Raithal
06-12-2006, 00:53
OOC: Prelude to this is here: http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=12026634
I''ll be posting a military listing, and nation history after my chem exam tomorrow
IC:
City of Tarsis, December 5, 06:53
The warehouse looked nondescript, like any other of the multitude of warhouses in the Summerland cities that stored the agricultural bounty that drove the Raithal economy. The only discernible difference between this warhouse, and the others that littered the industrial district of the city, were the gunmen patrolling outside.
The gunmen wore jeans and heavy black sweaters. balaclavas, heavy winter gloves, and scarves were also being worn. On the left arm of each, a red bandana had been tied. The bandanas identified them as Tarsis skirmishers, civilian volunteers who had rushed to join the Tarsis Coalition's Civil Defence Corps. once news had reached them of the royal coup in Lordis. Their elected representatives were either dead or jailed, and the ancient royal family had seized power, riding on King James' Royal Guard and the newly formed Raithal Defence Forces.
The regular Civil Defence Corps, and its auxillaries, wore the common american-style woodland BDUs and were armed with M16s. Heavy infantry were issued kevlar vests and battle plates, but body armour was in otherwise short supply. Vehicles were a handful of heavily modified tractors and a fleet of technicals. Though not as well trained as a professional army, the troops were nonetheless dedicated. The Tarsis Coalition could normally muster 1600 troops, and several hundred independent farmers and farmhands could be expected to bolster that number. But this wasn't an ordinary day, thousands of volunteers had streamed in, and their ranks swelled to over 6000. With the addition of Oak Ridge, Castamere, and the various independent farmer coalitions, all of whom had set aside their differences and allied against the King and his government of usurpers. Their total strength was hitting onto 16,000.
And now Henderson Corporation had joined. They were the largest industrial manufacturer in the country, and had plants that pumped out farm vehicles and machinery across the nation. They also controlled the city of Mill Towne, and now their militia, and battle-wagons, had joined the United Summerland Coalition. They had close business ties with most of the railway and shipping companies, and had smuggled in thousands of armaments for the volunteers.
Which was the purpose of the warhouse. While USC volunteers patrolled outside, hundreds more waited inside while urban camo-clad Henderson Corp fighters unloaded dozens of crates from the stack of hundreds.
The Henderson commander slung his M4 behind him and picked up a crowbar, prying the lid off the first crate, then the others. Each crate was packed full of grenades, tactical vests, AK-47 assault rifles, and RPGs. Others had ammunition, landmines, high-explosive, and other weapons.
The volunteers stepped forth, they had already been organized into units, and were each issued a weapon, ammo, vest, and a red bandana to tie around their left arm. Once armed, the fighters dispersed to their commanders, who lead them to defensive positions being setup throughout the city.
As the next batch of several hundred volunteers approached, one of the Henderson Corp. fighters left his comrades to head to the washroom. Once inside, he stepped into a stall and drew out a cell phone. He dialed frantically, and waited for the person on the other end to pick up.
"Hi, you've reached John and Sally, we can't come to the phone right now, but please a leave a message with your name and number and we'll get right back to you!" a cheerful woman's voice sounded.
The tone sounded and the soldier spoke frantically, "Greaves, this is Johnson, we've got big problems, I finally know what all that traffic was, Henderson's been shipping in weapons ever since the ascension," Johnson was cut off as someone picked up on the other end of the line.
"Johnson, this is Greaves, go easy son, what's the situation?" the voice on the other line said.
"They've got thousands here, and I don't even know how many other warehouses there are. There building an army, and almost all the Summerland's come together, I think they're going to be ready to move any day..." Johnson's cut out as several shots rang out.
The officer who had opened the crates stood outside the stall, his rifle raised, and a thin wisp of smoke drifted from the barrel.
"Death to the usurpers!" he cried as the volunteers and his own troops watched through the doorway and cheered in response.
