NationStates Jolt Archive

The Freekish media was a frenzy in the early morning hours after word escaped from Questers of their intentions to mobilize against Automagfreek. It was no secret that the Crown Imperium had been mobilizing itself for something, and both Gholgoth and the New Alliance and Treaty Organization were on heightened alert following the decree that Questers would sever any and all ties with NATO. But now the intentions had been made clear, and the response to such a challenge was one that any Freek on the street could predict; the Empire was heading to war, yet again.

Wether or not the Questerian government would actually follow through on a Gholgothic assault was questionable, due to the sheer size and strength the regional alliance possessed. However, with Dreadfire off conquering the Doomani hoards, it was apparant that AMF was in need of homeland leadership. Knowing that leaving his troops under another Warchief's command in the Doomani war would have devastating effect on their moral, Damien decided to stay and see the conflict through. Predictions were that the war would not last much longer, as a sizeable portion of the Doomani fleet had been utterly destroyed, and the remnants surrounded and with their backs to the coast. In light of all this, Dreadfire ordered that his son, Azrael the Advocate, Imperial Regent and second in command of the Empire, should serve as chief defender of the heart of the Freekish homeland.

Azrael was not known for his cruelty as his father was, but he was known for possessing most if not all of Damien's battlefield skill and resourcefulness due to having experience front line combat many a time. The prince was flown out of the Doomani warzone and straight to ULE City, where Dreadfire's personal staff greeted him and trumpeted his return. Though still being weary from flight, Azrael assembled every remaining Warchief, as well as the Warlord's full cabinet for an emergency meeting. The details of the discussion were secret and would be guarded well, and the spirits of the men as they left Damien's meeting room within the Great Hall were high. Shortly afterwards the Regent summoned forth the media for an emergency announcement, and activity within Automagfreek ceased as every man, woman, and child tuned in to hear what their Prince had to say.

Brothers and sisters of Automagfreek....children of our great Empire...hear me. First I bring news from the war with Doomingsland, where our great Warlord still fights to vanquish the vile heathen bastards and bring glory to our Empire. The Doomani navy is battered and broken, and landfall will be made any moment now. We are predicting that the Doomani will capitulate shortly, for nothing can stop the Sentinels from ravaging all in their path. Once the first pair of boots hits the sands, it is all over for Maximus.

But that is not what fills my mind, for there are more pressing matters at hand, matters that will effect the very lives of every single Freekish citizen. As the worldwide media outlets have reported, the Crown Imperium of Questers have begun preparing themselves for war....and it has been made clear today that they seek to spill our blood. That's right my people, the cowards of Questers seek to topple our great Empire and send all we have toiled, worked, and died to build come crashing down into oblivion. This cannot and will not be allowed to pass.

Though our Warlord and his most trusted Warchief's are slaughtering the Doomani, Automagfreek is far from weakened. The fools who seek to challenge our supremacy and that of Gholgoth would have extreme difficulty in besting even a severely battered and depleted Freekish war machine, though we are neither. But a mere fraction of our forces are currently engulfed in battle, and many countless legions remain ready to defend our Empire and our way of life. The Sentinel and Fallen reserves have been activated per my command, and I am hereby ordering all clan Chieftains to activate their garrisons and militias. Brave defenders of the Freekish lands, report to your tribal weapons depots and begin forming your armies. Report to your As of this moment, the Empire is fully mobilized and prepared for battle, and our economy will now shift to wartime production to reflect this.

The fools who come to die on our sands know not the lessons of the past, for Automagfreek is the most heavily armed and defended nation in the world! For centuries we have vanquished all who have sought to conquer us, and in the coming war it will be no different. Their precious ships will sit in pieces on the ocean floor, their planes will fall aflame from the sky like meteors, and their men will die in numbers so staggering that they will not be able to comprehend it. We will pile their bodies high my brothers and sisters.

And to our friends and allies in Gholgoth, I say to you that you are not free of this peril. Even now as I speak, armies are being assembled by the slaves to the Questerian Crown who seek to subjugate you and your people as well. As the free nations of Gholgoth our fates are entwined, and what befalls one of us befalls us all! Arise brave Gholgothans, for the time to stand beside your brothers has come! Allegiances you have sworn, oaths you have taken...they are called upon now as the craven dogs plot and scheme our demise. I say to you, citizens of a FREE Gholgoth, will you sit idly by as the tides of war consume you? Will you rise, or become mastered? Will you fight, or become vanquished?

It is on this day that we take our stand. It is on this day that we come together under the banner of a collective Gholgoth, the lands that have mothered us all. As the fires of destruction rage, we will stand as one, for the will be no Freeks nor Panterans on the battlefield....no Aequatians nor Charr....only Gholgothans. Arise now, for the trumpets sound and the war drums beat.

