NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: This is an intro and RP thread. In essence the only real tech limitation is WW2-ish style weaponary, but no jets thanks. By all means mecha, simple cloning processes and other semi-believable stuff can be included... think RA2 if you will, except no chrono-shifters or Prism towers or mirage tanks heh heh.

Even if no one signs up, I will continue to post here, mostly because I already like the way this is going. :cool:

Feel free to join!

IC:

It was just another day in the lands of the Black Reich, the New Year was only a few days past, and the Capital city of High Reicha, Corris Marnas, was alive and buzzing with activity as colourful banners fluttered in place and loudspeakers blared cheery music in the wake of yet another ceremonial New Years parade; a reward to the people for their years hard work, and a way to welcome in another year of making the lands of The Black Reich profitable further.

However, despite the jauntiness and happiness of the occasion it was only skin deep, a number of troubles had begun to face the nation in the last few years, many of which had been fermenting for decades if not longer. In the days to come, unbeknownst to even the emperor himself, those troubles would come home to roost, and would roost very, very soon…

…

Somewhere in the Edorian wastelands – The Reichan vassal state of Edoria


In the lands of Edoria there is a saying, a simple one – Don’t go into the wastes – to the normal traveller from the lands South or North, that would make commonsense- going into a natural desert was verging on craziness by any scale – but entering a landscape that had been blasted into wastes through a combination of phenomenal quantities of chemical warfare agent and thousands of tons of explosive weaponry was – to the normal person, all but suicide.

Nevertheless, they were going there, and they would enter deep into the bowels of this wasteland, and go home…

The single Edorian border guard who was awake at the gatehouse was casually smoking a cigarette and watching a soccer match between the Edorian Giants and their Grand final opponents the North Reichan Cougars when he heard the sound of a faint rumbling. Curiosity overcame his usual lase-faire attitude to things and he got up from his seat.

“Good morning sir” he said as the truck ground to a halt in front of the concrete-lined entrance gate to the wastelands, “another lot of supplies for that damned research station eh?” his smile suggested that the guard thought the station was anything but that.

“Yeah, you could say that soldier” the noncom driver smirked, “open up pal, we got to get moving” he added after a quick glance around. The other soldier also looked around – something that under normal circumstances was out of the ordinary just in doing – but this wasn’t anything normal.

The gates opened with a loud scraping sound as their concrete bottoms pulled along the worn lines in bitumen, but the truck didn’t drive forward towards the derelict and long abandoned research station – instead, it drove down – down into the tunnel that would take it under the radioactive and chemical slop that was the soil above, and bring it to the secret headquarters of a force that was as much a part of the soil above as the chemicals were now.

How could they not be? Especially since it was their forefathers who created the wastelands in the first place…


COMMAND POST NEXUS – SUPREME COMMAND STATION OF THE DYNASTIC ALLIANCE

The old man looked across the plain, another chem-storm churned and boiled in the distance, the sickly pale clouds shone with what seemed their own decadent hue as they enveloped the sun and the land was covered in a yellowish hue of chemical embrace. The winds picked up as a chemical-laced tornado formed within the storm, even the lightning itself looked ill and half-hearted as the tornado developed into a full blown monster.

Something interesting caught the old mans eye, the winds had swept the sands of time from something in the distance – he brought a pair of binoculars to his eyes and looked out across the plain – the rusted hulk of an elderly siege mortar now jutted proudly from the sands of the wastes – it’s design – long since a relic – still looked defined and dignified even in such horrid conditions, and for a brief moment the relic of the Old Empire blessed the land with its presence.

The chemicals in the wind only took a few minutes to literally strip the metal into fragments big enough to be whipped away in the winds.

“Twenty years, that’s how long it’s been since that mortar saw light, and it was annihilated in twenty seconds by that” the man muttered as he looked across to the raging chem-storm, a pange of pain fluttered through the scarred left side of his face as he remembered his own encounter with a similar beast “no wonder I love it” he mused.