*Narius, ancient capitol of Raithal, 06:57*
Colonel Kevin Greaves, commander of the Kingsguard stood silent holding the phone in his hands. Johnson was dead, and the Summerland was moving to war. Kevin knew this day would come, they all did. It didn't make it any easier.
The colonel set the phone down, and turned to the other, it was red, and the world 'King' was stenciled across the base.
He picked it up, heard it ring, and his King answered, "Colonel, what's the word?"
"My man's dead, the summerland's united and ready for war, they're prepping defences even now."
"Very well then, thank you Colonel. And sorry, for your man,"
"He was a soldier sir, he did his duty, it's all any of us can do," the Colonel replied and hung up.
*Just outside of Tarsis, RDF Forward Operating Base Wolfe, 06:59*
Brigadier General Jamison Wolfe sat in his command tent, a specialized radio was beside him with a line feeding in from his Jager CV. The radio gave him a direct link with Lordis, and the King. Normally the Lord General would handle such duties, but he just departed to repesent Raithal to the Vesper Alliance, and the King wouldn't let anyone besides him or his brother handle the duty of declaring war on his own citizens.
Wolfe was tense, but relieved, his initial incursion into Tarsis during the ascension of Raithal's new king had devastated parts of the city, but soon enough the fighters had fled, and the Lord General, hoping to avoid outright war with a show of force, had ordered Wolfe to withdraw. The Tarsis militia had come back, and now his recce troops had spotted fortifications across the city, and hordes of fresh troops in jeans and black shirts, with red bandanas on their arms.
Wolfe knew his armour, two regiments of 58 T-14 Hector Main Battle tanks, could blow through them with ease, but he'd thought the same before, and the charred ruin of one his Hectors sitting in the middle of a Tarsis street from the earlier incursion was evidence that no amount of armour was impenetrable.
But so far, for the past few weeks, not much had happened. Wolfe was hoping that troop buildup was little more than posturing as government negotiators tried to get the Summerland cities on board.
Then the radio crackled.
"Operation Apollo is a go, I say again, Apollo is a go"
Goddamn... Wolfe thought to himself as he stood up from his chair and put his helmet on. His other kit was already in the Jager, he hoped it wouldn't come to this, but he and his troops were ready for it.
Within a few minutes four SuF-5 Tigers came in screaming over head, letting loose a storm of rockets and cannon fire at the enemy fortifications as 1 Brigade, Armoured, revved up and charged forward.
The 24 Scoundrel self-propelled guns were already in hidden, entrenched positions, and their monstrous guns roared unleashing 152mm shells at the enemy as the advancing line of Hector MBTs joined in with their own 123mm ETCs.
*Tarsis, 07:05*
The rockets and cannon fire had wreaked hell on the trenches. The concrete bunkers and heavier fortifications still stood however, though all their vehicles and infantry were dead.
Williams cursed as he hit the dirt as another shell came down. It exploded a hundred meters behind and dozens started to scream as shrapnel tore through them. The shopping strips on either side of the road where the shell hit collapsed at the fronts, killing the patrons and storeowners inside as civilians ran about the streets screaming.
Two more shells dropped down, sending cars, bodies, and chunks of building flying in every direction.
Williams got up after the third shell and sprinted towards an alleyway, grabbing a screaming, bloodsoaked, little girl in his right hand while his left clutched his AK. In the alley Williams took cover behind a dumpster and pulled the girl down beside him. He looked over her quickly, there were no wounds, the blood must have been her mothers.
Another shell came crashing down, this time hitting the department store that the pair were taking cover beside. The ground shook and a chunk of wall hit the ground near them, while a storm of other debris rained down, including a chunk of brick that smashed into Williams' left shoulder.
He grunted in pain and clutched the wounded shoulder. He noticed the screaming had stopped and he turned to check on the girl. She was slumped up on the ground, her head split open like a melon with a chunk of debris sticking out. Williams couldn't control himself and he doubled over, vomitting.
