musician, an actor, whoever, could be independent of some sort of chain. For example, even an actor on a show, though you may not see it, may have to make a blind audition, or screw up…though this specific flaw would be rarely ever seen thanks to delicate editing.

“Neo, you have to make a decision on this…you cannot remain independent.” Nettleton snapped briskly to the senior official. “Both Southeast Asian and Groznian lives are at stake. If we don’t act now, more lives shall perish.”

Minister Arnold Kanter had a different opinion of the matter at hand and begged to differ.

“Mr. Nettleton,” Kanter spoke in his mixed accent resulting from overseas education, “do keep aware that our resources are being stretched. We can do little to nothing about the Groznian Republic’s colony…”

It had been spoken in a matter of fact, dry tone. It was a tone which meant: ‘gentlemen, like it or not, we have to regard facts for facts’.

“With all due respect, Mr. Kanter, but I do not believe that it is the duty of the Minister of Telecommunications to interfere in this matter—”

“I concur with the Defense Minister,” interrupted the Imperator of the Southeast Asian Federal-Parliamentarian Armed Services, a tall Indonesian figure. “I believe it not to be the authority of your field of expertise to have a say in this matter…”

“Imperator,” snapped Kanter, taking it as an insult from his fellow Indonesian Southeast Asian, “do keep aware that the Prime Minister has taken part in the process, to have appointed you and me to our respective positions. I feel this is a sound judgment.”

“Telecommunications matters are not as vital to this situation, Minister Kanter, and I do mean no—”

“I agree with Minister Kanter!” declared another voice. It wasn’t before too long the slurry of heated reactions was occurring with these Southeast Asian politicians. Like a debate in the legislature.

Neo was still there, silent. He was subconsciously aware of the vitriol being fired at his colleagues. Neo may have attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), but he was far from a fool. He may have seemed dispassionate, but he was changing his attitude. Amidst the sea of snarls, Neo’s stressed face altered, flexing his facial muscles to form a frown. The message was clear: enough was enough.

“Pipe down!” Neo snapped. “Every single one of you…both sides should be backing down, and both sides have arguments worthy of merit, but rambling on like this won’t get us anywhere.”

The assembled body of individuals was impressed, and immediately muted at that. Even the military commanders who were there, while they knew Neo wasn’t much of a tactician, he had served in the defunct Singapore Armed Forces, but was only mediocre in performance. But he knew how to be a leader.

“While I recognize that our resources—and services—are heavily overstretched, we have to compromise. If we simply let them fall, we cannot get enough time to ready our defenses against the Corporatist forces. The coastal defense systems from our friends in Clan Smoke Jaguar…”

“…shall prove worthy.” Nettleton answered for Neo. The leader of the Executive Cabinet didn’t mind the interruption.

The Minister of the Home Interior rose up to speak. “Mr. Prime Minister, the United Realms have been generous in allowing people who wish to flee. While we have sufficient degree in controlling the migration levels, we do not have the capacity to allow people in. However, we can divert resources to provide the refugees and the Groznian military forces that are fleeing to here, with standard provisions. The Groznian military forces that are fleeing here can get improved provisions.”

The military commanders who were assembled—the Imperator of the Federal-Parliamentarian Armed Services, the Chief of the Federal-Parliamentarian Army, the Chief of the Federal-Parliamentarian Air Force and the Chief of the Federal-Parliamentarian Navy—nodded in silence, agreeing. They might not have been part of the Executive Cabinet, but with the Union’s national security levels having ascended; their input was certainly most valuable.

“As has the United Kingdom.” The Senior Deputy Prime Minister, Henley Leong, chimed in. “Oceania has territories which should be near Yeltsmin.” So much for being a ‘paradise’…now it’s like hell on Earth. the moderate Muslim thought privately, it was very much a cynical joke which, one could say with analysis coldly and practically, was basically the status quo.

“Indeed, Mr. Leong.” the Home Interior Minister smiled simultaneously while reaching for a dark-colored government folder, “there are also a few Imperial Dominions, according to this latest catalogue, which are being supplemented. Some citizens have apparently chosen to settle in them due to favoritism of one area, instead of going to Hamptonshire Proper. In some respects, they are nearer than Oceanic hold-outs. Though there are some exceptions like the Home Country of the Indian Islands, which, across a body of water, is right next to us. It can be a nice place for the refugees to go for directly or after their duration in the Union.”

The Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs had been watching so far, and taking down notes. He had been taking up several responsibilities in place of Joshua Lin, who was in the Grand Duchy of Van Luxemburg and unable to return. Lin had duties to do with the Van Luxemburgian government, so he was still being useful, and had secure communications with the Executive Cabinet. Now, this time, the Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs had decided to join the party.

“Shall I contact the Capital Cities of the Groznian matter and Farbanti?”

“Certain—”

The responsible and honorable head-of-state-and-head-of-government had been abruptly interrupted by the Chief of the Southeast Asian Federal-Parliamentarian Air Force Marshal Peter Lee.

“Your Leadership,” Lee said respectfully, “I apologize for the interruption. But may I add to your fellow colleague the name ‘Washington’?”

The name clicked instantly on everybody’s mind. While the United States of America was defunct, there was another Washington—the Democratic Imperium of Halberdgardia had a federal district of a national capital which shared the same name and function.

“Are you suggesting that we call Mr. Kenix Kil?”

“Indeed…though they will not officially acknowledge it, they have certain…um, hasty sandbox toys which we do not have—but I’m sure that they shall agree for us requesting those play-things’ deployment.”

“What are these...hasty sandbox toys, as you call them?” the Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs had confusion displayed in his facial expression.

Hasty sandbox toys…I think I get the initials.—HST, and what the good Marshal means. Neo had realized the meaning, and gave a quick flex of facial muscles that he certainly liked the Marshal’s advice. Knowing that language was the key to controlling the situation, add to the fact that SST meant “Super Sonic Transport”, he had quickly figured out the meaning—Hyper Sonic Transport, though in this case it wasn’t a civilian aircraft, faster than the Concorde. It was a warplane.

“I absolutely agree with your recommendation, Marshal.” Neo said, quickly then making eye contact with the still-puzzled Southeast Asian politician. “Marshal Lee shall elaborate on this later.”

Now His Most Esteemed Presidency and Right Honorable Prime-Executive Leadership turned to the overall crowd, making eye contact with all. “So I ask, my fellow Executive Cabinet members, who here agrees to the resolution of compromise at hand?”

All voted, except the military commanders. They had acquiesced their positions themselves.

“Excellent.” Neo smiled, “meeting dismissed.”

Everybody departed the Emerald Executive Staff Meeting Room for their respective divisions, for their respective duties.

FPNB (Federal-Parliamentarian Naval Base) Classified
Time Classified, Task Force “Structural” Departs…

It was late. But Task Force Structural could make it in time. The Groznian Armed Forces had put up a tough fight. That was for certain. Yeltsmin was indeed a strategic position, much like New Albion in the brief KLM-UKO conflict, or Athiesism in the War of Golden Succession, but Southeast Asia, in spite of it having it within its reach, could not risk it. Defenses had been built up, both permanent and temporary, as scheduled. Fleets were being assembled.

In the dark, cruel night, the Kravenite Navy and its heinous corporatist comrades were savaging the Groznian colony, and it could have been an accurate statement to say that Southeast Asia was being a coward if one had a perspective of black-and-white. What a person, with that simplistic belief, thought Southeast Asia was leaving its allies high and dry. But alas, there were no permanent alliances, only permanent national interests. But humans were neither good nor evil. Southeast Asia did have the concept of honor in itself.

Hence why the domineering figures—few of them, but domineering nevertheless—of surface warships, was moving across the sea. They had been spread out far so that their mission could succeed better, giving the enemy less congregated surface area to fire upon and potentially kill two birds with one stone. There were very few warships on the surface. Far more were beneath the endless blanket of liquid. Much further spread apart and evenly like the peanut butter on a well, piece of toast, these metallic leviathans were submersibles warships—nuclear-powered guided-missile-launching submarines and conventionally-powered hunter/killer submarines—were for a purpose: buying time. Hence the task force’s name. It was a very hint to what was it’s purpose, it had to do with fracturing organization.

Elsewhere…

The Southeast Asian Intelligence Directorate was hard at work with its quantum computer. The device had proved very useful in keeping national security documents sensitive for public view, and for sending encrypted communiqués. And the same was being done now, from the Office of the Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs.

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

Confidential Official Governmental Communiqué
TO: Office of the President of the Republic of Groznyj
FROM: Office of the Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs of the Union of Southeast Asian Nations
SUBJECT: Our support against Kraven intervention

Dear Mr. President,

Fear not, for our forces are armed and at the ready for buying your people, enlisted in your country’s armed force or merely civilian, time with Task Force “Structural”. The spirit of our shared values of free individualism and liberal democracy live on. Groznyj’s vision of an island paradise may have not quite succeeded. But it has achieved an admirable deed that the members of the Executive Cabinet, the Federal-Parliamentarian Armed Services, and the common people of Southeast Asia shall be in debt to, and shall repay. Your military has fought gallantly, but it has not been truly defeated. In spirit, Groznyj and the Civic Coalition have prevailed already!

The only thing to help secure corporatist fate in Southeast Asia is to contact an associate of Mr. Nelson Neo’s…his name is Mr. Kenix Kil, the President of the Democratic Imperium of Halberdgardia. He has certain resources which Groznyj should authorize to terminate structures and other devices which have fallen and/or are about to fall, and get out of there as swiftly as possible. Also, your citizens, as de-facto allies of the Union of Southeast Asian Nations, have every right to come to the United Sovereign Nations for refuge. However, it has been recommended by the Ministry of the Home Interior for them to not to remain too long given the looming war. Recommended locations for safe haven include the Oceanic Home Country of the Indian Islands, and nearby Hamptonian Imperial Dominions. Please contact Stephen Larsen, a Member of the Royal Congress and Secretary of State for Foreign and Dominion Affairs of the Grand Archduchy of the United Realms of the Hamptonian Empire…the GAURHE has a vast space of land, and will help the Groznian Republic in several economic matters post-war.

The Executive Cabinet sends its warm regards, and most appreciates your country’s help.

Yours Sincerely
His Vice-Excellency,
The Office of the Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs
Union of Southeast Asian Nations

Confidential Official Governmental Communiqué
TO: Kenix Kil, President, Democratic Imperium of Halberdgardia
FROM: Office of the Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs of the Union of Southeast Asian Nations
SUBJECT: Helping our support against Kraven intervention in Yeltsmin

Dear President Kenix Kil,

After a meeting with the Executive Cabinet, and advice from military leaders, I contact the Democratic Imperium of Halberdgardia for assistance. Your nation has key strategic resources and items which will be necessary for securing gained time critical to our national sovereignty. We understand that we have a debt to pay back, but we shall, as Mr. Nelson Neo notes of it. His Most Esteemed Presidency also sends his warmest regards to you, Mr. Kil, for the times Halberdgardia has enjoyed with Southeast Asia. To a long-lasting relationship, Mr. Kil, we hope that you are able to send the swift wings of assistance to prevent captured equipment used by Corporatist Entente forces…the President of Groznyj shall contact you on this matter Mr. Kil, though we would advise also making a warm move towards him as well.

Yours Sincerely
His Vice-Excellency,
The Office of the Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs
Union of Southeast Asian Nations

Confidential Official Governmental Communiqué
TO: Stephen Larsen, MRC, Secretary of State for Foreign and Dominion Affairs, Grand Archduchy of the United Realms of the Hamptonian Empire
FROM: Office of the Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs of the Union of Southeast Asian Nations
SUBJECT: Additional Hamptonian reinforcement

Dear Secretary of State Stephen Larsen,

Mr. Neo and Mr. Lin are currently unavailable for direct contact with Your Excellency, but I have been assigned to fill the post. I hope that this does not undermine the significance of the matter at hand. The Federal Government of the Grand Archduchy of the United Realms of the Hamptonian Empire has helped us commendably, and I look forward to warm relations in the future. Task Force Structural has been sent to buy time for our civic friend, the Republic of Groznyj, or more appropriately, to its colony of Yeltsmin. We require some more counter-aerial, heavy capital warship, and other general naval reinforcement. Notably, we could use more Hamptonian Dominion-class supercapital warships. Satellite observations from the Southeast Asian Intelligence Directorate have been revealing a massive, lumbering barge that seems to obfuscate a powerful device. The Ministry of Defense and senior officials in the Southeast Asian Federal-Parliamentarian Armed Services are not prepared to take any chances, and are especially keen on heavy capital warship support. We would be honored and delighted should you accept.

Yours Sincerely
His Vice-Excellency,
The Office of the Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs
Union of Southeast Asian Nations

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

With the messages sent, both then, and at present day, Neo definitely knew that it was far from over. The peril-packed tightrope walk was mutually long and short. Life was such a spin of the wheel...with the dominoes in position and all.

Leafanistan

25-06-2007, 07:30

Pvt. Watcher, or Ant as the psychotic Cpt. Ricardo would call him, sat in the corner of the room, surrounded by bottles of detergent and boxes of powder. While the bombs and planes roared overhead, they were trapped in a destroyed brick apartment, in a laundry room.

Watcher had decided to let his passion get the best of him, and found himself humiliated by his superior officer, a victim of overzealousness. He couldn't stand himself, he just sat, behind his wall of cleaning products, staring at Cpt. Ricardo. He watched her through the parapets of his fortification, simultaneously reviling her, and lusting for her. He saw what she did to that poor woman, he knew what she was, he knew why, but at the same time, he felt this sick pleasure inside of him. What his drill sergeant at 'Boot' called 'Instinct'. He could hear his grating voice affirming that one day, he will find the sickest motherfucker, and take her out for a spin. He would do it because he was another sick motherfucker, and so was every single person in that room with him. He gripped the Otagian made rifle, its microprocessor's fan whirred to life, its primitive SmartScope, outdated but better than a simple scope, projected an infrared laser beam onto the washing machine next to him.

Cpt. Ricardo was toying with her radio and a toolbox she found, trying to adjust it, trying to get help. It was no use. They were in a basement. The window they had was too small to crawl through, and now something was blocking it. The thick brick walls blocked all but the loudest explosions, so their radio's were broadcasting an extraordinary array of static. She threw the device against the wall, its thin plastic casing shattering upon contact, raining semiconductors onto Pvt. Watcher's makeshift castle. A parapet of bottlecaps fell over, clattering to the concrete floor with a metallic clink.

She looked up, blew a bang out of her face, and realized that Pvt. Watcher was pointing the rifle at her head. She stopped moving, she barely breathed, and she was sure her heart had skipped beating for about a minute. She could hear the fan of the cheap Boer-made electronics spin. She was stunned, just a few minutes ago, she was half naked, along with the Private, enjoying their own privates, and now she was on the wrong end of a rifle. She watched as the man flipped the safety to off, and switched the beam to visible light, red, and closed her eyes. And then she heard the trigger click, and "Bam".

She opened her eyes to Pvt. Watcher, making gun noises with his mouth, "Pew", "Pow", "Bang". And she reacted swiftly. She threw the screwdriver she was clutching to fix the radio at him, busting through the plastic and cardboard wall, knocking the rifle off kilter, and she tackled the soldier. She blew away the powdery detergent from her mouth, and looked at the eyes of a dead person. She got up, she realized that his rifle was empty, the bullets lined up neatly against the concrete wall, and Pvt. Watcher's radio squawking quietly into his ear.

She grabbed the thing, but realized it was only a recording, an MP3 player at Watcher's side, and it was babbling about geopolitics.

"With the rise of the governmental faction, the more capitalis..."

She threw it against the wall, it too exploding in a shower of cheap silcon and tin solder. She picked up Pvt. Watcher, threw him against the wall, and started screaming at him.

"What the fucking fuck? This isn't funny. This isn't a game. This is war."

She remembered the snippet she caught of the lecture he was listening to.

"This isn't university, you dropped out of Dental School, you left your apartment, and the next day, the entire dorm blew up from some dumb Jesus Freak."

Pvt. Watcher's sudden reaction shocked her. She wasn't expecting him to move, much less so quickly, and soon she found herself slammed against the same wall, and found herself overpowered. His stare was all that could be said. She said something wrong, but Pvt. Watcher didn't really care, he had dealt with it, and he was hopping mad about it, but he just wanted to shake her up.

She didn't move and was soon released from his iron grip. She apologized, and watched at Ant reloaded the rifle, and sat back down on the floor. She thought it was cabin fever; trapped while an exciting war was happening right next to them, helpless. He then raised his hands up, did a prayer, which shocked Cpt. Ricardo even more. Her mind remembered exactly where Mecca was, when a stray 105mm shell, detonated right next to the brick building.

The ringing in her ears blunted her screaming as she realized her arm was missing, only to discover that it was just stained in blood. A great deal of rubble filled the room, some of it on fire, and the remainder of what was once some sort of militia group stained the rubble that wasn't on fire.

She looked around for her rifle, and found it mangled and smashed. She looked herself over as a figure stepped out from the smoke. A white mist enveloped her as the fires were extinguished by carbon dioxide foam, and she looked up to see Pvt. Watcher, putting out the flames, and holding a badly scratched G36 rifle. He handed it to her, and she checked it. Together they emerged from the debris.

Hamptonshire

01-07-2007, 06:09

Stephen Larsen huddled with one of his few remaining political allies, acting Chancellor Ignác Codreanu, inside one of the White Palace's sprawling formal meeting rooms. The two men had become outcasts within the Federal Government. To them, they were bold men of foresight fighting to give Hamptonshire its place in the sun. To their opponents, and an ever increasing majority of the populace, they were stubborn ideologues divorced from reality. Larsen and Codreanu were well aware of their detractors and their efforts to isolate them from the daily operations of the nation, but neither man would step down from an issue that central in the minds.

"Despite their over dramatic flare toward overly elaborate titles, those USAN bastards have to be given some credit for finally taking a stand on this." The acting Chancellor leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the very large solid oak meeting table. "We have already taken in millions of refugees."

Larsen emulated Ignác's reclined posture, but his near seven-foot tall frame forced him into what looked like a semi-fetal position. "I fully agree with what you said this afternoon about sending them military support, but we have to be measured about it. Even though we are being forced out of the loop, we cannot ignore the situation in Haven. Sending any sizable force of heavy warships out of the region and toward a foreign land would be political suicide. It is just plain dumb."

"I agree," Codreanu fixed his eyes upon a small statue in the room, "a smaller force would be best. We've also got to make sure that broadcasted orders are somewhat restricted. If our boys go out there with permission to shoot from the hip this entire enterprise will be a non-starter. A tripwire force, Stephen, is the way to go."

To: Office of the Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs (USAN)
From: Stephen Larsen, MRC; Secretary of State for Foreign and Dominion Affairs (URHE)
Subject: Additional Hamptonian reinforcement

To the Office of the Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs,

The Foreign and Dominions Office, on behalf of Her Royal, Imperial and Apostolic Majesty, continues to extend your citizens the offer of indefinite asylum within the United Realms. We are sympathetic to your plight, but security concerns within Haven demand the attention of most Royal Armed Forces assets. President Ignác Codreanu, in his capacity as acting Chancellor, has ordered several Royal Navy task forces to your waters to aide in the evacuation efforts. The aforementioned situation prevents us from sending our largest warships to your theater, but several heavy fleet carriers have been ordered to divert to your territory. With luck and good fortune, they should arrive before time runs out.

We must make clear, however, that Hamptonian forces deployed to your nation shall only act to defend themselves and to defend against direct attacks against population centers slated for evacuation. Commanders will not preemptively attack any targets nor will they leave your territorial waters.

Yours faithfully,
[signed]
Stephen Larsen, MRC
Secretary of State for Foreign and Dominion Affairs
United Realms of the Hamptonian Empire

Emporer Pudu

01-07-2007, 15:22

Groznyj, City of Yeltsmin, North-Western Quadrant
Fedor scrambled up and over the lip of the rocky slide into the basement that also served, apparently, as a forward Company Command Post. His battalion was reforming about a half a kilometer behind them, and both his squad and the rest of the Command Post were making their way backwards. The Commissar, the Company Commander, and their second-in-command were already speeding over the rough rubble-strewn streets to the staging area.

Fedor and his remaining squad mates, however, had to go on foot. They jogged the few hundred meters in just under two minutes, with no real attempts at undue speed. Ahead of them, a large open grassy area, probably an old city park, was buzzing with activity. Like a massive nest, the field was covered in soldiers and vehicles, marching in formation, vehicles slipping through seamlessly, men and machines moving in perfect order.

Fedor and his men knew their place in this mass, and although they were short men, they would take up that position. Falling into single file, they stepped into the mass, and after a short few minutes of navigating the swirling conglomeration, they arrived at a particular spot of field, where others of their platoon stood and waited.

Stalking ahead of them, up and down the rows of soldiers, was Lieutenant Okulov. He watched as Fedor’s, the last, squad came into line.

“Sergeant Efrosin Fedor!”

The whole squad snapped to attention,

“Where is the rest of your unit, sergeant!”

Fedor answered confidently, looking straight ahead,

“Sir! We were ambushed along the road, sir! We destroyed a-”

“Sergeant, the Dominion doesn’t care what it is you destroyed, only why its men’s lives were wasted on such an effort?”

“Sir, our armored vehicle was destroyed, we fought a retreating action. They had armor support, and surprise!”

The Lieutenant simply stared at Fedor. Short four men…

He continued, “Alright, soldiers, we’ve received new orders.” He held his hands folded behind his back, staring each of them in the eye, “Soldiers, the enemy is retreating. They’ve formed defensive positions a few kilo’s ahead, and are dug in. They are veterans, and are well equipped. It’s our job to kill them.”

The men simply stood, feeling nothing about their new assignment, outside for the deep need to fulfill this duty…

“Our battalion is one of ten battalions assigned to take these defensive positions. Specifically, there is a series of narrow streets, alleyways, that bear taking. Our battalion alone has been tasked with this. All others are bound for the largest, and most obvious, highway chokepoint. We’re moving out in one-hour, understand?”

The platoon, or what remained, nodded. Okulov left them, returning to the Battalion Command Post, wherever that happened to be. Meanwhile, the squad relaxed. They weren’t worried about the street fighting that was coming, they had been well trained and those that had seen battle knew of the Pudite airman’s technical superiority, even if the enemy had numbers and a defensible position. They were confident.

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

However, their feelings were not shared by their comrade, Iagrin, the sniper. He lay prone, currently, on the second floor of the building directly opposite the one that had nearly collapsed on him only half an hour before. He was watching for enemy movement, scouting the advance route, all of that good, scout-like stuff. The problem was, the enemy was gone.

They didn’t pass him, he knew that. They must have fallen back, but why? They held, and even reinforced the location. He knew of reports of various victories and losses coming in from around the front, but still, he was confused. It must be another ambush… He was wary.

In the street before him, a scene was playing out. Marching down the road, he spied a trio of armed foreigners. He did not know if they were army professionals or simply men with guns, but they were armed, and would kill him if they could. Normally, he would take the shots, kill the three, but he knew he didn’t have too. Moving inbound, as he waited, was a pair of LV-08 Light Infantry Vehicles, speeding along on their way somewhere else. They would pass through here, and do Iagrin’s work for him. He liked that idea.

Suddenly, there they were. From down the road echoed the blasts of heavy machine gun fire, and seconds later the sounds of the shots resonated off the pockmarked sides of the buildings. The three men began firing wildly behind them, and running.

A stream of heavy-weapons fire tore through one man’s stomach, and he fell. Heroically, he propped himself up on his left elbow, and fired again with his right hand. Another burst of machine gun fire hit him, ending his stand.

Behind him, the same burst had smashed through the leg of one of his companions. The final man ran back out from a side street ahead, and back into Iagrin’s view, and attempted to drag the wounded man away.

This time, it was not a machine gun that ended their lives. The pair of light vehicles exploded into view, tires crunching rocks and glass beneath them, and soon enough, bone. Blood splattered against the outside of the small trucks, running in rivulets back off the hood and windscreen as the vehicles continued to advance. Behind them, the body of the first, wounded man now resembled more medical waste than man. A heavy tire track had crushed his chest and stomach, and all of his innards and bodily fluids were flowing across the road, making soppy, dark-colored puddles of blood and fluid. The second man was just clipped, and lay on his back a few feet away, his hands clasped to his head, screaming, as he groped hopelessly for the piece of skull he knew he ought to have. Blood gushed from his wound and down his face, covering him in seconds.

Before Iagrin could look again, both men were dead.

That was easy, now, time to go find those foreigners…

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

Meanwhile, high above Yeltsmin, the first of a new wave of Pudite fighters, these ones timed now to always have a presence above, were arriving. One-hundred and twenty Strakhen Sokol fighters were now making passes over the entire city, AAMs sitting ready in the internal bays, to reduce radar signature.

Their 30mm cannons were also on call, for any who were willing to call it in. The frequency had been distributed to their Mafia, mercenary, and Kraven allies, and should they need it, the aircraft were ready. Five further Coldun electronics warfare and ground attack planes circled above, distributing ground-attack missiles where appropriate, when requested, and generally being a pain, otherwise.

Frequencies found to be in use by the enemy were quickly engaged, and the undersides of the Coldun began to hum as their electronic warfare pods set to work. Radars and the like, when found, would warrant an immediate ARM-attack, as the discovering plane loosed it’s salvo of four missiles onto the target. Each time, they would, however, have to return to the fleet for replenishment.

That fleet, through, was getting ever closer. A pair of Vengeance-class supercarriers, the Eternity of Victory and the Honor by Glory, led the seventy-four ship fleet. It was a small force, a token force meant only to carry the aircraft to support the two airborne divisions, as well as to launch their refueling planes for the trip here. They had no major surface combatants, and their escorts were few, compared to other Pudite fleets. As it is, the fleet was coming either way, and they would just have to wait to see what it meant…

Admiral Milovan Elistratov was the commander of the force, and it was his responsibility to ensure the survival of the twenty-thousand men in the city. To this effect, based on continually updating information he received on the Pudite military Network, he had recently authorized the launch of eight TD-ALM-3 land attack missiles from each of the ten Portlandia-class missile cruisers he had under his command. Totaling eighty missiles, these weapons carried a seven-hundred and forty kilogram warhead. Moving at mach 1.7 inbound, they would reach mach 2.6 before they detonated over the city, targeting, in the North, the nine roadways that were being fortified by the defenders. Seventy-two missiles would be devoted to this task, far more than may have been required, but it was a pittance to what arsenal the ships still held in reserve… The remaining eight missiles would be split between the smaller, less-stable narrow-roads and the largest concentration, the highway. Five of the missiles would strike that highway, while the other three each targeted one of the more spender passages.

Behind these, would come the infantry, and then the Pudite battle for Yeltsmin would really begin…

Southeastasia

16-07-2007, 17:34

Grit. Determination. Steadfast. Diehard. A variety of adjectives could have been used to describe these men. The Captain, and leader of Task Force Structural was a figure whose face showed a controlled degree of relaxed modesty. His name? Captain Christian Golokin. He had a genetic history containing Western blood, hence his name and partially Western facial structure, it looked somewhat Anglo-Saxon in descent, though this took second fiddle to his predominant features, northwestern Malaysia, particularly of Kadazan ethnicity. Mixed people enlisted in the Southeast Asian Federal-Parliamentarian Armed Services weren’t rare, but they weren’t common either. Golokin had a fairly decent military record, albeit it had to do with the occasional peacekeeping conflict the Union had in the past, and with military exercises. Though, he did commandeer at one point the now sunken SANS Valiance, an Arleigh Burke-class destroyer, now at the bottom of the ocean thanks to the same conflict…but he had a mostly-peacetime record on his military portfolio. But that was very soon to alter.

It had taken hours for Task Force Structural to arrive. But now, arriving into the theater, the weapons had been prepared. The metallic leviathans split off from the Task Force, going away to elsewhere, operating separately. Golokin was the commander of the destroyer SANS Courageous, a Centaur-X-class nuclear-powered guided-missile-launching destroyer. While the new vessel was admittedly superior and more up-to-date in for naval warfare, it just didn’t have the good old feeling that Valiance had. Golokin recalled the First War of Corporatist Aggression, more objectively known as the Southeast Asia/Joint Conglomerates Conflict. He recalled the reasons for the conflict, which till this day was seen by many in the Union as legitimate. It was because of the growing power of the FJC had been seen as a potential threat to the Union and its growing economy, if not malpractices which included human rights abuses as it later turned out. The Union, through the Southeast Asian Federal-Parliamentarian Armed Services, had for a while assumed de-facto reign of the area that was once the Federation of Joint Conglomerates. It had now been given away as a territory to one of the Saharistan War Coalition states as per agreement.

Father had long vowed to crush what he perceived to be weak and petty. Especially a certain head-of-government. However, tonight, he would be hitting a certain roadblock. Just like when he had planned to get the Union for its insolence, he had to deal with the Xirniumite Republic and the Adamantine Alliance, if not the rest of its allies. Right now, it’d be curtains for several people aboard a certain aircraft carrier. Southeast Asia had new toys which it was going to use. And it also still had a set of allies to help it in certain objectives and endeavors.

Right now, the Captain of the Courageous had not been thinking of that device. He had been thinking of the several powerful rocket ballistae which were going to be utilized. It was time for the Union to buy time for itself, and the carefully organized Clan Smoke Jaguar Military Industries, liquid-propellant cannon batteries assembled on several fortifications to counter the invasion forces. The fate of the Corporate Entente was to be decided tonight.

Aboard the SANS Star, the Firestorm-III-class arsenal ship, and the SANS Butterfly, an Agamemnon-class arsenal ship, the respective captains uttered one simple order.

“LAUNCH THE BALLISTAE!”

A roar could be detected as the first hypersonic quasi-ballistic missile roared to the heavens. They were over several miles across the ocean’s surface, but just enough to pick a target. The target, thanks to affiliations with the New Alliance Treaty Organization, was deemed to be the Vengeance-class nuclear-powered heavy fleet carrier. The Vengeance was a product of the Hybalt Defense Industries, a Granzian private military contractor. Commodore Jonathan Marcos, the leader of the Task Force did not know what would be the reaction of the Federal-Parliamentarian Government, but decided to give the said corporate entity the benefit of doubt.

At the same time, Marcos turned around, after watching the streaks of smoke rise into the sky. The fire continued each time, as the Ahab transitioned from stage to stage, it was long out of the Southeast Asian commodore’s sight. The target determined was being shared by the interlinked network that the warships shared, being transferred computer by computer into the satellites scanning the area, and being relayed to intelligence databases back in the homeland. The first skull that was going to be bashed in was the Eternity of Victory, the name of the aircraft carrier which was going to hit the seabed.

“Gentlemen, get talking with the other leaders on the bridges,” Commodore Marcos stated with a neutral expression. “the attack plan seems to be going fine as planned, but get them ready for the counters. We currently have the element of surprise on our side, however, we cannot be too lax or else the battlefield shall be in their favor—something that we don’t want to have.”

Let’s see that the days and months have been used correctly, and all the other factors in combat philosophy are correct. the Commodore thought, knowing that they had just as even the odds to controlling the situation while at the same odds, losing it. Only a Divine Being would know what was going to happen next.

“Yes sir.” a younger Southeast Asian, of lower rank, nodded to his superior, and then he did as he was ordered. Several officers were at the ready, commanding their respective posts to make do with what they were told.

Moments after that, a ring of Kriegzimmer-manufactured F-25 Peafowl Short Take-Off and Vertical Landing Fighters had surrounded the fleet. Striking was still going to come. H-75 Knighthawks of naval variant, Halberdgardian-made helicopters which resembled the aged American UH-60 Blackhawk family were patrolling, setting up an anti-submarine warfare net. Countermeasures were armed and at the ready. Close-In Weapons Systems, on all the vessels which were present, both on the surfaced half of the boats and the under-side of them. Or at least the ones which had the said CIWS devices installed on the underside.

The assembled Southeast Asian Federal-Parliamentarian Naval fleet was certainly not prepared to be caught off-guard, carefully positioning itself between the land where they would have themselves set afoot onto dry land and where they would have sufficient time to escape the onslaught.

Along with the Chechen-descended, islander-native, Russian-descended, non-native and non-Chechen and non-Russian tourist individuals they could take with them. Under two conditions: One, as long as they were of the said factions, likely at least neutral and at most pro-Southeast Asian. Two, as long as they could make it in time to get space.

Meanwhile, vessels advance across the sea toward a designated Landing Zone…

For the Timorese-islander-originator Second Class Lieutenant Adalberto Soeprapto, this wasn’t quite what he had in mind when he enlisted. The said individual had been working for the logistical division of the Federal-Parliamentarian Armed Services, and had been assigned to this part of the military. His vision was to be in the navy as part of a warship, but got reassigned to the logistical chain much to his disgust. The reason he was reassigned? It was part of regular military duty to keep the crews integrated and appreciative, if not understanding of the other parts’ helpful and vital roles.

The transport contained his vehicle—all sources of the brand had been removed, but it was a product of the Van Luxemburgian Transportation Automotive Group—the M-5 military truck. It was durable, advanced and efficient a kind of vehicle. Surrounding the vehicle lay a bunch of lighter-vehicles, mostly LV-08 trucks and a few upgraded armored HMMWV units. They had, naturally and predictably, came from amphibious assault ships that were part of the fleet.

A sheet was on in the rear, covering the flatbed. Soeprapto’s vehicle could carry at least a couple dozen more people, not counting the six militarily-enlisted individuals that included himself and his affiliates. One to his left in the vehicle’s cabin, a dark-tanned Southeast Asian of Han Chinese descent (specifically from the region of Guangzhou), and a few more fellow Southeast Asians who came from the more archipelagic locations within the United Sovereign Nations.

He nevertheless understood the nature of his duty. What are odds? What are the risks? Lt. Soeprapto questioned, nevertheless. What are the odds? What are the risks?

He looked on, as the transport moved toward the designated landing zone, the skylines in desperate struggle between the Confederate States’ air force and the air force of the Republic that was part of a repressive state at one point. The planes, while high in the sky, still had outlines looked distinctly eastern European as well, arguably Soviet. Were the planes from Dat’Pizdy Corporation’s homeland? the Southeast Asian questioned himself. His eyes were gazed up to the heavens, squinting in an attempt to better identify their profile.

His colleague read his facial expression of wonderment of the aircraft that were dog-fighting, partially bored from watching the sea’s bobbing waves and had happened to catch him in wonderment. His colleague then briefly looked down to a compartment, and opened it to reveal a pair of binoculars. Placing it over his eyes, he gazed up, watching the dogfight and trying to identify the warplanes. He also asked himself the same question as the 2nd-class Lieutenant, albeit the man being more assured they were. Like the Commodore aboard the amphibious assault flagship, he chose to give the Board of Directors of Dat’Pizdy Corporation—if that was their origin—and the government, the benefit of doubt, and innocence until proven guilty.

Somewhere, very high up in the heavens…

The Ahab missile was named after an Israeli king, rich in luxuries, and who played a part in helping the rise and development and religion that was Judaism. However, the joint Isselmere-Nielander-Space-Unionist project was lavish and expensive, but far from an object of tranquility. In this case, the word Ahab was going to be a word which meant an object of death. If not the crusher of triumph, and those who sought for it. The Eternity of Victory was going to be the first sorry sight to be created from the first set of hypersonic anti-heavy capital warship rocket ballistae would hit. It would be roughly akin to a fastball smacking right into the side of your face. The element of surprise was going to be utilized.