High Commander Erick Stonovsky was as turbulent as the storm before him, and had he been anyone else, he could well have been one of the Black Reich’s most decorated military commanders.

Instead, his name was synonymous grief and death, he’d been on the losing team the last time around, but more importantly, it was by his command that the ‘Leave none standing’ orders of Imperial High Lord Vanarus were implemented…

It was on that fateful day twenty years earlier that over twenty-thousand tons of explosives, and close to a hundred thousand tons of chemicals, carefully concealed in underground tunnel systems within the Imperial Capital city of Edor, was detonated in a final attempt by the Imperial Dynasty, the previous ruler of these lands, to bloody the liberating armies of the Black Reich.

The resulting explosion reduced the city of two million people to dust, and the chemical cesspool that formed afterwards was so potent that people died not within seconds, but instantly. The aftermath was an estimated death toll of 12 million – and the death of all that Stonovsky had held dear as the sole surviving statue of the High Lord himself was blown to pieces by the artillery of the vengeful remnants of the Reichan army.

By all rights Stonovsky should have died like millions of others on that very same day. But he, like some two hundred others, survived when the explosions opened the entrance to a phenomenal labyrinth of caverns and caves under the sands…

Unknown to the Black Reich, Erick Stanovsky, Supreme Lord Militant of the Grand Dynastic Armed Forces, was alive and well, and he hadn’t been sitting around and twiddling his thumbs for the last twenty years either… the Imperial Dynasty, the rightful rulers of these lands, was going to return, and those who stood in her way would pay dearly.

Before then however, Stanovsky had his fellow plotters to contend with. Pulling himself away from the majesty of the chem-storm he entered into another storm about as turbulent and dangerous as the one raging outside.

“We cannot possibly attack the capital state now! The Reichan Grand army itself is positioned throughout the lands loyal to the cause!” one man yelled across the table. He was one of those from ‘topside’ – a loyalist whose family, like so many tens of millions of secret believers, had managed to blend in with Reichan society above the wastes. Like many others in Edoria he was distinctly pro-dynasty, unlike many others though, he was in a position of power, a position to help allow the secretive activities of the Dynastic Alliance to grow without external interference from inquisitive Reichan officials.

“Then it’s the perfect time! How can they fight our forces if they don’t even know they exist!?” came a counter from another man whose clean cut black-grey uniform signified him to be of the secretly organised Dynasty Alliance Armed Services.

“You don’t understand, unlike you burrowers, the loyalists upstairs can’t just dig back into their damned caves because we don’t have any! We’ll have to live with the goddamn consequences if this fails!” snapped the topsider.

It looked as though physical blows would be quite possible between the two men until Stanovsky himself finally spoke.

“MINISTER REIDER AND GENERAL JOHANNAS EITHER SHUT YOUR TRAPS OR I’LL DO IT FOR YOU! THAT IS QUITE ENOUGH!” he barked. Despite his age and injuries, his voice still commanded ultimate respect as it had in his younger days, the harsh, rasping tones were almost as distinct as the horrid scarring that were across his face and blinded one eye. “We will not be launching any direct attack – yet” Stanovsky added before either the Minister of the Brigadier could argue any further.

“Minister Frank Reider, once again I extend my gratitude for you joining us today, but please, save any concerns you have for when your fellow ministers from our other loyalist states arrive”, Stanovsky turned to the General, “General Michael Johannas, if you would be so kind as to await the arrival of your fellow members from the loyalist air force and navy, that would also be appreciated”. The Dynastic Alliance Armed Services had only just been made official, although their training programs for their airmen, sailors and soldiers had been open-air knowledge for years, only they were known as the training programs of the loyalist states they worked in, “the wonders of state-by-states armed forces” Stanovsky had said when the idea was first mooted.

Finally, after an hour of further waiting, all who were required were seated. Including one man who had never been at any meetings before, “ladies and gentlemen, my fellow loyalists, meet David Brunner, he’s from South Reicha, and he’s leader of our newest, and soon to be most active operational cell, the New Dawn terrorist movement”.