The volunteer got to his feet and made his way to the end of the alley. He looked out, a number of his fellow volunteers had taken cover in the craters or ruined buildings. Dead civilians littered the street and sidewalk, mixed in with the bodies of volunteer fighters.
Their commander, a Captain named Clarke, was dead. His body was slumped protectively over a baby carriage, the dead parents were cut to pieces nearby.
Williams rushed over to the body, the shelling had shifted, and for the moment it was safe. He lifted the body off the carriage, he didn't hear anything, and didn't want to look, as he already knew what had happened to the child. He stripped the vest and radio from the captain. The radio was toast, blasted apart by shrapnel. He stripped off his own webbing and donned the vest. It was a bit loose, but he could tighten the straps later. He grabbed the captain's AR-15 and slung it, it was more accurate than the AK, and was fitted with a foregrip and optical sight mounted onto the carrying handle.
He waved for the other volunteers to join him and they did. They tossed the AK and webbing to a nearby civilian who climbed out of the ruined convenience store they were gathered beside. Without a question the civilian donned the gear and nodded his readiness.
They could hear more shelling and screams from the front lines. A squad of regular USC militiamen, in proper BDUs and armed with AR-15s emerge from an alley down the street. They jogged over and their commander looked over the group and motioned to Williams. "You, take these troops and search the areas that were shelled, gather any other survivors to you and head to the second line. Find Captain Forester and he'll know what to do with you."
"Yes sir" Williams replied.
"I'm a sergeant, not a sir, now get going," the soldier said as he and his squad rushed off towards the front line bunkers.
"Okay guys, you heard the man, let's go!"
The group of volunteers gathered together and Williams took lead as they charged off to the east, where they knew other volunteers had been coming up to reinforce the line. One of the volunteers lingered for a second, then took quick peak into the carriage. Williams heard a sickened gasp, and the sound of a straggler rushing to join them.
The front line collapsed entirely as Hectors drove the surviving defenders back and breached into the city proper. Jager IFVs follow closely, disgorging infantry to search the ruins and mop up and remnant summerland troopers.
I''ll be posting a military listing, and nation history after my chem exam tomorrow
IC:
City of Tarsis, December 5, 06:53
The warehouse looked nondescript, like any other of the multitude of warhouses in the Summerland cities that stored the agricultural bounty that drove the Raithal economy. The only discernible difference between this warhouse, and the others that littered the industrial district of the city, were the gunmen patrolling outside.
The gunmen wore jeans and heavy black sweaters. balaclavas, heavy winter gloves, and scarves were also being worn. On the left arm of each, a red bandana had been tied. The bandanas identified them as Tarsis skirmishers, civilian volunteers who had rushed to join the Tarsis Coalition's Civil Defence Corps. once news had reached them of the royal coup in Lordis. Their elected representatives were either dead or jailed, and the ancient royal family had seized power, riding on King James' Royal Guard and the newly formed Raithal Defence Forces.
The regular Civil Defence Corps, and its auxillaries, wore the common american-style woodland BDUs and were armed with M16s. Heavy infantry were issued kevlar vests and battle plates, but body armour was in otherwise short supply. Vehicles were a handful of heavily modified tractors and a fleet of technicals. Though not as well trained as a professional army, the troops were nonetheless dedicated. The Tarsis Coalition could normally muster 1600 troops, and several hundred independent farmers and farmhands could be expected to bolster that number. But this wasn't an ordinary day, thousands of volunteers had streamed in, and their ranks swelled to over 6000. With the addition of Oak Ridge, Castamere, and the various independent farmer coalitions, all of whom had set aside their differences and allied against the King and his government of usurpers. Their total strength was hitting onto 16,000.
And now Henderson Corporation had joined. They were the largest industrial manufacturer in the country, and had plants that pumped out farm vehicles and machinery across the nation. They also controlled the city of Mill Towne, and now their militia, and battle-wagons, had joined the United Summerland Coalition. They had close business ties with most of the railway and shipping companies, and had smuggled in thousands of armaments for the volunteers.