The first-stage had been past—in what was originally eleven and nearly a half meters, it was only 6.4 when it had very nearly reached the peak of its destiny. The thermosphere, just nicely in between the range of anti-ballistic-missile projectiles from oppositional orbiting platforms and land-based, but far-reaching weapons which could reach up high. In other words, in this position, it was arguably at its prime difficulty to hit, and even so, successfully destroy. Then the other part of it dropped. The fact that those who worked on it added active and passive decoys on the very last stage of the Ahab was a last-ditch fail-safe to ensure the target felt the weapon’s mighty wrath.

Now, it descended. It was going to be a very hard target to hit now, if not hard to see. It was likely, that the Pudite military individuals would not actually see it until it was far too late. No time to say their last prayers, if they had any theistic beliefs or let alone were allowed to.

Winds gushed around the Ahab hypersonic ballistae, and if one were to just pass by, the force and frightening speed (a whopping near Mach 15!) of the projectiles could be mistaken for a space rock quite easily. And one last pinch by the designers of the Ahab had employed an ancient concept: it was argued and debated by Asian scholars around the continent, especially in East Asia, that Mongol Empire had equipped their mighty naval invasion fleet with explosive balls filled with iron particles that would act like shrapnel. If only the invasion of Japan in the 13th Century ordered by Kublai Khan had been more effectively planned, then the saying “haste makes waste” would not have become a self-fulfilling prophecy that would shatter the notion of Mongol invincibility. Had the hulls had proper keels for traveling in the ocean, then they may have survived the monstrous typhoon and still be able to overwhelm and defeat via greater numbers, dominate them through longer range—and lastly through superior technology—the formidable samurai and the rest of the ancient defense forces of Japan would have been in a fight that could have been considered it’s finest hour.

However, only this time, in the 21st century, the Federal-Parliamentarian Navy had superior craftsmanship, and better planning. Despite of the fact that the Federal New Liberal government, like all bureaucratic and political officials, did not truly and could rarely ever truly understand the functions of the armed services, they did what they could and delicately helped the armed services in their goal to protect the nation. The Mongol explosive ball concept, which had iron particles that would act like shrapnel once there was a wild and potent combusting reaction, had found a future relative in the Ahab.

As the post-boost vehicle stage arrived, the final section containing the warhead was now only at a mere one meter. Something big had come in a very small, but potent, package. Alas, by now it would have been too late to avoid getting a hole punched through the deck. There was a loud sound that could have been called “aggrandizing pain”, if metal had such an ability to cry out its agony. The warhead had crashed through, burrowing itself deep into the hull. An orange fireball appeared, killing and destroying what had been too close. Red-hot shards that consisted of nickel-steel and tungsten were then launched in all directions, wreaking havoc through the softer innards of the aircraft carrier like heat being trapped in a lobster being boiled alive, its tough exoskeleton acting as a nigh-inescapable cage for the heat. It was being boiled alive, but in this scenario, instead of hot water, what was killing the innards of the “creature” was metal shrapnel flying through long distances on the four-hundred-and-thirty-two-meter boat’s gut.

Elsewhere, several Kravenite super dreadnaughts, and less heavy warships (commonly battleships and aircraft carriers) would be facing the same thing. More Ahabs, often in pairs, had struck from above, going for the ship’s frontal half (the bow). The captains of the missile-striking ships knew they had to prepare for the very likely to be coming counterattack, and at the same time do what they can to help their Civic Coalition allies via their own strikes.

Here it goes… Commodore Jonathan Marcos thought.

The Kraven Corporation

16-07-2007, 18:49

(OOC: Christ, ok, this is going to be difficult, its like trying to learn to drive again when you’ve had your legs amputated from the thighs and your arms sown onto your ears, anyway, this post will be heavily work in Progress, as I post it, I’d like people to message me with the parts that I’ve missed that involve them, and then I’ll add them to the post, that’s the simplest way I can think of to get this fucker back on track, I’ve had internet problems for too long now and its time to get things moving again)

Kraven Sector of Yeltsmin (Eastern Sector)

The Message had been sent out to Kraven’s allies in Blackhelm and Leafanistan, that Kraven forces would be entering their sectors and securing them for the Supreme State, the two allies were ordered, in standard Kraven arrogance to co-operate fully with the Centurians that were making their moves towards the aforementioned sectors..

It wouldn’t be a quick operation however, as The Centurians were awaiting reinforcements from the Kraven Beachhead that had been formed several hours ago, the various tanks and Capitol Police formations sweeping up the beaches had gone all but totally unopposed and quickly any resistance had been crushed by the initial opening salvos from the dreaded Subjugator Super Dreadnaughts that lay out to sea, with it, they had signalled the coming of the storm, and the Kraven forces now amassed on the beach head..

The 185th, the 165th and the 17th Sturmpanzer Battalions were now pushing forwards, working through the streets to meet up with the smaller force of Centurians that were waiting and securing the sectors of the city they had been dropped into, they had set up machine gun posts in houses and used burnt out and over turned cars as makeshift barricades incase of a sudden counter attack..

Meanwhile above them, the Assault VTOLS continued to clash with the Groznyj fighters that were running sorties with the VTOLS and at the same time, avoiding the Carrier borne Interceptors of Kraven’s Air Arm…

However, while the battle raged on, Kraven Air Assets back in the main land were being mobilised and long range fighter bombers were preparing to launch several sorties, while long range interceptors were being fuelled and armed up, ready to intercept the bombers that had been picked up by the immensely powerful OTH Radar stations along the Kraven Coastline, all in all, the Kraven assault was being put onto the back foot by the sudden and un-predicted defence forces that had come to the aid of Yeltsmin, it was seemed that Groznyj had some good allies, or the worm that was Neo was letting his tongue lose again…

Leafanistan was given permission by the Kraven High Command to use Kraven airfields as a staging point to send in re-enforcements and co-ordinates of these runways were passed onto the Leafanistan force Commanders…

All it would take would be one more final push against the defenders, and the city would be Kraven’s…

However Helghan choose to intervene, He offered the people of Yeltsmin a solution, he sent a message to the Groznyj government…

To: The Groznyj Government
From: Helghan, Reichmarshal of the Secret Police

I am offering you an Opportunity to save the lives of those who are still in Yeltsmin, use this opportunity to talk wisely… it maybe your only chance.

Reichmarshal Helghan.

Blackhelm Confederacy

16-07-2007, 19:36

The Kraven relief would be a welcome sight for the mercenaries, who had never thought that they would have to see a fight like this in their lives. They signed up thinking that they would be bullying little nations and defending oil fields around the world, but now they were fighting an actual power in fierce house to house combat, and were taking huge casualties. Still, however, their resolve was not broken, and they fought on, drunkenly charging down streets and into homes, killing, raping, and pillaging as they went.

Nobody was safe anymore from the Griffincrest mercenaries, and the more riches they found, the more they wanted to find other treasures, and the more alcohol they found, the more they drank. These things fueled on the drive to take even more of the city from the local marines and militias. Chariot tanks and Mercury APC's were driving in massive columns down streets throughout Yeltsmin, and anyone not wearing an allied uniform was cut down.

At sea, the Griffincrest fleets prepared for their battle with the Groznian fleet. Hundreds of F-14 Tomcats took to the skies and set their weapons on the enemy vessels. In minutes, thousands of missiles would soon be on their way for the ships attempting to eveacuate their citizens from the dying city. Aboard the massive dreadnought that was serving as flagship of the Griffincrest fleet, Admiral Redhammer braced himself for the worst. He too, had never thought that he would be thrown up against a real power, and never once considered the fact that he would be killed at sea. The Groznians and their allies, however, were a threat to his fleet as well as his personal safety, and only time would tell what the fate of the Griffincrest 7th and 10th fleets would be.

Blackhelm Confederacy

16-07-2007, 19:48

Leafanistan

16-07-2007, 19:56

Leafanistan was given permission by the Kraven High Command to use Kraven airfields as a staging point to send in re-enforcements and co-ordinates of these runways were passed onto the Leafanistan force Commanders…

All it would take would be one more final push against the defenders, and the city would be Kraven’s…

The Republican Commanders were pleased at the report and knew that this strategic airlift was completely necessary. The battle for Yeltsmin was not as easy as the Corporate Alliance higher ups initially claimed it would be. However, with Kraven sending in orders to allow strategic airlift, the end would come much faster.

Ilyushin-18's were in the air slightly before the announcement came from the Corporation and were quickly followed by loaded Ilyushin-76 Strategic Airlifters.

The Republic had been pushed a bit too quickly into the conflict and found its rapidly mobile divisions under attack from forces that were doing far too well. And it dipped into its military reserve, the product of twisted biological experiments, and the nuclear last death cries of the many nations that had fallen under the Skull and Sickle of the Red Islands.

A massive army of what were essentially disposable infantry, all of them mentally disabled, an army of retarded men, women and children. Many a few were disobedient prisoners and were lobotomized. A few were victims of other conflicts, shot in the head and rendered as drooling automatons. The rest were the byproduct of perhaps hundreds of nuclear, thermonuclear, and neutron weapons spread out over dozens of nations, born stupid, deformed or both, they all received the same treatment once they entered into the massive 'Orphanariums' operated by the Mafia.

Each one was sedated and a master surgeon, usually called a 'weaver', because he would slice open the bottom of their spinal cord and watch as the various nerves fell out of the bundle like thousands of tiny strings. Then he would 'weave' them together by taking a hacked biocontrol chip usually used on car accident patients and sew and solder each strand onto a separate part of the chip and seal the person back up. The chip was known as a 'Pain Chip' and was used by Cohort's to control the Legions of Morons that served as the human wave element of the Mafia.

Those missing or having deformed limbs were usually equipped with M79 Bloopers, fused to their bodies through the still limited grasp of cybernetics the Mafia possessed. Their good hand would reach into a bandolier of grenades or buckshot rounds and they would serve as the heavy infantry of the Idiot Corps.

Over 20 Legions and their associated HT-50 Universal Carriers were being airlifted. The first few would begin landing on the airfield that was being rebuilt by the soldiers on the ground. They would be whipped and shocked into moving forward, hopefully the grotesque army would create a psychological effect along with a strategic advantage.

Leafanistan

16-07-2007, 20:03

I heard the world up late night holding my breath tight
Trying to keep my head on right
Theres a chill in the air
Nobody could care
How youre caught up in the fight of your life
- OAR

Coordinator Diamonddagger was pinned down by militia fire in a tiny alley, with fire pouring in from all sides. His thorouoghly intoxicated troops were unable to fire off a shot with out falling first, and those who were able to accurately aim their weapons were either dead or wounded. A few blocks down, a column of Mercury's that was en route to relieve the men was hit by Spizanian CAS, and now the situation was looking grim. The only hope for these men now was that the Kraven Capitol Police would be able to find them and bail them out of their current situation before it was too late.

Some of the men in the unit, however, were not big fans of the CP. Men were drunkenly shouting how if they ever saw a CP, he would walk up and punch it square in the face. Others cheered in agreement, but Crdntr. Diamondagger just shook his head.

Suddenly the sound of caseless gunfire, a wonderful clacking-bang but with no metallic fall came from the other side. A grenade explosion followed, and then the shouts of retreat. More grenades came down upon the militia as they flet the alley and from the smoke and ash came two blood and dirt covered people.

A tall, tanned, Private Watcher reloading a M32 Light Machine Gun, and a thin and beautiful Captain Ricardo, firing a G36 at the retreating men. They shouted into Coordinator Diamonddagger's position.

"Hey! This is Cpt. Ricardo and Pvt. Ant of the Foxtrot Platoon of the Red Islander's 2nd Expeditionary Corps."

Suddenly another gunshot echoed down the valley and a sniper hiding in a fire escape came tumbling down. His bolt action rifle clattered into a garbage can and his body made a fine crunch as it hit the ground. Pvt. Watcher lowered his M32 and flipped the SmartScope off.

"Anyone still alive in there?"

Groznyj

17-07-2007, 16:48

To: The Groznyj Government
From: Helghan, Reichmarshal of the Secret Police

I am offering you an Opportunity to save the lives of those who are still in Yeltsmin, use this opportunity to talk wisely… it maybe your only chance.

Reichmarshal Helghan.

The messege was received by the president, now in hıs war room, almost ımmedıatly. Standby elements of the army had been mobilized and several war plans had been drawn up in the emergency situation. There had been a contingıency ıf Yeltsmın had been attacked but nothıng was enough to answer thıs kınd of assault. The Republıc Navy had lost half of ıts effectıve fıghtıng force and was now almost totally dependant on ıts aır and submarıne arms. From all reports the news was that the cıty couldn't hold the siege much longer. Somehow a token force of Marınes coupled wıth an exceptıonally courageous populous had held ıts own agaınst a few of the world's most feared powers and possıbly led theır leaders to questıon theır past notıon of the Republıc of Chechnya. But heroısm and galantry asıde the numbers told a dıfferent story. Fıgures of enemy casualtıes were vague; "thousands" "droves", the Marınes had lost almost 40% of theır ınıtıal force (that's excludıng the dıvısıon that was wıped out) and mılıtıa counts were almost nonexıstent; when a brıgade ceased communıcatıon ıt was assumed ıt had been routed or annıhılated. Everywhere the streets were fılled wıth bodıes. Now that ıt was lıght outsıde the grotesque sıck romance of urban combat came ınto ıts own. Most armored elements ın the cıty had been destroyed and forced from their vehıcles. Most remaınıng tank platoons were outsıde of the cıty eıther provıdıng artıllery support or tryıng to flank the enemy. Lt.Gen. Chester McGreen had made it clear that the sıtuatıon was past dıre and was now fırmly ın the realms of pychotıcness. He was doıng hıs best to evacuate a cıty and beat back beseıgers at the same tıme but the resources he had at hand weren't goıng to cut ıt.

A plan was beıng drawn up for retakıng the cıty and takıng the fıght back to the scum that had laıd the fırst sucker punch. But at the moment Chechnya had neıther the means nor the tıme. It's navy could not hope to offer a fıght wıthout supurb leadershıp and even then goıng head to head wıth the Kravenite armada was suıcıde. Most of all the cıty had to be evacuated. The heavıly armed B-52s just needed a lıttle more tıme to get to target. 1,400 fighter and attack aircraft; a lıttle over 15% of Chechnya's fıghter aır assets were being readied for a deep strıke mıssıon hoppıng from Southeast Asıan aırbases to Yeltsmın or ınflıght refuel ıf that wasnt permıtted.

Wıth all thıs taken ınto account the followıng reply was sent.

To: Helghan, Reichmarshal of the Secret Police
From: Ramzan Urmev, President of the Republıc of Chechnya

I will not ask why you have chose to attack us without warning or how, at this point it does not matter to me. The only thing I will ask for is a 8 hour ceasefire to conclude at precisely 16:00 for the purpose of evacuating civilians out of the city and out of harms way. Furthermore the names of those assisting you in this battle are of understandable interest to me.

President Ramzan Urmev

To: Kenix Kil, the President of the Democratic Imperium of Halberdgardia.
From: Ramzan Urmev, President of the Republıc of Chechnya

It has come to my attentıon by the word of Presıdent Neo that you are ın possesıon of resources you would allow to be used at my descretıan. If thıs ıs true I would be most grateful and ınterested ın what you have to offer.

To: President Neo of the United Southeast Asian Nations
From: Ramzan Urmev, President of the Republıc of Chechnya

You are welcome and your gratitude has been noted. I have requested a ceasefıre wıth the Kraven forces. I doubt wether or not Helghan wıll comply but eıtherway my navy and that of the Spizanians is holding off enemy naval forces for now. In the mean tıme civilians are beıng evacuated form the cıty.

There is another ıtem of ımportance I would lıke to dıscuss wıth you. When Yeltsmın ıs lost ıt ıs ınevıtable that your sovereıgn land wıll be attacked. You and I both know thıs and that ıf you fall my natıon wıll appear weak and thus become the next target. There are currently 1,400 fıghter and attack aırcraft ready for take off on the eastern edges of Chechen land. I want to ask for your permıssıon that they be allowed to land, arm, and refuel at aırfıelds ın your natıon and launch a counter offensıve from there. Addıtıonally I want to know what your feelıngs are of establıshıng Chechen aırbases ın the USAN or ıntegratıng Chechen and USAN aırwıngs (although due to language barrıers and havıng only englısh as a shared language that may prove dıffıcult). Plans are beıng drawn up of a bombıng campaıgn on Yeltsmın to suppress enemy coalıtıon forces ıf they have taken the cıtythe cıty has fallen. Perhaps our forces can work ın unıon to keep thıs threat at bay? I leave thıs optıon to you. Wether or not you agree the Republıc of Chechnya wıll stıll manage a way to contınue the fıght.

President Ramzan Urmev

To: Stephen Larsen, Grand Archduchy of the Hamptonian Empire
From: Ramzan Urmev, President of the Republıc of Chechnya

[I]It has been brought to my attentıon by President Nelson Neo of the USAN that your natıon would be wıllıng to aıd mıne ın the evacuatıon of cıvılıans. Whıle I would prefer all refugees sent to the maınland of the USAN for easıer processıng and transportatıon back home, ıf you have any shıps ın the area capable of ferryıng refugees out of harms way that would be greatly apprecıated.

President Ramzan Urmev

The Kraven Corporation

17-07-2007, 20:37

Kraven Forces Across Yeltsmin

The Sounds of battle raged outside, as Subjugator after Subjugator opened fire on distant targets, each of the shells exploding in a bright flurry of fire, somewhere that didn’t really matter or care to the gunners that loaded another shell into the huge 28” EM Rifled ETC Naval guns that dominated the vessel…

Helghan watched silently through the dark crimson eye pieces of his death mask, his rhythmic breathing almost acting as a metronome to the battles that raged beyond, it was like watching a movie, a young officer approached, saluting sharply and reading out the note that was held in his hand…

Helghan never once turned, or acknowledged the Officers presence, but once the man had finished, the half man, half machine Reichmarshal, simply nodded…

The Officer saluted again, before turning and leaving to the Command Relay on board…

The Eight hour cease fire had begun, one by one the Subjugators ceased their firing and an uneasy calm started to wash upon the shores as Capitol Police stopped their firing and ceased the placing of C12 Charges, Battle tanks rolled to a stop, their twin V8 engines idling away to themselves as tank crews and gunners awaited the next command…

A group of Officers, stood around the table, arguing over the cease fire… why had Helghan ordered them to stop when their forward units were making so much head way, already elements of the 17th Sturmpanzer Battalion had started to link up with the Centurians in the forward sectors, and were preparing to make the push to link up with the Leafanistan and Blackhelm forces.

“The Key to the successful operation, is to link up with our allies, why then have we stopped the advance…”

Helghan strode through the door…

“Because Gentlemen, we have not…. While we are not directly shelling, or attacking the Yeltsmin Capitol, we have ceased fire… Not ceased our advance….”

The Officers all smiled, nodding in agreement, when they realised the plan of Helghan, while the allied forces of Yeltsmin and Chechnya ceased fire and recovered their losses, and evacuated more civilians, Kraven forces would be re-supplying , and reinforcing their positions, ensuring that any counter attacks would meet stiff resistance…

“Continue the Advance, Order the 17th to link up with the Centurian Forward Divisions, have the 185th continue its advance towards the Centurians and then the 165th dig in and reinforce their positions, you have your orders Gentlemen… Carry them out” Helghan spoke while waving a hand and ordering the Officers to return to their Vessels…

Forward Positions - Centurian Division and Forward Elements of the 17th Sturmpanzer Battalion

Capitol Police advanced through the ruined streets, where corpses, burnt out cars and everything else imaginable, littered the streets, thousands of bricks, piping, chairs, tables, all sorts of things covered the roads, it was difficult to tell in the dark morning twig light what exactly you were walking on, but this didn’t concern the Capitol Police, they followed orders and didn’t care if they were walking over some bodies corpse or some pieces of rubble…

They began to link up with the Centurians, handing out ammunition and weapons, grenades and setting up heavy machine gun positions, the Leman Russ brigades started to form up into mobile divisions, while the 17th split off into these mobile divisions in an effort to support the Leman Russ Battalions…

The 185th that was following the first two battalions, began to deploy their Heavy artillery, 18” artillery pieces and the dreaded Earthshaker mobile artillery, they dug themselves in during the ceasefire, preparing for counter attacks, thousands of Capitol Police digging trenches while the Engineer Korpz began to lay tank traps, sand bags and other obstacles that would make a counter attack by the Chechnyn Allied forces, while they wouldn’t complete all of the defences within the Eight Hour cease fire they would make a major effort and it would be better than nothing…

Else where Centurians started to advance into the city, towards the positions of the Chechnyn forces, using stealth and subtly to close the gap, they would pass from house to house in groups of three, setting up explosives and booby traps, laying grenades under bodies and under old ammunition boxes, hoping that when allied forces advanced towards the Kraven lines, these efforts would hamper theirs…

The Kraven forces so far hadn’t fired a single shot, but the advance continued, unabated…

[Closed Message: To The Chechnyn Government]

You Have Eight Hours.

Leafanistan

17-07-2007, 21:54

Else where Centurians started to advance into the city, towards the positions of the Chechnyn forces, using stealth and subtly to close the gap, they would pass from house to house in groups of three, setting up explosives and booby traps, laying grenades under bodies and under old ammunition boxes, hoping that when allied forces advanced towards the Kraven lines, these efforts would hamper theirs…

The Kraven forces so far hadn’t fired a single shot, but the advance continued, unabated…

[Closed Message: To The Chechnyn Government]

You Have Eight Hours.

Unsigned Message to the Ichkerian Government

Eight Hours from the Skull and Sickle.

[END]

The ceasefire seemed an anticlimactic thing. The artillery guns fell silent, the attack helicopters disappeared back to their carriers and assault ships, jets disappeared from the sky. Soldiers on the ground began dragging away the dead, valuables were now being carted away very rapidly and efficiently from Sungri Scouts moving down the ruined streets. A massive pot was forming at the airbase as the first of the Ilyushins began landing the Army of Slaves.

It was a sight to behold, thousands of drooling idiots lined up on the runways, a few being 'zapped' or whipped into place, all of them holding guns. Many of them were grotesquely deformed or maimed. The sight of the few 'Juggernauts' as the Cohorts called them, large legionaries with grenade launchers fused to their arms caused those with weak stomachs to vomit. The mass of idiots were forced into armored trucks to be taken to the front.

Despite their physical and mental problems, they were each honed for combat. A computer chip dulled their pain responses to acknowledgments, autoinjectors containing adrenaline and morphine protruded from their tortured bodies. Those without two fully functional eyes wore either tactical goggles that improved their vision, or had a relatively untested, 'photonic sensor' a psuedoeye, grown from worms grafted to their faces to give them a slight advantage on the battlefield.

They were the new face of the Skull and Sickle, the mysterious third party assaulting the beaches of Yeltsmin, the new front line, a nightmarish collection of ugly miscreants.

However, the skies were not completely clear. R44 Raven Police Model Helicopters, stubby little things with only 2 seats, a pitiful range, but a FLIR camera began taking pictures of the city for intelligence purposes. A picket of transport helicopters flew at low altitude and at high speed toward the Griffencrest and Kraven holdings, inside were estimate positions of resistance and of their forces to help consolidate a front against the enemy and finally take Yeltsmin from the enemy.

Blackhelm Confederacy

18-07-2007, 00:39

Griffincrest forces were slower to respond to the cease fire than the rest of the Corporate forces, as the men had been in a state that made their attitude the farthest thing from compliance. It took nearly forty five minutes to get the bulk of the mercenaries from fighting, and even still, there were pockets that refused to give up. Men continued to fight on in their drunken fury until they were killed by either the enemy, or their own officers.

The eight hours, however, came as a relief to the officers. By the end of the ceasefire, the men would be rested and hopefully sober, and it would also be day light. That would prove tremendously helpful in spotting enemy position, especially for the artillery forces and the old, outdated Folland Gnats, which were being used as ground attack weapons because of their ability to carry rockets and bombs, and they were so cheap that it did not really matter if they were taken out.

In the time they were given, the mercenaries began taking their treasure back to their ships and taking their prisoners out of their holding facilities and shipping them out to the prison ships at sea. The men were carrying things ranging from cases soda to priceless pieces of artwork looted from the museum away from Yeltsmin, and it was obvious that some of the men were going to go back to their homes as very, very wealthy men.

Meanwhile, aboard the Thievery

Admiral Redhammer sat at the head of a large oak table, around which sat the rest of his staff. They had been discussing the cease fire, and arguing over whether or not it should be followed. Redhammer believed that the ceasefire would give the men much needed to to rest, sober up, and be resupplied, but many of the other officers believed that all of the momentum that they had gained would be lost. Not only that, but, many argued, that it was letting valuable potential employees and treasures escape from the men who were promised loot.

Another debate was going on about the ceding of Griffincrest territory to the forces of Kraven. Griffincrest mercenaries fought and died for it, and now they were going to just give it up? Many did not like this idea, but once again, they were over ruled by the Admiral, who believed that this would let the mercenaries begin to take second line roles and thus preserve many of their lives.

Redhammer did not change his opinion of the situation, and so, things would go on as Helghan had decided. In a few hours, the fight would be raging once more, only this time the Kraven war machine would be in full swing, pummeling away at the allied forces alongside the Griffincrest and Republican mercenaries.

A street in Yeltsmin...

Crdntr. Diamondagger struggled to look through the smoke as the two new figures approached. Finally, he saw that the two people approaching him bore Republican insignia, and let out a sigh of relief.

"I'm alright, but we got a few guys pretty hurt down here. You think you guys can lend a hand?"

Emporer Pudu

20-07-2007, 15:53

The Republic of Chechnya, City of Yeltsmin, North-Western Sector
All around him, order was progressing through chaos. Perfectly-lined battalions of impeccably-attendant, battle-hardened parachute infantry were marching off, at a quick step. Rows of light vehicles and armored columns made their way through the thoroughly destroyed streets as through they were grassy fields. It was all going perfectly.

And yet, General Stepan Turbanov was not satisfied. It could not be said that he was not happy, for he could register very little of what may be considered 'happiness' in his single-minded approach, but he understood satisfaction, and he did not have it. This was largely due to the fact that, very recently, he had received a terse message from Kraven authorities in the eastern section of the city, outlining a 'cease-fire' that was coming into effect. This meant he would have to stop shooting people, which was in prime collision with his orders to eliminate the enemy forces within the city. He had a problem.

Although he understood here that Kraven officials were in a commanding role, they were not Pudite. His desire to obey them out of sheer rank was colliding with his desire to ignore them based on their foreign birth. He knew he was allied with them, and that it was, by-and-large, their war, but he was not theirs, was he?

He had not belayed the orders to advance he had so recently given, the battalions of infantrymen were still on their way wherever they were going. However, as it were, the order coming from Kraven command centers was filtering down through the chain of command, whether General Turbanov liked it or not. That was simply the way it was.

Whatever he said, he knew his men would obey him over the Kraven authorities, as he was their direct commander, giving a direct order. However, Turbanov had no direct commander, at the moment, and was forced now to act on his own initiative; something Pudite soldiers were notoriously un-used to.

Twenty-thousand-odd men were now under orders to obstruct an advancing armored column, to assault a highway or street, or to infiltrate the city, but they were also under orders not to fire a shot while doing so...

Soon after, General Stepan Turbanov issued the order; "No soldier of the Imperial Air Force should in any way derelict any previous order, although in no way should the recent order to cease the fire of weapons be disobeyed in doing so."

Essentially, Turbanov had just ordered roughly nine-thousand men, the remnants of nine full battalions, to walk calmly towards the enemies defensive positions on the highway, and pass them by. Nowhere in the order did it mention physical violence prohibited. Never would the soldiers fire their weapons, until fired upon, that is.

Alone of the ten battalions sent on the offensive, Fedor's battalion was tasked with assaulting a series of small alleyways to the north of the highway. They too, would be forced to simply march at their adversaries, restricted in action until the fight began again.

Of the ten battalions sent to intercept the foreign counter-attack, they too would resist without firearms. They would form human barricades before the advancing enemy, forcing the Chechen vehicles to roll over Pudite soldiers to advance. This, of course, would spark a full retaliation from the defenders...

It was an eerie sight, ten-thousand soldiers marching off into a destroyed city, utterly devoid of speech and without the familiar ambient gunfire, it was as if someone had simply hit a 'mute' button on their television.

The advance continued.

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

Meanwhile, a few kilometers off shore, the battle was just beginning. Only seconds before, there stood the advance fleet, dispatched by the Imperial Air Force to escort the ground divisions. Now, the center of said fleet was a sight of chaos and ruin.

Come streaking out of the sky, an enemy missile, the Pudites had little way of telling whose it was, men it's own cacophonous end upon, and indeed below, the decks of the Vengeance-class supercarrier, the Eternity of Victory.

Impacting her midsection, the projectile cleanly sliced through the submissive armor and detonated effectively inside the bowels of the ship, releasing an explosion that drowned the ship in flames. Smoke poured from the open wound, obfuscating the craft itself from view.

Inside, Fleet Admiral Milovan Elistratov was returning to his feet after the sheer shock of the blast. Before him lay the remnants of what was once his bridge; the windows were all smashed our, cleanly broken and now scattered entirely out of the pane and all about the room. Large fragments of metal were embedded in the far wall, as well as a number of crewmen. Blood and smoke were in equal measure, as the Admiral attempted to regain his bearings.

He could see little out of what was once a window, but now resembled more of a simple hole, with chunks of structure almost as common as glass laying about the floor. It was a silent death, for his crew. There were no screams of pain or fear, no cries for help. Such things were bred of a knowledge that there was, in fact, someone willing to help. As Milovan Elistratov looked out at what he could see of his ship, he knew. He was already dead.

Beneath him, great cries and deep moanings were heard, not from human mouths, but from the polished white steel of the superstructure. The ship was dying, all aboard could tell.

Crewmen made no attempt to escape, no attempt to salvage their ship. Quite the contrary, every soldier present made, quite hastily, for the railing.

As the ship, cut neatly above the waterline as she was, began to bend inwards, the remains of her soot-stained and bloody crew took up parade positions at the railing of their ship. The fissure in the deck began to complain louder, and the ship tipped more inwards. Men slipped and fell, but no gaze left the ocean before them. They knew their duty, and they knew they had failed.

Admiral Elistratov stood, with his hands now folded neatly behind his back, at the fore of his bridge. His boots were soaked with the blood of his officers, his face cut with the glass of his window. Ever more he forced himself to remain upright, as the ship heaved more and more.

There was a secondary explosion, ripping through what was left of the structure of the ship. Deafening all those on board, it threw the entire bow section of the ship away, tilting heavily to the port side, threatening to capsize.

With the force of the blast, the aft section too was shaken violently. So violently, in fact, that it finally dislodged the determined Admiral from his perch. Fleet Admiral Elistratov fell forward, crashing into a panel of instruments, he began to slide towards the edge of his bridge, towards the gaping hole before him. He remained motionless. He tumbled, hands folded out of his tower...

Behind him, came the rest. As the Admiral, once commander of the whole Task Force here off Yeltsmin impacted with the tarnished white steel of the deck, he was buried soon by tons of hard steel from above him, as the conning tower fell.

The Admiral was dead, and the ship burning and sundered. The bow section had already begun to slip beneath the waves, its water-tight holds having been punctured by a series of explosions.

The remaining crewmen aboard the aft section stood motionless, as they awaited their turn.

There would be no rescue effort, no search for survivors. All those aboard were now dead, and the ship was gone. An Eternity, passed.

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

Watching this scene, or at least, what he could of it, for all the smoke, was Vice Admiral Simon Prisiazhnik, aboard the Honor by Glory. Before him, the ritual of aircraft taking off and landing continued, unabated.

Now, however, the aircraft were not firing on the enemy, merely making their presence known. This was good, as there was now a slight bit of chaos as the primary commander and one of the largest floating airstrips available sunk beneath the waves. Aircraft were being forced to wait as others queued up behind them, all waiting to land to be refueled and re-armed. Although only thirteen aircraft were lost with the Eternity of Victory, said ship's space was turning out to have been rather necessary.

For the next eight hours, or however long this cease-fire managed to last, command structures would be re-organized, aircraft re-shuffled, and carrier space re-defined. Soon, it would all be a perfectly flowing machine again, just not immediately.

There was still a battle to be won.

Leafanistan

20-07-2007, 19:17

Meanwhile, aboard the Thievery

Admiral Redhammer sat at the head of a large oak table, around which sat the rest of his staff. They had been discussing the cease fire, and arguing over whether or not it should be followed. Redhammer believed that the ceasefire would give the men much needed to to rest, sober up, and be resupplied, but many of the other officers believed that all of the momentum that they had gained would be lost. Not only that, but, many argued, that it was letting valuable potential employees and treasures escape from the men who were promised loot.

Another debate was going on about the ceding of Griffincrest territory to the forces of Kraven. Griffincrest mercenaries fought and died for it, and now they were going to just give it up? Many did not like this idea, but once again, they were over ruled by the Admiral, who believed that this would let the mercenaries begin to take second line roles and thus preserve many of their lives.

Redhammer did not change his opinion of the situation, and so, things would go on as Helghan had decided. In a few hours, the fight would be raging once more, only this time the Kraven war machine would be in full swing, pummeling away at the allied forces alongside the Griffincrest and Republican mercenaries.

A street in Yeltsmin...

Crdntr. Diamondagger struggled to look through the smoke as the two new figures approached. Finally, he saw that the two people approaching him bore Republican insignia, and let out a sigh of relief.

"I'm alright, but we got a few guys pretty hurt down here. You think you guys can lend a hand?"

Independent Mafia Fleet

Since most the ships were acting in a hive mind sort of mentality, the organized attacks of the enemy were a sort of double edged sword. While they could evade rather well and act randomly and independently without orders, they presented a tactical difficultly to enemy commanders. However, because of their lack of organization they couldn't coordinate without some serious talking or shouting, a strategic weakness.

Right now a lot of their ships had taken damage, but they were reforming. A man calling himself Admiral Muse had begun shouting orders and people were listening. They were going to try to get an organized formation going.

Alleys of Yeltsmin

Cpt. Ricardo shoved Ant aside as she took the lead. She was the commanding officer after all.

"We have no medical supplies, but we'll try to help."

They walked into the alley, stepping over bodies and debris and arrived at the Coordinator's position. They greeted him, and then tried to get themselves out of the alley.

"It seems a ceasefire has been called, no one is shooting anywhere, we can make it back to a medical tent or something."

Groznyj

21-07-2007, 01:06

Ceasefire T-8 hrs, Yeltsmin

"Yes Admiral. The evacuation will begin right away. How far away are those transports?.....Good to hear it. McGreen out."

The Lt. General hung up the phone gently and closed his eyes whilst making a grimace and sighing. This ceasefire was a double-edged sword. He didn't like it. He would much rather have reinforcements. But there would be none of that, or at least little of it. His orders at the moment were to evacuate the city and hold the front lines until further orders. This meant something very odd would be taking place shortly. The Lt.General open his eyes and his heart skipped a beat when he realized it.

"No fucking way."