“Terrorism, when did we become part of that?” snorted one of the loyalist commissioners.

“When I decided it’d be easier to attack the Reichans if they were already facing internal issues, that’s when” Stanovsky said calmly. Surprisingly, the commissioner shut up pretty sharply afterwards.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, commissioners of our loyalist states, and members of our fledgling services. Our time is almost at hand, our forces are making their final preparations and will be ready for Operation GLOBAL DAWN in the coming months. Our opponents, the bastard sons and daughters of those who called themselves the rulers of our lands, are masters of a nation that exists only in name.”

A map filled the screen before them in the underground bunker, it showed the outline of the lands denoted as being those controlled by the overarching rule of the Black Reich, five different colours swept across it, each denoting a different ‘faction’ of national vassal region within the empire itself…

Sweeping his arm across the screen Stanovsky continued on - “It is no lie my fellow countrymen, the nation known as the Black Reich is about to be brought to account for its actions past. They were the ones responsible for destroying our nation in years past, it was they who attacked us in the name of so called ‘unification’. It was THEY who forced THIS upon US!” Stanovsky roared as he pointed at the roiling chem-storm behind him. His gaze came back to the people in the room, important officials from ex-Dynastic lands still secretly loyal to the cause, members of the even more secret reborn Dynastic Armed Services, and a single man from the Southern areas of High Reicha itself – leader of the freedom fighters named ‘New Dawn’.

“Well, they will force their ideas of political freedom, international isolationism and universal betterment of the people down our throats no more. We will show them all that those who betray the rule of the Imperial Dynasty will be dealt with by those who have stayed true. We will enlighten them as to the folly of believing they destroyed our glorious empire, and we will make them pay their dues in blood.

It is our task to rebuild our nation, and it will be the destiny of you people to lead the charge. We WILL rebuild our former empire, and we will make our nation the strongest in the region! Our people are millions strong, it is time those millions were heard!”

…

TO BE CONTINUED...

A map of The Black Reich for all who are interested.
http://www.freewebs.com/thereichanwar/

SOMEWHERE WITHIN THE LANDS OF PRO-DYNASTIC EDORIA – HIGH REICHA CONTROLLED PRO-DYNASTIC ZONE:

Corporal Mendez was considerably agitated, moments ago, a small message had come to him from his New Dawn contact in the city of Gerasis.

“Mendez, the team is ready to implement the plan, you know what you gotta do bro”, that’s all the message had stated. It was all it needed to.

His base wasn’t much to look at, it was raggedy, it was also home to three of the Reich’s most powerful combat units, the latest battle-walkers, radio controlled up to 150 metres distance from the operator and a brand-new optronics vision system to make it even easier to judge where the units were aiming.

Quickly he gathered the men loyal to the cause, “brothers, the time is now” he said. The men were taken aback by this sudden change of events, though quickly and grimly, nodded in agreeance and began to make their moves…

When they did move, it was swift and sudden. First to go was the two Reichan Panzer Zu Fuss (Tank on Foot) that were controlled by those who followed the false Reich. The Pazer Zu Fuss, a 6 foot tall mechanical soldier operated by radio and TV link by a single man, was a powerful war machine in its own right, but unless it got the bead on the other two walkers first, the New Dawn operatives would be in for some serious trouble…

The New Dawn PZF operator, a man remarkably proficient in PZF operations, had his spun about and into combat within seconds, unlocking its heavy assault rifle, the unit proceeded to blast great holes into the sides of its companions. The first unit had a line of heavy calibre machine gun rounds stitched along its armoured chest up it’s head, whereupon the relatively light armour instantly gave way and subsequently became a sparking and crackling mess of coolant, wiring and frying circuitry.

The unit went beserk, its arms flailing everywhere until it ran into a soldier’s barracks, toppled over, and continued to gouge holes in the ground until the machine finally seized up a few hours later.