United we will meet this threat will merciless force, and united we will send them to their doom. This is where we shall fight...and this is where they shall die!

http://img388.imageshack.us/img388/2733/azraelnewqz8.jpg
Azrael the Advocate
-Imperial Regent of Automagfreek-


Following his announcement, the Regent fled the confides of the Great Hall and departed for Dawn's Cathedral, where he would offer his praises to the Gods and meditate on the events that were to come. However, as he climbed the sloping hill towards the church, his head slowly turned left and his eyes caught the glistening snow covered peaks of the ULE Mountains...their call beckoning him forward. Even though the Freekish summer was in full swing, the sweat doused Azrael changed course and began making his way towards the jagged mountains that lined the AMF capital city.

The climb was long and treacherous, riddled with hidden dangers and rife with the suffocating heat of the afternoon sun. But the brush of a cold western wind across his wet forehead stole his resolve, and upward he continued to climb. Using his sleeve to wipe the sweat from his forehead, he glanced over his should towards the sprawling city below him, bustling with activity as the nation began making preparations to combat yet another invasion attempt. But as the hours passed and the scene beneath him continued to shrink, he gasped a sigh of relief as his fingers contacted the cold snow, which told him his climb was nearly complete.

Pulling himself upwards from the crag and breathing a sigh of relief, Azrael took in the near indescribable sight around him, causing his heart to skip a beat as excitement washed over his entire body and soul. A sharp but gentle gust of cold mountain air made him jump ever so slightly as the cool winds tantalized his senses. He knew there was a reason his soul lead him to this place, for the ancient church had been corrupted by the vile energies of the Corpse God and other heathen gods who would ever forever cast out from within the Light. But here in the mountains, amidst the creations of the True Gods, he found peace and comfort. His spirit felt clean and rejuvenated as his arms slowly outstretched themselves and his cape danced playfully in the breeze. He clenched his fists, closed his eyes, and slowly tilted his head back as he offered his thanks and praise to those who had not forsaken him as they did his father. In this moment, he knew true peace.

However, across the nation the scene was much different. Tribal Chieftains had ordered their Freekish warriors to take up arms and ready themselves for immediate deployment to any hot spot in the nation and indeed the region. Millions had been summoned forth, and indeed millions would prepare themselves to defend the mightiest nation on Earth, and to defend their title as such. The Fallen in the south kissed their wives goodbye in a rare show of affection before loading up into trucks and departing towards their chosen defensive zones. The Sentinels and professional Freek soldiers from across the land assembled into their divisions and made ready to serve as the first line of defense, for their blood oath to serve and protect the lands of Automagfreek and those who called it home could not and would not be broken.

Millions had answered the call, and many millions more would take up the slack of such a mammoth deployment and keep the AMF economy roaring strong. Jobs in the east and north were filled almost as soon as they were vacated by those who could not serve in combat, though in areas towards the center and west of the nation, the main industrial base of the country, life went on as usual. The tribes of Freeks there would be tasked with defending the skies from enemy attacks as they would attempt to cripple AMF's industry, and the extensive anti-air net that spanned the entire country was fully activated.

The Empire was ready for war, beckoning their foes to come forth and try their hand at toppling Dreadfire and his people. And though Automagfreek prepared to defend itself, the cry had gone out across all of Gholgoth, and there would be many more who would respond. The might of the nation have been summoned, and the resolve of the region had been cemented.

Automagfreek was ready.

The Aequatian Republic had not seen the likes of a large-scale mobilization of its four branches since the time of the second Red Tide campaign, since that operation, the Republic's armed forces had been dragged through the mud of peacekeeping, counter-insurgency warfare and low-intensity conflicts, wearing at its great legacy forces as doctrines changed and the old veterans retired for the newer generation of Aequatians, although most willing and motivated just as their fathers and mothers had been, they lacked the most crucial factor of all, being bloodied by the enemy. Aequatians had not stood against a enemy proper since Red Tide and leaders in power, once young men who fought in those campaigns, were worried that a terribly costly campaign in Automagfreek or even at home might have a greater effect on the nation and its people.