Which was the purpose of the warhouse. While USC volunteers patrolled outside, hundreds more waited inside while urban camo-clad Henderson Corp fighters unloaded dozens of crates from the stack of hundreds.
The Henderson commander slung his M4 behind him and picked up a crowbar, prying the lid off the first crate, then the others. Each crate was packed full of grenades, tactical vests, AK-47 assault rifles, and RPGs. Others had ammunition, landmines, high-explosive, and other weapons.
The volunteers stepped forth, they had already been organized into units, and were each issued a weapon, ammo, vest, and a red bandana to tie around their left arm. Once armed, the fighters dispersed to their commanders, who lead them to defensive positions being setup throughout the city.
As the next batch of several hundred volunteers approached, one of the Henderson Corp. fighters left his comrades to head to the washroom. Once inside, he stepped into a stall and drew out a cell phone. He dialed frantically, and waited for the person on the other end to pick up.
"Hi, you've reached John and Sally, we can't come to the phone right now, but please a leave a message with your name and number and we'll get right back to you!" a cheerful woman's voice sounded.
The tone sounded and the soldier spoke frantically, "Greaves, this is Johnson, we've got big problems, I finally know what all that traffic was, Henderson's been shipping in weapons ever since the ascension," Johnson was cut off as someone picked up on the other end of the line.
"Johnson, this is Greaves, go easy son, what's the situation?" the voice on the other line said.
"They've got thousands here, and I don't even know how many other warehouses there are. There building an army, and almost all the Summerland's come together, I think they're going to be ready to move any day..." Johnson's cut out as several shots rang out.
The officer who had opened the crates stood outside the stall, his rifle raised, and a thin wisp of smoke drifted from the barrel.
"Death to the usurpers!" he cried as the volunteers and his own troops watched through the doorway and cheered in response.
*Narius, ancient capitol of Raithal, 06:57*
Colonel Kevin Greaves, commander of the Kingsguard stood silent holding the phone in his hands. Johnson was dead, and the Summerland was moving to war. Kevin knew this day would come, they all did. It didn't make it any easier.
The colonel set the phone down, and turned to the other, it was red, and the world 'King' was stenciled across the base.
He picked it up, heard it ring, and his King answered, "Colonel, what's the word?"
"My man's dead, the summerland's united and ready for war, they're prepping defences even now."
"Very well then, thank you Colonel. And sorry, for your man,"
"He was a soldier sir, he did his duty, it's all any of us can do," the Colonel replied and hung up.
*Just outside of Tarsis, RDF Forward Operating Base Wolfe, 06:59*
Brigadier General Jamison Wolfe sat in his command tent, a specialized radio was beside him with a line feeding in from his Jager CV. The radio gave him a direct link with Lordis, and the King. Normally the Lord General would handle such duties, but he just departed to repesent Raithal to the Vesper Alliance, and the King wouldn't let anyone besides him or his brother handle the duty of declaring war on his own citizens.
Wolfe was tense, but relieved, his initial incursion into Tarsis during the ascension of Raithal's new king had devastated parts of the city, but soon enough the fighters had fled, and the Lord General, hoping to avoid outright war with a show of force, had ordered Wolfe to withdraw. The Tarsis militia had come back, and now his recce troops had spotted fortifications across the city, and hordes of fresh troops in jeans and black shirts, with red bandanas on their arms.
Wolfe knew his armour, two regiments of 58 T-14 Hector Main Battle tanks, could blow through them with ease, but he'd thought the same before, and the charred ruin of one his Hectors sitting in the middle of a Tarsis street from the earlier incursion was evidence that no amount of armour was impenetrable.
But so far, for the past few weeks, not much had happened. Wolfe was hoping that troop buildup was little more than posturing as government negotiators tried to get the Summerland cities on board.
Then the radio crackled.