The other unit, its operator more aware by this time, almost put up a fight, but as it began to extract its long anti-tank rocket from its carrying slot on its back the other operator had his PZF race up beside it and kick it over. Standing above its fellow PZF unit like some big game hunter posing atop his stricken prey, the delight in the Black Reich operator could easily be translated through the PZF’s next actions. Bringing its big machine cannon up to the head of the machine, the PZF unit pressed the barrel against its former companions head and pulled the trigger. The big assault rifle bucked hard in the single hand grip, but at this distance whether the weapon bucked or not was merely academic concern. The explosions of the point blank heavy calibre machine gun ammunition ripped apart the side of the unit, the unit buckled from the damage and abruptly lay still, the light from its single working eyepiece slowly fading as the machine finally shut down for the last time.

The PZF operators were a little trickier to find, part of their training being to conceal themselves when action began so they could concentrate on effectively moving their walkers via their radio command links. Their deaths were suitably messy as the victorious PZF operator had the distinct honour of executing his former comrades… with his own PZF unit’s machine cannon.

As the PZF units engaged in their own slightly one sided affair the loyalists also faced their former Black Reich comrades. After the PZF unit engaged its fellows in combat, everyone on the base had gone to ground. The air was filled with bullets as New Dawn terrorists and Reichan loyalists fired at one another. However, the telling numbers of New Dawn men, most of which were armed with the more capable Reichan automatic rifles, made for a telling difference.

As Corporal Mendez went to execute his former senior NCO, the man asked “why?”
“Why?” Mendez retorted, he then proceeded to shoot the man. As his blood and brain matter began to pool around the exit wound in the back of his head, Mendez said “Because the Emperor is a weak fool, and you are as foolish for following him. The New Dawn WILL rise of the lands you call the Reich, and then, it will bathe its light across the globe”.

Mendez looked around at the other captives, those who had not run away at the first sign of gunfire and aggression, “collect our dead and wounded”, he looked disdainfully at the dead NCO before him, “and remove this scum from view”.

Sweeping a hand at the barracks he added “destroy it, eliminate the people. No survivors, no rumors to haunt us. Load up on munitions and anything of value once we’re done and we’ll take the walker to the drop-point” he said.

As the PZF unit turned around and began gunning at the survivors, Mendez strolled to the armoury and walked out with a flame-thrower across his back. His sadistic smile was the last many people saw as he torched the captives who had not been obliterated by the heavy calibre shells of the PZF unit. As the shrieks and shrill cries of those being killed in a distinctly horrid fashion filled the air Mendez smiled… “this is just the beginning” he murmured as he torched another swathe of prisoners.

Like a purifying flame from the killing chambers of the Dynasty before it, the New Dawn would burn a path for the reforging of the glorious Imperial Dynasty. The removal of the undesirables here was just one of many actions planned for the months ahead. Much planning and preparation was being put into sowing the seeds for the rising of the Dynasty’s light once more, and the trickery and treachery was on par with what would have made the past…

As for war – well, war was perfectly acceptable, past – and present…




The New Dawn begins to feel for its power as the mighty struggle that will be the Reichan war begins to stir... the blood of thousands, if not millions, chills as the winds of war sweep through the proud nation of Reicha once again as an old and terrible foe arises from the chem-sands of the North...

Are you willing to help the Reichans and bring peace back to the lands? Or will you stand by those who once were? And bring the 'false emperor' and his people crashing to their knees in servitude once more?

The choice is yours, yet the consequences are theirs!

A map of The Black Reich for all who are interested.
http://www.freewebs.com/thereichanwar/

Bump

B-u-mmm-p

New content within the next few days, the first strike is about tot commence!:sniper:

THE LIGHT IN THE DISTANCE

...

The cold wind chilled Peter Sarovich’s facial features as he drove his flatbed truck towards the checkpoint of the city docks in the North Reichan city of Farshorn, a coastal industrial centre, and largest producer of natural gas, in the North Reichan Coalition. He was here under the guise of being the ‘transport officer’ for a ‘Brigand Piping Industries’ – an entirely fictional company – nonetheless, as he drove toward the checkpoint and a sole guard moved to halt his car for inspection, his hand casually lowered down his side and gripped the grip of a pistol beneath his seat.