Despite the misgivings in confidence, training exercises were increased as the Aequatian Republic Merchant Marine Force prepared their ships to transport the heavy equipment of the Army's "legacy" force of General Mackall main battle tanks, Spartan mechanized combat vehicles, Ares self-propelled guns, Sidewinder attack helicopters and countless other vehicles and pieces of equipment. As the materiél of war was to be loaded onto the conventional Roll-on/Roll-Off vessels of the ARMMF, the Army and Air Force personnel who would fight, support and work to maintain those forces on the ground in the allied Automagfreek Empire would be flown to the nation ahead of time aboard the Air Force C-767 military airliners. Among the mass of infantry at Hawker Air Force Base in Arrio was Sergeant William "Conqueror" Norman, a professional soldier in every sense, he enlisted just as his father and grandfather before him had done, believing in the honour there was in serving ones nation in this capacity, and although he had been serving for almost five years, the notion of combat for the first time hung over him as a spectre that would not cease haunting him, reminding him of his demise as he ordered his young men and women aboard the airliner.

The massive display was made public in the most grandiose fashion, not a single Aequatian was unaware of the Army's "First Automagfreek Expeditionary Corps" as images on the daily news displayed tanks and trucks being loaded onto cargo vessels, entire formations of infantry and other soldiers holding ceremonies at airbases before embarking aboard the C-767 transports and President Holden Reid and numerous politicians and generals presenting speeches to the citizenry as to the importance of the mission and its symbol of Gholgothic strength against and enemy's hostility towards the country and its existance.

However, what was not seen by the general public was something common in the deployment of Aequatian forces overseas, something which Air Force Lieutenant-Colonel Heinrich Greene was all too aware of throughout his entire career. He was in command of the 1st Tactical Missile Wing, armed with transport-erector launchers and the clandestine BGM-299 "Horseman" Ground-Launched Cruise Missile, a slender, subsonic and stealthy missile carrying a deadly payload of a five hundred kiloton thermonuclear warhead which was to be used should the unthinkable occur, Aequatian forces become overrun. The doctrine was simple in its nature, should victory fall utterly outside of the Republic's grasp and the enemy overrun Aequatian forces on a large scale, these weapons were to be deployed in order to decimate them beyond recovery. The Freeksih officials, however, would only receive reports that the weapons were designed to support operations with conventional warheads, unknown to them of the horrific hellfire they would wrought should they be forced to deploy the missiles.

One of the more effective contributions to what was to be one of the largest naval battles to come were the B-12B Vanquisher bombers of Strategic Air Command, armed with the venerable AGM-200 Typhoon anti-shipping missile, they would prove effective in defeating the enemy vessels off the coast, just as they had against their first deployed campaign against those of Tocrowkia off the coast of Kubra so many years prior. The pilots and crews of the aircraft proved the classical design of the aircraft as many were younger than the original airframes, the older electronics and avionic systems removed and replaced with new, digital systems for improved crew interface and combat effectiveness.

"No doubt everyone has seen the news updates by now, and you know why you've been summoned here on such short notice"

The voice belonged to a middle-aged female, who sat in her seat. The Senate chambers were huge, boasting statues of the multitude of Atlantean gods (Terrans would recognize them as being from many different mythologies--Greek, Egyptian, Norse, Mesopotamian, and Mesoamerican) which acted as massive pillars to hold the domed ceiling up in the circular hall. Two stories up sat the various seats. The ten biggest belonged to those who regularly held meetings here--the head senate. But today there were more--fleet admirals, members from many of the lower regional senates, Archpriests, and even the Empress herself had been included into the meeting.

The walkways that divided the circular seating arrangement were lined with thin obelisks, with a glowing blue crystal on top--orcalium. Ancient Atlantean hieroglyphics lined the sides of the structures. In the back, behind the statues and seats, lay a wall with columns strutting out of it.

The middle aged woman, Head Senator Andromeda, continued to speak after a short pause. "My apologies for the abrupt notice. But this is a matter that concerns us all. The alliance that holds our allies--the Elarans, the Crimmond, the Panterans...all those we held dear from our days in the APTO, are being threatened. And they have called for all Gholgoth members to mobilize and prepare to defend the Gholgothian landmass. We, however, have a unique condition that no one else does. We are safe. We are secure. We are not bothered by incidents in the Sol system, as they are not bothered by incidents in our systems. So we have a choice: Do we get involved in a far-away offensive war due to a sense of loyalty that we have for no other set of nations, Terran and Non-Terran...or do we hold back and let Earth fight its own conflict? I open this for debate on the floor now."

Seemingly in her twenties, and wearing what seemed to be light battle armor, Empress Atlantia spoke. "We have the Demon threat to worry about. They've decimated the Zoir already, and now look to us. I say we let the Earthers duke it out amongst themselves."

"But what if we defeat the offending invaders before the Demons attack?" asked one of the admirals, "Our allies in Gholgoth would then be more then willing to help us"

A senator spoke up. "Most of them do not have space forces. And most of those that do are second rate and of no use to us."