Meanwhile across the city the order was sent and received. Marines stop firing the few bullets they had left and began another equally vigorous fight: evacuation of a city. Militia forces were slower to receive the command but they were not in uniform so technically it one man wanted to go down in a blaze of glory it wasn't the Army's fault... technically. With a single division weakened and dispersed across half a city things were going to be difficult. The order was given by Marine officers to Militia officers to start evacuating everyone. Nothing was said on what the fighters were to do; evac or stay. Some men took the opportunity to pass out after draining a canteen of water or looting a shot-up cafe or bar for whatever replenishing liquids it had. At an intersection a Marine and a regular cried in each other's arms as the other men walked by pretending not to notice. The soldiers in the city reorganized themselves and redistributed ammunition from un-exploded ammo depots. Those that couldn't fight were evacuated along with the sick and elderly in overfilled black hawks. The sight was chilling. The romance of battle had taken a new face: the story of war had now turned to aftermath if only but an intermission. In the streets: the children screamed, the lovers cried, and the poets dreamed, but not a word was spoken, so many lives were broken. And it was that in the eerie lull that was ceasefire millions of people made their way towards the airport for extraction. They had but 8 hours. As per traditional custom as well as martial law those that were unable to walk the 14 miles to the airport were the ones shuttled in automobiles. Back in the city men speaking in Chechen and Turkish reassured terrified women and families that all was well and that it was safe for them to leave. As strong in mind and body as these men from Chechnya were, let no one say that the memory of entering an apartment to the screams of children and reassuring women in tears in their arms was lost on any man. For now they did their best to remain stoic and convincing that all was well. They had to be. They were the fighters, these men were looked up to by the women and others. Some men walked with tears down their faces, others stared straight ahead showing no emotion whatsoever. What was enfolding was more than a national tragedy, it was something else. This day would be lamented in song for generations.

In the meantime, while the west of the city was slowly pouring forth its remaining human contents, some clinging to the bodies of dead loved ones, the men in the east faced something far more than awkward. The order was given. Many officers asked for a repeat in case they had heard wrong. Their soldiers did the same in turn. They were to head straight into enemy lines without firing a single shot in order to evacuate civilians. Looting and enemy soldiers were to be ignored. Instances of rape were to be intervened as were any executions or any of the enemy's own civilian 'evacuations'.

The scene was more than odd. In the north where the fighting had been the most intense Chechen soldiers and militia-men advanced with weapons down towards those that they had been trying to kill so vehemently only minutes ago. As they passed they looked their enemy in the eyes taking note of who this foe was. And thus it was that one of the other mystery players in the conflict had been identified for sure and to the surprise of headquarters. The Griffincrest Corporation. Most soldiers were silent as they passed by. Any man would be a liar if he told you he was afraid in some form at that moment. Others began cursing in Chechen, some in Turkish, and a few in German and Russian. As soldiers began moving in a military diplomatic party consisting of some officers was sent to the joint Griffincrest-Red Isles front lines with a message,

As part of the terms agreed to by the Kraven Corporation in this ceasefire, elements of the Chechen military and militia will enter enemy lines for the sole purpose of evacuating the civilian population.

signed, Lt.General Chester McGreen,
Chechen Marine Corps

As this was happening even more awkward events began to enfold in the center of the city. In the midst of bombed out skyscrapers (a true sight to behold at anytime) Chechen forces moved in towards the Kraven Capitol Police and Centurions without any dialog. The sight was something to behold for the soldiers; in the distance tall figures of blackness and death, something out of a comic novel, appeared out of the dust. Without any word soldiers past advancing CPs while en route to evacuate the populous. Helicopters flew overhead observing what was enfolding and blaring loudspeakers towards the populous. Below was an office building which had crashed into another. 40 stories in the sky a man in a white collar fell out of the building to his death. Moments later the two massive buildings smashed to the ground on the side. While the Capitol Police made their defenses the Marines evacuated civilians with an intense vigor. They just wanted to get the hell away from these things.

As all this went on, in the north of the city another awkward moment was enfolding. After receiving the order a group of soldiers layed land mines across a road and made a large sign in English reading, If you come any closer you're going to get your shit blown up. Caution Landmines. At first their commanding officer was about to scold the men but then he read the sign a second time and started laughing. It caught on: every major choke point bared the same message in a big sign and land mines in front of it. Whether the Pudite's wanted to walk onto hundreds of anti-vehicle and anti-personal mines was their choice. That part of the city having being previously evacuated made it less important.

And for the tanks that rolled to flank the Pudites they caught the order just in time. Rolling slowly, tanks traversed parallel to the line of soldiers, their 120mm guns only inches from the faces of the enemy. This procession went on for some time as the large number of tanks went by. Finally the last of the 3 mystery players had been identified to the utter shock of those in command. For in actuality most of the armor the Chechens were using as well as roughly their whole air force had been bought from the Pudites. The irony had run full circle. It was these same guns the enemy was now staring down. But not a shot was fired. Instead the massive armored column sped north into the forest. From there they would traverse dirt roads to the Strait of Yeltsmin (the Strait of Paradise) to rendezvous with assault ships in order to be deployed somewhere else.

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

As all this went on an armada of ships appeared on the horizon. Merchant ships, fishing ships, everything. All with the intent of onloading as many evacuees they could and getting the hell out of there and into USAN territorial waters, a place of present safety. The Chechen Republic Navy reorganized itself. Fighters were being refueled and new sorties planned. A constant presence was kept over the city: if the enemy would exploit the ceasefire so would they. The battleship group was called back to the main fleet and the submarine and CAP picket extended. Within the 8 hours satellites would take advantage of the light to bring mission planners and commanders a clear view of the battlefield or what wasn't enveloped in dust.

Thousands of miles west 1,400 fighter aircraft made their way to the USAN. All were unarmed and carrying fuel tanks. As they screamed toward friendly territory, the 15 B-52s turned to land and refuel in USAN territory. They were called back so that their assault could be synchronized with the rest of the general air assault to hit home at exactly 6 o'clock in the afternoon.

In precisely 8 hours the battle of Yeltsmin would enter a climax. In 8 hours the fate of Yeltsmin would be decided.

Leafanistan

21-07-2007, 01:48

Front Lines

The Red Island forces moved forward. They could see the Ichkerian forces walking toward them. And they decided to put on their best faces.

The men and women that walked by the Ichkerian forces smiled and sometimes passed them candy bars and cigarettes. Those that had liquor bottles shared them. Mostly though, it was a field of misery.

The dead were being dragged away into black painted Type 63 armored personnel carriers. And soon the Ichkerians forces would see the first of the Slave Legions, or the Lobo Legions. Thousands of men and women, all of them a dull look in their eyes, and a well dressed commander behind them, ordering them around to do the most basic of tasks. Using a remote to seemingly dispatch invisible electric beams to do harm to those that disobeyed.

The Ichkerian dead were handled separately, weapons and belongings stripped off of them , but still lined up in well ordered lines, 1 person deep. Rape incidents were remarkably uncommon in the Mafia. Loose women and traveling harems made them quite obsolete. Captain Ricardo's incident had spread amongst the soldiers as 'Some hardcore bitch', a term coined by a Griffencrest Officer.

Soon the bemused soldiers would find themselves being told from far better dressed officers they were being relieved by 'Volunteer Light Rifle Legions'. And there was a great march backwards as the Lobo Legions took their place.

Alley

As Captain Ricardo and Private Watcher carried away the wounded a small detachtment of Ichkerian soldiers walked by. Captain Ricardo, ever the madwoman, stuck out her hand, thumb and ring finger tucked, pinky, middle and index finger extended. She then stuck out her tongue and licked the air.

Private Watcher just did a weak smile and carried the wounded men.

A Humvee Ambulance bounced toward them and stopped. A medic got out and helped the men into the truck. Meanwhile a Lobo Legion moved forward, the lead Cohort informing them that they were now relieved by the 105th Volunteer Light Rifle Legion, a sick joke on the true nature of the Legions.

Captain Ricardo wondered just how many of these 'volunteer reinforcements' there were.

Halberdgardia

21-07-2007, 04:18

To: Kenix Kil, the President of the Democratic Imperium of Halberdgardia.
From: Ramzan Urmev, President of the Republıc of Chechnya

It has come to my attentıon by the word of Presıdent Neo that you are ın possesıon of resources you would allow to be used at my descretıan. If thıs ıs true I would be most grateful and ınterested ın what you have to offer.

President Ramzan Urmev

Kil read the communique with some small measure of relief. He had thought that the length of time that had passed between Neo's communique alerting him to the Chechen situation and now had portended the fall of the Chechen Republic to the Corporate Alliance aggressors assaulting it. Instead, they were still fighting. He greatly respected the courage of Urmev and his people in their continuing fight to stop the Kraven hordes.

The line of defense between the Kraven forces and Southeast Asia is yet unbroken, he thought to himself. Slowly yielding, yes, but still unbroken.

The enemy's hordes could yet be repulsed.

He began to type.

Encrypted Response

To: Ramzan Urmev, President of the Republic of Chechnya
From: Kenix Kil, President of the Democratic Imperium of Halberdgardia
Re: Assistance

It is good to see that you and your nation are yet resisting the Kraven hordes. The latest HCIA intelligence shows me that the battle for Yeltsmin is not progressing well, however, and that is where I wish to speak to you about the offer the Southeast Asians spoke to you about.

We are not as of now fully prepared to confront the Kraven forces with equal or greater strength in the Chechen theater or elsewhere, should they commence hostilities against us specifically. However, we can quickly mobilize our force of hypersonic bombers to covertly strike critical Corporate Alliance positions on your shores. They can be in position for a strike within a few hours of my order, and have significant loiter capability. Please advise on the location of enemy command, control, and communications (C3) positions, major supply dumps, or other areas of critical importance. The bombers have only limited payloads, and while they can strike with incredible precision, they will need to make each weapon dropped count. Additionally, any assets you might be able to use to designate enemy targets with would be most helpful in further refining the accuracy of the bombers' precision munitions.

Depending on how the overall strategic situation progresses following our initial strike, more assistance may be forthcoming. It is my hope that we can together halt this invasion in its tracks. May you and your people remain steadfast in the defense of liberty always.

Respectfully,
Kenix Kil
President of the Democratic Imperium of Halberdgardia

End Encrypted Response

Blackhelm Confederacy

21-07-2007, 06:44

Groznyj

21-07-2007, 16:31

ooc: Lol. You know what I meant :P

Encrypted Response

From: Ramzan Urmev, President of the Republic of Chechnya
To: Kenix Kil, President of the Democratic Imperium of Halberdgardia
Re: Assistance

There is currently an 8 hour ceasefire underway. We are using this as an opportunity to evacuate the civilian populous of the city and determine priority air targets. I would ask that your strategic bombers open the first wave of the counter attack. Allow me to explain the generalities of the plan;

At precisely 14:00 your bombers drop their payloads on targets designated by us. At the same time a flight of over a thousand attack fighters and a dozen heavy bombers from the Chechen Air Force will close in on the city. Due to their massive radar signature thanks to their numbers your planes should arrive relatively unnoticed. Satellite and air recon has identified a number of targets of interest. These are mostly Kraven because if the Kraven war machine can be slowed down we will have bought ourselves more time. For all purposes it seems that the Kraven Corp is using the other 3 armies to clear the way.

The first target is the Kraven Subjugater Class Superdreadnought targetted by USAN. It's destruction is highly symbolic but is perhaps the most dangerous target to reach. We have not been able to determine as of yet if this is their command ship.

The next targets are the Kraven landing sites and transports. Their destruction is important as it will greatly slow the enemy advance into the city and halt their advance at the source. Kraven transports, as massive as they are should not be a problem to spot.

The next two primary targets are of Pudite nature. Only shortly ago have we confirmed the identity of the Pudite Imperium in this conflict. The first is the Pudite advance in the northwest of the city. Recon has identified 2 targets which appear to be mobile command centers. The advance is largely infantry and this section of the city is devoid of civilian life. Incendiary ammunition or anything in your arsenal capable of eliminating large swaths of human bodies is advised. The second target is Imperial carrier forces. As of now the greatest threat to Chechen air superiority has been Pudite aircraft. The remaining Vengeance Class Supercarrier is the main target and the two Glacier Class Fleet Carriers auxiliary targets.

My nation and I are in debt to yours. Yours will be the opening salvo of a massive air based counter attack. Coordinates and Recon photos of said targets will be sent along with this message. Targets will be painted with UAVs for easier targeting but be advised that the enemy is liable to shoot them down the second the clock strikes 14:00.

Respectfully,
Ramzan Urmev,
President of the Republic of Groznyj

End Encrypted Response

Captain Ismail was almost knocked out by the blow, losing a tooth and suffering a fractured jaw. Stumbling backwards clutching his jaw he kept his eyes on the merc who just hit him. A second later he returned the gesture with a midair spinning kick to the man that just sucker-punched him. Moments later the rest of his squad joined the fight and others in the area quickly learned of what was going on. Thankfully with no militia in the area the risk of someone firing a shot was low. Every Chechen soldier was trained in a form of jujitsu and wrestling. Men began putting hours of hellish physical training to use in what seemed almost funny to passersby. Meanwhile soldiers not part of the fighting continued evacuating civilians. While the fight went on a group of soldiers attempted to simply take the prisoners away.

Across the city the people were being evacuated at a surprising pace. There wasn't much screaming. People just made their way as quickly as they could out of the city without panic and stampeding. Perhaps it was a sense of brotherhood and a lack of stupidity that was the cause of this. More likely it was a day of hell that had shocked most people out of their minds for the moment. In any case the evacuation was somewhat orderly thank God. At this rate it would seem the city would be empty in the alloted time.

To the horror of the evacuators most of the people in the east of the city were dead. A result of gas attacks and intense bombardments and whatnot. This was the section of city most heavily shelled by Kraven artillery. Regardless Marines did their utmost to get whoever they could the hell out of there in the midst of unhuman Capitol Police. At least with less people that part of the city would be evacuated sooner.

In the north of the city the evacuation was going on faster than anywhere else. People fled in a panic from the grotesque Idiot League. People vomited in the streets and citizens carried passed-out loved ones away from the hideous legions. Soldiers did what they could to not notice but a few of the younger ones ended up vomiting in burnt out cars only to realize they had done so on a black-crispy-burnt corpse. A journalist traveling with the military eagerly took aim with his camera.

All in all the city seemed like it would be empty of civilians in a few short hours and before time was up. In the meantime Chechnya was preparing a massive counterattack and Generals in the war room debated getting the Marines and Militia out of there too and ceding over the city to air bombardment. As debates raged furiously in the war room as to whether or not to retreat or hold 1,400 fighters closed in on USAN territory and prepared to land at designated airfields (ooc: SEA agreed to this I'm using fluid time). The 15 B-52s had turned back and were beginning landing preparations. Back home shipyards had received their orders in a matter of hours after the results of TF2 and plans laid down for new ships. Army elements were beginning to be mobilized and over a million phone calls were made to soldiers on leave. The bulk of Chechen air power was being moved to the eastern island of Aarva'Kai.

The Kraven Corporation

21-07-2007, 17:42

Cease Fire T - 8 Hours

The Leman Russ battle tanks continued to form up along streets, waiting for the order to continue the attack, while other squadrons of these armoured monsters began to advance into the Leafanistan and Griffincrest sectors of the city, their huge twin V8 engines would have been a distinct sound in the lull of battle, and something that should be feared and respected, for behind these marched groups of Capitol Police, carrying their infamous MG42’s and other heavy weaponry.

Large trucks and armoured APC’s followed behind carrying yet more troops and equipment, bolstering the allied forces already in the city, Reichmarshals advanced with these forces, sending out messages to the allied forces, requesting to speak with area commanders in an effort to co-ordinate the attacks..

Helghan sent a message to the Command Vessels of each of the allied forces, indicating that he wished to speak with each of them in person aboard his Command Vessel, The Dark Throne II, a Modified Subjugator that sat in the centre of the Kraven fleets defensive formation.

He would outline the idea of his plan, and ask for any of their opinions, then with a well co-ordinated attack force, The Supreme State Alliance would smash the defenders of Yeltsmin and claim the city as their own…

Then probably, in true Helghan fashion, have all of the Survivors executed or sent to work in forced labour camps…

Helghan mused to himself, while looking out to sea, then something hit him, something in his wired mind clicked…

“If they can’t get their civilians off the Island, then they will be forced to surrender to Kraven forces…”

“Ensign!” Helghan roared…

“Send a message to the Pudite Navy, have his forces move round the island, locate the transports of the enemy forces and begin a blockade, sink any vessel that tries to leave the Island..”

“Yes Reichmarshal..” The Ensign scurried away and began to send a message to the Pudite naval Commanders…

“hmmm…” Helghan thought once more…

“Bring the 2nd Battlefleet round to link up with the Pudite navy, they will probably try to run the blockade, they will need all of the assistance they can get…” The Ensign nodded again and began to send another transmission…

Within a few minutes the 2nd Battlefleet began to break away, while the other three Battlefleets reformed into the defensive circle, protecting the massive Subjugators and the Flagship, The Dark Throne II

To: The Pudite Naval Commanders
From: The Flagship, The Dark Throne II

Your forces are to begin the blockade of Yeltsmin, Locate the Evac Transports and sink any vessel that tries to leave, the 2nd Battlefleet will link up and assist.

Reichmarshal Helghan.

Spizania

21-07-2007, 20:19

LZ/Airbase, Codenamed "Point Green Rainbow"

Combat Engineers began raising soil berms around the perimetre of the airbase, aswell as fortifying firing posistions for the armoured vehicles of the ground troops, as well as the organic artillery support, copious amounts of camoflauge netting was hung everywhere as infantry began digging foxholes and dugouts around the base, and began emplacing pack weapons. The first tactical airlifters that had just dropped infantry units into the LZ landed and began picking up the first disheleved evacuess, ready to carry them out to the supercarriers in the rapidly approaching fleet, they would then be transferred to the troop transports by helocopter.
Meanwhile the mobile armoured sections began to arrive at what apparently served as the frontline for the allied units, and began to provide food and water to both the evacuees and the exhausted defenders, they also began providing a supply of troops and body bags with which to ship a few of the allied dead back to the airhead where they would stand a chance at escaping for a decent burial.
Meanwhile the watchful peace continued as the aircraft density over the area continued to increase and partially armed planes were replaced with ones fresh off of the carriers, and missile solutions were locked into the fiiring computers of the Khan missile batteries, as the fleet attained Shockhound range, these preparations spread to the other missile batteries.

Groznyj

23-07-2007, 14:01

Encrypted Transmission

From: Admiral Uzuyev, Chechen Republic Navy
To: Commodore Marcos, USAN Navy

Your arrival could not have come at a better time. We are in the midst of an evacuation mission of all civilians in the city. If you could spare any air transport assets or ground vehicles or non combatant ships it would be a big help.

LZ and friendly coordinates relayed with this message. Godspeed.

End Transmission

The remnants of the Chechen Navy reorganized into a single fleet and moved in to cover and monitor the well being of the evacuation mission. Meanwhile an ensign brought a number of photos to the admiral.

"Sir!"

"At ease. What is it?"

"Satellite Recon photos sir. This one shows the enemy fleet. They're starting to move their position."

"Hmm.." Uzuyev stroked his chin. "Either they could be on the move or just reforming like everyone else.. Inform me the moment they do something weird.

In the meantime millions of people made their way towards the airport and the first civilians started boarding the ships which would take away from this hell. Without a large scale port, however, things would take a little longer.

Blackhelm Confederacy

24-07-2007, 18:16

Southeastasia

24-07-2007, 18:42

[OOC: Just for the record, I’m going to make things clearer in this post by citing a little bit of fluid time. For example, the amount of Ahab hypersonic anti-capital ship ballistae which hit the Kraven Corporation. That, and I’ll be covering Lt. Soeprapto and a discussion between my now Acting Minister of Foreign Affairs and the Prime Minister…]

Office of His Right Honorable Prime-Executive Leadership
Emerald Executive Recluse
Triumvirate Square
Singapore
Union of Southeast Asian Nations

It was early morning in what was more like a nightmarish hell. For Mr. Neo and the rest of the team, it was otherwise yet another day of work. Neo fortunately had a good night’s rest before the meeting that commenced at around about 12:00 p.m. and 1:00 a.m. If not sufficient time to do so. Now, with Bird’s Nest and soya-bean milk in a cup, he scooped some for himself as he and the Acting Minister of Foreign Affairs, Mr. Aran Niratpattanasai. The latter man was a man of average height by modern Southeast Asian standards, and from an land once called the Kingdom of Thailand. Niratpattanasai was a fellow diplomatic officer like Minister Joshua Lin, a close adviser towards the late Joshua Lin and formerly the Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs. It was only he and very certain individuals that knew the truth about a certain incident. But that was irrelevant now. Niratpattanasai was reading a copy of one of the communiqués he and Neo had received. Mr. Urmev had made the slightly erroneous error of addressing Prime Minister Neo, but it did not matter that much. At least the messages were received.

Neo chuckled. “Quite the mix-up, don’t you think Mr. Niratpattanasai?”

“A little bit.” Niratpattanasai returned the response, with a small grin on his round, but slightly box-like Thai Southeast Asian face.

“However,” the Acting Minister of Foreign Affairs continued, “the question is, who do we respectively address?”

“President Urmev is in a strong political position much akin to the late President Roosevelt. The parallels to Pearl Harbor are quite apparent.”

Niratpattanasai nodded to the Prime Minister. “Indeed. Whereas, taking a look at Mr. Larsen, who is relatively pro-USNSA, is experiencing political turmoil. His support for us appears to be in part the reason for his downfall.”

“Actually, I do recall Dr. Hayek as having no objections to RSR-195 (Royal Senate Resolution 195), ‘Authorization of the Use of Military Force, USAN’. Same applies to Lord Rosecrans.”

“Then it must have to do with Mr. Larsen’s performance as Hamptonshire’s chief diplomat and policy-maker on international relations. Which, to be fair and frank, wasn’t exactly that of a Talleyrand, but not exactly terrible either.”

“The Hamptonian people seem to have a differing opinion and view him as barely even mediocre.” Niratpattanasai responded.

“Indeed…do you know what I believe?”

“I think you have a good suggestion.” the Acting Minister of Foreign Affairs responded.

“You address Mr. Larsen, while I deal with President Urmez.”

“To distance ourselves from Larsen, so that we can at least keep ourselves in the graces of the Hamptonian head-of-state and the Federal Chancellor and his cabinet?”

“Agreed, Mr. Niratpattanasai.”

“Now, let’s get to business.” Neo responded to what was formerly the late Lin’s deputy. The two men then got to work. However, there would be another matter which would cover their minds.

Meanwhile, over at the Salisbury-class amphibious assault flagship SANS Lord Marquess, a discussion commences…

The officers were observing their screens, tracking the missiles as they ascended and descended, transitioning from stage to stage. Commodore Jonathan Marcos observed the first missile which was launched. In a poetic sense, it was appropriate the soon-to-be coup-de-grâce was done by the SANS Butterfly, an Agamemnon-class…for it was a swift and powerful strike—yet elegant—which struck the first and only blow to finish off the Eternity of Victory.

However, it was too far away for Commodore Marcos to fully review and assess the damage done to by the hypersonic ballista. However, he could tell that it had hit by looking at the tracking system and the flight-path. The enemy warship was struck, successfully. Naturally, when that moment came, wide grins and a few cries were heard. But they did not last long.

“Quiet.” the Commodore declared simply, in a soft, yet powerful tone. “While the projectile may have struck, we still have a few dozen more to deal with.”

“Yes Commodore.” It was the response to his statement by his less senior but nevertheless trustworthy and reliable officers.

One of the officers, a fellow Filipino like the Commodore, chose to speak up. “What about the other enemy carrier?”

“It will be dealt with in time, Officer.” The Commodore stated. “And it is also time for our other targets to receive damage. But, alas, we all have our duties to attend to.”

With that, and he left the room to the bridge. But the Communications Officer tailed him.

“What is it?” he questioned briskly, his very brown, almost to the point of pitch darkness, eyeball irises made contact with his lesser-ranked soldier.

“Commodore,” the Communications Officer responded, “it appears that activity is soon going to slow down and I’ve been picking up signals that indicate this.”

“I shall take that into account.”

“What about the missiles?”

“They shall hit before the official word comes out then…assuming that the weapons officer and his comrades are right.”

“What if they’re wrong?”

The Commodore responded simply and sternly, with a fixed but iron grin. “They shall not. Back to your position, Officer.”

“Yes sir.” The two men exchanged salutes, then left each other to their devices.

The Communications Officer was slightly flabbergasted by the reaction of Commodore Jonathan Marcos. Was it pure blind faith? Was it naïveté? Was it arrogance? He wondered. Whatever went on in the mind of the Commodore, he did not know. Perhaps it was all three reasons balled into one big explanation. Whatever it was, the Communications Officer knew he had a job to get done and over with.

Just like a couple of individuals who had a similar duty.

Meanwhile, in a beach near the Yeltsmin International Airport...

A tiny little beach crustacean, a true crab, was scuttling around. It was dawn, and after a long period of feeding, it had to return back. The high-tide had been slowly receding, and it was time to hide in the burrow, away from the oppressive sun. The sun was not only oppressive; it could also be murder for the poor little organism. If it did not find shelter, it would dry out and have no water to store in its natural oxygen tanks, built in through vast, long eras of evolution.

But the fate of the crab would not be decided on the sun. No, a shadow. Breaking the peace, far away from the battlefield in the city of Yeltsmin, came the sound of motors. It was just at the same time the crab found the hole, that shadow came. With a loud mechanical sound, and the crab’s own hesitation from instinct to get shelter, the crab found its whole body under the weight of a sheet of metal. “Splat” was the sound as it was crushed underneath. The poor crustacean might have stood a better chance of limping away from the underside had Second Class Lieutenant Adalberto Soeprapto’s vehicle not finished it off, the M-5 truck’s weight pressing on the water-dwelling vertebrae and ensuring its death.

A “slushing” of water was heard, as the M-5 made its way up the sand with the benefits of the landing craft, followed by a better-armored Humvee, an LV-08 truck and a light tank. Several other light vehicles were following from an armada of a few others. More trucks would come. DAS-9 “Sparrow” Attack Helicopter models from the Detmerian Aerospace Dynamics hovered ahead, scouting out and helping to monitor from enemy threats and in case of ambush. The Isselmere-Nielanders had helped provide the Federal-Parliamentarian Army and the Federal-Parliamentarian Navy with weaponry, and the decision by the Ministry of Defense was going to pay off.

Lt. Soeprapto knew where he was off to and head to. Radios from the SANS Lord Marquess had ordered them to move to the international airport to help meet civilians. They also had a message to deliver to any commanding officer from the Chechen Republic Army over there. All in all, time was running out. Southeast Asia could not have arrived at a better time to assist, but then again, it could have assisted long ago. Now, it was time to get on moving. The landing craft would return back to their respective amphibious assault ships to refuel themselves.

Marks in the sand indicated their presence, as the vehicles left the beach. Otherwise, had they not been left, the beach would have quickly resorted to it’s peaceful tranquility, the thunder and bustle of action as if never having occurred and remained confined to the battlefield that was the city.

The crab was…flattened. Jagged cracks could be seen in its exoskeleton, and one of its eyes was slightly mashed. All of its legs were broken; some were to the very brink of breaking entirely off. All in all, the crustacean, once a proud organic tank with melee weapons (its claws); it was now a crusty pancake. One last wave came in, finally taking the much disfigured carcass away, to the depths of the water. Two of it’s legs were finally broken off because they were partially embedded in the sand, couldn’t take the gush of water. The carcass was dragged into the depths, where it would possibly be a victim of cannibalism by fellow crabs, fish, and what not.

Somewhere beneath the waves…

The SANS Lantern was a non-nuclear-powered hunter-killer submarine. It was the lead ship of it’s kind, powered by an electric turbine and capable of using fuel-cell technology. The SANS Lantern, as it’s name subtly suggested, was a vessel designed to search for—and neutralize—the forces of the opposition. She was armed with twenty-three inch torpedo tubes whilst originally in her homeland of Isselmere-Nieland, but retained them even here. It wasn’t much of a big torpedo when compared to ones which were truly designed to send superdreadnaughts to the silt-laced bottom of the seven seas, but nevertheless, it was pertinent to use. If it struck even a superdreadnaught, while it would have damaged the hull slightly enough to cause some leaks here and there. Though it wouldn’t have caused it to sink (and even if it did allow enough water for it to submerge it didn’t guarantee the ship’s complete slipping beneath the waves given damage-control crews and watertight holds), it did at least send the message of enemy presence.

Somewhere further elsewhere and in a different direction, the SANS Watchman, and also like the Lantern, the lead ship of its interceptor submersible class—submersible warships designed to last longer and spend more time in the vast waters of the oceans rather than in harbor than most nuclear-powered attack submarines—was prowling for prey. It had been independent of Task Force Structural, or at least independent the moment they had arrived in Yeltsmin. They were soon going to wreak their own fair share of havoc.

And the SANS Watchman was the first submarine to strike, before the Lantern. The Captain, a Malay man, had spotted a victim and positioned his submarine to aim at the target, which was one of the super-dreadnaughts, the Subjugator-class of Kraven naval capital warships. By coincidence, it was just about any moment now the Ahab hypersonic ballistic weapons would hit their respective targets of the Kraven Navy. But the Malay did not know that, or at least was consciously aware of it. He had a duty, and a mission to follow. He had an objective to do partaking: halt the Second Corporatist Entente’s assault on Yeltsmin and thus prevent the Corporatist hordes from reaching the homeland, or at the very least delay it for final preparations for defending the Union’s legitimized national sovereignty.

Meanwhile, the SANS Lantern had come to intercept it’s own target. A smaller, but nevertheless more pertinent target for its choice: a surface escort, in this case, a destroyer. This time, the naval leader, a Cambodian-descended one, commenced the order. It was a single, universally-understood word which had been translated hundreds of thousands of times, but all the time retained its same meaning, not evolving in that regard.

“FIRE!” the commanders respectively ordered.

Because of the fact that it was the Watchman-class which found her target first, a powerful supercavitation torpedo was launched from the launching holes. Quickly transitioning from stage to stage, her projectile was not easy to maneuver, but it could meet its target very quickly and often punch through thick armored hulls and right into the gut of the ship, where the explosive charge detonated. And it did that as such in its case, a loud cloud of black smoke and debris caked the stern of the Subjugator-class. Sometime after that, the SANS Lantern, she’d had chosen withdrawn to analyze her little dirty work on the destroyer, which probably didn’t have the most uptight of anti-submarine warfare defenses, or the crew was not as observant for enemies or they simply did not try their best in their duties. Whatever the reason, a certain message was clear. The Kravenite Navy wasn’t as tough as it liked to portray itself, and was absolutely a tough nut to crack, but not invincible.

Both submarines withdrew, to safer and more secure locations to observe the damage they had inflicted, the SANS Lantern on the destroyer, and the SANS Watchman on the superdreadnaught’s stern.

From high up in the sky, objects descend…

The second victim to have it’s skull bashed in was one of the forward receiving super dreadnaughts of the Kravenite Navy. Another Subjugator-class crew had failed to notice the now-very-barely-itself missile, once near eleven and a half meters of metal and other components. And now, it was a sizzling hot, one meter odd long projectile, in the post-boost vehicle stage. The missile struck through the tall superstructure of it, slightly off the center, but it still burrowed deep and down, almost above the engine room. Then, a powerful ball of orange was witnessed, damaging those within its vicinity. Flaming-hot metallic shards, of tungsten and nickel-steel, acted like thrown knives from an assassin, punching through several barriers of the softer interior of the ship.

As if one Ahab wasn’t bad enough, another super dreadnaught be receiving two of the samples. It was an older Annihilator-class super dreadnaught, still serving in the Kraven Navy in spite of age, it was still a potent heavy capital warship nevertheless. But it’s venerable days of service were likely going to come to an end. From the heavens, they descended. The first Ahab hit right in between the “A” and “B” turrets, perfectly juxta-positioned in between space, tunneling deep into the hull, very near the bottom. The second Ahab crashed through the bridge, perfectly from the sky straight down, and tunneled into near a key support column, deep below. Both Ahab hypersonic ballista exploded and showered the weaker core of the vessel with swift and gutting metal debris.

Elsewhere, scenes like this were being repeated. However, not all of it was perfectly coordinated. By chance, one Ahab had missed and instead hit a Gorgoroth-class heavy carrier, which, like the Annihilator-class vessels in service, was old, but still useful. It had impaled itself in the bow of the trimaran heavy carrier, unleashing it’s consuming and prickly payload throughout the vessel’s hull. In several of the boats, gaping holes could be seen; tunnels of smoke from flames and other matter had flown up from the punctured surfaces. Sides could be seen with matter clogging the naval paint, distorting parts of it and separating them from other painted sections.

In all, about ten Subjugator-class super dreadnaughts had been hit, four of them having being hit by one single Ahab hypersonic anti-capital warship ballista each, and the other six having been hit by two Ahab hypersonic ballistae each. Three of the Annihilator-class of super-dreadnaughts had been hit by one single Ahab, and only one, the Overlord’s Fury, had two burrowing into it’s vastness. Various carriers, and less heavy battleships, had each been hit by one Ahab missile, eight of them in total. The Subjugator-class flagship of Reichsmarshall Helghan, was not hit however. Why it was not hit would go on to be debated by historians on both sides of the conflict. Perhaps Commodore Marcos and his crew did not know and as a result luck of the draw occurred. Perhaps they knew what vessel she was, just did not wished to take a risk far too great. But whatever reason it did not matter. What did matter was that several super dreadnaughts were hit. A total of thirty were launched from the missile-launching vessels. And of those thirty, two of them had hit targets which were not Kravenite in military service. They were Pudite.

And the final one had descended from the heavens. It was to be the last victim, at least from this strike of missiles. The first skull that was bashed in was of Pudite origin. The last skull that was going to be bashed in was the Honor by Glory. The sister ship of the Vengeance-class heavy carrier Eternity of Victory, which had met it’s end. Now, she too would join her soon-to-be totally submerged brethren at the bottom.

Plunging it’s way into the bow, like the majority of the targeted Kravenite warships (with a large minority of them being hit in the middle of their entire hulls), it had been also too late for interception. In fact, it was also too late for withdrawing. Even if Commodore Marcos had wanted to, he could not have ordered his officers to change the courses of the missile, as it had occurred just when the ceasefire had begun. The difficult-to-intercept-and-destroy, safeguarded and ultra-fast missile crashed straight into the warship’s bow, burrowing deep. And like it’s heavily wounded sister, which it had demonstrated it’s mighty wrath to, a familiar roar and familiar fireball could be heard and witnessed by. It was then followed by a series of rips and tears of metal, the shrapnel swiftly cutting through several walls and going through several compartments of the Honor by Glory, damaging even aircraft and munitions deposits.

The objective of the Ahab strikes were not only to help the Chechens buy time (and later as it were to prove, give the enemy less of a chance to use their guns with what not that was damaged and destroyed). It was also to help the Union preserve itself. Mission-kill or complete sink, survival was at stake, and national sovereignty was something the Union did not wish to lose.
Meanwhile, in the same secret location where SAID encrypted sensitive documents…

Documents were being sent out by the Prime Minister and the Acting Minister of Foreign Affairs. It would both be sent to their respective national embassies of their countries within the Union (Chechnya and the Hamptonian Empire), then forwarded to the recipients’ addresses.