“Good evening… uh, morning I should say Mister…” the guard at the gate looked into his passbook as he checked the match, “…Stanton.” A wave of ease swept over Peter, the forgery had passed this test – simple, but a test nonetheless, he relaxed his grip on the silenced pistol under his drivers side. The guard looked at his watch, checked his arrivals table and looked back to Peter, or Mister Stanton as he was known to the guard.

“Mister Stanton, you’re welcome to wait with us in the guardhouse if you want”, he smiled as he politely shook his head… ‘one of the better security teams I’ve seen here, at least he isn’t drunk yet’ Peter thought to himself as he politely declined the offer, “thank you guard, but I’m fine here” and produced his own flask as an offer in return, his being filled with a much higher quality liquid than the Potato scraps the state trooper held in his hand.

The look on the troopers face when he swigged from the flask said a thousand words, “Good stuff there buddy!” he said through a slight cough, “have it pal, looks like you folks need it more than me” Peter said. The guard’s face lit a little in pleasant surprise as he said “very well Mister Stanton, thanks. You may stay here, but don’t go wandering” A simple nod of acknowledgement was all the was required to get the trooper to trudge back toward the warmth of his small guard shack, where his fellow guards were probably wondering whether he was snorting back a bit more of the potato peels they called Vodka than he should be.

Peter had just enough time to get four words out of the crossword he was doing when he decided to check his watch. Looking around to ensure he wasn’t being watched, Peter produced a silenced pistol and slid from the cab of the truck. Slowly creeping up to the guardhouse, he noticed a distinct lack of any noise.

“Right on time”, he said as he peered through one of the frosted windows, as Peter had guessed, the guard had passed around the vodka, and subsequently poisoned his fellow guards with the slow acting reactant.

In a much more pleasant way for Peter, all he had to do was take the poisoned Vodka, and replace it with another bottle of the same blend. No witnesses, no surprises, perfectly done.

The ship came in thirty minutes later, as the gangway dropped a group of men, all armed with heavy automatic rifles and in the dark uniforms of the Dynastic Secret Service filed down the ramp and stood to attention. Peter looked on, mildly impressed by this small display, as his long-time friend David Brunner, mastermind behind the entirety of Operation New Dawn moved down the gangway. Presently he stopped to address the assembled DSS troops, “have the dock gear ready to unload within ten minutes, we have the truck waiting, move!”

Seconds later, another man in DSS uniform, this one with the gold lapels that signified a Division Leader, barked for the establishment of a security cordon as the rest of the troops broke formation and began preparations for moving their cargo.

Peter came over to David and embraced his friend, “Welcome to paradise, where the temperature is cold enough to freeze your piss before it hits the ground, and the booze is strong enough to turn your guts into a furnace” Peter said as he heartedly slapped his friends back, “how was your trip to the homeland?”

David paused to stub out the dregs of his own cigarette as he turned to watch the unloading of the ‘specialist technical equipment’; “The homeland is the same as always, a chemical dustbowl blown to smithereens by the bastard Reichans” he spat, “nevertheless, it’s about time that pompous self-righteous prick Stanovsky recognised our efforts and recognised our force as a viable asset. If it hadn’t have been for our efforts he wouldn’t have the New Dawn to bring the light of the Dynasty to the faithful, and he’d be years behind schedule.” David said as he lit another cigarette and took in another lungful of smoke.

“Never thought I’d say it though, but I wish we didn’t have to hit here, you’re right Peter, it is too friggin cold here. I’m actually starting to miss Edoria” David muttered as a particularly strong gust of chilled air swept along the vessel’s side.