"We can use whatever help we can get" This time, Admiral Vega had spoken. "For all we know, the Crimmond fleet has the answer"

"We have a obligation to help them"

"Says who? What have they done for us?"

"The APTO was more of a brotherhood then an alliance! Are we just going to let them fight alone?"

"They have more then enough firepower!"

"Even if we *did* help," another senator spoke up, "We wouldn't be able to do more then supply aid. We have no land forces to speak of, other then ship boarding parties"

"What if there's a space power on the enemy's side?"

"Then we shall perform a compromise" Vega spoke up. "We are already fully mobilized for war. It would not be hard to relocate a fleet or two into Earth orbit, as a sign of good-will to our allies. And if worse comes to worse, we can defend them against any powers that may have space forces"

Andromeda nodded. "A good idea indeed. I call for a vote. Who is in favor?"

The sound of sudden button mashing filled the room, until all of the results were in front of Andromeda. "The I's have it. Fleet Admirals, decide amongst yourselves which fleets to send. But be warned--if you send too many, our defense against the demons shall be weakened"

Nearly sixty thousand Reavers had been assembled on the grounds outside of Toke by the time the Evenstar made his announcement regarding the further mobilization of Panteran forces. They stood in rigid, silent lines that stretched back, across the green, well-tended field upon which they had assembled, and eventually disappeared into the distant forest's foliage and shadw. Hard-eyed, grim-faced, and heavily armed warriors who stood, awaiting the announcement of their Lord and King.

When the Lord Reaver himself took the podium, he was dressed simply and his handsome face was tight with emotion. The noise of the crowds that swarmed the portions of the field not occupied by the assembled Reavers subsided quickly, and the Evenstar was left in silence. He stood for nearly a full minute, surveying his men. The silence stretched, and the crowds began to stir restlessly.

When he finally did speak, a smile had broken across his face, and his voice was full and rich,"They come to conquer you."

His simple phrase ignited riotous jeering from the assembled Reavers and crowds, and he was forced to wait until their raucous, defiant cheering ceased. When it finally did, the Lord Reaver was laughing,"They come to 'punish' us for our action in British Londinium, or, this is the feeble excuse they have put forth to justify striking out in desperation at an enemy that terrifies them.'

"To the dogs arrayed against us now, I say this: Come to our shores and you will all die here. My advice to you would be to stay home. Make your speeches, shout your rhetoric, and huddle in your holes like the craven shit the world knows you are.'

"Strength to Pantera! Strength to her Reavers! And glory to mighty Gholgoth!"

OOC: Shit to do, otherwise I would have done something better...

While goin' the road to sweet Athy, hurroo, hurroo
While goin' the road to sweet Athy, hurroo, hurroo
While goin' the road to sweet Athy
A stick in me hand and a drop in me eye
A doleful damsel I heard cry,
Johnny I hardly knew ye.

To an outside observer, the song perhaps would not seem the most appropriate for a military parade, but it had taken on a new meaning since immigrants and refugees had brought it to the shores of The Island of the Ivory Jaguar. Now it played as Talon’s Century, the very finest of the men and women who had accompanied Talon through the War of Reuinification marched through Clè, the city that- if one existed- could be called the capital of the Gotrà tribe. Since the Gotrà were by their very nature proud and respectful of those who followed a martial culture, and moreover, since Talon’s Century was composed almost exclusively of Gotrà, it was small surprise that the crowd cheered them until their throats were raw.

With your drums and guns and drums and guns, hurroo, hurroo
With your drums and guns and drums and guns, hurroo, hurroo
With your drums and guns and drums and guns
The enemy nearly slew ye
Oh my darling dear, Ye look so queer
Johnny I hardly knew ye.

Talon’s Century was led by the current head of the military, one Astaroth Blacktree. He was a tall, imposing man, his skin deeply tanned by years marching and fighting ni the harsh sun. His face was marked by two scars, one cutting from the corner of each eye, across his cheek to just below his ear. He had been third in command during the War of Reuinifaction, behind only the now deceased Talon himself and the current leader of the nation, Phenex. Behind him, in ten rows of ten, came Talon’s Century. They marched in perfect time, their eyes fixed solidly ahead, a rifle carried carefully over one shoulder. The rifles were Doomani, something of an irony as they were now to be used to defend Gholgoth as a whole, and by extension the nation of Automagfreek.

Where are your eyes that were so mild, hurroo, hurroo
Where are your eyes that were so mild, hurroo, hurroo
Where are your eyes that were so mild
When my heart you so beguiled?
Why made ye so hard amd your eyes so wild?
Oh Johnny, I hardly knew ye.