* * *

Encrypted Communiqué from His Right Honorable Prime-Executive Leadership of the Union of Southeast Asian Nations, Yao Yang Nelson Neo
http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a338/Singaporean_Liberal/NationStates%20Pictures/SoutheastAsianCoatofArms.gif

TO: Ramzan Urmev, President, Republic of Chechnya
FROM: Yao Yang Nelson Neo, Prime Minister, Union of Southeast Asian Nations
SUBJECT: Re: Re: Our support against Kraven intervention

Dear President Ramzan Urmev,

I have spoken to Marshall Peter Lee of the Federal-Parliamentarian Air Force, and he seems to be able to agree to this idea in spite of the lack of common language other than English. The Federal-Parliamentarian Armed Services and the Chechen Air Force shall hopefully come closer and bond together over time in spite of this difficulty given common national interests. Your aircraft are welcome to come into the Air Force bases of the Union, though, they may have to be in some cases separated up a bit more because of space issues and what not. But our analysts and military commanders doubt that this shall happen often, and more bases shall be constructed over time after this, and we had a modernization program for the Armed Services nevertheless. That stated, yes, enlisted Chechens in their country’s Air Force are welcome to share our bases.

Should the Civic Coalition become victorious (and if the objectives of Task Force Structural are met, perhaps sometime during the war should there be time), the Union shall find a way to repay its debt to the Republic of Chechnya. I can promise you on that, and for now, regrettably, our gratitude shall have to suffice.

Yours Sincerely,
His Right Honorable Prime-Executive Leadership
Yao Yang Nelson Neo
Prime Minister
Union of Southeast Asian Nations

* * *

Encrypted Communiqué from His Excellency, the Acting Minister of Foreign Affairs of the Union of Southeast Asian Nations, Aran Niratpattanasai
http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a338/Singaporean_Liberal/NationStates%20Pictures/SoutheastAsianCoatofArms.gif

TO: Stephen Larsen, MRC, Secretary of State for Foreign and Dominion Affairs, United Realms of the Hamptonian Empire
FROM: Aran Niratpattanasai, Acting Minister of Foreign Affairs, Union of Southeast Asian Nations
SUBJECT: Re: Re: Additional Hamptonian reinforcement

Dear Secretary-of-State Stephen Larsen,

The Union can understand the priorities of the United Realms at this moment and can sympathize. The bonds between our two respective realms are slowly coming closer and closer, and will hopefully prove to be beneficial in the long-term. The Union shall repay it’s debt to the United Realms, both during this war and after the war should the Federal-Parliamentarian Armed Services prove victorious in the conflict, along with Her Royal, Imperial and Apostolic Majesty’s Armed Forces, the Chechen Armed Forces and several other national military forces which are helping the Union. As a note of gratitude, I noted to the President of the Republic of Chechnya, Ramzan Urmez, of your country. Chechnya has been unfortunately attacked and is a growing market…perhaps helping them will be more than just a short-term relationship, given their growing economy as well.

Yours Sincerely,
His Excellency,
Aran Niratpattanasai
Acting Minister of Foreign Affairs
Union of Southeast Asian Nations

* * *

Back aboard the SANS Lord Marquess…

“We’ve just gotten note of the ceasefire by Reichsmarshall Helghan from the respective commanders in the area.” The Communications Officer stated simply toward his superior, who was drinking a small cup of water to keep him awake and alert.

“We also cannot cancel the Ahab strike.” The Weapons Officer added.

Commodore Jonathan Marcos paused. “Then let it be. Besides, we need to be on our guard, and use this time as wisely as we can. Tell ATC about not calling back any jets…we must be vigilant.”

“Aye, Commodore.”

And the eight hours would be a decisive chapter in the history, as Task Force Structural stayed off the coast, near the International Airport of Yeltsmin. With forces armed and at the ready, tensions were so uptight that it didn’t really seem genuine. Scouting units kept alert, to update the flagship about the status quo so that the Commodore could help get a better way of countering. Only time would tell now, about how things would go.

Leafanistan

24-07-2007, 23:43

OOC: They would be liars if they told you they were afraid? Some brave men you have

The Griffincrest forces throughout the city were for the most part cordial to the Chechens, mostly just staring blankly at them. One instance, however, was not so pleasant a meeting.

A handful of mercenaries, all thoroughly intoxicated, were escorting their civilian prisoners towards the rear when a group of Chechens arrived. The mercenaries were then ordered to release their prisoners. Well, of course, the mercenaries were completely unwilling to do this, especially the Lieutenant in charge, as he had a rather beautiful blonde teen to take back home as his own. It was he who had stepped up and begun problems. Inches from the face of the man who appeared to be the Chechen officer, he shouted "I wanna see you take them from us", before delivering a crushing blow to the Chechens left jaw, the metal knuckle studs revealing their full power as what seemed to be teeth and a lot of blood flew from the mans face. With that, a melee ensued (Groz, you can RP your guys)

In the streets

Coordinator Diamonddagger looked out from the truck he was in and saw what might have been the most grotesqe sight of the war. Hundreds of mentally retarded, deformed creatures with weapons attached to them were walking towards him. "Wha...what the fuck are those things?" he asked Captain Ricardo nervously.

Streets of Yeltsmin

Private Watcher stared as they walked by. One of them, what appeared to be a man, an astonishing 7 foot 5 inches, with an MG-560 stared at him. He cracked a nearly toothless smile and walked by. The Private calmly walked over to the garbage can the sniper had landed in and vomited.

Captain Ricardo coughed initially but realized he had to tell the Coordinator.

"Those are our Lobo Brigades, all those nations that nuked themselves and us before final victory. This is the result. No one wants them, so the Army gets custody."

Meanwhile a Cohort, driving alongside with his control panel, a whip, and his personal Dragunov SVD flashed a smile at Captain Ricardo. He had used his harem vouchers already and was bored. But as soon as she faced him, the shock of familiarity hit the Cohort, and he realized who she was. He turned away.

Independent Mafia Fleet

As the Admiral forced the fleet to reorganize, she looked at the tactical displays she had. She contemplated her options and began issuing orders when there was a bright flash.

A powerful red flare streaked into the sky as word came in that the Kravenite Fleet was under attack. She cursed under her breath and ordered a message be send to the Chechens.

Priority Transmission from Kraven Auxiliary Force

You have violated our cease-fire and we are putting our fleets on full alert. We demand to know what has happened and why. However, at this moment, the ceasefire is over, and expect no mercy for this attack.

[END]

Priority Encrypted Transmission to the Allied Fleets

Enemy missiles inbound. We have launched our SONAR buoys and CAPs. The Chechens have ended the ceasefire with betrayal. Show no mercy.

[END]

The refugees disturbed at the sight of the deformed Legions would now find a more disturbing reality. They picked up their guns, raised them, and began firing into the crowd. The Cohorts and other Mafia elements used their longer range rifles to pick off actual resisters as the disposal army moved forward.

Meanwhile, any Chechen soldiers near Mafia soldiers with radios would have heard a call for the end of the ceasefire. The Mafia soldiers raised their guns and many first demanded to know why the ceasefire ended early.

However, all of them asked the Chechens to surrender.

Spizania

25-07-2007, 01:49

CIC of the CSS Ironside

"The Corporates have abandoned the ceasefire" called the XO to the Commodore across the room, his hand held to his head as he talked to the OC of the troops on the island, "We have reports of resumed firing on both sides"
The Commodore reached down to his own headset panel and flicked it to address the fleet, "The Corporates are violating the ceasefire, weapons free, Plan Bravo for the Opening Barrage", even as he set the headset back to passive, the ship began to shake as the missile launchers scattered across the vessel began discharging the deadly payloads they carried.

Hundreds of Khan missiles and tens of thousands of Shockhound-ER weapons erupted from missile batteries across the 4000-vessel strong Armada as they engaged the enemy. The Khans would engage everything over a quarter of a million tonnes displacement, starting with the largest first, while the others did the reverse, targeting the smaller vessels starting with the smallest true independant vessels, the gunboats or frigates, and then working up to the smaller battleships.

Point Green Rainbow
As the message of the end of the ceasefire crackled over the net, the men of the Para-Armoureds integral artillery contingent had already locked and loaded there MRLS and SPHs, within seconds they were laying a fearsome barage of DPICM submunitions onto the enemy lines, deadly to infantry and lighter vehicles, like LV-08s for instance, they could even knock out true IFVs if one was to land on a hatch or similar weakpoint, which may not seem likely, but once you considered the shear number of munitions.....
Infantry and tanks opened fire on Corporate posistions near to where they had been dispensing food and water, aswell as ammunition, bringing down a weight of fire the tired indigenous defenders simply couldnt match
In the Air ASFs moved to engage Corporate Airpower while Attack Aircraft started calling for any Chechens who needed help to mark posistions with smoke and call for cover fire.
The war had begun again, and it would likely be far more fearsome

Emporer Pudu

26-07-2007, 03:32

OOC: For the purposes of the naval bit of this post, I'm assuming this is before the second Ahab missile strike, but after the sinking of the Eternity of Victory, and thusly after the break of the cease-fire. (This is to allow me to move my fleet, but still do the countermeasures bit with SEA and the incoming Ahab)

Republic of Chechnya, City of Yeltsmin, The Break of the Ceasefire
General Stepan Turbanov had recently received a series of increasingly important messages. First of all, he received a report from a certain Lieutenant Okulov; outlining the fact that the enemy was quickly laying down landmines in the chokepoints, as the infantry advanced.

Shortly after, a message from Kraven commanders was picked up, inquiring as to the General's thoughts on the overall battle scheme, and showing an interest in coordinating an attack.

The third message, however, was the most important. A short communiqué from Mafia sources, forwarded from the offices of Vice Admiral Prisiazhnik aboard the Honor by Glory, now acting operation commander, described in terse language the termination of the ceasefire that may have taken up all of twenty long minutes. As if a great burden was lifted from his shoulders, General Turbanov set about formulating a series of responses...

First of all, now that there was no more need to adhere to the cease-fire, orders were quickly dispatched to his combat battalions to resume fighting as normal. The territorial gains during the ceasefire were of little consequence, as the enemy had fallen back to their chokepoints anyway, but now the Pudites were in position.

The ten battalions facing the entrenched defenders stopped moving and fell into defensive positions themselves, preparing for a proper assault, now that their 'walk through the enemy' tactic had been foiled. Meanwhile, behind them, there were still ten-thousand men standing, shoulder to shoulder, along the northern flank of the army. These ten battalions had received orders to bring themselves and their artillery down to the city, to participate in the final assault and to overcome the chokepoints.

Behind all this, the second, reserve, of the two airborne divisions, began to mobilize. Their field commander, General Ivan Roslyi, had been in contact with General Turbanov, and it had been decided that it was time to utilize every man they had at their disposal. After nearly three hours of uninterrupted nothing, the 7th Parachute Infantry Division of the Imperial Air Force began it's march southwards.

Leaving a token force of five battalions to guard the rear of the 6th Division, the 7th began to cut a path south and east, around the edge of the city, and hopefully, around the edge of the heaviest fighting, following the renewal of hostilities. They would attempt to link up immediately with Mafia and Griffincrest mercenaries, and push northward with them.

The light vehicles and pathfinders of the 7th Division were the vanguard, clearing buildings and streets before the full force arrived. If any resistance was had, they waited for their heavier-armed and more numerous brethren in the rear. The time for retreat and evacuation was over. Anyone encountered was shot.

An encrypted message was dispatched to allied operation commanders,

To: Kraven and Allied Force Commanders,
From: Pudite Imperial Air Force General Stepan Turbanov,

My 6th Parachute Infantry Division is preparing to engage heavily entrenched enemy forces in the north-east of the city, as we consolidate our position.

To our rear, we have recently seen off a rather large armored force, which appeared to be preparing to fall back, as a reserve. Watch for their presence.

To our south, my counterpart in the 7th Division is moving south to coordinate an assault with your forces, you may direct any questions to him; General Ivan Roslyi. I expect he will be contacting you shortly.

Our air power is reduced, following the loss of one of our Vengeance-class supercarriers, although our fleet continues to operate as expected.

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

Meanwhile, at sea, Vice Admiral Prisiazhnik had recently taken command of the entire theater of operations, following the destruction of the Eternity of Victory. His flagship, the Honor by Glory, was now the center of the fleet, and protection was afforded as such. Following the devastating attacks on her sister ship, further precautions were taken. A pair of AWACS aircraft were put into the sky, flying off the two Glacier-class fleet carriers beside their larger counterpart.

The formation closed, and the escort ships, including fourteen Carthage-class air defense cruisers, formed a tight ring at the center, surrounding their commander and largest carrier.

As the wreckage of the Eternity slipped beneath the surf, the fleet changed course. Steering around the soon-to-be reef, the ships of the Imperial Air Force contingent set off for the southern shore of the city of Yeltsmin, and the transport fleet assembled there.

Having received orders to destroy the fleeing civilians, Vice Admiral Prisiazhnik gave what any other nation's officer would have mistaken for a laugh of glee. Quickly instructions were sent to the ten Portlandia-class missile cruisers of the fleet, whose VLS tubes would very shortly be rather more used than they were at the moment...

A few seconds later, nine-hundred and sixty TD-ASM-1 anti-ship missiles screamed into the air, their RAM-jet engines preparing to deploy, launching the missile into a terminal speed of mach three-point-seven. These missiles were equipped, rather expensively, with a suite of advanced computer systems, guided by GPS input and IR signals. Each carried four-hundred and twenty-eight kilograms of high explosive, which would detonate on contact with the hull of the transports.

The refugees, previously thinking themselves safe, away from the fighting and killing going on only a few miles away, were now doomed to a fiery death. Perhaps more merciful to do this, than to let them be left ashore, to be assaulted and killed by rampaging soldiers and mercenaries. An instant death, a merciful death.

It was over.

Meanwhile, to the east of the city, the fleet continued to move. Now steaming at about twenty-two knots, they expected to reach the southern shore, and the remainder of the evacuation fleet, inside of one hour...

Groznyj

26-07-2007, 03:51

Ceasefire Termination.
11:36 Hours

"No..No..No.. NO!!" shouted the president as he watched the Ahab launch trajectory in the war room. Moments later news came of the enemy abandoning the ceasefire. Then allied forces abandoning the ceasefire. In minutes the amount of activity had spiraled into a Tsunami of fire. The Chechen position was arguably at its most vulnerable and so stretched out the 351st Marine Mechanized Division that they faced immediate decimation.

"Get me Neo on the line now!" boomed the president pulling his gaze away from the floor.

Yeltsmin, City Streets

At a corner near a bus station a squad of marines were coming back to their unit. They passed a group of mercenaries. The two groups passed each other without greeting. The squad leader's radio crackled.

"The enemy has begun fire. I repeat the enemy has broken the ceasefire!"

"!!!"

The squad leader's eyes widened and his brow furrowed. Blood sprayed out of his chest as the bullets tore through him. His body shook and shuddered and the marine fell to his knees, blood pouring out of a gaping mouth. His eyes were still wide open as the final round came out of his forehead. 12 other men spun around to open fire. Half were cut down by the fire, another man caught a bullet in the knee. In his last seconds of life he let out a cry firing his M16 with one arm as bullets barraged his chest. The squad automatic rifle specialist took cover behind a pillar as his brother in arms collapsed backwards. Only tasting grit the hardened soldier spun out of cover and on a knee fired his M249 SAW from the hip. Behind a burned out truck a marine pulled out a grenade. A stray bullet struck it and instantaneously him and three others were killed. A red mist and body parts showered the once serene street. The blast knocked the AR specialist unconcscience. Lying on his back he reopened his eyes to stare down the barrel of a hand gun. It was his coupe de grace.

---

Elsewhere in the city scenes like this and not carried their course. Unsuspecting marines, irregulars, and civilians were cut down by automatic fire. In other places the tables were turned and it was the marines who had the upper hand. Some were forced to lay down their arms surrounded by mercenaries and mafia demanding explanation.

---

Somewhere else in the city a marine platoon evacuating civilians got caught in the middle of it all.

A marine gave a smoke to a civilian, a man of about 60 with a white beard and a head cap.

"click"

The lighter was still in the marine's hand when the hand gun was cocked to his temple.

"click"
"click"
"click"

Instantly 68 rifles were raised. In between the two groups of soldiers were a few hostages but most were behind the marines. In the middle of the street was a pool of gasoline from the tank of a shot up bus.

"What the fuck is going on?!" boomed the platoon leader.

The enemy commander demanded that he lay down his arms and surrender as well as an explanation why the Chechen's had broken the ceasefire. The stern platoon leader responded with a semi puzzled look. He had his M1911A1 raised staring down the barrel of his counterpart.

"I have no idea what the fuck you're---"

"This is HQ to all units. Hostilities resumed. I repeat: the ceasefire is over. One of our allies has fired on the enemy navy"

The Sergent nodded to a soldier behind him. That soldier turned and yelled "RUN!" at the terrified civilians behind. Meanwhile the old religious man with the cigarette still stood stone still next to the marine who was holding the still burning lighter. The Sergent had noticed the fumes and the pool of gasoline and the lighter. He made sure he had eye contact with the soldier. He then said something aloud in Chechen, knowing the other side had no idea what he was saying. He released his grip on his pistol and held it by the trigger guard on his trigger finger.

"Ok!" he shouted. We put our weapons..NOW!!"

The psychotic platoon leader spun the pistol back into grip and had the Griffincrest officer in his sights again. As this was happening the marine with the lighter dropped it and dove out of the way, holding the old man. A wall of flame erupted between the two groups and the marines immediately took firing positions on both sides of the street. As the flames sprouted up in tenths of a second the Sergent fired at the Griffincrest officer's face once before getting low and out of the way. The firefight ensued.

"Fall back!!" bellowed the officer. Grenades were tossed and using the smoke of the fire the marines hustled backwards to disapear. The marine who dropped the lighter carried the terrified old man. The old man had lost the death stick and was counting beads now, reciting the 99 names of Allah.

---

Up in the air Black Hawks opened fire with their dual 7.62mm miniguns on enemy positions, providing fire support to besieged friendlies saving the lives of many soldiers and civilians. They fired on CPs near Chechen soldiers and wherever else. Snipers were dropped off on the roofs of some buildings well aware that their hope of extraction was slim to none but still knowing that their job was going to save lives of others on the ground.

Lt.General McGreen sent the word to allied commanders of the termination of the ceasefire and the extreme urgent need for immediate support in beseiged areas. Troops were dispersed across the city and many were surrounded. They were instructed to use smoke grenades to mark their positions for air support. The intensity of battle was only going to escalate. McGreen was planning on using his last remaining armor which he had kept in reserve to help get his men out of the city. Meanwhile marines set up defensive positions to act as checkpoints for retreating brothers in arms. Irregulars supported them. Many marine battalions were now mostly composed of militia. Word was also sent to Admiral Uzuyev as to what the fuck went wrong. Uzuyev sent word to Marcos.

---"Your premature missile strike has cost us possibly the only chance at salvaging this battle and saving the lives of millions of innocent Chechens. The Chechen Navy will move into position to provide heavy air support over the city. We do not have the naval resources to do this and combat the enemy naval threat. I request you use your naval forces in aiding us repelling the enemy fleet."----

South of Yeltsmin International, Evacuee Armada

Hundreds of thousands of people were lining up to get into the ships that would send them to safety. Men, women, children, the elderly, the sick; everyone. The people of a city. Innocents. People who were interested in living their lives and doing what made them happy. People who were sick of war and hated it. It was huge. Such a massive exodus of people. All through the horizon ships could be seen. Leaving. Coming. Loading. The only military vessels were USAN transports. The Chechen Navy was off the horizon moving in the direction of the army. People cried, others laughed, most were shocked. It was a sight that would make anyone cry. Off in the distance, easily in view was what once was their city, now in the middle of a war.

Flagship Intrepid

"Sir RADAR contacts! The enemy is launching cruise missiles!" cried out a RADAR officer.

The Admiral looked over his shoulder.

"Where are they heading son?"

"Bearing 219... they're heading towards the evacuation site!"

"What about our countermeasures?"

"We're out of range sir. They'll fall short" answered a weapons officer.

"Son of a bitch..." the admiral grumbled to himself. "What about the Combat Air Patrol?"

"They're carrying Phoenix missiles Admiral. Hardly what we need."

"Tell them to engage anyway! Fuck we have to do something.. Advise Commodore Marcos, no, tell the Asian commander in the area first."

"Aye sir!" replied a communications officer.

"What about the civilian ships?"

There was an eeire silence that lasted for a second but felt like a minute.

"Tell them to stop loading immedietly. Instruct them to get the civilians on shore away."

"Aye sir!"

His XO spoke in a soft voice only the admiral could here, "We're just going to leave the people on the ships there??"

"We can't risk a panic."

"Excuse me sir but fuck a panic," replied the XO in a louder voice, "we're talking about a full scale naval missile spam!"

The room went quiet for a second. Uzuyev was quiet. He looked at the RADAR screen. F-14's were coming into engagement range. Time was harrowingly short.

"... Get every ship on shore to unload right away! Instruct those at sea to flee as fast as they can."

"Yessir!"

Uzuyev put his hands down on the battle table. He quietly said a prayer to himself as he watched what was to unfold...

Skies south of Yeltsmin

"Missiles armed..."

"RADAR contact! Multiple bogies, faster then any plane."

"That's our target. On my mark. 3...2...Mark!"

The squadron of F-14's flying at 60,000 ft emptied their payloads. 126 Phoenix missiles were released and they sped towards their targets. These missiles were designed to intercept soviet bombers and other long range fighters.. not high speed cruise missiles. Any success would be small, too small. But anything that could be done to save the lives of innocent Chechens, no matter how vain would be done.

Aboard the Kaptan Ahmed, a long range ferry ship a grandmother and her grandchildren huddled in the corner in the restaurant of the ship. She sang her grandchildren a lullaby. 4 children, ages 4 to 7. Their parents had sent them on the ship and waited ashore for another ship that wasn't full entrusting them to the care of their grandmother. By a window two teenager sat. Both were sixteen years old, a boyfriend and girlfriend. Their parents had both been killed in the bombing. Yunus had snuck out despite the strict military cerfew, with a group of friends. With every cafe and bar closed and the only people on the street military personnel they decided to head back. Just as he turned the corner to his apartment block and bid goodbye to his friends the Kraven bombing had begun. Only one bomb was enough to bring his whole apartment crashing down, killing his entire family instantly. Running on instinct he hustled out of there as fast as he could. The other buildings in the once peaceful complex came down behind him. By the time the Kraven bombing had ended he had arrived at his grilfriend's [Canset (Janset)] apartment building. He banged on the door furiously to let him in. They did. Inside he told them what he saw to the horror of the family. A father, mother, Canset, and her older sister. They stayed in the home for most of the battle until a stray bullet killed the father. The mother's life was ended soon after as she cried over the body. The remaining three, led by the Yunus's girlfriend's older sister Elif fled the building. As they ran in the streets a group of Capitol Police spotted them. Elif put herself in front of the others as the CPs began firing. Her body was riddled with holes and the .50 rounds of the MG42 ripped off her left arm. Running frantically the remaining two ran into a group of militia after evading Capitol Police for hours. They were led to a larger horde of people traveling to the airport. A friendly minibus driver told them to hop on.. literally. They rode on top of the minibus to the airport and from their boarded the Kaptan Ahmed.

The young man and woman held each other tight in their arms and cried. Right now they were all they had left. Never before did either of them felt so human and so mortal. All they could think of was the embrace of the other. It was all to stop either of them from going into a nervous breakdown. They looked at each other in the eyes and embraced again. Off in the distance out the window the city couldn't be seen over the rise and vegetation but the sounds of it could be heard. A cloud of smoke rose high into the air. And far in the distance a massive group of glimmering lights appeared. Barely visible. The commotion was little. Most people had no idea what had hit them, they never would. It isn't easy to see a missile in broad day light. The lights came closer and caught the eye of Canset. The two teenagers looked out the window, their faces pressed against each other still in each others arms. They probably would have married in the future. But it was not to be. Like dust in the wind.

The Kaptan Ahmed erupted in a massive fireball. It's human cargo incinerated and atomized, some decapitated. Gruesome and instant death for all. Hundreds of Pudite anti ship missiles designed for hardened military vessels preyed upon the merchant fleet like wolves on a flock of sheep with no sheep dog to protect them. In what would later go down as one of the worst tragedies in Chechen history, hundreds of ships were ripped asunder, no match for the warheads. It was more of a turkey shoot than anything else. What was once a horizon of hope was now one of death. People had no idea what had happened but the aftermath quickly sunk in. In all 712,863 people died. With his a messege was sent to the leaders of Chechnya. Not an actual messege but the act itself was the messege. From now on, after Yeltsmin a new Chechnya would be forged. Those in power and those who survived would never forget. This single act of mass murder would cause ripples in the fabric of the future and shape what was to come in the net few years. In the words of President Urmev which he would later be quoted as saying, "Those Corporate bastards wanted a war and now they have it."

Back on the Intrepid..

"Sir.." called a communications officer.

"Report." replied the Admiral.

"..." the comm officer studdered and choked: he had a hard time getting the words out of his mouth. "Admiral.. let me patch you through Hawk-3" The officer pressed a few buttons and relayed a video feed from a navy Sea hawk flying over the wreckage. The feed was shown on flat screen monitors in the CIC. Groans and moans were heard around the CIC and some remarks of disbelief.

"Fleet Actual this is Hawk-3. The destruction is total. We're facing possibly a thousand destroyed vessels out there. I'm seeing some people in the water and we're going now to try and help. Oh my God.." the man's voice could be heard wavering. Uzuyev made no action to discipline him. He was busy enough fighting the vile growing in him.

"Very well carry on soldier. I want you to relay this messege to all evac units in the area: They are to Continue evacuation. You are authorized to Fire on any empty fleeing ships. Do you understand?"

"Yes Admiral. Hawk-3 Out."

Uzuyev stared at the video feed for a few more seconds. He was human not a machine. They were all human. Fifty different thought lines ran in his head, how could they have done this?...what should I do?...I can't beleive what has happened... He may be human and subject to emotions...but he had a job to do.

"Sir?"

All those thoughts vanished at once from the man's mind.

"Sir what are our orders?"

........

The XO looked at him expectantly. The whole CIC was turned toward the face of the admiral waiting for the order to retaliate.

"Bring the fleets heading to zero-four-zero full speed ahead. I want a full scale air strike ready within 20 minutes. Get the rest of our sky hawks in the air I want the enemy fleet pinpointed and any help they may be getting. XO!"

"Aye Sir!"

"I want you to work with the other captains of the fleet and organize a full scale missile strike while I work out an airstrike."

"Aye SIR!"

The CIC was now a buzz of activity. The Chechen fleet, Task Force 1 moved at a 40 degree angle (roughly north east) towards Yeltsmin and would curve in a more easterly course from there. Underneath the decks of the navy's supercarriers F/A-18's were fitted with standoff ASMs and F-14's with Sparrows, AMRAAMs and Phoenix missiles. Meanwhile ships of the Ticonderoga and Iowa class were busy working out targeting solutions with the stream of data which was being sent in. Submarines at the foreguard of the fleet were ordered to scout ahead while the boomers traveling with the fleet, hiding in the noise of the surface vessels, worked out which ships to expend their remaining tomahawks on.

The Kraven Corporation

28-07-2007, 17:09

The Supreme Overlord State of The Kraven Corporation

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v399/HorusGodEmperor/KravenInsignia2.jpg

The Attack on the Civilian Transports was in response to the use of Indiscriminate weaponry, that Orbital Satellite relays have identified as coming from South East Asian origin, a state of total war has been declared against the Population of Yeltsmin and the defending forces, however this does not extend to the homelands of Chechnya and other defending foes, Although this does extend to South East Asia who’s use of indiscriminate orbital weaponry has caused severe damage to the Kraven Task Force and has indirectly murdered hundreds of Yeltsmin refugees who were taken aboard Kraven vessels for Safety during this time of invasion and occupation…

All Kraven Forces have been given orders of Identify and Annihilate.

The Kraven High Command.

The Kraven Corporation

28-07-2007, 17:51

Kraven Forces, Eastern Yeltsmin and Mafia Sectors.

The Kraven forces that had previously linked up with the Mafia forces now began the advance towards enemy formations, already thousands of Jackboots crunched through the dirt and debry that littered the streets, their optical mags began to read the lands ahead, while the smart linked GPMG’s began to pinpoint enemy locations, bringing their locations onto the HUD of the Kraven Gas masks, Huge Leman Russ battle tanks rolled slowly behind, their powerful twin V8 engines caused huge plumes of thick, oily smoke to rise high into the air and blotting out the early morning sun…

Basilisk Earth shaker artillery that had been set up during the early hours of the Cease fire now began to take target trajectories into account and began to adjust the positioning of the vehicle and the barrel, Earth shaker rounds, immense shells designed to obliterate fortifications and defended areas in one go were loaded into the breaches, these shells were packed with Kraven C12 and were capable of a mere fifteen kilometres, but was enough to reach the Yetlsmin defenders…

The noise was deafening, hundreds of these huge artillery pieces opened fire, sending shell after shell screaming through the sky, within minutes these weapons of destruction would cascade down onto the enemy formations, and civilian sectors, it would be a preliminary bombardment and the defenders of Yeltsmin would know that this time, Kraven meant business…

In the distance great plumes of earth, fire and smoke rose high into the air as the shells impacted, the buildings nearby and the ground itself rumbled as the shells tore the earth ashunder…

The Capitol Police gunners clicked open the huge breaches and the smoking shell casing dropped outwards, before being thrown behind the machine, the Capitol Police loaded another shell and closed the breach, adjusting the firing pattern slightly and letting rip with another salvo…

The Capitol Police continued the advance inwards, towards the enemy locations, their weapons held ready…

Meanwhile on shore, huge trucks began to climb up the beaches, towing behind them the dreaded Kraven AA weaponry, The 120mm Stratosphere gun, behind the truck was another towing the huge generator required to power the electronics that gave the gun its awesome capabilities, more and more of these trucks poured onto the beach and headed towards strategic locations, prepared to defend the skies from enemy attacks…

The 2nd Kraven Battlefleet continued towards the pudite Navy, preparing to link up and help defend, or if necessary assist in the destruction of enemy vessels..

The Kraven Naval Commanders were impressed by the sinking of so many vessels with little fuss and the fact that the Pudite Naval Commander didn’t question the orders, but the Kraven navy continued onwards, taking a target lock of the Chechen Navy and preparing for a full spread of Anti Shipping Missiles, (HammerStrikes)

They would wait until a direct target lock was aquired before firing the full spread of missiles with the accompanying salvos from the main deck guns of each of the vessels in the 2nd battle fleet, comprising of three Subjugator Super Dreadnaughts and Six Annihilator Class Super Dreadnaughts (however soon to be downgraded to Heavy Dreadnaught in the face of the Subjugator) along with the accompanying support vessels, carriers, Apotheosis Dedicated Anti Missile Cruisers and Gorgoroth Class Ultra Carriers, along with the smaller but equally capable Immortal class Battlecruisers….

South East Asia had brought about total destruction to the people of Yeltsmin…

Groznyj

28-07-2007, 19:30

Chechen Navy, Task Force 1

Admiral Uzuyev peered over the tactical map as orders were being carried out. We're way too close to them he thought to himself. Perhaps the Chechen navy could take on the Pudite naval force if it could win the air battle but the Kraven elements in the area were a whole'nother story.

"Maintain heading. We'll have to sail into the wind to launch the fighters. Once they're launched change heading to Three.Three.Zero."

Deck of the Intrepid

The sun shown strongly on the deck of the Nimitz class carrier. There was nothing to be seen in the horizon except the other ships of the Chechen navy and the plume of smoke rising above to the north east over the city. F/A-18 Hornets maneuvered into place as steam catapult sleds were set. An F-18 set itself to the sled and prepared to launch. A group of F-18s waited behind it. With a final hand signal the pilot gunned the engines and the fighter took off (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qZaLa1S1ZUU&mode=related&search=). Moments later an F-14D laden with air-to-air missiles took off (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xuu--tTFn-A&mode=related&search=).

The pilots had been flying all night on rotations. Already a few had crashed or were forced to ditch their planes due to lack of fuel or human error. Regardless, 342 planes were now in the sky flying toward the Pudite navy. Some of them carried standoff missiles, others bombs or torpedos, and others flew air cover and would engage any enemy air response. Due to the close range of the fleets fighters carrying standoff missiles were able to launch them relatively soon after take off. 102 F-18 carried standoff missiles were fired. The planes which had fired them now switching to their bombs or torpedoes. The priority targets were the Pudite carrier assets. The air raid closed in. Doubtless they could be seen on RADAR by the enemy but it would only be minutes before they had closed into engagement range.

Meanwhile the other ships of the fleet prepped their VLS launch tubes. This would be the immediate answer to the ruthless Pudite murder of civilians. The 13 Dragon Class destroyers built and purchased from DMG opened the salvo before the fighters had gotten into range. Each firing it's 2, 15" kinetic kill saboted guns at the enemy fleet. Projectiles 5" in diameter traveling at just under a mile/second flew toward their targets, being the enemy ships which had fired the opening ASM salvo. At the same time the other major ships of the fleet, the 12 Montana and 8 Iowa class battleships let loose a dozen tomahawks each. The 30 Tinconderoga class cruisers added to the volley with their own of 14 Harpoons each and the Ohio class submarines added to the volley with 80 of their own Harpoons.

The Pudite fleet which had attacked the defenseless civilians would soon find itself assaulted by a combined air and naval assault of 102 air launched Harpoons, 360 tomahawks and 500 sea launched Harpoons as well as an air raid of 342 fighter aircraft.

Round Two of the naval battle was on...

Uzuyev would have to hope Spizanian and USAN reinforcements would arrive in time....

Meanwhile, back in the City...

A pair of jackboots marched down street. A burned out skull collapsed under the pressure of one. The collum marched down the street like a deathly menace. Moments later they had turned a corner and were gone.

"Go go go!" The Colonel whisper-shouted in quick succession. Seemingly out of no where 13 men emerged from the sides of the street: dead bodies in cars come to life, underneath burnt bodies, crawling out of basement windows, out of no where. The men hustled down the street quickly but almost without a sound. They were miles behind enemy lines and surrounded everywhere by Capitold Police. They were pursueing a distress beacon sent out an hour ago by the surviving members of the 58th Marine Division; the very same division that was annihilated by the Kraven bombing and whittled down to 80 men who fled the beach.

-The sound of marching could be heard again. The distinct report of Kraven jackboots. But only a few of them this time.-

The Point Man raised a hand and pointed two fingers at the right. The soldiers crouched and readied their weapons. A dog barking could be heard. Folled by a whimper. One thud later the same dog, a kangal (a massive Turkish sheapdog renowned for its ferocity and ability to fend off packs of wolves) crashed into the road just infront of the troops. The dog's body was immediately riddled with holes.

The marching resumed. Out of the corner several Capitol Police came forth marching perpendicular to the street the soldiers were on. They were a fearsome sight instilling fear and doubts in all who fought them. Rumors had begun to circulate amongst the ranks of a new 'unhuman' soldier different from the forces the Chechens had been fighting up till this point. No matter how many stories they had heard, it still didn't stop point man from opening fire on the last CP in the column. A hail of 12 guage slugs and automatic weapons fire ripped into the Kraven troops from behind. The overkill was deemed necessary: a fellow squad had been torn through after being surprised by the enemy's armor.