"Operation Apollo is a go, I say again, Apollo is a go"
Goddamn... Wolfe thought to himself as he stood up from his chair and put his helmet on. His other kit was already in the Jager, he hoped it wouldn't come to this, but he and his troops were ready for it.
Within a few minutes four SuF-5 Tigers came in screaming over head, letting loose a storm of rockets and cannon fire at the enemy fortifications as 1 Brigade, Armoured, revved up and charged forward.
The 24 Scoundrel self-propelled guns were already in hidden, entrenched positions, and their monstrous guns roared unleashing 152mm shells at the enemy as the advancing line of Hector MBTs joined in with their own 123mm ETCs.
*Tarsis, 07:05*
The rockets and cannon fire had wreaked hell on the trenches. The concrete bunkers and heavier fortifications still stood however, though all their vehicles and infantry were dead.
Williams cursed as he hit the dirt as another shell came down. It exploded a hundred meters behind and dozens started to scream as shrapnel tore through them. The shopping strips on either side of the road where the shell hit collapsed at the fronts, killing the patrons and storeowners inside as civilians ran about the streets screaming.
Two more shells dropped down, sending cars, bodies, and chunks of building flying in every direction.
Williams got up after the third shell and sprinted towards an alleyway, grabbing a screaming, bloodsoaked, little girl in his right hand while his left clutched his AK. In the alley Williams took cover behind a dumpster and pulled the girl down beside him. He looked over her quickly, there were no wounds, the blood must have been her mothers.
Another shell came crashing down, this time hitting the department store that the pair were taking cover beside. The ground shook and a chunk of wall hit the ground near them, while a storm of other debris rained down, including a chunk of brick that smashed into Williams' left shoulder.
He grunted in pain and clutched the wounded shoulder. He noticed the screaming had stopped and he turned to check on the girl. She was slumped up on the ground, her head split open like a melon with a chunk of debris sticking out. Williams couldn't control himself and he doubled over, vomitting.
The volunteer got to his feet and made his way to the end of the alley. He looked out, a number of his fellow volunteers had taken cover in the craters or ruined buildings. Dead civilians littered the street and sidewalk, mixed in with the bodies of volunteer fighters.
Their commander, a Captain named Clarke, was dead. His body was slumped protectively over a baby carriage, the dead parents were cut to pieces nearby.
Williams rushed over to the body, the shelling had shifted, and for the moment it was safe. He lifted the body off the carriage, he didn't hear anything, and didn't want to look, as he already knew what had happened to the child. He stripped the vest and radio from the captain. The radio was toast, blasted apart by shrapnel. He stripped off his own webbing and donned the vest. It was a bit loose, but he could tighten the straps later. He grabbed the captain's AR-15 and slung it, it was more accurate than the AK, and was fitted with a foregrip and optical sight mounted onto the carrying handle.
He waved for the other volunteers to join him and they did. They tossed the AK and webbing to a nearby civilian who climbed out of the ruined convenience store they were gathered beside. Without a question the civilian donned the gear and nodded his readiness.
They could hear more shelling and screams from the front lines. A squad of regular USC militiamen, in proper BDUs and armed with AR-15s emerge from an alley down the street. They jogged over and their commander looked over the group and motioned to Williams. "You, take these troops and search the areas that were shelled, gather any other survivors to you and head to the second line. Find Captain Forester and he'll know what to do with you."
"Yes sir" Williams replied.
"I'm a sergeant, not a sir, now get going," the soldier said as he and his squad rushed off towards the front line bunkers.
"Okay guys, you heard the man, let's go!"
The group of volunteers gathered together and Williams took lead as they charged off to the east, where they knew other volunteers had been coming up to reinforce the line. One of the volunteers lingered for a second, then took quick peak into the carriage. Williams heard a sickened gasp, and the sound of a straggler rushing to join them.
The front line collapsed entirely as Hectors drove the surviving defenders back and breached into the city proper. Jager IFVs follow closely, disgorging infantry to search the ruins and mop up and remnant summerland troopers.