Behind Talon’s Century marched the nine other elite Centuria that made up the rapier of Ivory Jaguar’s army. They were also largely Gotrà, although not as exclusively. Their purpose in warfare was straightforward, they were to be the relatively small, mobile forces that could strike where the enemy was weakest and do the most damage with the last amount of casualties. The applause and cheering was somewhat less for them, not least because of the raw throats from the shouts that had been bestowed upon Talon’s Century. By no means was it small, however, these were still brave men and women, going out to defend the Peoples.

I'm happy for to see ye home, hurroo, hurroo
I'm happy for to see ye home, hurroo, hurroo
I'm happy for to see ye home
All from the island of Sulloon
So low in flesh, so high in bone
Oh Johnny I hardly knew ye.

The last of the Centuria was followed by the Redemption Cohorts. Each of these cohorts was made up of six hundred men, practically none of them Gotrà, who had sided against Talon in the war. They had surrendered, and been placed in the Cohorts to redeem themselves. After this war, all those who survived in all those cohorts that saw combat would be completely forgiven. Many of them would be inducted into the Centuria, while others would return to the lives they had known before the Division and War of Reunification. Until then, they would be the battle-axe of the Peoples, when the Centuria were not appropriate to use. The applause here was noticably lower, but still intense. These men would take most of the casualties in the war, and that was realized and respected.

Ye went forth to kill or to die, hurroo, hurroo
Ye went forth to kill or to die, hurroo, hurroo
Ye went forth to kill or to die
Ye came back with scars and with death in your eyes
Nor since have I known you to laugh nor to cry
Oh Johnny I hardly know ye

A hush fell over the crowd as the last man in the procession came into view. From his heavily tattooed face he was known instantly, Phenex, the man who currently led the Peoples. He was dressed in the same fatigues he had worn as Talon’s second in command. He walked through the ranks formed by the Cohorts and Centuria in the recently rechristened Talon’s Square, to where a podium awaited him. He stepped up to it, picking up the microphone. He held it in his hand for a moment, turning it back and forth, and then, with a flick of his wrist, threw it away.

They're rolling out the guns again, hurroo, hurroo
They're rolling out the guns again, hurroo, hurroo
They're rolling out the guns again,
And so to war will go our sons again,
Aye so to war will go our sons again,
Johnny I'm swearing to ye.

As the song finished, Phenex began roaring at the crowds. “You all know who I am, and why I’m here, so I’ll keep it short!” he said, “The Questarians march against us! In the name of freedom, they would crush all those who oppose them! In the name of freedom, they would destroy some of the few nations who can lay true claim to that! They’re coming to liberate you!” There were roars of derision at this, and anger. “But the Peoples of The Ivory Jaguar do not need liberation! We are free men! We make our own destiny! And now that destiny leads us to war! War alongside our Gholgothan brothers, and war against the two faced liars and hypocritical would-be saviors of Questers and their allies!”

He paused a moment, and cameras zoomed in on him. “That is my policy- our policy! War, no matter the opposition, war to defend ourselves and our homes, war to show the world entire the strength and pride of the Peoples and of Gholgoth! Hone your blades, gird your loins, bid your sweethearts and children good-bye! WE MARCH TO WAR!” As he was bellowing, the broadcast was being played all over the Island of the Ivory Jaguar, and beyond. He stepped down from podium to applause that shook the entire square, and cheers that would resound through the ages. Here, at least, among the Gotrà, the war would be greeted gladly.

This space reserved for future post

Jaime Wolfe took the podium with a look of grim determination on his face, staring out at the small sea of reporters and news cameras in front of him, with a larger crowd of civilians at the back, listening intently to what he had to say. An estimate gave him tens of thousands of listeners, a veritable ocean of faces, all staring directly at him, some at the back staring at the two large screens hung some distance to the right and left of the podium on angles, upon which his face was broadcast. They all listened to his voice, pumped through large speakers that made his voice boom to those at the very back of the crowd and beyond.

"I would like to address you tonight not as your prime minister, but instead as simple a man. A citizen of this grand city of Atherlon. Of this great nation of Haraki. Of our glorious Gholgoth. Of the whole world, in which the very idea, the very word 'freedom' is being perverted by those in Questers who would seek to use it to justify a war based on the need for hegemony, a hegemony which they find quickly slipping from their fingers. Questers as a powerhouse of a nation, and the Sovereign League as a powerhouse of an alliance, are illusions by this point, and in an attempt to sustain their death rattle for as long as possible, they seek to come after us in Gholgoth under the pretence of freedom. Tonight I ask you: are we not free? Do we not enjoy the same, if not better, freedoms as those in Questers, or Praetonia, or any one of those self-righteous nations which would seek to conquer us for their own demented purposes?