The engagement was swift lasting only seconds. 3 CPs down and the sound of tanks could be heard coming closer.

"Move!"

These men were no ordinary Marines.. they were Force Recon; the Special Forces branch of the Marine Corps. They had seen enough CPs to not be afraid of them but only feel a healthy respect for their deadliness and armor. The special forces operators closed in on the warehouse. It was strangely quiet but the beacon pointed straight to here. The Colonel took a look inside from a slit in the wall. Pitch black. Maybe they were holding out?

Meanwhile, in other friendly positions...

An M1A2 rolled down a road with a group of soldiers behind it: a squad of marines and a company of militia. They were on their way to relieve a friendly position pinned down by enemy fire. The tank commander stood behind his .50 machine gun with his binoculars out in pure german tanker style. On his head was an officers hat of the caucasian papakh style (vaguely similar to Russian officer hats of the Cold War) He and the rest of the soldiers with him had no idea what hit them when it came. There was only a small whistle in the air and then the road exploded into a fire ball. The C12 laden round scored a direct hit on the M1 and totally incinerated it sending molten sprays of depleted uranium into the faces of surounding soldiers. A police station hit by the blast came crumbling down. Moments later the surviving soldiers were caught in a second volley and the reinforcements were no more. All across the city Chechen positions suffered the onslaught of Kraven artillery strikes furhter weakening their dire situation.

What was even worse were the fire fights between marines, militia, and Capitol Police. Many soldiers had come to believe Mafia soldiers were all that Kraven had to offer. They were incredibly wrong. Some groups of militia fled before the inhumane soldiers. Most if not all Chechen forces surprised by CPs were annihilated on the spot. Their 5.56 NATO and 7.62mm rounds bouncing off CP armor many times. Entire companies were cut down by the sudden surge of .50 cal carrying troops. The front line, weakened by the ceasefire began to crumble but still held. Civilians and soldier alike struggled in a life and death race to get back to the Chechen lines (which were being pounded by artillery) before a .50 bullet got there first. Once soldier running with an old woman and several other civilians was incinerated by an Earthshaker artillery round which impacted near them just as they caught a friendly machine gun nest in site.

How much longer the city could hold out was a question on everyone's mind as the psychological aspect of the battle and the Kraven beasts began to sink in.

The Kraven Corporation

28-07-2007, 20:24

Warehouse: Eastern Yeltsmin

A VTOL Landed with a crunch near an abandoned warehouse, Kraven Mimir Class observation ships had detected a signal coming from the building, indicating some form of military presence, and so the VTOL had been deployed with the intention of Exterminating everything inside, and ensuring that whatever was sending the signal, wouldn’t send another…

Kraven had decided that this would be a message, a message to Chechnya, that Kraven could and would strike anywhere without warning and not even the most well hidden and well coded messages would escape the all seeing eyes and all hearing ears of the Kraven war machine..

The Doors to the VTOL opened with a hiss and a click then a thud as the massive steel door landed on the ground with a thud, from the darkness machine like devices stirred into life, whirrs, clicks and thuds, hisses and the distinct steps of something not quite human…

The Darkness was suddenly penetrated by around five lazer target designators, they all came to life in unison, indicating exactly what was inside…. Sardaukar… Phase 4’s, Kraven’s ultimate Terror weapon…

These soldiers were more than just a man, grown in vats and put through horrific experiments, replacing bones with titanium replacements, and putting various cybernetic parts and biologicaly grown replacements, the creature that was a Sardaukar was something to be feared, it was unthinking, uncaring, and implacable, it was everything a Capitol Police Trooper was, but a whole lot more…

They carried Assault cannons, heavier version of the American minigun, designed to tear targets apart and cause as much carnage and terror as possible, with a heavy, servo assisted foot fall the first left the craft, stepping towards the building, the machine was looking for targets, its lazer designator flicked between windows and objects, looking for hostiles, non found so far…

The others began to follow, stepping out of the craft and towards the building…

The Doors were big, old wooden ones, surprisingly, the building had withstood the bombing, and the shell and had managed to avoid the Capitol Police sweeps…. Probably why the signal came from the building…

They approached the door, with a click and a whirr the automags were locked into place, and the barrels began to spin, slowly at first, the eerie morning light glinting off the barrels as they span faster and faster, the gun grey metal picking up speed until a bright incandescent light errupted from each of the Sardaukar’s Assault cannons, the door exploded in shards of wooden fragments, as the door was filled with holes in seconds, screams came from the other side, as the Sardaukar cut their way into the buildings…

They stopped firing and the first Sardaukar forced its way through, its sheer weight and power smashed through the remaining wooden panels, revealing the Sardaukar in all of its seven foot glory, the machine was huge, its red glowing eyes poured hate into the building, as the Lazer Target designator lit up, pinpointing several targets, before its assault cannon spat into life once more…

The targets were twelve marines, who instantly took cover behind boxes and bundles, the huge 12.76mm rounds hammered into the make shift defences, killing the marines instantly, their cover affording them no protection as the huge armour piercing rounds tore great chunks of flesh from their bodies, or cleaved limbs straight off with minimal fuss…

One marine was given a head shot, his brains and the majority of his skull exploded across his team mate who seconds later was torn practically in half by this immense man machine…

More marines ran into the room to investigate the noise, their weapons ready they stormed in, trained professionals, they moved in a fluid manner, using the cover, until the Sardaukar stood at the door had located them, pin pointed their presence and let rip with another volley of huge armour piercing rounds..

Instantly, as soon as the marines had entered, they were cut down one by one, each of the rounds did the exact same manner, tearing chunks of flesh and splattering the walls with intense gore, others were decapitated while some were cut in half, bodies already littered the room, as these walking machines of terror stepped further into the room, they now began clearing the warehouse room for room, using a short range sonar device to locate each of the concentrations of Soldiers…

Some marines had over turned a bench, hiding behind it, they heard the heavy thud of a Sardaukar foot stepping down, the servos whirred and clicked…

“Shit… what the fuck is it?” One marine asked…

“Shut the fuck up…” The other said…

He could tell that his buddy was about to loose it, he could see the stress in his eyes…

Suddenly, he buddy lept up and ran away, only to be cut down in seconds by a burst of Assault Cannon fire, the man exploded in a shower of blood and gore, his friend, screamed, then stood up, firing his rifle at the beast, the rounds almost point blank impacted with the chest of this monster, it barely flinched, the marine continued to fire, round after round into its chest, when suddenly it dawned on him that he wasn’t hurting this strange beast….

The Sardaukar looked at him as its systems calculated the damage caused, its optical systems running the diagnostics, and then finally came to the conclusion it was 95% operational with only minor fluid leaks, its target designator came online and as the man turned to run, he too was cut down in an explosion of bone fragments and blood…

In 10 minutes, The Sardaukar had reduced the warehouse from 75 Marines down to just 15...

The last had heard the screams, the gun fire and the unholy machine like noises the Sardaukar were making as they walked through the facility, some had taken their own lives rather than face the monstrosities that were coming towards them, others however were going to make this their last stand…

They all held grenades, clutched tightly to their chests, they waited, looking at each other with grim determination, they knew exactly what to do, yet not one had spoken to each other, in-case they let any doubt about what was about to happen reach the air, they preferred to stay quiet and hope for the best..

The First Sardaukar entered the room, followed closely by the others, the room was quite large, it stored boxes and tables and other things used in the city, it was once the warehouse of a large delivery firm, and so, fork lift trucks and other small machinery was used as effective cover…

They all stood up in one, throwing the hand grenades so that they landed in-between the group of Sardaukar, quickly they all sat back down before the Sardaukar had time to open fire… within seconds the grenades exploded with several bangs and a huge cloud of dust that filled the room, one peered over the corner of an over turned table…

There was nothing but dust, thick dust… he couldn’t see them… he leapt up and cheered, moments before five Lazer Target Designators lumbered through the smoke and the dust, their vision patterns set for thermal, they located and targeted the last survivors, and gunned them down in seconds, each of them died hero’s however, standing against a foe technologically superior and far better equipped and with a machine like efficiency that only Kraven could produce…

They all died, stood with feet against the table, emptying clips of ammunition into these beasts of Kraven, before finaly… they were all silenced, their bodies riddled with bullets, others missing faces, some missing parts of their chests, but all of them massacred in one of the most horrific scenes in the war…

The Brutal Extermination of the Chechnyn 58th Marine Division….

Groznyj

28-07-2007, 21:32

This part of the city was too quiet. The colonel knew this. Could it be that it was because the 58th was holed up here? If the enemy had known they were coming they would have ambushed them long before. He decided it was safe. The colonel yelled something in Chechen into the slit but there was no response.

"Colonel!" spoke the Point Man, "You smell that?"

"...Blood.." replied the Colonel.

He nodded to the Point Man who cracked open the door slightly and rolled in a flashbang..

The man kicked open the door and the squad burst in weapons raised. There was no one. No Marines no Capitol Police. One man felt his boot dig into something mushy that made a sickening sound. He bent down and touched it with his fingers. All of a sudden the light came on. Everyman turned his weapon toward the specialist who stood there with a did I do something wrong? look on his face. The other SFO (Special Forces Operator) looked back at his hand. It was something read and guey. He looked down.

!!! "Son of bitch"

He had been stepping on the brains of a fellow Marine. The others looked around at the grisly sight. Grisly didn't begin to describe the carnage. Throw 74 men into an almost broken rusty meat grinder and throw them around a room and that is closer to what was there. Bodies lie strewn everywhere. Heads, limbs, piles of meat and mush, blood stained the walls ceiling and floors. An arm fell from a ceiling fan. One of the operators left the group to check the other rooms. The Colonel bent down to examine one of the bodies. Its dogtags were still intact. He took them and read them.

"Corporal Sinan Özal, 58th Marine Division... we;ve found them alright." The grim faced Colonel stood up and looked around, "This isn't right.."

All of a sudden the power went out. Shots were heard in some far off room to the past the way the lone SFO went. The SFO's turned on their NVGs.

The Colonel put a finger to his radio, "Sergent!.. Sergent!...Shit!"

Before they could have time to react 12.7mm gunfire ripped through the wooden walls and into the soldiers. 4 men were immediately ripped apart by the blast. The remaining 9 took cover and began to fire at the enemy. Through a wooden wall the Sardaukar burst through and begun opening fire on the Commandos. Another 3 men were felled and the rest retreated to the room behind them: the exit was blocked by the enemy. In the other room the 6 Commandos fanned out and took cover in different places turning the door into a choke point. As each man was focused on the door the concrete cinder block wall to their right burst. The Kraven monster burst through and began firing on the men. Four men exploded like water balloons sending out a splash of blood and bone and some eyeballs. With only him and the Colonel the Point Man ran towards the approaching Sardaukar and jumped at it, attempting to shotgun it at point black to the face with a 12 gauge slug. The machine swatted him to the side with its free arm: he fell in a heap on a pile of boxes, the top half of his head shifted 5 inches off center from the impact of the blow.

It was only the Colonel now surrounded by 2 Sardaukars. The others walked into the room. They moved like machines. There was no sway in movements as with a human. The Colonel stood up from where he was crouching. He unholstered his Colt M1911A1 service pistole and began firing at the Phase 4 in front of him.
bang
bang
bang
bang
"Die you ugly son of a bitch!"
bang
bang
bang
click!
click!

The Sardaukar grabbed the Colonel by his firing hand and crushed the pistol along with his hand in its grip. The monster then grabbed the Colonel by the neck, grasping his head by the lower jaw and raised him off the ground. It slowly began to squeeze..

The Colonel choked and his face turned red.

"What.......are....you?!" he managed to say.

His eyes filled with blood. A second later his head imploded. The Sardaukar released the Colonel and the headless body dropped to the ground in a lifeless thud. The man's berete fell where his head was supposed to be...

Response to the Kraven Corporation on Ceasefire Termination

It was not the Republic of Chechnya which violated the terms of the ceasefire or launched a surprise attack on a civilian population center in the middle of the night after disabling our RADAR and early warning systems. If the Kraven Corporation had been transporting civilians for their safety it would not have opened a bombing raid on them in the first place or mercilessly slaughtered them on the street and in their homes.

End Transmission

The Warmaster

28-07-2007, 23:06

SIC Letter to Cassius Montresor

Dear Cassius,

It seems as though my men are having trouble in deciding how to divide up our vessels in order to return their human cargo back to our homeland. I sat in my office for some time, attempting to figure out a solution to this problem, when I suddenly remembered your name. So, friend, we would like to hire The International to assist us in the transport of captured persons from Yeltsmin to Paradise City, BC. I do hope you are up for it.

Sincerely,
Claudius Griffincrest

***

"Pass your hand," I said, "over the wall; you cannot help feeling the nitre. Indeed it is very damp. Once more let me implore you to return. No? Then I must positively leave you. But first I must render you all the little attentions in my power."

"The Amontillado!" ejaculated my friend, not yet recovered from his astonishment.

"True," I replied, "the Amontillado."

-"The Cask of Amontillado" by Edgar Allan Poe

***

Xaharsa; the city to which all of Kregaia flocks for its dose of soporific sin, the capital of iniquity, the biggest outlet for the repressed emotion of billions of Imperial citizens. It is a city the Imperium cares little for, and so it is run by the cartels, the pimps, the casino owners...but over it all looms the shadow of the International. Banned from trading in drugs or guns (two products the Imperium is determined to keep its citizens away from) in the Empire, with the threat of massive retaliation if that rule is broken, the International controls prostitution and gambling institutions independent of the Imperial Ministry of Pleasure. Xaharsa is essentially the capital city for the worldwide cartel that is the International, and as the sun sets over the landscape of sin, Cassius Montresor, head of the International, sits relaxedly in his penthouse apartment in the Fortunato Hotel and Casino, smoking a cigar and re-reading a letter from Claudius Griffincrest.

Ah, Griffincrest. Very likely one of the wealthiest men alive; that whole dynasty had enough money to buy its own information-age nation. One of the main players in the escalating war of the depleted city of Yeltsmin, and an extremely dangerous man to cross.

It was, of course, a question of profit.

The International could provide the transport and had done so for the Imperium many times. Griffincrest wouldn't be too stingy, Montresor was sure; on the other hand, refusal would mean a vendetta with the Griffincrest, and while Montresor had faith in the strength of the International, such a conflict would not end well under any circumstances. Nothing to be gained by refusal and the certainty of some profit in accepting; and so he drafted the orders.

***

Dear Claudius,

After giving your request some thought, I have agreed; the International is at your disposal. However, final details are required; for example, there is the matter of roughly how much cargo requires transportation, and the coordinates at which you would like my transports to rendezvous with your fleets. Regarding the matter of payment, I trust to your gratitude for the time being to provide compensation for our services. Please respond quickly; the sooner I have specifics, the sooner my fleets can begin transporting the cargo. I hope this missive finds you well.

Sincerely,
Cassius Montresor

OOC: Obviously you don't have to send the details :p

Emporer Pudu

29-07-2007, 00:37

Republic of Chechnya, City of Yeltsmin, The Assault Thickens
About two kilometers off the coast of Yeltsmin, lay the Pudite Imperial Air Force naval taskforce. Vice Admiral Prisiazhnik was standing in his uppermost command bridge, looking out over a sea of officers and command displays, and beyond; a sea of ships and waves. The gleaming white surface of the carrier shone before him, reflecting the sun back at all who looked.

The airstrip, however, was a matte color, to protect the pilots landing by it. Ever since the sinking of the Eternity the remaining three carriers had been incredibly busy. As the Pudite air support had made few forays into the city itself, they were relatively undamaged, with limited landing space. This resulted in usually many more than the expected force of one-hundred and twenty fighters.

Now, all across the fleet, deep within the bowels of the respective ships, the radar rooms were humming with incoming and outgoing transmissions. A great force of enemy aircraft and missiles was detected coming in, and the Pudite response was destined to be undermanned.

Currently, there were two-hundred and seventeen Strakhen Sokol air superiority fighters flying broad circles above the fleet, each armed with six long-range, over-the-horizon missiles, as well as ten short-range missiles, and two ground attack missiles, which would do them little good. Some of the aircraft coming back from the city had fewer, but all were armed in some way, even if it was a single missile, or a string of 30mm rounds.

As soon as the commanders in the air were notified, their squadrons would begin the engagement. Long-range missiles, the TD-AAM-2 anti-aircraft missiles, would propel a one-hundred and twenty kilogram warhead into the hottest point on the enemy aircraft, via thermal guidance systems, and explode. They could hit mach five, at terminal velocity, but would make the trip hovering more around mach four-point-four.

But before the enemy aircraft were of any real consequence, the incoming missiles had to be dealt with. Nearly one-thousand missiles were hurtling towards them, and if left unmolested, were perfectly capable of destroying the fleet's operational capacity.

The first wave of the defense would be the tiny, short-range interceptor missiles, each screaming out of the launchers on board the fleet's twenty-four frigates. They would impact the missiles, and even if the kinetic energy didn't kill them, the eighty-five kilogram warhead would.

Nearly half of the missiles were dispatched thusly, but more slipped through. As they came closer to the carriers, their targets, the CIWS turrets swiveled into action, launching waves of tiny metal rounds, obliterating a good portion of the remaining attackers.

Vice Admiral Prisiazhnik could do nothing but watch as the attack closed in. Beside his own ship, a Glacier-class fleet carrier, the Warrior of Faith, took a Harpoon missile directly on their flight deck, blowing off a good piece of the forward runway, and effectively destroying the conventional take-off and landing potential for the ship. Further missiles rained down, another impacting the Warrior, blowing off a rear tower and taking many exposed radar dishes and CIWS turrets out with it.

All around, more impacted, but the effect was significantly lessened. A Swiftsure-class destroyer, the Zealous, was hit hard by a Tomahawk missile just above the waterline, but she stayed afloat. The trimaran wing was damaged, and looked near to falling clean off, but the hull stayed up, a testament to the large destroyer and her designers.

Moments before, the fifteen-inch shells impacted the Portlandia class cruisers, the antagonists responsible for the attack on the civilians minutes before, and had succeeded in destroying four of the large ships, and drawing another down to a severe starboard tilt. All would continue fighting as long as they were able; the last act of the five ships was to empty the missile tubes of anything else that could fire.

Twelve-hundred and thirty-six missiles; four-hundred and sixty-six TD-ABM-5 anti-capital ship missiles, as well as seven-hundred and seventy standard TD-ASM-1 missiles. The heavier of the two would target the battleships, while the rest would rain down on the supporting craft. Specific instructions and patterns were hard-wired into the missiles, and would take effect upon take off.

At least there would be a counter-attack, even if it was not exactly in the best of circumstances. The TD-ABM-5 missiles were armed with a two-thousand eight-hundred and fifty kilogram penetrator warhead, which would hopefully punch through any armor it came up against.

Hopefully...

Until the main fleet arrived, a force of well over four-thousand ships, including the Dominion's Hood-class supercapital, Hope was all that the Imperial Air Force's tiny advance fleet had.

OOC: New post is teh down =/.

Leafanistan

29-07-2007, 04:31

The Mafia pilots, beleaguered and actually hoping for the ceasefire were disappointed when news of the Ahabs were relayed. They were frankly shocked. Southeast Asia was something they dreamed of moving to, clean, well-dressed, and prosperous. They read the papers, they knew how great it was there.

They couldn't believe that the country that many of them believed would be a nice place if Kraven didn't want them to crush and mash and then eat the mash, would ruin the ceasefire, and literally end the lives of millions of refugees. One pilot said it was a waste of good pussy and was promptly stun gunned and told to cool off in the brig. The Mafia had no need for unprofessional soldiers, the Lobo Legions were testament to that.

The pilots didn't really talk much after that, they were being scrambled, sent off to die in upgraded Gnats, the Earwigs, or the lucky ones were being sent to the F-14s that manned their air superiority picket. The best ones were put onto small flights, that flew the F-44 Interceptor. A new, DMG made aircraft, those things would send Ichkerian planes into loops.

They got into their jets, and took off, a slew of new targets and 'No Fly Zones' appeared on their tactical maps and they went to enforce it. Supported by Kraven VTOLs, Griffencrest Jets, and Pudite Aircraft, many of them were confident on maintaining a sense of air superiority. After all, with that airfield constantly bringing in supplies for and supporting Kraven from Kraven itself, weren't they on the home team?

Those who piloted 'Assault Craft', the helicopters and archaic biplanes were pressed into service. Jets couldn't be dragged away from dealing with helicopters and the riff-raff, and it was up to the ground-pounders, with Stinger missiles or those near vehicles with autocannons to take care of them.

Anything they couldn't blow out of the sky, was up to the Biplane fleet, which found itself once again jury-rigging some new toy to their planes. This time, Stinger missiles, with the vibrating mechanism, carefully removed and mounted next to the rear gunner. The pilots joked about how soldiers on the ground would have heart attacks seeing the biplanes, firing Javelin missiles and raking them with machine gun fire.

Meanwhile the massive missile bombardments from the enemy destroyers was being countered by continued fire from the Mafia ships. Entire Legions of men, just melted under the submunitions' rain of steel. Thankfully, the majority of them were Lobo Legions, tasked with marching forward and forming a human buffer, and worked exactly as planned. Dozens of additional legions, all newly 'volunteered', Slave and Lobo Legions, illegal immigrants from nations with less than kind customs officials had sold them into this hell.

They were quickly loaded into BTR-152s and driven to the front to help reinforce the massacred Lobo Legions. As a stopgap, the Mafia had to stop advancing and told remaining troops to set up a line to prevent militia incursion. Armored vehicles, which had been rushed from Kraven airfields were now being dropped in, and the Mafia soon had dozens of new HT-101-120 tanks, and a few T-72-120s, a modification donated from another kind benefactor to allow for sharable ammo.

Morale was oddly enough high. Only those who weren't in the 'Volunteer' units were allowed to have morale, and found that their new meat puppets, who were very strong and clever. After being informed of their origins, it became clear. Only the strongest and smartest could possibly try to immigrate illegally into an island nation.

Inside a relief convoy back to Staging Area X-Ray

Coordinator Diamondagger was now in the comfort of the foam interior of a medical APC going back toward a staging area. They were going to be rearmed and redeployed this time with an attached armored division.

Captain Ricardo was actually rather happy. She had the first cigarette in the past 4 hours, and Private Ant/I], the pet name that he hated so much had actually grown a pair of balls. She mulled over the thought, sure he had them, she was sure of that, but it wasn't appropriate. He had gotten the stare, the 1,000 meter stare, of a man who had looked death in the face and shrugged.

She patted the Coordinator on the back.

"Coordinator, we are going to get the nice stuff now. Field Medic up there tells us we just got reinforced. Kraven's just wiped out a Marines Special Forces [I]Division, and that bit of radio chatter has really raised our spirits. A whole pile of fancy new foreign made tanks along with some of our tanks are going to form a few divisions and we get to ride in APCs, with Otagian made Assault Rifles and Machine Guns. And while the meat puppets get blasted to hell, we just sit back and pop a few."

She took a long drag on the cigarette, the ash falling onto an exposed part of her leg, but she didn't flinch.

"I'm personally going to grab an Otagian-made Sniper Rifle from one of the armories and a PPSh-41. The new rebarreled ones are in the 9mm so I don't have to worry about changing cartridges with my pistol."

It was at this point that Captain Ricardo stuck her hands inside her pants and pulled out a Berreta 92FS. Private Ant's eyes widened as he thought about that near 'incident' in the basement. His hands never felt it.

"See this?" She held up the pistol.

"I got this off a dead officer during the first few rounds of combat. Just before I met this quickdraw, driving a Technical. It has an inscription on it, in that goddamn gibberish these people speak, so it means it is important. And from the look of it, it has never been fired."

She shoved the gun back into her pants and leaned back as the medical convoy rolled into the Staging Area, and the doors opened as Marine Medics carried out the wounded to MASHs.

Captain Ricardo jumped out of her seat and gestured toward a large tent with two guards in front of it.

"Hey you apes! Lets get some guns!"

Groznyj

29-07-2007, 15:55

Streets of Yeltsmin; Western Front - Chechen Front Lines

"Alright get the fifty cal over here!"

The soldiers worked together forming a defensive perimeter. The flood of civilians coming from the east was now a trickle. Either they had almost all escaped or gotten killed. A hysterical woman in what was once a colorful headscarf pleaded with a soldier to help her find her husband. His commander ordered her away almost at gunpoint. In the road they set up a machine gun and used cars and broken stones as cover. Well behind a broken down M2A2 Bradley who's suspension was hit by a rocket was towed into place by an Abrams tank and left as a field gun with its 25mm chain gun.

Across the new front the remaining 12,000 Marines and perhaps upwards of 100,000 militia manned emplacements and got ready to counter a final assault. After the brief lull in fighting after the ceasefire the command decision was made to hold this string of positions at all costs. The successful evacuation of civilian non combatants was paramount.

There was one piece of good news in the rubble of the city: the Kraven bombing and shelling had made thousands of perfect ambush points and new geographic features which favored the defender. Local armories were emptied of their stores and makeshift supply trains of commandeered vehicles and runners were made between the line and those armories behind it. Anti-tank and anti-personnel mines were layed out amongst the rubble making them difficult to spot. Snipers took positions in buildings and machine gunners as well. Most of the javelin missiles being spent on enemy armor, most rocket teams were now using RPG-7s from the armories and took positions behind cover and in buildings. Towed artillery and anti-tank guns, while few in number due to it being an urban environment, were moved into place to take best advantage of firing angles and cover. They were used the most in larger roadways where it was more likely for enemy armor to advance. Marine and Irregular alike bunkered down and took aim at what was to come. Forward scouting parties would make sure they were aware of the enemy advance and not be caught off guard. Meanwhile a few helicopters circled above. Most had spent their mini gun ammunition and were very vulnerable to enemy fire. The events in the novel Black Hawk Down had played themselves out in some way at least a dozen times in the past few hours. Remaining tanks took their positions: the ones which were still mobile would move and engage enemy armor as it came with infantry support, all those that were crippled were used as stationary guns and strong points.

At the same time Marines along the Pudite front held their position waiting for the assault. The armored battalions which had retreated to the assault ships would wait until the order was given to reengage.

(ooc: I may change that last paragraph when Pudu finishes his post)

The Kraven Corporation

29-07-2007, 16:26

Kraven Forces pushed forwards, using tanks for cover now, receiving gunfire and loosing some troopers, they decided to allow the heavy Leman Russ battle tanks to pave the way forwards, the assault cannons tore up the roads ahead, as they lay down heavy amounts of fire power, while the smooth bore 170mm battle cannon dealt with any snipers in buildings or armoured targets, the Capitol Police moved in unision, sweeping between buildings and pushing forwards all the time…

Ahead were the lines of the Yeltsmin defenders, the Battle tanks that rolled up, took shots at the Bradley that was laying down gun fire with its turret, while any other tanks in the area would be quickly dealt with by the other Leman Russ’s in the formation and any PanzerFaust teams that were moving up with the capitol police, using GodStrike missiles to deliver a crippling blow to any armoured foe…

Flamethrowers were used to clear buildings, and while the Capitol Police moved up to engage the Yeltsmin defenders that were on foot, they used anything available for cover, some Capitol Police caught out in the open were cut down by gun fire, but still the tide of the red eyed monsters continued…

Like an unrelenting tide, the final battle had begun, the Kraven forces, sweeping forwards, surging like some great evil tide, volley after volley of GPMG gunfire swept across the buildings, into the defenders of Yeltsmin, each Capitol Police trooper marching forwards with inhuman purpose, their goal was the systematic extermination of all life in Yeltsmin…

More and more began to pour through streets, while Leman Russ Battle tanks supported the attack, this was the scene in every part of Yeltsmin, Kraven’s big push, they were meaning business, they had the advantage now, as Chechen forces began to fall back, they kept moving, keeping up the pace, while Basilisk Artillery began to shell behind enemy lines, cutting off their lines of retreat so they had only one option…

Fight or be Destroyed…

The Kraven Corporation

29-07-2007, 16:33

All Across Kraven sectors, 120mm Flak Cannons, the dreaded Stratosphere guns, were set up along with the equally feared, ZSU 633, they patrolled the skies, ensuring that any enemy aircraft trying to Harass the Kraven re-enforcements that were reaching shore wouldn’t get very far, as well as high powered spot lights, these guns were manned by Capitol Police who slowly manoeuvred the gun around, watching for enemy aircraft and being able to fire at a moments notice…

Mainland based air assets now patrolled parts of Yetlsmin as well as carrier based assault craft that transported ammunition and supplies to the forward units fighting in Yeltsmin, the Kraven forces were well supplied and highly mobile, ready to strike anywhere….

Fighter Bombers now began to run sorties across the city, bombing targets of opportunity, while carrier based Interceptors ensured that Kraven had air superiority, Dive bombers harassed civilian convoys, screaming through the clouds and releasing a payload of high explosive incendiary rounds, ensuring that what civilians did escape would never be the same again, scarred by the horrors of the Kraven attacks…

Other dive bombers screamed across the civilian transports, firing with their .50cal machine guns, strafing the lines, the Capitol Pilots almost taking in inhuman glee at the job they were doing…

No one in Yeltsmin was safe…

Groznyj

29-07-2007, 23:29

The sound of a helicopter crashing not too far away could be heard. The APC rolled to a stop. A door opened and a pair of standard issue Chechen Marine boots stepped out breaking a glass bottle underneath. The owner looked around. Around him he saw many faces, tired, hungry, scared, angry, emotionless...and all looking up to him. The man cleared his throat. Directly above him he saw a Marine Black Hawk suffer a direct missile hit from a Kraven fighter. The helicopter was ripped asunder by the fireball and the roters shot out in all directions. The wreckage crashed to the ground with a thud of twisted metal a hundred yards in front of him. The other men ducked but he only watched it fall. He nodded at the sacrifice.

"Colonel," he spoke. The colonel came to attention. "transmit this messege to all units in the field. I want everyone to hear this." The colonel nodded and moved to the APC's communications station.

"MEN!" spoke Lt.General Chester McGreen in a booming voice akin to the actor playing Leonidas in the film 300, "You have survived the most interesting twelve hours of your lives. In doing so you have saved the lives of millions of innocent people. Now our idiots of allies have broken the ceasefire but it doesn't matter. Those Asians don't know how true men fight. We have kept this city from those Kraven bastards all day and we made them bleed for every inch they have set foot on. They are coming now to take the rest of the city. They want each and every one of us dead. They want our families, wives, girlfriends, sons and daughters dead. I say let them shove it up there ass. They are going to come and they are going to die Right Here Today! Today is a fine day to die men. Hooah!"

A resounding "HOOAH!" echoed back at the commander. He too would be fighting today if the action got to close for him to command. There was a shortage of men and everyone had to play their part. With the men now more motivated the Lt.General walked into a command room prepared for him. It was the inside of someone's apartment. A blood stain on the wall over a rocking chair told the story of a former suicide by the room's owner earlier in past 12 hours.

The men in the room snapped to attention.

"At ease men. What do we got?"

Another officer walked up to him and spoke, "Sir we've lost air supremecy, the navy is engaging the ones that attacked the civilian fleet. Kraven air forces are taking precedence over the city and attacking open friendly formations."

"How bad is the bombing?"

"Damage is minimal sir. At most we're getting reports of platoon losses. I think they're trying to soften us up for a major assult."

"As do I.." replied the Lt.General, "We are going to hold this line until being overunning is imminent. Is the fallback line in place yet?"

Another officer answered this time, "Sir they've been having problems with enemy air assets harrassing them and enemy artillery. Units here.. here.." he pointed at certain points on the city map, "..and here have been hit the hardest. We can't expect any fallback cover on these lanes. There's no response."

"Send a batalion of militia to each site.." McGreen looked up at the officer, "If we're forced to turn our backs to the enemy without any covering fire we're dead do you understand me?"

"Yessir."

"We cannot let the line break." McGreen decided to divulge the information he had kept from his troops, "The enemy has more boots on the ground than we do. Including the Irregulars." From his pocket he pulled out a folded picture and set it down on the table with a punch to emphasize what he was about to say, "THIS is what we are up against. There are more of them than there are of us. They are going to shell the hell out of anything they think is remotely a defended position and then send them in with tank support." The picture was of a wireless surveillance camera set up by concerned residents before the attack. It showed a single Capitol Police trooper opening fire on 3 Marines: two were dead and the last was firing at the trooper as bullets tore through him.

McGreen continued: "These are no ordinary soldiers and nothing we have faced in the past. Fuck the Russians, Fuck Spetanaz. This is something else. Mikelson, what happened to those 4 units serving as forward elements?"

"They were forced to retreat sir. Only a tenth survived. The men brought back reports of walking machines and ghosts."

"This is what we are up against." Said McGreen to the room. The other commanding and staff officers looked at him uneasily. "And I have a plan.."

McGreen continued with a run down of defense plan. The Chechen defenders would hold out long enough to for the civilians to be safely away. Capitol Police armor had proven resilient to the rounds used by the Marines while Militia forces reported better results with the heavier Kalashnikov rounds. Thus most Marines had ditched their M16A2s for Ak-47s, 101s and 103s. They would be instructed to aim for the head, limbs, and lower torso of the enemy. Snipers and observers hidden in buildings would report the composition and strength of the approaching enemy giving defenders a heads up on what they would face. Anti-Armor teams were ordered to hold fire for enemy armor and to concentrate their fire. McGreen was confident his trained Marines could successfully aim and hit the weak points of a tank such as treads and that the presence of his Marines would have a calming effect on the Irregulars; most were simply retrained civilians and little more (although most of the ones not cut out for battle had joined the evacuees or been killed by this point). McGreen was counting on the altered cityscape to provide protection against enemy shelling as well as a 'ghost' defense: With the city so ruined and rubble being the dominant architectural style these past 12 hours, shelling would be less effective than it would normally have been. That and the difficulty in telling exactly where the enemy were while being shot at from every angle. The front line was not as stationary as tradition dictated. Infront of the first line was a 'zeroth' line. The Zeroth line was composed of infantry and some mobile guns. Soldiers would fire on the enemy until they stopped. The moment there was a lull in the fighting the platoon in charge of the sector would advance, fall back, or move to a new location: even if it was only a bock away. This would serve to keep the enemy on the edge and dodge any retaliatory artillery or mortar strike. The same tactic (although used to a much smaller extent) had proved useful in slowing and halting the Pudite advance. These 'ghost platoons' would serve with the main line. Their purpose was to keep the enemy on edge and always guessing. Predictability equaled death which is why they would be important. The main front line was composed of troops dug in and immobilized armor and some mobile elements of armor and anti tank guns. The goal was to keep the enemy back as long as possible.

Once the front line was broken-and it was agreed it was only a matter of time-the troops would fall back to fallback line. While they retreated those in the fallback line would provide covering fire. This was not just a bunch of soldiers running back to join more soldiers down the street; this was a string of defensive positions and soldiers positioned in buildings (the best part about the ruined city was that the only way to silence all the voices of observers, rocketeers, and snipers in the buildings was to either level the entire city literally-or if that was already done- sweep the entire city with a fine tooth comb which meant taking it first.)