Peter nodded in agreeance as he stood and watched the crates of equipment being loaded onto his truck. “What’ve we got this time?” he asked quietly.
“Explosives – mostly low-impact stuff from the mines that our friends in the Steppes paid a visit to, it’s easier to acquire in Edoria than here. Also got a few more pieces of kit for our own munition production, and a little…” David paused, as if weighing what he was saying, then smirked, “well, it ain’t little, but let’s just say it’s a surprise…” David pointed to a huge box marked DANGER! BIOLOGICAL HAZARD! “Remember the PZF unit Cell 12 captured during that raid in Edoria a few weeks back? That’s it in there, we’re using it for the raid”

“You got to be shitting me” Peter said, then smiled broadly and burst out laughing, “They wouldn’t expect this even if we wrapped it in bells and whistles and had it screaming HERE I AM!”
“And that’s why we’re doing it,” David said, “by the way peter, nice dispatch of those guards”.

Peter stopped laughing, no one saw me do that, he thought to himself;
“How the heck did you find out about that, none of your boys have gone anywhere near the guard point since you got here! I know; I’ve been watching them.”

“You’ve been watching the ones you knew about,” David smirked, “we sent a recon team ahead to make sure it was all clear, just in case they’d got lucky on you, they’ve been ghosting you since you drove through the gates.” David said as he pointed to one of the cranes and waved.

Peter looked up and watched in surprise as two black clad figures, one of them behind a sinister looking sniper rifle, waved back at David through the dark and began to pack up. “Well stuff me” Peter mused, “thank god I’m on your side” he said to David.
“Yes, you should” David replied, “now, let’s get this stuff where it’s needed, we have a tight schedule for tonight.”

As Peter left to assist with the loading of the weaponry David looked back towards the city before him:

“The new dawn rises today, and we’re the first rays of light in the NRC”

SOME HOURS LATER – THE INDUSTRIAL CITY OF FARSHORN – NORTH REICHAN COALITION TERRITORY

The early morning was always the worst time to be on guard duty at the best of times, but when it was the windy, snowing weather like it was tonight, well, as Captain Bordaroi had bluntly phrased it, “it gave him the roaring shits”.

“Why the heck do we have to worry about guarding these places” Trooper Garrer said to his fellow guard, “I mean hell, the last time anyone rose up against the government was back in the Steppes! It’s not like the people here have any issues against each other?” he said as he warmed his hands against a firing barrel.

“I know what you mean,” Trooper Dobson replied as he rubbed a dirty rag over his issue pistol above the fire, “friggin’ morons, if those Steppe people just realised that the Dynasty didn’t exist anymore then we’d be at home sleeping in a warm bed. But no! They just have to keep their insurgency going. Hell! They’ve even started to pick up the pace in the last few weeks! The dynasty has been gone for years! You’d think they’d realise they’re backing a dead horse by now!?”

“Well, I guess we can be happy that we aren’t guarding the mines in the Oran Pass,” Garrer said, “they copped another raid yesterday, Steppes folk had armoured cars this time, some locally produced things, shot the place up bad before the army could mobilise…” Garrer’s own conversation was cut short as he noticed lights in the distance moving towards the factory – moving fast towards the factory, “switch on Dobson, we got guests”.

“Yeah? Shit hey? That’s a change. Well either way I’m just glad no one tries to hit this place, all they’d need to do is take on us, get past the two sleeping in the guardhouse and then they’d have all the time in the world to turn this big ol’ gas plant into a huge bomb!” Dobson said as he followed behind Garrer towards his checkpoint pit, “yes sir, a few bombs here, a bomb or two there, and you’d be able to make one hell of a bang along this neighbourhood. Just got to get past us two bad-asses… so they’re screwed” he laughed as he took up position.

Garrer politely ignored his fellow guard as he watched the truck. He looked through the notebook he had in his pocket, strange, nothing here about a late night delivery, tired, cold and wanting to go home, Garrer really wasn’t in the mood for having to give directions to some idiotic driver who’d gotten lost.

“Hey, Garrer”, he turned around at the voice, the other guard, a rookie, was walking out with his fellow guard “shift change, Captain says you can go back in.”

As he walked off back to the barracks and closed the door behind him, Garrer couldn’t help but feel as though had just lucked out from something much greater than simply standing in the cold.