"Those campaigning for Questers in this war, trying to recruit allies and soldiers, would claim that we in Gholgoth are not free, indeed that we are enslaved by some unseen oppressor. I say to you, and you all know that it is true, that this is a farce, a sham, a fabrication invented for the purpose of justifying this war. They speak of liberation, liberty, freedom - they use these words, ironically, as weapons of war, used to make poor deluded Questerian civilians believe they campaign for a good cause by invading the nations of Gholgoth. I do not feel threatened by these armies of citizen soldiers from Questers. Indeed, I feel sorry for them, because they are led to war, and to their deaths, by tricksters and scam artists. We are a free nation. We have no need for liberators. But they would seek to come for us, depose our leaders, and instate Questerian rule over our lands. They would ask you, the ordinary citizen, to submit to a monarch from some distant land who believes that they, through right of might, have the right to rule you. Will we stand for this? I say to you, no! They say they are fighting for freedom. I say to you, we are the ones fighting for freedom. They seek to invade us, they seek to conquer us. They seek to subjugate us to their will. But there is no way I will stand for that. I know there is no way you will stand for that. There is no way any citizen of Gholgoth would stand for that. So we will stand, and we will fight, and they will die.

"Gholgoth is mighty and powerful. Gholgoth is free. We have no limitations, we have no restrictions, we have no discriminations, in Gholgoth. Questers would seek to impose an ideology on you. We do not. Questers would seek to make you 'subjects of the crown, the empire, and God'. We do not force anything upon you. Make no mistake, we are under attack. Our very way of life is under attack. But we will stand and fight back. We will stand shoulder to shoulder with Freeks, with Panterans, with Aequatians, with those from every nation. We will stand together, and every soldier will be able to call every man his brother, for we are all brothers in Gholgoth. I would trust any Gholgothan with my back, and I know they would do the same for me. Questers threatens us, but we will stand together and show them we are not afraid, we are not weak.

"This is why I feel sorry for the poor deluded fools that the Questerians seek to throw at us like waves on the shore. Because they come here, misguided as they are, lied to by their leaders for their reasons for war, and they will all die here, because we in Gholgoth are not weak, and we will defeat every Questerian that seeks to conquer us. We will destroy them here, and we will follow them to their homes. We will not rest until we have defeated them completely, and wiped out any threat they could pose to us now or at any time in the future. I have ordered the mobilization of all naval ships and reserves, and the formation of the First Fleet, a designation permanently reserved for the defence of Haraki and Gholgoth. We will show the Questerians that we are not afraid, indeed that we are better than them, and the way to show them, by this stage, is a show of force. They are now left with two options: they can keep up with their deluded plans of asserting superiority over Gholgoth, and with this they can accept the consequences of their defeat. Alternately, they can run with their tails between their legs, and be ashamed forever.

"Although all Harakian forces are on medium alert, scaled down recently due to the lack of an immediate threat to Generia, I have hereby ordered all forces to high alert and to be ready for immediate mobilization. All naval reservists are to report to their naval base for immediate deployment as part of the First Fleet, which will be deploying to bases in Automagfreek as soon as a credible threat is presented by Questers. Harakians, be prepared for war, because it is upon us. I want everyone throughout the nation to be ready to fight, to defend our homes and our way of life. Take up your armour, sharpen your swords, and prepare to fight."

Omar Pace, leader of the new Brotherhood of Nod and the Empire of Crimmond, looked over the reports handed to him. "Well well... I would say this is good luck for us, but luck is for those not strong enough to take the oppertunities presented. Prepare the following orders..."

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Ultra-low frequency messages reverberated through the oceans, coded heavily. There was no response, of course, but the senders knew that the orders were being decoded and carried out.

Hundreds of submerged vessels were being ordered to cease patrols and to sail at maximum silent speed for the ocean outside of mainland Gholgoth waters.

Other ships in Europe and Africa set sail... several amphibious assault ships and two super carriers.

In orbit, warships sat... apparently ignoring the conflict below. These were the ships under the command of the Imperial Crimm Navy, while the ships on the surface were Marine controlled. As far as they were concerned, the Marines were on their own, unless someone forced the Admirals to act. And then they would merely pound a selected part of the planet for a few minutes and then shift orbit and ignore any more requests for ortillery strikes.