The fallback line would then serve to hold the Kraven advance for as long as possible. This would be the proverbial last stand. The goal was 4 hours. The city was to be held for 4 hours. After that time the Chechen forces in the city would retreat-out of the city if necessary. They would then either: 1- mount a guerilla campaign from the forests to the west or 2- attempt to reach extraction by way of the USAN, Chechen, or Spizanian navy.

This was the general plan. What could be salvaged was. IEDs were rigged, though it wasn't guaranteed they would work being made on such short notice (it was easier to make a homemade bomb-in-a-bucket like napalm) and miniguns from downed helicopters were salvaged giving some parts of the line or buildings a greater kill capability: while ammunition remained. With the sheer volume of the enemy it was entirely possible they would run out of ammunition.

12:21 ZERO HOUR. 1st Line of Defense

The first waves of Kraven advance met a tough defense. Snipers in buildings took shots at enemy formations, going for the head of the CPs. Immedietly after ward the same snipers would change their position to make spotting them nigh impossible. The ill-placed Bradley went up in flames from the attack by the Lemon Russ tank. A moment later as the victor advanced a hail of RPGs flew towards it: a few found their way to the tracks but the others either hit somewhere else, found the CPs by accident, or missed altogether. Entrenched Marines and irregulars had finished praying and were now acting on their prayers and emotion and on necessity.

A .50 caliber machine gun opened fire on a group of advancing CPs. Far behind, given target information, a M119A1 105mm towed howitzer from the fallback line opened fire on the advancing tank. If it dared advance anyfurther it and its accompanied infantry would find themselves surrounded on all sides by machine gun and rocket fire.

For the moment things were going well. The engagement was only beginning and McGreen could only hope his plan had been the right one. He had to hold the city until 4:00 P.M. At that moment he could high tail it out of the hell hole. But Untill then...

Leafanistan

30-07-2007, 02:18

Field Marshall Victor Moran picked up his Glock and walked outside to make a rallying speech, when his choice of using a forward staging area turned out to be a bad one. A submunition bomb went off and sliced his head clean off. As his body tumbled off the makeshift stage he had made and the microphone dropped to the ground. The Mafia unit in front of it stared and looked back up to the confused command staff. The Mafia came from a decentralized organization and knew that if their head was cut off, in this case literally, they could always have another brain somewhere else take over.

That is when 2 star General Lisa Hiyasaka stepped forward, wearing a Kevlar Mandarin Collar, a helmet and a heavy vest. She gingerly picked up the microphone, and blew on it. She then picked it up, and stood there.

"Uh. I didn't have a speech, and frankly, I think speeches are a waste of our fucking time. Don't we have killing to do?"

The crowd cheered and turned around to their vehicles. She interrupted them.

"But first, they have established a clear line, and have marked off the city. There is only one solution."

The crowd dutifully removed their gas masks and put on their thermal goggles. They put on their protective ponchos, a dark thermal neutral clothing that hid their heat signatures, except for a tiny patch indicating friendly on their backs.

The newly appointed Field Marshall Lisa Hiyasaka then picked up her encrypted satellite phone and sent a message to the Griffencrest Commander. She then called the Pudite Adjutant, and then finally the Kraven Adjutant. She only said one thing.

"Gas 'em."

The MRLS systems on the ground let loose a massive bombardment which would be followed by the new Field Marshall's orders.

The Mafia artillery guns were loaded with the same thermal neutral smokescreen + distilled Mustard + Lewisite gas mixture they started the conflict with. They began firing at the enemy line, each shell opening in midair to release dozens of smaller canisters each one spraying out the mixture of gas. Soon a highly irritating tear inducing, sky darkening, and filter eating combination would consume the front line. Those with gas masks may find themselves in danger as the Lewisite ate through their clothing and rubber masks.

The Mafia forces were in no danger, as this was the standard loadout for Corporate Alliance gas attacks, and their ponchos were made of a polymer coat, and their gas masks made of a special filter that was resistant to Lewisite. They also carried autoinjectors for neutralization of mustard gas and Lewisite.

The Lobo and Slave legions would be first to make a path. They began to charge them, spurred on by their cohorts, who stayed behind to pick off those who stood to shoot the unfortunate 'volunteers'. A few Slave Legionaries drove their BTR-152s, HT-50s, and BCT-50s at the enemy land mine line, as mine clearers.

Mafia commanders has planned for the Rocket bombardment to cause some casualties and set off a few mines, then the gas to cause confusion. As the Volunteer Legions pushed forward a bloody path to use their own bodies and vehicles to carve an opening, the heavy armored units would smash through the line, circle around, and crush them horizontally.

Blackhelm Confederacy

30-07-2007, 05:45

The Griffincrest forces were overjoyed at the new offensive, and soon found that the Chechen forces that were intermingling with the mercenaries before made for superb target practice as they attempted to rush back to their own lines. Meanwhile, the men prepared for the final push into the city, and organized to make a massive three pronged push into the Chechen lines.

Throughout the Griffincrest sector, thousands of Chariot MBT's and Mercury APC's surged forward, protected by their infantry assets, and made sure that any Chechen, soldier or civilian, would never leave Yeltsmin. Overhead, Gnats made their bomb runs lossing a pair of 500lb bombs onto any position their pilots deemd a potential problem, AV-18 VTOL gunships layed down massive fire support, and F-14 Tomcats ensured that whatever the CA had in the sky would stay there.

The Griffincrest commander recieved the message from the Mafia general, and went along with what he was told. Soon thousands of G7 howitzers were pounding the rear lines of the Chechen forces with tons of shells filled with Lewisite and Cyanogen Chloride. If the massive gas cloud that would soon sweep over their lines and kill even those in gas masks did not break the Chechens, the commander did not know what would.

Meanwhile...

The Coordinator was rather confused by what he had seen in the Lobo Legion, and now just wanted to get to a warm tent where he could make contact with the rest of his men and let them know that he was still alive. In the meantime, he figured he would make some communication with the two people he was with.

"I figure I'll hang onto this gun, maybe just pick up a few more rounds....mind if I grab a cigarette?"

His focus then shifted over to the private, a man about half of the coordinators age, and obviously, a man who had seen battle for the first time in his life earlier that day. His cold grey eyes pierced the Private for several seconds before Marcus spoke.

"Rough day, son?"

The Kraven Corporation

30-07-2007, 20:59

Kraven forces began to meet stiff resistance to their sudden advance, a Leman Russ Battle tank erupted in flames as the rockets of several RPG’s slammed home, taking advantage of this models exposed tracks, Capitol Police fell left and right of the vehicle as the fire ball rose high into the air, immediately the advancing Capitol Police took cover behind obstacles and began to return fire with pin point accurate machine gun fire

Quickly, some were taken out by snipers, dropping the Capitol Police by using their position and advantages of range to locate weak points in the armour, immediately Capitol Police began to fan out, taking cover behind tanks and burnt out wreckage, while they began to report stiff resistance and requesting air cover…

Within minutes the Kraven interceptors roared over head, unleashing a deadly torrent of Napalm incendiary bombs across a wide area of the city, softening up the already beleaguered defenders for the coming attack..

The Capitol Police continued to lay down fire, as from behind the tanks came Centurians hundreds of these hulking great troopers, their trench coats fluttered behind them as they stormed forwards, each of them roaring some great battle cry to Kraven, using their assault rifles to lay down fire, joining that of their brethren Capitol Police, they pushed forwards, using the streets layout to avoid being killed, they moved in a staggered formation, some giving covering fire while others moved forwards…

Leman Russ’s ploughed through the remains of buildings, bringing them crashing to the ground as another wave of Interceptors roared overhead, letting loose another carpet of Napalm filled bombs a few miles away, Kraven was beginning to close the curtain around this conflict and was using its superiority in the air to great effect…

Fighter Bomber sorties across the escaping civilians was increased and squadrons of Interceptors tried to disrupt lines of communications, hitting buildings they believed contained transmitters or in areas where there was a lot of activity…

Kraven Artillery sections continued to shell the lines of escaping, changing their vectors every so often to hit a different section of the city, while some were redirected to directly support the advance…

Where ever a sniper was spotted, or revealed himself by killing a Capitol Police Trooper, the area was quickly shelled with a short barrage of Basilisk artillery, hoping to catch the sniper and clear the way…

What few land mines remained from the initial shelling of the area caused some casualties amongst squads but on the whole was a peace meal effort,

Currently Kraven High Command was receiving reports of heavy reistance, but only light Casualties with only the 17th Sturmpanzer Battalion taking any major damage, however, it was decided that a flushing method of clearing the streets would be used, hoping that any disruption to the defensive lines would prevent the 17th Sturmpanzer Battalion from taking anymore losses….

Forward Kraven Command posts issued orders for the Kraven artillery to direct fire to the main locations of heavy resistance and start shelling the area with a concentrated barrage of tear gas canisters, hoping that any further resistance would break in the face of this riot control gas, perhaps the defenders wouldn’t have gas masks and NBC gear, perhaps they would, it was a gamble Kraven was going to take…

And if they did… Kraven always had the option of clearing the area with the 3 stage bio weapon….

Leafanistan

31-07-2007, 01:46

Meanwhile...

The Coordinator was rather confused by what he had seen in the Lobo Legion, and now just wanted to get to a warm tent where he could make contact with the rest of his men and let them know that he was still alive. In the meantime, he figured he would make some communication with the two people he was with.

"I figure I'll hang onto this gun, maybe just pick up a few more rounds....mind if I grab a cigarette?"

His focus then shifted over to the private, a man about half of the coordinators age, and obviously, a man who had seen battle for the first time in his life earlier that day. His cold grey eyes pierced the Private for several seconds before Marcus spoke.

"Rough day, son?"

Captain Ricardo shrugged at the thought of him keeping his gun.

"Fine by me, frankly I want to get rid of this G36, Ant over there got it off a dead militiaman."

Private Ant shifted in his seat upon hearing his name and Ricardo's aloof nature. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a Q, a Leafanistani made cigarette that contains one quarter marijuana content, the slogan on every box, adorned by smoke wrapped lovingly around it said, "Relax and get smooth."

Before Ricardo could hand off the cigarette to the Coordinator, Private Ant demonstrated his lightening fast reflexes and had a Q in his mouth before Captain Ricardo even realized it. She clenched her hand into a fist and looked over at the Private, pulling out a Q and lighting it.

"Hey, I'm a superior officer and I say give that man his fuckin' Q and give me my pack back! Private!"

Private Ant puffed a bit and removed another Q from the pack.

"Say, Coordinator, these are Qs, meaning quarter Mary Jane in every stick, can you handle that without numbing your reflexes? Us Non-Coms get normal cigs."

It was then that he noticed the man's piercing gaze, that looked past the Qs, and into his soul, and asked an equally piercing question, albeit in a succinct matter that suited him. The Private was quiet for a second, then gave himself another surprise, a surge of false bravado, possibly brought on by the Qs, though he knew his tolerances were high.

"Well, a day just isn't a day without blood."

And on that note a rather pale man, with bloodshot eyes, and holding a militarized tablet PC, walked up to the Private. He then asked for his name, number and unit.

"Private First Class Anthony Optov, Foxtrot Company, 2nd Platoon."

The man stood there and eyed his dogtags. He then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bag full of various pins and medals and proceeded to pull a tiny bronze pin and the ranks for Corporal. He then grabbed the Private's dogtags and used a tiny punching machine on them. The PFC, became a CPL. He slapped on the small medal and the Corporal Ranks.

Private Ant was confused and started jabbering. The man looked at him wearily, did a hand motion to shut him up and explained in a monotone that seems like he had done is a thousand times.

"Congratulations Corporal...", the man paused and looked at his tablet, "Antony Optov, you are now a Corporal, and that medal is the Survivalist Medal, meaning you are the only survivor of Foxtrot Division, 2nd Platoon."

The Private couldn't believe it, he saw only one of his men get fragged, a rear gunner when they were fleeing a Chechen counterattack. The man didn't wait for him to speak again.

"We have the dogtags of all the men in your division, most of them were killed trying to repel a Chechen feint around Pudite landing forces. You are now Corporal Anthony Optov, of Hotel Division, as Foxtrot Division no longer exists. You are in charge of 2 fireteams, Fireteam Queen, and Fireteam Roger, both of them light rifles. They are infantry, greenhorns, and barely know their dicks from their rifles. You have 30 minutes to talk with them, and get moving, now for your friend here."

Captain Ricardo, stepped up and held out her dog tags. The man took down the number and raised his eyebrow when his computer responded.

"Captain Maria Ricardo, November Division has been reinforced without you. You are an orphan so I'm going to reassign you to Hotel Division which is being built right now, and put in charge of Helios Company, which means you'll stay with your friend Priva...Corporal Optov."

He tapped his microphone and the loudspeakers on the mounted Technicals whined to life.

"Attention Helios Company, Hotel Division, Fireteams Queen and Roger, meet at Orientation, your commanding officers are here."

The man then slapped a small medal on her chest, and said "Citation for bravery, heard you personally took down a pillbox with antiarmor units inside after the command structure of November Division was hit."

Private, I mean Corporal Ant couldn't believe it, he was now promoted, and he was going to have 8 greenhorns with itchy trigger fingers under his grasp. And with Captain Ricardo leading the way, they were bound to be doomed. He stood there, dumbfounded as the man walked over to the Coordinator.

"Coordinator, how are you sir, can I get you some ammo, food, or water?"

A man carrying a pile of assorted ammo walked by and was stopped, accosted, and then sent along his way. The man then dropped 3 clips of ammo for the Coordinator's gun.

Emporer Pudu

31-07-2007, 03:27

Republic of Chechnya, City of Yeltsmin, The Assault Thickens
Lukas Czisz was a soldier of the 7th Parachute Infantry Division of the Imperial Air Force, a formation tasked with moving south and east through the war-chattered city of Yeltsmin to link up with other allied armies, to aid in the northern push, and relieve the beleaguered 6th Parachute Infantry. However, they had experienced heavier resistance than anticipated, and many of the advance formations were scattered before the assault was braced for the battle.

Now, as the advance began again, many of the forward soldiers found themselves alone and behind enemy lines, much like Lukas did now. Holding his Type II Assault Rifle close, he was now resting behind the shattered wall inside the front room of what was once the Pier Point Hotel. He had received no word over his squad frequency in the last hour, and he had no idea where the rest of his division was. He knew them to be somewhere north of him, but as he had been heading that way for nearly an hour and found nobody, he couldn't be sure where he was.

He did, however, know that to his south, there was the enemy. Twice already he had been forced to fight to escape, and had killed three of the militia so far.

Now, as he rested, he could hear them again. Just down the street from the Pier Point was a large open intersection and the outdoor patio of what was once a cafe, where friends would gather and people would enjoy their luck hour... Now, it was a killing field for the squad of advancing locals, some of whom may have even ate there before.

None of that entered into Lukas' mind, however, all he could think of was how he was to escape. The Pier Point was one of few buildings still standing, but it was crumbling, and not safe to go up. To the north there was a massive rubble pile across the road, where he would have no cover. He would have to go back down the street, or die here.

He elected to move. Hoisting his rifle and checking his ammo, he realized he was running low. He did not stop to think about that then, though, and quickly started out of the building, leapt over a low wall under the extended roof off the front of the hotel, and sprinted down to the end of the street. There, he heard his first evidence of his pursuers.

Two gruff voices were talking on the other side of the square, apparently unaware that they were being overheard. Without wondering what they were saying, Lukas knelt up and fired a short burst into the building they inhabited.

His attack was met with a resounding "Fuck! They're here!"

He fired another burst, smashing down a wooden door with his large 8.12x42mm rounds. More shouting erupted, "I thought they were hours away! What the hell!"

As Lukas reared up to fire another burst, however, he heard a decidedly mechanical click click click. He quickly ducked back down, as, apparently, the foreigners had regained some composure and were returning fire.

A heavy machine gun quickly joined the chorus, and began picking holes out of the building behind Lukas. He looked down at his rifle, as though the thing had betrayed him. He felt around his waist for extra ammunition pouches... nothing. He checked the magazine, there was no mistake... nothing.

He was out of ammunition. How could this have happened? He knew he this combat was rated for twelve hours before relief, and he was equipped as such, where had his ammo gone. This was only his fourth fire-fight, he had been rated for more. His superiors couldn't have made a mistake, given him too little, he must have done something wrong. Had he dropped it? Was it back in the Pier Point, did the enemy steal it? Impossible... But then where had it gone?

He had no orders to deal with this, protocol always assumed he was armed... He was trained in improvisation, in close combat, but that was always just in case he was caught off guard, never assuming he'd be in this situation. Had it been that they didn't care once he had out of ammo? NO, the Emperor cared for all of his subjects, he wouldn't let Lukas die, just because he'd dropped a bag of ammunition...

Improvisation. That was what he would have to do, it was the only way. Firstly, he had to get away from this fire-fight. He eyed, to his right, a highway overpass, beyond which, was an open road he could use to get back to friendly lines. The division had been planning to use it to move south in the original plan, and he was the advance scout platoon down it. Obviously, the plan had changed, though, as nobody had been buy in an hour.

Lukas leaned, in a lull in the gunfire, and surveyed the situation; there were half a dozen of them, militia, he guessed, by their irregular attire and attitude. The closest was behind a tree, miraculously still standing in the middle of all of this restriction, it's verdant green boughs untouched by the fire by virtue of it's position in the center of the square.

Lukas waited for the man behind the tree to lean out to fire, and when he did, he gave a mighty heave, launching his assault rifle, two handed, flying over his head, tumbling end over end, into the man's face. The butt of the rifle hit him squarely in the jaw, knocking him backwards and leaving his head lying at an unhealthy angle. He was probably dead.

Using the surprise garnered by his strange kill, he stood and sprinted down the wall, sliding to a stop only as the enemy gunfire resumed. He was at the end of the wall, looking longingly from beneath his helmet's HUD at the overpass and the road beyond, only twenty feet off, across another, dead end this time, road.

He was a genetically perfect human, embryo chosen from hundreds of thousands of others to produce his batch, Lukas and fifteen hundred other identical individuals, after the embryo was divided multiple times. He was engineered, fibers woven into his muscle, steel and plastics supplementing his bone, he was a million-dollar package. Trained from birth to relish in the combat, and understand the intricacies of war, he has been firing a gun since he began to walk. Physical training and conditioning, costing thousands of dollars, were beaten onto him, twelve hours a day of grueling physical endurance tests and strength gauging.

On top of that, he wore a suit, literally costing millions of dollars to produce, that would boost his strength and perception further, while shielding him from small-caliber rounds. Thick layers of ceramic plates and kevlar mesh were woven throughout his body, and topped off by a heavy steel and plastic helmet, imbued with a life through computers, connecting him with the rest of his squad, and if he chose, his army. He, however, was under orders not to use that frequency, in case he should have his helmet taken from his body.

This great beast of war stood six and a half feet tall, and weighed easily over two-hundred pounds. He was a match for any three men, and was combat-hardened in the jungles and training complexes of home. He was a fantastic warrior, and a multi-million dollar investment.

He broke from cover, under a withering hail of bullets, and ran for the road. He could feel the full impact where the bullets were hitting him, but nothing like pain would register with him, his brain itself had been modified to bypass basic pain. He ran further, nearly to the overpass... only another ten... five...

And then his world went first red... then black. There was no pain in his death, but it was obvious, he was dead. A bullet had struck him in the faceplate of his helmet, smashing through one of his eye sockets, and creating a small bump in the back of his helmet. Blood and fluid flowed out of his face, as his body lay sprawled out on the pavement. A bullet, perhaps costing forty cents, lay imbedded in his million-dollar brain.

He was dead, and useless.

Even as he breathed his last, however, a new noise was heard. From beyond the overpass, a great rumbling shook the square. From around the corner, a great wheeled Amba armored personnel carrier emerged, it's chain gun wracking across the square, punching man-sized holes in the buildings and leaving the first three of the militia dead in the street.

The others returned fire, halfheartedly, as they fled. However, before they could cross to the street from their cover, another vehicle emerged, this one a lighter LV-08, mounting an automatic grenade launcher. Both vehicles poured fire into the buildings around the enemy, leveling yet another now shapeless former structure.

The militia was dead, Lukas was dead, and the 7th Parachute Infantry Division had arrived. Giving one last survey of the square, the armored personnel carrier let loose one final volley, severing the once lush tree. As the Amba moved on, followed by the LV-08 and the jogging infantry behind, the ancient tree fell to the asphalt, it's limbs crashing down and breaking, it's leaves tarnished with the soot and dust of the battle.

It too, was dead.

As the rest of that battalion advanced; armored personnel carriers, jeeps, infantry and towed guns, not one soldier so much as looked to the square, and the life that once was there. All eyes were forward, all steps in time, and all rifles held at the ready. In perfect uniform style, one-thousand soldiers marched on, and left the square to die.

Such was the way of the war.

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

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the city of Yeltsmin, the 6th Parachute Infantry was preparing to begin their own battle... again. Having fought their way through the city as far as they had, the formation had taken significant casualties, bringing many of the front-line battalions down to three-quarters or even half of their original numbers. Now, as they prepared for a major, battle-deciding assault, they had to be careful.

General Turbanov, having just gotten word that his reserve battalions and the soldiers from the flank face-off with the armored units had returned, had recently ordered the beginning of a massive artillery bombardment of the highway position, as well as some harassment of the blockaded roadways and alleys.

Infantrymen Fedor's battalion had indeed already been dispatched, as they were the only battalion tasked with punching through the nine alleyways that served as some of the only passages through to the inside of the city. These passages were spread out, surely, and so the attack would have to be divided.

It was decided that the attack would focus on only three of the alleys, allowing one-third of the damaged battalion to focus on each. Lieutenant Colonel Malko Sachinich had decided that it would be prudent, however, not to let the enemy know that that was his plan, and platoons would be sent to engage the other six alleyways, at least until the main assault began.

Luckily enough, Fedor's platoon, led by Lieutenant Okulov, was assigned this duty. Their platoon was equipped with a single 105mm artillery piece at their disposal, as well as an LV-08 and an Amba wheeled armored personnel carrier. The remains of Fedor's squad waited in the Amba, as the platoons' pathfinders went ahead to harry the defenses, and find out what they were up against.

The 105mm gun was set up outside the Amba, in a small parking lot off the side of what used to be a tall office building. The rest of the platoon, about thirty-five guys, were milling about, creating a light barricade around the position.

As the three pathfinders took up position, about a block away from the passage, they called in the first artillery strike...

A heavy blast resonated through the streets of the city, echoed on all sides by similar blasts, as hundreds of light artillery began pouring high explosive down on nine small alleyways, three broader streets, and a single massive, mined, defended, highway.

The battalions were in place, and the bombardment had begun. Pathfinder snipers had begun to engage the perimeter units from as far away as was possible, picking off sentries and patrolling soldiers, as they tried to get a feel for what was facing them.

Even as high explosive was raining down on the defended positions, coupled with the occasional pinpoint missile strike from the ships, delivering a few hundred pounds of high explosive at once, something decidedly more deadly was put to play.

Some of the artillery in the rear had been equipped with special shells, filled not with explosives, but with a concentrated dose of Jenrakian-made Night Lord's Urine, a strangely-named, yet effective, weapon. The gas, upon contact with a subject's naked eye, blind said soldier permanently, greatly reducing their combat efficiency, one would think. This is a favorite tool of the Dominion, based on the fact that nearly all soldiers in Pudite service wear full-face helmets.

Breathing the gas is harmless, and as long as the eyes are completely sealed off, there is nothing it can do. Large concentrations were fired at the highway position, but no gas fell anywhere else.

General Turbanov knew Kraven forces, to the south, wore masks, but should the gas drift, still in a concentrated form, into Griffincrest or Mafia lines, he didn't know what would happen. In any case, it was an effective weapon, until they could counter it.

It had already been deployed, earlier in the city, against scattered insurgents, but had minimal effect. Now that the enemy was stationary and compacted, it would serve it's purpose much more efficiently.

The assault would soon begin.

Groznyj

11-08-2007, 00:57

Battle for Yeltsmin: The Final Act
Chechen Frontlines...

The six Marines had turned the deserted road into a death trap. PFC Mikeyel crouched behind a blown out concrete wall that was now only waste height. The thunder of battle went on all around them. Tanks.. not Chechen tanks.. could be heard advancing closer to their position. The road in front of them went on into forever; a cloud of dust to some forgotten intersection. The road sign was shot to pieces. Shop windows stood broken and merchandise lay strewn about the store fronts. Smoke billowed out of the windows of one building. Out of the dust cloud dark figures could be made out. Larger than any man and walking in a now too familiar stride. Overhead a Marine helicopter sustained a missile hit. The fireball blew its aft section out of the sky along with several Marines who plummeted to their death. The other half of the Black Hawk tumbled end over end and was lost from sight to the looming ruins.

PFC Mikeyel looked down; he saw a shirt on the ground. With his left hand he picked it up, almost idiotically he was lost in a trance for what seemed like minutes. He looked at the shirt grasped in his hand; it was a sleeveless Punk shirt with the words: "Live hard, Die young" printed on the front. It was probably meant to be bought by some pretty teenage girl who was most likely dead now. Mikeyel's grip tightened on the elastic cotton shirt. He threw it back down and set his eyes down the iron sights of his new Kalashnikov. Dead in front of him about 50 meters was a Capitol Police trooper. Mikeyel stared the demon straight in its red eyes without a flinch. His eyes told no fear for now he was a hardened soldier.

The CPs walked closer apparently unaware of the six men aiming at them. They walked into about 20 yards from where the furthest man was when they finally took notice but too late. As the beasts swung their weapons to take aim a hail of steel and led filled the air around them and in them. The group of troopers were cut down by the gunfire in seconds: pieces of armor and helmet and flesh bursted out the back of their bodies and blood sprayed into the air. The last Kraven trooper fell over backwards while kneeling; bullets raked its chest and explode parts of his faceplate. All that was given in return was a burst of MG42 fire straight up into the air.

The six Marines held their position for what felt like an age. Although the crackle of gunfire flooded the city this street was silent as a lamb before the slaughter. One Marine walked out of his cover and towards the last downed Capitol Police trooper. He stood over the head of the former killing machine and emptied his G3 into the top of its head. He bent over to remove the face-plate: to at least see what these things looked like. What followed was a gasp and then a red cloud followed by the report of automatic cannon fire.

The other Marines immediately ducked for cover taking the advise of the heavy caliber shells flying all around them. One Marine standing behind a concrete wall just like Mikeyel's took a shell through his abdomen. His expression was of shock and horror as he looked down to see two grapefruit sized beacons of light shining through a blood red chest. He fell in a heap almost instantly. Taking the hint Mikeyel broke his cover and ran further back into the street. Another one of his brothers-in-arms fell to the invisible tank fire. The other three soldiers all retreated at the site of the hulking tank which emerged guns a blazing from the dust cloud. The treads of the behemoth chewed up the asphalt underneath it and crushed the bodies of the downed CPs without a care in the world. Behind Mikeyel two fellow Marines were shot down by gun fire.

In these brief few seconds while Mikeyel was running out of cover, his last squad-mate tripped over a dead body and fell flat on his face. Infront of him, past a burnt out car to the right and Mikeyel's old hidiing place further up was the tank accelerating down the street. The soldier who fell found a RPG lying on the ground next to him by chance. He grasped it and in on fluid motion armed it on his shoulder while sitting with his legs straight infront of him.

"Get the fuck out of here!" he yelled at Mikeyel with a hand waving him away. An instant later he squeezed the trigger to fire. A bullet caught him in the left shoulder and knocked him off aim. The rocket flew high missing the tank and hitting the upper floors of some building. In a fraction of a second afterwards his body was raked by gunfire and he fell back down on his back.

Private First Class Mikeyel was the only surviving member of his squad. A Kraven trooper spotted him and opened fire. Automatic cannon fire followed. He ran for his life dodging bullets by inches. Mikeyel ran stepping through a puddle in the road and dove into a shop window. The glass shattered and automatic fire tore up the facade of the shop. In his heart Mikeyel felt something he never felt before. In the few seconds after he dove through that window-what felt like an eternity-he knew he was going to die. Time slowed and everything quited down. The room was exploding around him: a mock knight in armor was filled with holes and upholstery and what else was torn up around him.

Then there was a load blast followed by familiar gunfire. Mikeyel propped himself on his palms and looked out the shattered window front. The tank which was only seconds ago to claim his life for the Kraven war machine lay strewn in a burning wreck. The troopers around it were dead and the others behind tried to take cover. Mikeyel saw a fellow Marine pass by the window and then an irregular. He got up and brushed himself off and jumped out of the window. He was met by another Marine, a Sergent. They advanced up the road to a new position before digging in.

"Sir?" he said in a puzzled tone. A second ago he was about to meet Allah.

The Sergent replied with a slight frown, "We got a request for backup. Saw this tank and took it out. What's your situation marine? Where's the rest of you?"

Mikeyel gulped. He pointed to the tank still burning 60 meters behind them, "We were overwhelmed by that tank sir. I'm the only one left."

The Sergent only nodded. His face was contorted in thought. "Looks like your with us now Marine. Echo Hybrid Company. I'm Sergent Wilhelm"

"Private First Class Mikeyel" he replied.

"Glad to have you aboard son. These bastards are worse than we thought. Just so fucking many of them. Do you have a gasmask?"

"No sir mine took a bullet."

"Here take this," Sgt. Wilhelm handed a gasmask to PFC Mikeyel, producing it seemingly from no where, "We've gotten reports of gas attacks. Cowards can't beat us like men so their gassing us."

"Incomming!!" shouted a forward soldier. The men looked up and braced themselves. Shells of tear gas exploded around them but not on them. The gas quickly spread, whipped up by the winds of battle and obscured the road in front of them and to the sides.

"Fall back!" shouted Wilhelm in a hoarse voice. The men began an orderly retreat when gun fire once again ripped through their flanks. Those who were in the intersection just infront of Wilhelm and Mikeyel were dropped immediately. Those past it were trapped and would soon find themselves surrounded by Capitol Police seeking retribution for the tough time they were being given.

"Fucking Run! Dammit!" grunted Sgt. Wilhelm. About twenty men raced down the side of the street back to a more defensible position. The men ahead of them were doomed.

They ran for half a kilometer.

"Friendlies!!" shouted the Sergent.

They ran into a proverbial wall of defenses: men behind sandbags with recoilless rifles, RPGs, and machine guns at the ready. It was the front line of the Chechen defense. Sgt. Wilhelm ran past them and met up with his commanding officer, Lieutenant Doraev. There were soldiers all over the place.. Many of these were irregulars but some were Marines, the men who were running th show but stretched too thin and few in number.

"Report Wilhelm." snapped the Lieutenant in an impatient manner.

"Sir. We moved up to assist friendlies under fire. We found one man.." Wilhelm pauased as if to remember his name, "P-F-C Mikeyel". We advanced further and held our positioned and we were gassed by the enemy. They flanked us soon afterwards. I've lost almost half my men."

"Shit.." replied the Lt. "You and your men hold here from now on understand?"

"Yes sir."

There were a series of loud explosions nearby after this dialog. The streets in front began to fog up with the yellow green smoke of tear gas.

Here we go again thought Mikeyel to himself.

All across the city...

The Chechen lines met the enemy gas attacks with horrendous results. To the north west where the Pudite forces had reverted to using their chemical agents squads of soldiers began acting hysterically screaming out that they could not see at all. This frightened soldiers in behind. When hundreds began to share the same fate the north western line began getting tense.

In the Griffincrest/Red Isles theater of the battle soldiers were being forced to pull back due to the Mustard gas. Thankfully the winds were not blowing the gases towards the Chechen positions. Actually they weren't blowing them anywhere at all.

The Chechen line finally got the word to fallback to the second fall back line. McGreen had been notified by his Spizanian counterpart that they had secured the airport and now he had a place to fall back to he wasn't so keen on slaughtering all his men in the hell hole of a city.

Meanwhile after hours of traveling in the dark and a number of wrong turns, Major Said's (Sayid) batallion and accompanying refugees finally made it out of the subway and into friendly lines. Said's batallion was tasked with helping protect the stream of refugees going to the airport and from their the port. Adam and Ana were reunited in the subway and traveled together in the train of exodus out of the city.

Task Force 1

"Incoming radar contacts!" reported the radar officer.

"Brace for impact." replied Admiral Uzuyev in a stoic manner. From the bridge of his ship he would watch as soon a thousand anti shipping missiles would bear down on his fleet. "Order all ships to fire at will! Air craft carriers are the priority targets!" shouted the Admiral again.

"Aye sir!" replied the communications officer.

The Chechen ships of the line: outdated Iowa, Montana, and Ticonderoga class battleships and cruisers began firing away at the Pudite navy. They began moving towards the enemy navy in order to get into gun range where the proud, yet unfortunately outdated Montana and Iowa battleships would open up with 16" AP and HE shells on the enemy ships.

After the initial salvo the ships in Task Force 1, the entirety of the Chechen Navy, started firing non stop at the enemy fleet. The top targets were the Pudite air craft carriers: air supremacy was paramount and the Pudite threat had to be neutralized before Kraven aircraft could be taken care of. The next targets on the list were the missile toting ships of the Pudite mini fleet. Missiles flew up into the air from VLS tubes and side launch boxes.

Miles away scores of enemy missiles screamed towards the Chechen fleet. They were detected on radar and ships let out a defensive salvo of rolling airframe missiles. This was preceded by electronic jamming aimed at confusing enemy missiles. This was handled by specialized cruisers in the fleet.

Out in the distance the RAMs met up with their targets. The radar count dropped notably but the remaining threat was still lethal. The fleet had few more options: CIWS, more RAMs (which were being exhausted and used by the second), and walls of chaff which may or may not work against an advanced enemy.

Soon afterwards the Phalanx CIWS systems of the ships began firing at their targets. Seconds afterwards walls of chaff were thrown into the air in a last ditch effort to confuse the enemy missiles. Another lesson was to be learned the hard way for the fighting Republic. It was a lesson in fire power and technology.

The missiles hit hard. Ships burst into flames as their thin skins proved no match even for the kinetic impact of the enemy missiles. The Montana and Iowa class battleships faired better than their comrades had it not been for the number of missiles which hit some of them.

10 Nimitz class carriers suffered hits in different degrees. 2 were sunk outright by the blast and a third carried a dangerous list before exploding out the sides and capsizing taking all hands with her. 4 Charles De Gaulle class carriers were hit and one of them sunk. 5 Montana Class Battleships and 4 Iowas were sunk and another 4 of each were hit or severely wounded. Of the 56 Arleigh Burke class destroyers, 18 were sunk by the volley and 4 more damaged. 12 of 30 Ticonderoga class cruisers were destroyed and none others damaged. Of the 13 Dragon class destroyers none were damaged or sunk thanks in part to their stealth and CIWS systems highly advanced in relation to the rest of the fleet. Few destroyers/cruisers were damaged and so many sunk because their thin hulls could not take damage as well as the battleships.

Embattled and burning the Chechen fleet continued to sail. Sailors in the water would have to cling for life on rafts and whatever and hope rescue came soon. In most cases it did but this was the middle of a battle. The Chechen fleet responded to the attack by launching missile after missile at the enemy fleet. Now that there was not enough room for some of the planes to return, those fighting the Pudite fighters and navy would be ordered to land on the Spizanian reinforced airport and hope there was enough fuel and arms to get back into the fight.