He never would have expected what happened next – even if it had bells and whistles on screaming ‘HERE I AM!’ – especially since he never expected to be ripped in half by a 13mm machine cannon round…

…

“One down” Peter mused behind his facemask. The thick fur coat he wore was only partially helping against the phenomenal cold of the hilltop they were on. But more importantly, it kept his hands warm enough that he could feel the controls of the remotely driven truck he was the master of. The truck careened on toward the facility, by now Peter could see the other guard get up from his trench and race towards his companion, the upper torso had been quite simply shorn from the lower half in a rather grisly display of accuracy from the PZF unit David Brunner was controlling. Another loud BOOM! Filled the air, but drowned out by the howling winds, the guard on duty would have never heard the noise, and would have never known what was happening until his head detonated. His body fell to the ground atop the torso of his fellow guard, the head having entirely disappeared in what would have been a most violent fashion.

Moments later, the truck, laden with explosives, roared past the guard barracks and slammed nose first into the closets gas chamber. “HERE WE GO!” Peter roared over the wind, Brunner gave him a thumbs up, then buried himself under the snow that covered the ground they were on.

The truck exploded in a spectacular fireball, moments later, the gas that was escaping from the ruptured storage tanks made contact with the flames and heat of the explosion. The explosion that came next rocked the mountain Peter and David were lying down on, a piercing light turned the pitch black of the darkness into day, making the entire city look as though it was being bathed in the light of the sun itself. The heat from the explosion actually melting the snow from the entire Cliffside as the heat flash swept through the area. Both Peter and David were thrown around the Cliffside (somehow not being thrown off) by the force of the shockwaves as a chain of follow-on explosions from the other gas tanks ripped the facility apart.

Once the explosions had stopped hitting them with a force more akin to a sledgehammer in the chest, the two men rose from their vantage points and looked down at the scene below. It was utter chaos, the entire facility was awash in smoke and flame, and what hadn’t been reduced to rubble was quickly being reduced to ash. A pipeline connecting the facility to a similar plant was ablaze, and moments later began to buckle and convulse like an injured snake as the safety mechanisms, already stressed from the continuous explosions, proceeded to fall apart and allow the weakened pipeline to be exposed to open flame.

A small whistle escaped David’s lips “Jesus, didn’t expect that much bang for my buck” he said, then he let out a cry of surprise… a pair of figures moved from the wreckage of their guard barracks, “how the hell did they survive!” David said in surprise, he went to grab the radio control for the PZF unit and its 13mm machine rifle when he felt a hand on his shoulder. “Let ‘em go David, I think they’ve earnt their second chance just quietly”, Peters voice spoke of reason, and David relented, “you’re right” he said with a chuckle “quite an impressive feat, someone’s looking out for them that’s for certain”.

He looked at the PZF unit beside them “time to destroy this, we got no more ammo and the damn things too difficult to get for anyway” he said as he began preparing it for destruction.


NEWS BROADCAST FROM STATE CONTROLLED NORTH REICHAN NEWS – NRC

Breaking news today is the cataclysmic explosion of the Verona II natural gas plant in the North Reichan Coalition industrial city Farshorn, crippling the cities natural gas production, killing about twenty night-shift workers, and turning the snow black from the smoke and other pollutants. The explosion at this point is suggested to be an act of terrorism by pro-dynastic insurgents after traces of explosives were recovered from the scene which matched materials stolen by Steppes raiders some six weeks earlier. The explosion of the plant was recorded by seismographs as far away as Petromosk in the NRC, and as far South as Kardonia in High Reicha.

In related news the devastation, whilst responsible for the deaths of at least twenty people so far, has also seen a tale of miraculous survival. Two government stationed guards, a Captain and a state trooper, survived the annihilation of the plant when they were both flung into the kitchenette of their barracks, the only concrete part of the entire building, and the only section left standing after the blasts. Both are currently in hospital under observation and are awaiting questioning by NRC police.