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Omar made no speech to rally the people, no message to his forces that they would succeed and that there was no way to lose. He simply told them what he thought was best:

"There are no rules to warfare. Fight dirty. Fight like animals. Fight using every trick you have... becuase that will keep you alive. I have no doubt that for every one of you killed, there shall be five of the enemy lying dead in front of you. I have no doubt that many of you will not return, but this is what you signed up for. A chance to defend what we stand for... Peace, Unity and Brotherhood... only today, Peace will come as the blood dries on the battlefields. Fight well and show these bastards what Crimm are made of!"

It wasn't eloquent or awe inspiring... it didn't have to be. Crimm loved warfare and there hadn't been a war for them to fight in since Freeks stormed Crimmond and leveled Gdansk. Not a good memory, to be sure. Now though... now things would be different.

Across the nation, millions gathered in large public areas scattered through the various cities and military bases scattering the great, sand-covered nation. The weather had decided to be merciful today, the sky blue, the temperature relatively low. A sandstorm during the night had left a good amount of sand in roughly half of the gathering areas, but the occupants were long used to the wandering sands. It symbolized the nomadic people they once were. Where once the sand was stationary and the people roamed, their roles had been reversed. Now, their mighty cities towered over the nomadic sands, immobile to all but the greatest of force.

Located somewhere around each gathering area, a massive screen activate, showing a man that they all knew. Some loved him, some hated him, all followed him. Their High General. James Snowlander.

"My friends, citizens of this great nation, defenders of our people, I greet you with both excitement and terror. As many of you might know, our nation is becoming embroiled in a coming conflict against foreign aggressors. They hope to crush us, our way of life, our allies' ways of life. They plan to attack we mighty Gholgothans, a feat that none have successfully attempted. They plan to wage war on NATO, an alliance that we helped create all those years ago. They plan to fight our brothers and sisters."

"They strive to put us under their rule. As a Sigman, I share the xenophobia that has pushed us into greatness, keeping us far from the politics of others. We, as a people, have attained the greatness we live on our own. With a foreign leader, we would be lost, we would be crushed. The mighty desert has not crushed our spirit or drive, and neither shall this foreign evil!"

Cheers arose through the millions of black and tan clad soldiers. Each one hoped they would be selected for over shore duty. They knew that no army could defeat them on their own soil, they wanted the challenge of a war on foreign soil. They each knew that only a few of them would go overseas, the defense of the nation came first and foremost.

"For Gholgoth. For NATO. For the Sigman people!"


(OOC: Sorry. Not 'on' today.)

toasting in an epic bread... slash tag

The Emperor sat stoic in his large black leather seat behind the large, ornately designed marble desk. He glanced one last time at the Imperial banner beside him before he looked once more to the camera and began to speak.

"Citizens of the Empire...I come before you today to announce the mobilization of the Imperial Legions in its entirety." "A threat has been made against our brethren...indeed, against our very region itself." "Such threats are NOT looked at kindly...and if our enemies were looking for a fervent enemy and an unforgiving one, then they have come to the right place. For we WILL NOT stop fighting until we have excised the life from every foreign soldier that touches Gholgothan soil..soil that shall very soon be stained red by the blood of our enemies. A stain that will linger on as a constant reminder to all of what happens to those who would attempt to destroy us!" "Elarians, the call has been made...take up your swords and send word to our enemies; the Blue Tide cometh!"

(OOC: Sorry, its short but I have quite a lot going on today.)

Reserved for future post...
Tagged this thread has been...

"Remind me again exactly what this all means."

Grunting, Amber Fotheringown, Leader of Adejaani managed to lift up the massive tome in her hands. Of course she knew exactly well what it all meant. She wanted everyone focused and reading the same script. Everyone, except that is, the usual occupants of Military Screen 2 and 3. Ashley Cuthbert and Seiji Kuroshima, were respectively, the best warfighter and operations chief in the nation.

"The short summary, Castellan..." Commander Nathan Black was on Military Screen 1 and checked his own notes and monitors. He was bumped up to Marshall in order to lead and fight this conflict. Dividing his attention between the status screen and the mega-conference, he began the briefing.

"Fortress Adejaani is, as you are all aware, the codename for the master plan of the defence of Adejaani. Since the plan has always been enacted and operating, not much has changed, except now the scope and operational levels have increased to full readiness.

"Firstly, Project OMAHA is still in full swing and at ninety-eight percent generation level. And in the highly unlikely event that they manage to defeat OMAHA, then we have our 'regular' air defence assets in the form of air superiority and intercept fighters; SAM batteries; anti-aircraft artillery. Not to mention SAMs from Army air-defence units, both vehicle and hand types; plus also the light anti-air defences of the Civil Defence.