Southeastasia

14-08-2007, 15:28

[OOC: Sorry for being slightly slow folks, but I like to as usual, put in a lot of detail into my writing. Some parts of this post were jointly written with the player behind the Republic of Chechnya over instant messenger, so please evenly give credit to him!]

Office of His Right Honorable Prime-Executive Leadership
Emerald Executive Recluse
Triumvirate Square
Singapore
Union of Southeast Asian Nations

Oh brilliance. thought the Prime Minister when he learned of the news. Nobody was going to support the Union of Southeast Asian Nations save those who had little to nothing to lose. Dr. Hayek, Lord Rosecrans, and the Grand Archduchess did not actively support the war and if they tried to defend the Prime Minister’s decision to authorize forces, they would simply sink deeper and deeper into the hole along with Neo if he were to defend his action. Technically, it wasn’t even the Prime Minister’s fault. He authorized the moving of Task Force Structural, but he did not have control over Commodore Jonathan Marcos’s actions. Somebody was going to get the ax. And Neo knew that Mr. Ramzan Urmev, the POTROC (President of the Republic of Chechnya), was definitely going to get a fit over this. He could see the call coming, and was in the midst of talking with his speech editor, half-working, and half-thinking to appear humble and apologetic before the public.

Meanwhile, in the Republic of Chechnya, their President picked up the phone and heard the tone of the line dialing and passing through security barriers. He needed answers to what on Earth just happened out in Yeltsmin. The initial reports were just beginning to come in: figures ranged anywhere between 400,000 to a million civilian casualties given the number of ships and average capacity. In truth the exact number would never be known but only an estimate.

Neo saw the string of letters march across the line. The Office of His Right Honorable Prime-Executive Leadership usually kept contacts with other heads-of-state or heads-of-government if need be. Oh brilliance... Neo sighed internally yet again. Putting on the smile one would typically see on politicians, Cheshire cat-esque, if you will, it was clear that he was readying himself for the conversation.

"Erm, can you please keep temporarily excuse me, sir?" he asked politely to his speech editor.

"I shall." the editor nodded, noting that there was serious business at hand, and Neo wished for a bit of a private moment. Knowing Neo for some time now, he figured that the slick and suave Prime Minister was going to get damaged, but should be able to dodge it...hopefully Dame Fortune would smile on him later on.

Once the editor had left, Neo picked it up.

"President Urmev!" Neo said, in a confident tone which sounded watered down and mellowed, "I figure that this is not a social call between the two of us, is it not?"

"Let's cut the foreplay Mr. Prime Minister," Urmev’s tone was devoid of any warm feelings. He was one of those rare men that had skill and experience in both politics and the military. He was the perfect replacement after the death of Chechnya's first president, the war hero and leadership genius that saved the nation from spending the next half century as a third world country.

“I assume you are keeping yourself up to date on current events. Do you mind explaining why one of your ships fired on the enemy in the middle of a ceasefire?” Urmev's tone showed a hint of rage in it.

Neo nodded, and carefully decided to choose his words.

“Do keep aware that I am not a general, and while I can appreciate your efforts and leadership, and this just may be the reception, I am not a Divine Being. That part is being investigated by military officials and FPG officials alike. Some have stated it to be inappropriate timing, others say incompetence...but it is being cleared as we speak.”

Neo paused calmly, awaiting the President's response.

Urmev was irritated by the Prime Minister's tone. He wanted a straight answer but he reminded himself he was dealing with another politician. The straight shooter politics which worked well among the Circassian-Turkish populace of Chechnya weren't prevalent everywhere.

He ignored the Prime Minister's attempts to lay the blame off of himself and continued, “I have recon images here of damage done by the initial attack. Reports tell us that almost a thousand ships were lost. A thousand ships Mister Prime Minister...” Urmev's tone began to escalate subtly. “I am told that we may have lost anywhere from five-hundred-thousand to three-quarters of a million innocent people. And for what reason? Because our ally in this battle let his trigger finger slip?! What do you have to say for this?” Urmev was almost yelling on the phone now. This was more than a mistake (the ceasefire fiasco) or about the death of almost a million. Kraven now knew it couldn't trust the Chechens. The possibility of a Kraven attack on the homeland was becoming an ever realistic demon in the back.

Neo knew about cultural clashes. In some places like the Incorporated States of Sarzonia, straightforwardness was more prevalent, or at least so it seemed. The same could be applied to the United Kingdom of Oceania, but then again, one could notice they had more subtlety employed. Whatever the case, straightforwardness by politicians in all places around the world can be seen, but politicians are damned if they did lie, damned if they didn't lie. Neo restrained himself and braced for the POTROC losing his temper further. Here it goes... he thought privately.

“I can understand your feelings, any national leader can...but what's done has been done. There is no point in crying over spilled milk. It is admittedly regrettable, but instead of yelling at each other, we need to find a resolution to both our respective general publics and the international community. Not that the Kravenites were likely going to uphold their word given their history...not saying that what the SAFPAS did in Yeltsmin was justified, but rather, either way, many were going to get killed...but no matter. I'm working on a statement as I speak.” Neo quickly looked over his speech for some self-proofreading, and then awaited President Urmev's response.

“Look Prime Minister. Let me make myself very clear. The Republic of Chechnya is not fighting for you and never will. Our soldiers will fight and die against the Kraven hordes that come to attack you because they are fighting for their homeland. We will send you supplies, we will bolster your defenses, we will die on your front lines, but we will not fight for you. The Republic of Chechnya is…”

“...regarding its own national interests.” Neo answered.

“...excuse me...closer than ever to a Kraven invasion than ever before and I'll be damned if we are judged in the same boat as our political allies...” Urmev paused for a second. He had been talking calmly but forcefully to this point and he continued, “...good luck facing Kraven. The Republic of Chechnya will make sure that they are unsuccessful.” With that Urmev hung up the phone. He couldn't hold himself to continue talking to this man any longer. The utter lack of emotion, the textbook political politeness and shedding of blame...it all made him sick.

Figures. Neo thought once he heard the beep of a hung-up telephone. There are no permanent alliances. Only permanent national interests. With that, and he hung up the closed conversation. Neo then spoke out loud, calling in back his speech editor, knowing about the consequences and what not. He had a mess to clean both local-publicly and internationally, and he was more concerned about the global part. Not wanting alienated allies, he hoped that Dame Fortune could somehow sway Urmev's opinion around. But that was unlikely, for the foreseeable future at least. He had a consequence to deal with, and he would deal with it.

“I take it that it did not go well?” asked the speech-editor as he returned into the office, reading the Prime Minister’s facial expression.

“Clearly.” Neo responded.

The Prime Minister then took a deep but short breath, then continued.

“I’ve been considering resignation a bit earlier than expected…”

The speech editor looked a bit worried, and interrupted. “I disagree and strongly urge you NOT to do that, sir.”

“And who is willing to take the ax?” Neo knew that this wasn’t quite the way things he would like, but it seemed like it had to.

But Dame Fortune, perhaps, in just this small instance, was on his side. For no sooner than he stated that, the telephone rang. What came across the digital text were the words “Office of Paul David Nettleton – Minister of Defense”. Perhaps I spoke too soon. Neo inwardly chuckled, with a miniscule pinch of nervousness. It wasn’t that he had anything against Nettleton. The Eurasian defense minister had played a key role, but Neo was vital. Internationally, Neo was most vulnerable. Domestically, if the first Prime Minister of the United Sovereign Nations departed, it would be further evidence of weakness in the Federal-Parliamentarian Government.

He picked up the phone.

“Yes, Mr. Nettleton?” Neo spoke in a relaxed but commanding tone.

“Mr. Neo,” Nettleton spoke, sighing very quietly and subtly. He knew that for the best of the nation, the ax had to fall. He was going to tell him of a political plan to not only save the hide of Neo, but also for the best of the Union. “I hereby would like to propose a solution.”

“And what might that be?” Neo inquired, bitter-sweetly anticipating the inevitable axing of the man who helped integrate, build up and heavily influence the creation and the maintenance of the Federal-Parliamentarian Armed Services, well; depart from the Ministry of Defense. While the thought of Neo being the one to save the country was arguably narcissistic, Neo knew very realistically that he couldn’t just leave the podium. Not only his reputation was on the line, but his country was on the line.

“That I resign,” was the flat and simple response, “should I stay here Mr. Neo whilst continuously taking the heat from the critics, it would eventually erode your administration and for the foreseeable near-future, things are not on our side.”

“Agreed...” Neo paused, letting things hang in the air to assess his plans and what to drop. “I’ll unfortunately have to terminate leaders, or at least try to persuade them to step down.”

“Oh, just wondering, Mr. Prime Minister. Are you drafting up a speech as we speak?” Nettleton questioned.

“Yes.”

“Would it be possible for me to come to your office right now? I’d like to have a joint public statement from the Executive Cabinet.”

Neo thought briefly, assessing the long-term consequences and the talks that would be occurring within the next few hours. It had to be quick, and they had to execute it elegantly across both the nation and the global community.

“Very well.”

“I shall see you there then, Mr. Prime Minister.”

“See you later!” Both men simultaneously hung up their respective phones.

Nettleton sighed, asking his secretary to make preparations for his departure, and to inform the rest of the staff of what was going to happen. I have to take this decision, unfortunately…a single stain which caused me to fall…hopefully, though I shall have to see, history shall have a different fate for me.

Sometime later…

The public, would have seen, two men at the podium. It would be a message, stated live on television, to millions of viewers around the planet. For Southeast Asia, the very person they had elected into office, the one who brought them good administration, a sense of national pride and a respect for the national values they had preached and practiced, was looking a lot less cheerful. It was a face of modesty, and a face of disappointment, both faces very humble and looking with genuine regret.

And across Channel NewsAsia, and the next press edition of The Straits Times, the media hosts and channels as part of the Union National Radio Voice Association (UNRVA)…and many others, would be learning of this. Also, those who observed the official government site of the Union would notice that there was an updated transcript for the televised speech which came across.

* * *

Official Federal-Parliamentarian Government Television Transcript

http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a338/Singaporean_Liberal/NationStates%20Pictures/SoutheastAsianCoatofArms.gif

Yao Yang Nelson Neo: I send greetings out to my fellow Southeast Asians and to the peoples of the international community. I understand and note that I have my government share its proportion of popular support. I approve and welcome of this, for this merely improves my efforts in managing the tasks as the Union’s head of government. However, I am, ultimately at the end of the day, human and not perfect.

There has been a severe error from this government, in the Chechen Republic’s colony of Yeltsmin. They have fought gallantly, but in part from misinformation on part of the Armed Services, we have unfortunately cost them severely due to erroneous errors on our part. For, due to miscommunications and indiscipline, we have indirectly contributed to a massacre that may not be removed from our national psyche: the Armed Services due to these mistakes contributed to the deaths of over half a million citizens of the Chechen Republic.

I myself am in deep sorrow. But there is another individual, who also is filled with this debt.

Neo gestures to Paul D. Nettleton solemnly, humbly and politely with respect

Paul D. Nettleton: It has been an honor and a pleasure serving as the Ministry of Defense for the Union. I am, as stated by His Right Honorable Prime-Executive Leadership, human. But I have done what I can to serve the Union…but this travesty.

Nettleton sighs

Is simply too atrocious for myself to forgive while I hold this post. I am proud to have played a role in integrating, creating and advancing the development of the Federal-Parliamentarian Armed Services. But because of this, in the best interests of the Union, I hereby declare myself to depart within this week.

However, I still send my gratefulness to those who appreciated my time as Minister of Defense. I sincerely apologize for this serious error, though I know it can never truly wash away the damage and daily routines for those who knew friends and family who perished in the battle and in the massacre can never truly be restored to original status quo.

Nettleton then stops speaking at his podium and silences.

Neo: The remaining Southeast Asians individuals have been held accountable for their roles in this dreadful blunder. This unfortunate gaffe has caused all of Southeast Asia not only embarrassment, but a noteworthy reminder: we still have a debt to repay for to the government, and the people of the Republic of Chechnya. The valiant and unshakable resolve displayed by their people in their protection of Yeltsmin, only hasten my resolve to have this debt repaid though this ignominy on Southeast Asia’s part prevents full and total compensation for this debt.

I only call for three things:

Firstly, that the Union remains steadfastly committed, despite this maladroit injury to our ally and to our national ego, to defending our values against the avarice and cowardice of the Second Corporatist Entente.

Secondly, that we defend those who wish to assist us in our defense against the Corporatist Entente, for we also owe them a debt as well as the one to our friends in Chechnya.

Thirdly, lastly, and just as importantly as my first two points, that we in the Government, remain united regardless of our different political beliefs. Hence why I call for an Emergency Federal-Parliamentary Coalition that shall unite Southeast Asia’s legislative body in both the Upper Parliamentarian House and the Lower Parliamentarian House yet maintain our respective party affiliations, for the next half a year or until this armed struggle ends.

That being stated, I apologize from the bottom of my heart not only to the people of the Union, but to the gallant people and virtuous leadership of the Republic of Chechnya and the peoples and governments of the global community for this flaw. May the United Sovereign Nations and her friends and allies in this crisis endure, and may they prevail although the occurrence of this tragedy. Thank you, and have a good day.

END TRANSCRIPT

* * *

Sometime after the public statement…
En-route to a private location of Nettleton’s…

Nettleton sighed as he traveled in the government supplied Botanica Imperatrix Saloon. It was of course, guarded, with two four-wheel-drive jeeps ahead and behind each to a secure residence. All vehicles were armored to protect against high-powered bullets. Despite his resignation, Nettleton was still an important figure for he knew many things while serving the Executive Cabinet. Several other advisers and admirals who felt guilty departed as well. Some were quietly forced to resigned by the Neo government.

Well, even in spite of the fact I had to resign for the best, I still have my ways of helping the country… was the thought of the former Minister of Defense as he was transported to his destination. He had contacts that could help organize plans for the Union’s national security benefits, and those plans were going to be revealed as within a glass container, grains of sands trickle down from one end to the other.

The Warmaster

14-08-2007, 16:39

"Now that is funny," High Admiral Ludo laughed when the broadcast finished. "I mean...wow. A tactical disaster, and all because the fucking democratists couldn't keep their hand off the trigger? Oh, gods..." He chuckled and shook his head. "I can only imagine the news reports that are going to come from this. The Intelligence Division is going to shit themselves with glee."

They were in the privacy of his cabin, and no crew members were likely to hear such language from their commanding officer...still, the tone irritated Ishamael a bit. Ludo was generally a good man, but he took a bit too much pleasure in the destruction of an enemy. However, Ishamael had to admit it was funny. Possibly the biggest military mishap of the last hundred years...and committed by the side that was supposed to be supporting peace. Oh, yes, the Imperium was going to have fun packaging that little tidbit in propaganda.

"And did you hear? Their fucking Minister of Defense is retiring. Which means that when we invade, they'll spend a half hour or so uselessly running around trying to pull him out of retirement while we're fucking gunning down their soldiers."

"Who knows how long that'll be?" Ishamael responded calmly. "We've been here for too long as it is, waiting for our little would-be dictator allies to finish destroying a broken city. Rahvin conquered Czardas in less than the time it's taking them to capture Yeltsmin..."

"What the fuck are you worried about? My Lord," Ludo added belatedly, smiling half-mockingly; something he always got away with, given that he was the most famous and talented admiral in the Navy, surpassing Supreme Admiral Quoreal himself. "We're not going to fucking run out of supplies here; we've got enough to stay for months."

"I know that, Ludo. I know." Ishamael looked out the porthole of Ludo's spacious cabin, across the thousands of ships in the vast armada lurking in the Indian Ocean. "I'm just getting tired of waiting."

Ludo turned around and looked him in the eye. "Well, High Lord, you're going to have to wait some more. The Sacred Emperor sent us here. The Sacred Emperor fucking ordered us to invade Southeast Asia. And when all the fleets are assembled, we'll come down on it like a motherfucking thunderbolt. But until that time, we're all going to have to sit and wait. Have some patience. We've got nothing but time."

The Kraven Corporation

14-08-2007, 20:08

Yeltsmin: The Last Breath of Freedom

The Kraven forces having routed the Chechen defenders to their fall back lines, the Kraven forces had been preparing for the final advance, tanks, hundreds of tanks rolled through the city towards the final line of defence, supported by Capitol Police they prepared for the combined attack that would silence the defenders once and for all…

Huge Leman Russ Emperor Class Battle tanks roared in protest as they ploughed through buildings and burnt out cars, the bigger tanks scaled over craters and potholes with minimal fuss while the smaller lighter APC’s had to skirt around them the best they could…

The Noise was deafening, thousands of vehicles, all Kraven made such a tremendous roar the gods themselves of the Chechnyn’s could hear the powerful V8’s and V14’s of Kraven armoured might, like giant metal fist it punched its way through building and obstacle alike…

Artillery followed in their wake, moving up with the advance and firing every so often, laying down a withering bombardment of HE Shells, while at the same time, The Imperator Super Heavy Battle tank, opened fire with 210mm Siege mortars, shelling the forward lines of the Chechnyn defenders…

Dive bombers roared over head, coupling the attack with the Panzer’s below, to make an effective blitzkreig assault, the weaponry, Incendiary rounds, designed to cause mass panic and confusion…

“Command Vessel… Lord Helghan…. We Are making the final Assault… you may begin your landing now…”

“Very good Commander… As you were…”

….

The Lines were ahead, the Kraven tanks continued forwards, firing all weaponry in unison, striking out at the soldiers ahead, using high explosive shells and strafing defended positions with assault cannon fire, the Emperor Classes took on any armoured units, while their sponson mounted weaponry dealt with the soldiers…

Capitol Police advanced as one force, using tanks as cover and moving between the rubble of buildings, and taking up firing positions, some set up heavy machine guns in craters and sections of buildings and started laying down large calibre rounds… while mortar crews set up a little behind and added to the overall assault…

Capitol Police using flamethrowers set fire to buildings and defences alike once the distance between them and the enemy had closed… it was an unrelenting tide…

Gunfire from the defenders took down several Capitol Police, but the tide kept coming, it felt like an eternity and for every one Capitol Police trooper that was taken down, another seemed two seemed to step into its place, picking up the pace and laying down even more gun fire…

White Phosphorus grenades were used to clear trenches and buildings, while others lay down smoke grenades hoping to cover the advance, relying on Kraven Optical Gear to give them the advantage…

ACP’s rolled up behind the Leman Russ’s and disgorged even more Kraven Stormtroopers, who left the vehicle with inhuman care to the combat outside, they advanced with cold indifference to the gunfire that raged all around, and when other troopers fell to their left and right, they continued the advance unabated…

APC’s began to move around the lines of Chechnya and disgorged more troopers on the flanks, using their speed and mobility to their advantage, instead of fighting on fixed lines, the Capitol Police advanced in a fluid motion, striking at the same time as one, both flanks being struck by armoured forces and Capitol Police alike, while all the time, the defenders were dogged by the Dive Bombers that were having a field day, letting loose bombs and climbing back out of the dive, only to peel off and strafe some other lines with their heavy calibre machine guns…

Kraven was the Executioner…. And the sentence was about to be carried out….

However, Spizania had control of the airport, his forces had enacted a devastating blow against part of the naval armarda that sat out to sea, loosing three cruiers, two battleships and a Subjugator to the Khan attack, the Kraven forces had chosen to move against Spizania as well, despite this, the forces of Kraven moved with speed, not through anger, or vengence, but through pure and inhuman purpose, they had no desire… no reason for this attack, other than it was their orders…

The same was happening above in the air… Dive bombers roared in, letting loose their weaponry and strafing enemy positions on their way out, while Artillery began to shell anything within a five mile radius of the airport… this location hadn’t been touched by Kraven artillery and so, the concentration of fire here was intense, with the initial bombardment being made by the huge Earthshaker Shells, these immense weapons were designed to destroy armoured vehicles, bunkers and city blocks outright, causing maximum chaos and carnage…

As before, the forces of Kraven used Teargas in an effort to disorientate the forces defending the airport, while the artillery continued to pound the defences around the airport…

The sound was deafening, thud after thud followed by huge explosions that tore up the earth and sent great clouds of earth, rocks and fire high into the sky, partially blotting out the sun and causing great clouds of dust to rise high into the air, mimicking a mushroom cloud of a nuclear shell…..

Groznyj

17-08-2007, 03:50

Battle for Yeltsmin: The Final Act
'Hasty Actions'

Streets of Yeltsmin. Central section of the fallback line.

Colonel Khassan's element was tasked with defending the central portion of the 2nd line. He was a tactical genius. One would believe so with what this man was achieving: with several thousand Marines and a number of irregulars all in an unGodly unorganized fashion defending a strip of realestate in the middle of a city from the Kraven horde, it was a wonder this part of the line hadn't collapsed already. Some how he was able to get his orders sent with radio or runners or signal flares and keep his jumbled up unit working in a cohesive manner. This was soon to change however.

When a stray bullet of unknown origin impacted with a concrete wall a few feet from where he was standing whilst giving an order and looking out at the roads with binoculars. A fragment of concrete flew out of the wall and shot into his left armpit, slashing the artery there. A minute later the tactical mastermind lay dead on the ground from massive blood loss. Too compound things air raids from Kraven forces were going on unhindered in this part of the line. With a final push the Kraven horde was able to dislodge the Chechen defenders and in some cases run through them and encircle them in slow grinding fire fights. Men began running out of ammunition. There are few more hideous sights than an exhausted man trying to fight a fresh Capitol Police trooper in hand to hand combat.

A few minutes later, Command HQ

"Tell the Colonel he doesn't need to hold anymore. He is to begin an ordered retreat toward the given coordinates."

The frightened secretary nodded.A soldier burst through the door and shut it behind him. He had a very worried look on his face."Sir! The enemy has broken through the 2nd line!"

"What?!" replied McGreen. The soldier attempted to catch his breath before continuing;

"The Star battalion has been wiped out. They fought to the last man and the enemy are through. Also Colonel Khassan has been killed in action. The enemy is moving through our center."

"Mother of God..." McGreen muttered to himself.

"General,"

"What is it?!" snapped McGreen

"The enemy is flanking us. It's not safe to stay here any longer."

"Is that so?" replied the Lt.General trailing off. The men watching him were silent. The soldier was still at the door. "Okay here's what we do. We--"

McGreen bent over a map of the city in order to outline a spur of the moment battle tactic when the door behind the soldier exploded. The room was filled with shrapnel as the blast turned the soldier into a meat stick and took out the wall around the door way. Dirt and rocks flew into the building and the ruin began to crack up its sides on the exterior. An entire face of the building came crashing down on the command APC and seconds later the entire structure came down in a heap. What remained was a cloud of dust and rubble and a smashed APC.

Without any real centralized command structure the Chechen defenders were down to fighting as a series of individual cells in a crescent shaped perimeter which was slowly shrinking. Most of the fighters were irregulars. By now it was well into the afternoon and the Arterusian heat was starting to make itself felt in the tropical island. Dive bombing run after bombing run disheartened embattled soldiers and militia. A few die-hard units would end up fighting to the death, having received no orders to fall back. Most however began abandoning their positions as the enemy on all sides began driving the advance.

The entire day the meager Chechen defenders had struggled to halt the invasion of a 3-pronged assault with a decent measure of success...only to be rewarded with a juggernaut of a war machine many times more powerful than the others that had been fought against up until this point.

It was obvious that to stay behind enemy lines was suicide. Many Marines had risked their lives being inserted behind enemy lines in order to rescue beleaguered comrades or provide cover fire.. The vast majority were never heard from again. Urban warfare was something else. It was the epitomy of the savagery of human combat. By virtue of their commanders the Chechen defense had proven steadfast against all odds even with an overwhelming militia majority. With seemingly all senior command officials MIA command and control were nothing. Communication began to break down. No one knew what their orders were. All they knew was that they had to fight against the enemy. Some positions guarded by irregulars simply fled. Others retreated slowly. Units led by Marines generally held their ground until it was almost too late and then chose to retreat (not before laying boobie-traps on abandoned artillery emplacements and calling in an air strike).

Until the naval battle with the Pudite forces could be won and the aircraft at the airport refueled and rearmed, the defenders would have to count on whatever Spizanian airsupport there was. Here the language barrier made itself known to the frustration of many Chechen and Spizanian soldiers. The main languages of the Chechens were Chechen and Turkish. Only a few officers knew english as this was the most prevalent international language. Unless the Spizanians knew Turkish (because it was unlikely as hell any of them understood Chechen) or the Chechen's knew English or whatever language the Spizanians spoke.. there would be a lot of desperate yelling on both sides-aided only by color coded smoke flares of course: Red equaling bomb me and Green being please don't bomb me.

Until a senior commander could be found, command decisions would have to be made on a Squadleader basis and without the knowledge of the entire force. Luckily though, one such man was still alive and well...

Yeltsmin (Paradise) Highway Rt 1, just outside the city...

A humvee full of soldiers sped along side of the crater-filled highway past a train of automobiles, civilians, and finally soldiers.

"This is it; he has to be close" said a passenger to the driver.

The driver slowed the truck down and pulled along side several wounded solders in the convoy. A bomb impacted barely 40 yards to the left sending a wall of earth up into the air and raining down on the truck and everyone on the road.

"Hey soldier! Where is you commanding officer?" yelled the passenger over the noise of raining dirt.

A soldier with his arm in a sling pointed up the road with his good arm. The driver nodded and gunned the engine. The truck passed a long line of soldiers. its passengers looking eagerly for their man. They just passed him when the gunner yelled inside the truck,

"Wait that's him!"

The humvee came to a skidding halt on gravel and went in reverse for about 20 meters. The front passenger jumped out while the humvee accelerated forwards again at walking speed.

"Who is in command here?" Yelled the soldier.

A number of faces looked at the newcomer.

"I am. What is it?"

The soldier immediately recognized the officer's ranks and name.

"Major Said, I was told to deliver this to you sir. New orders sir."

The soldier held out his hand to give a small paper to the Major when a soldier yelled out, "Incomming HIGH!!!"

"Spread Out!" screamed Major Said in reply as he darted away from the pack of soldier around him. Far behind a Kraven aircraft could be seen preparing for a strafing run. Several soldiers took aim with Stinger SAMs and stood stone still as everyone around them ran for cover, civilians included. Bullets flew overhead and two Stingers were launched, issuing long trails of white smoke behind them. A band was heard but soon drowned out by an artillery shell landing in the field nearby sending up yet another shower of earth.

"Did we hit it?" asked the Major

"I can't tell sir." replied a Stinger soldier.

"Very well carry on...you had something for me?"

"Sir." the soldier passed the note to the Major. Said read it once and understood its meaning immedietly. He nodded to the soldier who gave it to him before turning about face.

"Lietenant Isa!" he called.

"Yessir."

"Your in command of this outfit. Make sure these people get to the airport safely and from their find a way off this fucking rock."

"Will do sir."

The officer turned around to face the soldier who gave him the note and the awaiting humvee behind him.

"Ok. Let's go."

The humvee with the Major in the front passenger seat now took off in the opposite direction of the convoy back towards the city...this was the Major Said who orchestrated the daring rescue operation of the civilians POWs in the Griffincrest prison camp and then escorted over two and a half thousand people through flooding and flaming subway lines in sometimes total darkness to the other side of the city and relative safety. The commander of the 'Ghost Battalion'. Now he knew that the General and ever other senior commander was dead. This entire mission was in his hands now. He knew what he would have to do.

Patches of dirt around the humvee exploded up and a few bullets raked the truck. One entered through a window and exited just in front of Said's face causing him to duck a little and hold his head. The gunner began fireing at a Kraven VTOL, telling it to keep its distance in reply. At the same time white streaks shot through the sky. Miles away it was a squadron of F-14s refueled and rearmed coming to the rescue.

Over the Convoy

"All pilots cleared to engage. Watch your kills; the survival of that convoy is paramount."

The squadron leader's voice issued through the headsets of each of the pilots in a cool radio altered tone. 27 F-14D Tomcats flew in a triple-nine chevron formation at low altitude. This was the squadron's first combat mission. Infact this was the first taste of combat for just about every serviceman involved.

The first missiles loosed were the remaining Phoenix missiles not used against the Pudite air force (most planes had only one left anyway.) The rest were AMRAAMs and Sidewinders. The squadron let loose its standoff volley. The Aim-54 long range air to air missiles streaked over the convoy and flew past behind them to the Kraven fighter bombers which up until a little while ago were hopeful for some easy strafing runs.

"Watch your wingman. No individual dogfights.." ordered the squadron leader.

The fighters broke formation just in front of the convoy and the aerial dogfight began. Staying two planes per enemy target the fighters made contrails in the sky over the highway as they moved to set up their angles of attack. The air above the convoy had just turned into a killing field. The squadron radio crackled to life with pilots communicating between each other and reporting their successes or troubles.

These fighters were from the 300 or so which had engaged the Pudite fleet just minutes before. As they were instructed to make landing on the airport crew their hauled ass to get whatever ordnance they could out and fuel also. As a flock of Hornets and Tomcats touched down the air traffic control tower was at its busiest since construction. More fighters were being prepped to take off for another sortie as the first engaged. The only problem was the utter lack of enough maintenance crews and enough airport staff. That and severely limited ammunition. At the rate military jet fighter craft drank fuel they could use as much as a week's worth of commercial av gas in only a few sorties. Like almost everything else on this fateful day, this was another hasty action.

Spizania

18-08-2007, 00:27

Point Green Rainbow, "Air Traffic Control Post"
The Field Commander had been seconded from the CAF Regiment to the Para-Armoured Corps just before hte start of this mission, and sofar he had found this posting to be the most lively he had ever held, in a foxhole beside the old airport terminal, which had had all the glass removed and replaced by a tarpaulin to reduce the blast hazard and protect against snipers, speaking both to the aircraft over Yeltsmin and to the flight controllers on the fleet that was now just four hours from gunnery range.
Someone lifted up the covers of the foxhole and jumped in, his boots slamming to the floor even as he pulled the cover back down to protect them from the fragments flying across the strip from the artillery bursting all around them, they also muffled the noise to a series of low booms. The soldier was carrying an L1A1 Slung over his shoulder and was red faced.
"We have Chechen F-14s on approach, they cant land here, the strips blown to hell and theres artillery dropping all over the place"
The Commander, a native of the colony of South Borneo, which was now a full member of the Confederacy, nodded adn turned back to his radio officer, who also nodded and adjusted the backpack radio frequency to the one the Chechen air assets in the area were using, then nodded again and handed him the telephone-style headset.
"This is the field commander at Airport, callsign Rainbow Alpha-Actual, wave off your approach, the field is useless to fighter aircraft, suggest redirect to Confederate Fleet assets on bearing wun-too-zero, wun too zero, Out"
He lowered the headset and gave it back to the radio officer who adjusted it back to the CAS frequency and flipped to speaker, and the cries of numerous pilots and Grozian Ground commanders

Green Section, Bravo Troop, 128th Airbourne Armoured Infantry Regiment

"Range 300, Infantry, Load High Explosive!"
"High Explosive Loading! Rangefinder confirms 300"
There was a clank in the turret as the breach shut and locked
"Breach Locked, Barrel Elevating"
The was a staccato noise from outside the tank as the IFV in the flanking posistion on the raod they were retreating down, obviously some kind of major urban thoroughfare, sent a hail of 35mm and 7.8mm projectiles back down the road, kicking up dust, and blood, as they slammed into the armoured Capitol Police, a lighter booming sound sounded from above the turret as the vehicles commander stuck his upper body out of the turret to fire the pintle machine gun, no doubt while smoking one of his trademark Questarian Cigars, hailing tracer and ball ammunition down the street in the same direction as the other ammunition, infantry also kept up sporadic fire, the three squadrons of infantry assigned to this section and a couple of dozen local militia who had been gathered around the tank at the time the fighting had resumed. They were beginning to run out of ammunition, so a couple of turkish speaking infantry, (probably from Neuvo Aetolia) had discussed the matter with the Chechens and now a number of them had exchanged there assault rifles for spare weapons from the IFV gun racks.

The 120mm on the Nakil sounded as more CPs appeared around the corner and the tank backed up at about a normal walking pace, they couldnt keep this up fo rmuch longer, they would start running out of ammunition soon, maybe they should pull out an dcall in some more CAS, that was proving so succesful at helping the Chechen retreat avoid making the transformation into a rout, but then they only had to last four more hours before the fleet arrived and the tables were turned, the 17.78mm in the coax position of the Nakils turret started sounding as a light vehicle, perhaps belonging to Mafia units helping the CP advance appeared from the opposite side of the street, about as far away as the CPs were, it promptly caught fire and slammed into a building, which was already weakened by the 120mm shell, it caved in and blocked half the street, creating a dust cloud that the stopped the battle, creating a few seconds of breathing space that the infantry used to quickly mount onto the sides of the IFVs and tanks, which then accelerated briefly backwards before coming to a halt again, a hundred yards further away from the enemy when the infantry jumped off again and the vehicles again slowed to a walking pace.

Chequers, Rutland, Spizania

The Captain Regent stopped staring at his desk phone, he had made his decision, it was his choice to make, the other Captain was off on holiday in some Tropica Spizani, that left him in charge while he was absent from the machinations of government.
It had to be done. He sat up in his leather chair and hit the intercom, he had to call in a function that was provided by hte ZMAF for situations just like this..... "Gloria, could you bring me the number for ZMAF Dial-a-Strike please?"......
Ten minutes later after passing the call to the Chief-of-Staff, the transaction was completed, and the Regent hoped he had just made the most valuable investment of his entire political career.

Zepplin Manufacturers

19-08-2007, 01:44

Money. In this case counted in the numerous tens of billions. Cold hard immutable cash flowing from one national currency fund to another in a form quite unreal. Fictional gold, the idea of money rather than its reality. These days ..more than enough to fight a portion of someone else's war for them.

A mission parameter. A relatively simple one given the sluggish infantry based advance of the target. A rousing speech for the pilots selected by a PR vice executives personal speech compiler, a program really no more complex than a music play list. Emailed to the pilots PDAs. After all paying the executive to get up in the middle of the night would just be a waste of money and the pilots in most cases would never read or care where or who they were unleashing there payloads on, merely that the pie charts and bars of the strategic analysis displays never dropped into the red. It made it all so much easier to never see the burning children and of course on the same screens they could see there own personal citizen shareholders stock rating climb with every successful profit making strike.

High Earth Orbit

The battle space recon saturation pods lay snug nestled in a silica based impact foam behind Whipple shields and heated and checked like a clucking mother hen by the unmanned orbital platform, really nothing more than an outsize sat which sat at a dull and rather boring high orbit, well out of the hustle and bustle. The recon pods sat looking as innocuous as a heavily converted chasis for a 400 kilo multi warhead delivery system mounted on a 3 metre long solid booster can. If all went according to plan they would continue to sit there, unused for the next twenty odd years before being ripped out, having the boosters chemicals recycled and the metals used as cladding on a habitat module or just allowed to burn up. Then the signals started to arrive, deep within the pods several dozen ToughCD format optic discs whined up to speed sucking down there mission like so many piglets in a sty. The platform too had received instructions. Whipple shields unfolded like a set of opening geometric flowers along the three solar panel and storage tank studded spider web thin gantries of the platform. Slowly but surely on tiny bursts of a cold gas cell no larger than an aerosol can the pods make there way out into the earthlight, then after they have cleared any possible back blast distance they orientate themselves. Today money makes gyroscopes spin as the cold math of orbital manoeuvring is played out by the simple minded pods. For a mere moment or two a dull blue white flare silenty screams into space as the pods kick themselves into a decaying orbit. It will take about half an hour for them to reach release point. when they do each will saturate the area they are above with several dozen golf ball sized mini satellites, each acting as a single cell in a massive phased recon array. All of this was not to find the targets advancing lines, no fixed L point satellites could see the black mass of that. No this array was particularly designed to watch the weather. After all the conditions had to be right.

Check. One large eye in the sky.

Pithead, North East Arctic territory, Industry Resource Extraction settlement

Snow and ice and more snow and ice, skree covered slopes occasionally dimpled by the wounds of strip mines and vast rolling icy walls of glaciers, the endless white broken by the ugly cubic primary coloured modular buildings surrounded by embankments made out of skree to try to lower the eternal wind chill in the planets largest ice box. It may as well have been Mars and it was just about as sterile in parts. Pithead was a godless hole of a settlement officially constructed purely to support the copper mines. From the outside it looked like a crazed jumble of giant kids building blocks with the odd massive rebar built ice sheathed tower jutting into the sky like fingers put up against the face of god. Just under 18,000 miners and a smattering of support staff were based in its plastic covered corridors. Release was necessary and a few neon covered buildings which outwardly looked like any other served that purpose for many while a few fled to the giant greenhouse of a leisure park at the towns concrete centre. Pithead was the only thing on the surface that would without close view give the base away though in its construction and even then it could have been mistaken for the half dozen other vast mines being build the decade before. It had been for a while quite visible to all the peaking electronic eyes as the artic wind whipped the artificial and soon to be ice vapour clouds the site had been shrouded in. Linked by tunnels only large enough to take the endless conveyors of rubble out or pipe concrete into the half dozen other mines in the area equipment and extraction had gone on to create the airbase. Occasionally a large snow plough would carefully move a large dune of ice for a cargo convoy that "happened" to pass. Who needs concrete when you have ice. Now pretence was gone. It was time for action.

An icy plane 65 miles from Pithead. A line of what where reported to be polar watch aerospace radar domes sat supposedly linked to the state SDI network. Usually silent, now blasting across the ice with inhuman loudness came a woman's slightly distraught voice

"Commence battlestations procedure! Battlestations Battlestations! Sound launch stages! This is a full scale emergency!"

First came the pylons, unfolding up through of all things fake snow in the midst of the icy expanse, pylons covered in LADAR emmiters and microwave links and the crazed rainbow covered globes of air defence laser optics at there heights. A veritable antennae farm growing out of the icy rock like an exploded radio shack made garden.

Now quite real slabs of compacted blue ice fountained upwards as hydraulics screamed and a set of huge elevators rose in succession with briefly viewed blast doors ripping open the surface and the iris covered mouths of ducts blasted the remaining slush away with nuclear heated steam straight from the facilities banks of reactors. Tracked dumpy vehicles then roared off these elevators and dozens of ramps in a preplanned diesel powered ballet. Along what shortly would be the runways half tracks slammed down linked metal matting before nozzles mounted on there cabs blasted out hundreds of tons of quick setting durable plastic gunk from tanks buried deep below and rollers mounted on the fronts of half a dozen massive air defence modified TR29s tanks which were rolling of the now constantly operating elevators begin insuring the ice around this plastic is formed into taxi ways. Finally the elevators rose with the payload they had been intended for, the massive brutish forms of Type 1000 (http://doc-evilonavich.deviantart.com/art/Type-1000-28529770) bombers making there appearance there under wing pods already festooned with long range aerolance AAM systems, really nothing more than cruise missile bodys packed full of generic star streak style AAMs, launch assist solid rocket boosters , ARADs, and the dull forms of half a dozen types of bunker and ship busting cruise missile. It took minutes for the final checks before the huge aircraft screeched into the sky on there conventional jets, there nuclear thermal RAMs intakes clawing in air desperate to reach self supporting ignition. The procedure would be repeated again and again from 5 of such polar bases until over 200 of the huge aircraft were blundering through the air on there way to a point some 120 miles from the advancing kravenite allied lines.

Check. One incoming delivery of 12 thousand tons of thermex bomblets and old fashioned napalm loaded in relatively cheap sat nav guided rocket assisted "interdiction" I10 lob/glide/gravity bombs.

They would approach from the north. It wouldn't take them all that long. A matter of hours rather than the days or weeks a naval group would spend. Cruising at Mach 2.4 at 65,000 feet and without the constraints of conventional fuel mass nothing really took all that long especially death.

Groznyj

22-08-2007, 17:48

Former HQ...
The former command HQ was a pile of broken rubble. The dust had barely settled when soldiers began swarming the site in full knowledge of who was inside. Many hundred meters ahead their comrades provided cover fire for those who were retreating. It wouldn't be long before this place would be the new front line. A broken gas main erupted in flame deep inside the rubble sending flames shooting out a crack in a felled wall. An unlucky fighter was caught by the eruption and caught on fire. Overhead a missile flew past.

"Dammit where is he?!"

"Find Him!"

The soldiers looked all over, moving away pieces of concrete and broken furniture. The remains of some of those who were inside were discovered. One fighter strained to lift a broken wall only to find a head -now freed of its entrapment- roll jolly down to the street.

"Oh shit.. Sir! I found him!"

"Oh shit..." the soldier muttered to himself once more.

Cazelia

22-08-2007, 18:25

OOC-Kraven, TG

Emporer Pudu

24-08-2007, 02:39

Republic of Chechnya, City of Yeltsmin, Life Goes On...

Major Timofei Ivanov gave a slight adjustment to his control stick as he reached across the cockpit, switching onto the squadron’s radio frequency. Returning his gloved hand to the controls, he spoke;

“Pilots, warriors, Defenders of the Empire, it is us here today who are responsible for the survival of our navy, our soldiers, and our Emperor’s wish. Today, our fleet has been battered, many of our ships have been suck, and the enemy is advancing.”

All around him, roughly one-hundred and sixty Strakhen Sokol fighters, the majority of the Dominion’s remaining compliment of aircraft, flew in a loose formation. Behind them, a pair of Coldun electronic warfare planes kept pace, preparing to unleash a different kind of warfare.

“We are outnumbered, nearly two-to-one, and the battle is just beginning. Their pilots are experienced, although we hold an advantage in simple technology. You know your training, you understand your objectives,”

Below and behind the Pudite force advancing to meet the enemy’s aircraft, the remaining carriers were handling what little other Imperial air traffic there was. Forty smaller fighters darted in and out, escorting another sortie out over the city. Among them, the eight Coldun aircraft passed, these models having exchanged much of their electronic equipment for air-to-ground munitions to aid in the unfolding battle to the north.

“Reinforcements are coming, in six days’ time, the battlefield will be decidedly held. That, however, is not today. Today, it is our responsibility, our duty, and our privilege to give this service in small return for our Emperor’s care. Today, we die.”

At that moment, one-hundred and sixty-four identical fingers flipped identical switches, and three-hundred and eighty-eight identical missiles tumbled out into the air beneath, and streaked off into the horizon, bound by their thermally-guided intuitions.

It was the lead aircraft who first hit the wall, multi-million dollar pieces of equipment, falling out of the sky, fires burning up what they could, before they splashed into the sea beneath.

Of course, countermeasures went off, simple chaff and flares would soon follow a number of pilots to the water below. Radio waves emitted the fighters and their better equipped comrades in the pair of Coldun fighters behind, obfuscating and obliterating communication and simpler guidance systems. More advanced were the small number of aircraft equipped with under-the-wing countermeasure pods that would emit a concentrated blast of microwaves as the missiles approached, destroying the electronics, well beyond merely confusing them.

For all of this, however, it was certain that casualties had come, and more would come. The Pudite pilots would do their job, and they would do it well, as well as they were trained to. They did not fear the enemy, they did not fear death. Many would not return…

Far below, the fleet continued, much as it had before. The first airborne attack had wreaked significant casualties, as had the missile barrage before. As it stood, now, the fleet was largely incapacitated.

Surviving, much to the contrary of the fleet before, only one Glacier-class aircraft carrier was still fit to traffic aircraft in and through the fleet. The Warrior was now slipping silently beneath the sea, to join the pair of Vengeance-class carriers already there. Famously, the Eternity had been destroyed by a volley of anti-ship missiles, while her counterpart the Honor by Glory was put beneath the waves be an Imperial torpedo after being deemed useless following a series of missile impacts.

Other than the single carrier, the Sword Resplendent, there were still seven Carthage-class cruisers, four Portlandia-class cruisers, eleven Swiftsure-class destroyers, fifteen Royale-class frigates, and a pair of Champlain-class frigates. All told, they had lost more than thirty-three of their ships when the battle began, more than a few having been dispatched when their weapons were destroyed or their crews incapacitated. Ships could be replaced, the resources to tow a crippled vessel thousands of miles across a rough sea would be a waste.

Now, as missiles again began raining down among the fleet, both shells and missiles themselves, the fleet reacted only as best it could. What countermeasures remained were offered in defense, and interceptor missiles used pure kinetic energy to kill what they could. If anything, the earlier attacks had primed their defenses for this moment…

Fifteen-inch shells tore through the fleet, obliterating the command tower of one of the remaining Carthage cruisers, while nearby a pair of Royale-class frigates put up the best defense they could against the incoming attack. CIWS rounds wove through the air, slicing through missiles; tiny explosions surrounded the ships. As the tide of attacks ebbed back, the ships began to move, rotate to the rear of the dwindling crescent formation that the fleet still adamantly held. As they turned to move, a great shell ripped through the very top of the first ship, and impacted just below the waterline of the second… Both slipped beneath the waves.

The Pudite fleet was nearly destroyed, as it did battle against even a small dedicated battle fleet. It was designed and tasked simply to escort a number of transport planes, and provide a few hours of cover as organization took hold on the ground. Indeed, now, without a fleet of replenishment planes based off said destroyed ships, the returning transports would be forced to ditch their aircraft over the ocean, and their pilots would die.

As all this went on, farther to the north, a different kind of battle raged. Sergeant Efrosin Fedor lay prone beneath a possibly burning car, sighting his rifle down a pockmarked street, as gunfire raged around him. Temperature compensators cooled his back, but the vehicle above him was not his most pressing concern. In fact, there was another far more threatening vehicle only a few hundred yards away. A small field piece was embedded in rubble and sandbags at the end of the street. Fedor now lay, hiding from said artillery, as he waited for his company comrades to rescue him and what remained of his stranded squad. They had come under heavy artillery and sniper fire as soon as they stepped onto this street. Fedor’s squad marksman, Iagrin, had been killed only minutes after linking up with the squad in a series of frightening sniper battles, forcing the rest of the advancing force to cover. The Chechen snipers who had survived this far were rather talented, the Pudites had learned, at the expense of one of their own. A large-caliber shot tore through Iagrin’s shoulder as he rolled from a low wall to a small crater, and he had been still since then. At the end, the computer in his helmet had recorded exactly thirty-two kills, at least half a dozen were also snipers… In these short hours, he had reached the apogee of Imperial marksmanship, recording more kills than any other in any of the three Imperial Armed Branches…

Despite any of that, however, Fedor was still in danger, and the attack had to continue. Only two other men from his squad were still alive, hunkering in the recessed doorways on either side of the street, decidedly pinned. And Fedor couldn’t shoot, without revealing his position. Perfect.

Then it was, for a moment, that the street was cleared of noise, and there was quiet.

And then it was shattered, again. A great blast sounded as the Pudite artillery returned fire, shattering the street and what remained of the buildings around. Very quickly, it degenerated into a full-fledged artillery brawl, trapping Fedor and his companions in the middle.

Seizing his advantage, as the fire continued, Fedor rapped off a few quick rounds, before backing out from under the car. Crouching, he started to run back down the street, away from the battle. His comrades on either side ducked out more than once, opening fire on the soldiers amassed behind the barricades. They returned fire, chipping the walls around them, and holding the remainder of Fedor’s squad in their cover.

Meanwhile, their sergeant had made it to the end of the street, and was crouching behind a concrete block that used to be the base to a tree. Keeping low, he accessed battlefield maps on his Heads Up Display, looking for any nearby close-air-support sorties. As he was absorbed in his search, the battle raged, and in those few minutes the rest of his squad had tried for a break; both were now dead…

In seconds, Fedor was alone in a hostile city. His squad mate’s deaths registered on his HUD, as the sensors in their armor registered the break in its continuity. Fedor knew he had to run, to return to his company and re-enter the fight when he was more prepared. This battle was over, for now.

Without any air support, no squad mates, or indeed anyone else at all, and no armored support, he had to fall back. And so he did, running back through side streets and alleyways, he came upon the remainder of his platoon, quite by accident, but that was all okay.

Leading the platoon, instead of familiar Lieutenant Okulov, was another. Regaled in the uniform of an Imperial Commissar, Okulov was nowhere in sight, and this man stood at the head of three columns of infantry moving back towards the fight…

Bursting from an ally, Fedor was recognized immidiatly for who he was, with the soldiers all networked, finding anyone’s identity in the armed forces, however redundant, was simple to do.

The Commissar, known as Efim Lukin, strode forward, while giving the remainder of the platoon the order to hold.

“Sergeant Fedor, I assume your presence here, and not on the front, implies that our objective is taken?”

“Sir, there were many-”

“Ah, so then it is not taken?” He demanded,

“I am sorry sir, we have failed.”

“This is true, but could you have not at least stayed, and fought your battle, and not forced it thusly on others? That is cowardice.” He spoke with a voice calmer than most Imperial Commissars, which is strange, because they were all trained in the same facility, in the same manner…

“Sir, my squad was eliminated, and support was unavailable,”

“Are we-” he gestured to the men behind him, “Not on the way to do just that; support?”

“I will do anything I can, sir, to help,”

“I am sure you will.” And with that, the Commissar’s arm leveled at Fedor, and there was a shot. Commissar Lukin lowered his pistol, and Fedor crumpled to the ground, body gone limp…

Fedor had already fled from the front once, he would not do it again. The platoon resumed its march.

And about half a mile away, in a shallow, blood-filled crater, topped by roaring gunfire and the shouts of foreign soldiers, lay Iagrin. He rolled to his side, and lifted a trembling hand to his shoulder; the bullet had passed through his skin, and actually embedded in the opposite armor plate. Lifting his head then took most of his effort, and seeing what he was faced with, did not entertain the idea of further movement.

He slumped further into his hole, and let the battle go on. To anyone else, he was dead, and he would let himself stay that way…

Groznyj

24-08-2007, 20:48

Battle for Yeltsmin: The Final Act
‘Aces High’

Jump in the cockpit and start up the engines

Remove all the wheel blocks theres no time to waste

Gathering speed as we head down the runway

Gotta get airborne before its too late. -Iron Maiden, Aces High

Aboard the RNS Kılıç (sword)...

"Fawkes One you are cleared for take off. Clear the deck for the next plane."

"Roger that tower."

Lieutenant Kyyra Zakaev (Zakayev) saluted the signalman and gunned the engines on his Tomcat. With a jolt he was pushed into the back of his seat, his hands strained to hold on to the canopy bars as he accelerated. With a sudden relief the sensation was over and his plane dipped a few feet down. Pulling the stick and back keeping his engines at full throttle Lt. Zakaev climbed up into the sky to join the rest of his circling squadron; the Fawkes, high above the Chechen fleet.

The Chechen fleet had sustained a great deal of damage so far during its exchange with its Pudite counterpart. While having the numerical advantage it was painfully obvious they were far outclassed in technology and the result was devastating. The fighting ships of the fleet had formed a protective screen in front of the carriers in crescent and star formation with the bend of the crescent facing the enemy. Within the crescent tenders and other auxiliary ships and their crews did their utmost in a battle to save lives. While battleships and cruisers fired salvo after salvo, tenders went to and fro picking up stranded sailors in the waves. A Montana class battleship suffered multiple missile impacts: one obliterating the Z turret and another blowing out the aft section of the superstructure. Miraculously the captain of the ship had managed to keep it in the fight and while fires raged and burned like all hell the ship continued firing; a fire-ship pumping cubic meter after cubic meter of cold sea water onto the raging flames threatening to kill the mighty ship of the line.

In the sky reinforcements screamed off toward battle. Their comrades already hotly engaged.

"Alright men this is it. Our job is to keep the enemy air wings busy so our bombers can take out their carriers. Their fighters are smaller and nimbler than ours but remember your training and you'll do fine." Kyyra knew he couldn't say so for himself. He was the squadron leader and these were his wingmen but he knew in his heart he was scared. This was his first real engagement despite years of training and war games. Then again, it was the same for the rest of his squadron. That still didn't make him feel better. Kyyra looked at his control panel; everything was running perfectly in his interceptor but that wasn't what he was staring at. One hand on the stick he caressed his finger tips over a picture of his girlfriend in Istanbul. In a moment he felt at ease again and confident in his training and abilities.

"Remember what you’re fighting for. You have families at home and there are still people in that city. Every second we buy them by shooting down these pigs is another second they can use to get out of there."

There. He felt better for saying it.

A message flashed across a monitor on his control panel, All flights be advised fighting is heavy over the enemy fleet. Kyyra took silent note of this as he armed his missiles. They were almost in range now. Carrier based AWACs transmitted friendly and enemy radar contacts to each of the fighters. It was a mess. Planes and missiles were all over the place and to make matters worse enemy electronic warfare aircraft were playing havoc with AWACs and EW flight crews who tried feverishly to break the jamming. Another message flashed across the control panel, Expect heavy enemy communications jamming. Kyyra looked over his shoulder, about half a mile away he could see a squadron of Hornets laden with anti-ship missiles and bombs. He looked side to side; the other fighters in his squadron flew in formation with him, the planes bobbing up and down now and again in the air turbulence. They had passed their last waypoint. Very soon they would be in the thick of battle.

“Remember to stay with your wingman. Prepare for battle.” He spoke into his radio.

“I got a visual on the battle!” one pilot spoke. Just as he said it there miles ahead black specks and an untold amount of contrails and missile smoke with the odd ball of fire could be seen weaving around one another. To use interceptor missiles this late in the battle was insane; they would run the risk of hitting a friendly aircraft. The pilots of the Fawkes squadron armed their missiles and loosened their formation and accelerated. Lt. Zakaev said a silent prayer to himself when his RIO blared at him, “Bandits 8’o clock high!”

A moment later a missile ripped through the fighter next to his. It was a dead-on hit; the central body of the Tomcat was blown asunder and the cockpit became an instant furnace. Burning, the fighter plummeted towards the waves, disintegrating as it went. Instantly the fighters in the squadron broke formation and followed evasive maneuvers. A hail of missiles chased the fighters pulling high-G turns. Several more planes were shot out of the sky before they ever saw who hit them.

“Bandit’s on our tail Kyyra! He’s got a lock on!” shouted Lt. Zakaev’s RIO. (Oddly enough Kyyra’s call sign was his first name. Since Kyyra meant ‘Hawk’ in Chechen)

The radar lock warning blared and Lt. Zakaev sent his plane into full afterburn and pulled back on the stick hard sending his plane into a wide barrel roll. The nimble Imperial fighter followed his every move trying to get a good angle for firing.

“Shit he’s still on us! Break left hard!”

Lt. Zakaev yanked the stick back to the left hurling his plane out of its roll and to the left. Out of the corner of his eye he saw another Tomcat fall, burning, from the sky. Regaining focus just in time, he spotted an Imperial fighter heading straight for him, it itself in an evasive turn with two Tomcats behind it. He rolled over his plane and banked left towards the sea just in time to miss the fighter, a black blur which whizzed past his cockpit in a second.

“Holy shit!” shouted the RIO. “Hard Deck!” he shouted again with an unmasked hint of panic in his voice.

There was now a new problem on Lt. Zakaev’s mind; the hard deck. Altitude 2,000 ft and heading straight down at full burn he would plunge into the ocean in a few seconds time. Lt. Zakaev’s eyes widened in his helmet and instinctively he engaged his flaps, cut power to the engines and pulled back with everything he had, his training taking over instead of panic. The plane strained and the crew of the F-14D fought to keep consciousness in an 8-G vertical turn. A giant wall of dark blue seemed to be falling towards him relentlessly. Then the wall began to topple over backwards. Lt. Zakaev disengaged his flaps and gunned the engines once more. A mere 15 feet off the surface of the Arterusian Sea the Tomcat rocketed back into the sky, leaving a Moses-like wake of water behind it.

“Did we shake him?” asked Kyyra to his RIO.

“I can’t see him, Dammit! He’s still on us! 3’ o clock high!”

Bullets shot past Lt. Zakaev’s fighter as he put it into a roll. The RIO spun around violently trying to get a good look at the incoming enemy bandit. The Tomcat pulled up and went upside down and rolled back upright in an Immelman Turn. The radar lock warning blared. Behind him the Imperial aircraft shot off a missile.

“He’s fired a missile! Break!”

Now at 10,000 ft, Lt. Zakaev did a half barrel roll which he completed with a steep dive. Flying nearly straight down towards the ocean’s surface he maneuvered his plane again into pulling up in a skewed barrel roll. He let off his flares which launched out the back of his plane. Maintaining full throttle he used his chaff to try and confuse the enemy missile. The missile passed through the center of the falling flares and sped towards his aircraft hell bent on taking him out of the sky. Now in a turn for all he was worth Lt. Zakaev braced himself for the impact. The missile shot right past him out into the sky.

“Holy shit.” Said the RIO again.

“Where the fuck is my wingman?!” yelled Lt. Zakaev into the radio. As fate would have it at that moment a fellow F-14D got into position behind the Pudite aircraft. This was one of the greatest ironies of the battle; the F-14s used by the Chechen aviators were built and purchased from the Dominion of Emperor Pudu itself and now they were being used to shoot down Dominion aircraft. The three fighters were locked in combat. The Chechen pilot in the back forced the Pudite fighter to break pursuit; lest he be shot down after already being raked with 20mm Vulcan cannon fire. Lt. Zakaev spun his plane around to join in the pursuit of his would-be killer. Smoke billowed out of the Pudite fighter, its ability to pull the tight turns which up till now were decisive in besting the Chechen pilots greatly diminished. Still the skill of the pilot was apparent. Lt. Zakaev’s wingman shot off his last missile at the evading fighter a little too soon; it just sped right past its target and then plunged into the sea.

“I’ll take over Fawkes Three”

“Copy that Fawkes One.”

Switching positions whilst turning Lt. Zakaev got into position for firing and his wingman began covering him from behind once again. Even wounded, his prey was no easy catch. Kyyra, one of the top flyers in his Wing had to call on all of his training and flying talent to keep the enemy fighter in his sights. Finally he had the enemy fighter locked on. The confirmation tone sounded.

“I got tone.” He said and fired off a Sidewinder. The missile streaked towards the enemy fighter but was distracted by its flares. “Bastard!” he said to himself.

“Come on Kyyra get him dammit!” yelled his RIO, clearly bent on vengeance.

“I’m too close, I’m switching to guns.” replied Lt. Zakaev. He let off a burst of rounds which danced around the wounded enemy bird. They were in a life and death struggle these two rival pilots from different parts of the world. As they weaved and spiraled around one another locked in mortal combat in the skies the skirmish around them was reaching its conclusion; the sky considerably thinner of fighting aircraft. Mid way though an upside down turn Lt. Zakaev let off another long burst of gunfire, his plane almost vertical and his target’s almost upside down horizontal. The 20mm rounds tore through the enemy pilots canopy ripping through the pilot inside and raked the engines full of holes.

The enemy fighter began belching smoke followed by the most intense flames out of its left engine intakes. The cockpit was also aflame as the plane stalled in midair and came tumbling down besides Lt. Zakaev. As it came down he caught a glance at his rival’s cockpit; what he though was a body was in there surely being incinerated by the flames. Kyyra circled around the falling fighter and watched as it exploded into thousands of shards of debris half way down.

“Woooooo!” shouted his RIO, “First combat kill!”

“Got you, you son of a bitch” Lt. Zakaev said to himself under his breath. He thought he felt something as he watched his rival’s remains plunge into the tropical ocean below. He kept his F-14 flying in a circle, 8,500 ft below it’s prey sank below the waves, flames drowned by the waves. He was awoken from his reverie by a wingman.

“This is Fawkes Eleven. All hostiles eliminated.”

Light cheers and clapping could be heard on the radio.

“All pilots report in.” responded Lt. Zakaev. Subconsciously he knew what he was about to hear but he pushed it out of his mind.

“Fawkes Three reporting in…Fawkes Seven reporting in…Fawkes Eight reporting in…Fawkes Eleven reporting in…Fawkes Twelve reporting in… Fawkes Thirteen reporting in…Fawkes Fifteen reporting in…Fawkes Eighteen reporting in…..” There was an eerie silence. There were 22 fighters in the Fawkes squadron. Any sort of celebration died away as the grim reality dawned on everyone. There had been no ejection reports. No one had seen any parachute canopies from either side.

“All fighters return to deck.” Spoke Lt. Zakaev. He had cheated death 5 times today and death had cheated him 26, for each man he had lost under his command. This was his first combat engagement and he had succeeded in his first combat kill. At the cost of over half his squadron, men he had come to call brothers for the past several years. He thought of having to tell their loved ones of their fate. Then his mind went over to his fateful struggle against the unkown Pudite pilot. Who was that man who had almost blown him out of the sky? He’d never know. The adrenaline was wearing off now and his mind began to race as his body relaxed. He remembered vividly his wingman being shot out of the sky right next to him…what if that missile had targeted his aircraft? He replayed nearly crashing into the ocean’s surface at 900 miles per hour and seeing tracers of bullets shooting just feet in front of him like stars and how instinct took over once he was flying for his life in a missile lock. The image of that burning F-14 flashed across his consciousness and the near head-on collision with the other Pudite fighter. Then he remembered seeing his opponent’s body in its aircraft burning and falling to the sea and exploding in an inferno. He was a real fighter pilot now and he’d never be the same again.

RNS Intrepid, flagship of the Chechen fleet…

“Admiral. Situation Report.”

“Continue Officer.” Replied a nonchalant Admiral Uzuyev

“The enemy fleet is weakening. Air units report only one remaining aircraft carrier. Bombers are en-route and beginning their attack runs at once to sink it. Fighters report fierce air battles and heavy losses but are winning overall. Our battleships have exhausted their missiles and are bombarding the enemy fleet – (Admiral Uzuyev grimaced slightly at this. As if the loud booms he heard weren’t obvious reports of 16” cannon fire) – The enemy fleet’s countermeasures have stopped much of our attacks but we are breaking through their defensive screens. The guided missile cruisers are almost out of ammunition. Dragon Class destroyer captains report everything is running smoothly. Our fire-ships are battling intense flames on the RNS Baku and the captain of theRNS Kaytar has been forced to abandon ship because she’s slowly capsizing.”

“Very good officer.” said the admiral dismissively. He peered down at his battle map. They had to wrap up this engagement before enemy reinforcements came into range. He checked his watch. Only several hours and the Spizanian war fleet would arrive and relieve his fleet. Until then all his energy would go into eliminating the Pudite threat, no survivors taken. Hopefully the diverted fighters which had been ordered to land and rearm in the Spizanian navy would help turn the tide of the horrendous land battle. With McGreen unresponsive Uzuyev only assumed the worst.

Emporer Pudu

25-08-2007, 04:04

Republic of Chechnya, City of Yeltsmin, Duty is Fate
Commissar Efim Lukin strode forcefully down the side streets and battered alleyways, leading his platoon forward in a brazen display of precision; each man walked in perfect step, even as artillery barrages were exchanged overhead. The sounds of the enemy's artillery were getting closer, and so too then were the lines of entrenched defenders Commissar Lukin, among others, was charged with to dislodge.

Finally, as they reached the final corner, as the sounds of the enemy artillery and mortar positions could be heard only yards away, Lukin turned to his soldiers. Facing his thirty men; dirty, worn, and experienced soldiers, he spoke;

"Comrades, I will not tell you that we are decisive, I will not preach of your importance. This is but a single engagement in a single battle, in another war. It is, however, our duty, and that cannot be ignored. It is known what we have to do; we must defeat this enemy, there is no alternative."

He turned his back to the men, preparing to turn; to begin the battle,

"Soldiers, we today will shun the cowardice that has cost our comrades this objective once. Today, faith is our armor, and hatred is our weapon. Steal not to the darkness of fear, you will face the enemy, and we will win."

And as he said that, he turned the corner, his pistol out and emptying round after round into the barricades at the end of the street. Behind him, rank after rank of soldier turned, and walked.

There would be no cover, no protection, and no fear. Walking brazenly down the road, they opened fire, releasing long bursts of concentrated automatic fire, butchering any who rose their foreign heads.

Return fire strafed through the lines, and one, then another, then another, all fell. Soldiers behind marched, in perfect step, over the fallen bodies of comrades. The street was crowded at both ends, and no shot could fail to hit. As rank after rank of Pudite infantry advanced, and fell, Commissar Lukin himself seemed impervious to the bullets. Shot after shot impacted his armor, but none would give him pause.

All around, death was the reality, and before sixty seconds had passed, barely fifteen soldiers remained, but they were still advancing. As another enemy soldier bore his face, another enemy was destroyed, as a burst of 8.12mm rounds tore through his determined visage. His fight was over, but he would not be alone.

As the casualties piled up the Dominion was gaining ground. Reaching the end of the road, the few remaining enemy soldiers were giving parting shots, as they began to abandon these fortifications. Still walking, Commissar Lukin gave a mighty leap and landed lighter than could have been expected atop a short wall of squared concrete rubble. He emptied his pistol into the back of a Chechen civilian, a man who probably volunteered to defend a home that was no more. A dead man, now.

Further shots were heard, and soon the remainder of the platoon, a scant seven soldiers joined their Commissar at the base of the wall. Beyond them, they could see the result of their recent work. Nearly a dozen Chechen soldiers lay dead or dying, marines and civilians alike. A victory, but still, it had cost the Dominion far more than the defender.

As the soldiers prepared to scale the wall, and peruse the now retreating enemy fighters, they finally took notice of their Commissar. Standing nearly seven feet tall, his impressive frame and further impressive armor was heaving violently, as he struggled to take more air...

Bleeding from numerous bullet wounds, he had long ago registered 'dead' on any HUD; his armor was pierced in dozens of places. But still, he had continued to fight. Now, standing atop that which had only minutes before been assuredly foreign, he was truly dying.

He fell to his knees, panting still heavily. Then, he slumped forward and off the wall. His pistol fell from his grip; empty of bullets. Rolling from the wall, he came to a stop at the base of the enemy's entrenched gun.

This fight was over, and won, but pursuit would wait. Once again, reinforcements were needed.

And yet, behind these seven remaining soldiers, crawled but one more. Gaining back what little strength he needed, Radek Iagrin moved his wounded body into a nearby doorframe. Resting there, he hefted his rifle, and sat. He was a dead man, and too badly wounded to return to his unit; if that unit even existed anymore, which it did not. He would rest, and think later.

Meanwhile, many miles to the south, the battle at sea could not be said to be going any better. Only thirty-two ships remained, and they were pushed nearly to their limit. Volley after volley of missiles, which had begun the battle, were now rare, as the few ships still armed with such weapons held them for more decisive strikes. The small-caliber guns of the cruisers and destroyers opened fire as the fleet closed, but none were expected to have a real impact. The largest guns in the fleet were the eight-inch cruiser guns, nothing compared to the guns twice that size firing in return.

Idling on the deck of the Sword Resplendent, pilot Iakush Rogal's F-41A Savage fighter was quickly being re-armed, to the best extent that the carrier could manage. Now, as the ships arsenals were not meant to supply hundreds of aircraft again and again, each fighter could only be gifted with a trio of air-to-air missiles, as well as a few more seconds worth of 30mm rounds. Air-to-ground munitions were to be saved for the bombers.

Rogal had avoided the air battle with the Chechens, until now. Having recently returned from a sortie over the city itself, he had been given new orders; to join his wing, and take the fight overseas, and head off any new enemy assault.

The Strakhen Sokol fighter group dispatched minutes before had not returned, and those few aircraft that could still report back were either damaged, or unarmed, and none were of use immediately. The enemies subsequent attack had again wreaked impressive damage; downing a further Portlandia-class cruiser, as well as a pair of Royale frigates and one of the two remaining Champlain frigates; those who were the main reservoir of attack missiles remaining.

The Sword Resplendent had taken damage, but the fires were small and went out nearly immediately, and the damage to the deck was ignored. Aircraft with vertical landing capabilities, like the F-41, were not bothered by the damage, although the runway had become incredibly treacherous for the remaining bombers and conventional fighters like the Strakhen Sokol.

Receiving his small compliment of arms, Rogal quickly fired his engines back up, and took a quick run off what remained of the runway. His was a short-take-off fighter, and was not bothered by the damage. As he climbed, he was joined by those who remained of his wing. These five fighters, soon joined further by the two-dozen or so other F-41 Savage fighters in the area, they worked themselves into a loose formation and soared off into the open ocean, followed like those before them by a pair of Coldun aircraft.

They would not be alone, although their allies were few. Of the thirty-six Strakhen Sokol fighters that had yet returned, only twelve were armed. They followed the advancing group, moving once again, as it was said, into the breech.

Even smaller than the nimble Strakhen Sokol, the Savage fighter was well-equipped, if not well armed. It had incredible maneuverability and speed, Rogal knew that this would be one of his only advantages if he got stuck in a close-in fight with the enemies jets. Their gun rounds were larger, but that meant little, as both could easily tear through a plane.

A single long-range missile was mounted under the wing, while the internal bays were taken up with a pair of shorter-range weapons. Kept in the bay, they could take advantage of a revolutionary deployment system, whereby they were ejected from the bay, tumbling down, rather than falling straight, so that they could be realigned in whatever direction was necessary. He could fire at targets behind him, certainly not what the enemy was expecting...

Perhaps it would make a difference, he thought, or perhaps not. He didn't know the enemies exact numbers, but was certain he and his comrades were outnumbered...

Once again, this fight was not a pitched battle, but a last stand...

Again to the north, the situation was quite the opposite. The 7th Division, Parachute Infantry, had been advancing quite steadily. Moving into position behind Griffincrest, Mafia, and Kraven positions, Pudite soldiers were now joining their comrades in the battle in the southern portions of the city.

Pudite battalions advanced brazenly, operating with close support by artillery and armored vehicles, moving as quickly as was possible to the north. Platoons operated on close concert with their counterparts, advancing much in the style of the late Commissar Lukin. Brutal hand-to-hand fighting erupted in the close quarters, where the massive Pudite soldiers knew they would have a decisive advantage. With high-tension fibers and improved muscle strands woven into their body, they were fighting machines, and large combat knives, used as bayonets or simple tools for disembowelment, did nothing for the chances of the foreigners.

Advance was the primary and only objective. If the enemy could be driven to the north, and out of the city, and the two Pudite divisions could unite, then the city would be taken.

The battle's future was obvious, and awaited now only the final break of the enemy, and the long-fought for victory in the first combat deployment of Imperial paratroopers in their history...

NationStates Jolt Archive

The First To Fall To The Jackboot [Prelude to the SEA Invasion, ATTN Groznyj]