"Second is the ocean. On the narrow northern passage, we have a screen of twenty attack subs ready to interdict and report, no matter which way their main force heads. We've also blocked out the larger and more important passage in the south with mines, a dozen attack subs and seven cruiser led task forces, so I don't think they'll come that way.

"But no matter which way they come, like through open ocean to the west, they'll have to hit Granger Island, which is our forward defensive and observation base. They'll then run smack into fifteen full and twenty medium sized carriers; a dozen large cruisers; about sixty surface combatants; and about sixty more attack subs. And then there's regular Air Force assets which are tasked with anti-surface warfare.

"So it's going to be one hell of a fight from the sea and air if they choose to charge us directly." Black took a sip of water and adjusted his glasses.

"The Army's ten Legions are all spun up and ready to go. As you're aware, each Legion is a fully homogenous war machine comprising nine Divisions, comprising Infantry, Armour, Artillery and Aviation. Our Legions are technically Corps level, but are in reality are more correctly termed Army Groups. We've also bumped up and augmented our Logistics Groups and increased our prepositioned stocks to replenish our expenditures. And then there's the Independent Divisions, Brigades and various ad-hoc units. And then there's Civil Defence, which is a full equipped, armed and trained light infantry formation, with one in every population area.

"And that concludes the overview of Fortress Adejaani. Questions?" Black finished the briefing and gulped down the last of his water.

"Yes." Amber leaned forward. "We can pretty much blunt, or even knock back an invasion. What about the offence? If they land somewhere else, what are our options for picking up, moving and charging elsewhere?"

"Well..." Black stalled, then hesitated. He was a superb warfighter and leader. But only Kuroshima could have answered that question. So he decided to try and ad-lib: "Best bet is interdiction. We can hammer their Fleet's flanks and keep the pressure on them constantly, with both Naval and Air attacks. As for land..." He frowned.

"TF Cuthbert is probably the best for that, but as you're all aware, they're indisposed. Nevertheless, if it's through a contiguous land area, we will seek permission to simply use trains and the transport networks to simply plonk them where they're needed. For sealift, it would take about a week to shift an entire Legion. Add in about three more days for initial stocks and another week before enough stocks can be accumulated for extended combat operations.

"After that... Depends how much more we need to commit." Black finished slowly. "But at least we're spun up and ready. If they hit us first, then it's going to be an exciting few days. But we'll fight with dignity and die on our feet."

"Yes, I suppose." Amber smiled tolerantly. "Personally, I give us one chance in three. Alright, keep it up. I want constant reports and any sightings the instant they come through. Right now, I need more tea."

“The Satanists have come to enslave, subjugate, and murder our allies, as well as ourselves. Questers and their damned Questerian commonwealth of bastards have decided to randomly open an aggressive imperialist war upon Automagfreek, and consequently Gholgoth and Borman Empire. On a whim they have declared that the entirety of Gholgoth, most notably our allies in Automagfreek, must be purged for, of all things…a lack of freedom! We have more freedom in our colonies than they do their mainland and we are certainly will not sit back and take their insults and challenges!
Their unwarranted crusade for ‘freedom’ is a horrendously poor cover up for an imperialist campaign, brought about for nothing other than a desire to shed blood. Well, there will be blood shed, but not that of Gholgoth states! We shall shed the blood of Questers and those slaves of theirs they bring with them! We shall meet their unholy hordes on the battlefield, whether it be in the trenches, the open seas, or the cold grasp of the high altitudes. Our bullets will fly straight and our sabers smoothly. We shall fight to defeat and beat this evil entity before it can grow even more and threaten the safety and sovereignty of any more nations!

Today I announce the complete mobilization of the Borman Empire. We shall convert to a War-Time economy as our factories begin to pump out the necessities of war. The warehouses, full of war material which I had hoped to keep locked until they decayed, must now be struck open and the tools of god resting inside brought out. Our ships, save those already deployed, shall be brought to full wartime capacity. The few fleets necessary for homeland defense shall stay patrolling the waters of Borman Empire, the rest shall be sent out to meet the demons on the sea, and hopefully destroy them there before they have a chance to infect the fine lands of Automagfreek! The Imperial army is being assembled as we speak and entire armies are being loaded onto invasion dreadnaughts to carry them to Automagfreek, and if need be, to the Questerian bastards themselves! The air force, the marines, the civil defense and more are all coming fully to life! Divisions are on their way here from our colonies, ready to shed blood to preserve their way of life and the vast freedoms we extend them.

Rest assured Questers, you have gone too far this time! We have laid dormant too long as you crushed those who called you both enemy and friend. You have officially awoken the War Machine of Borman Empire, and we’re coming to fuck you up! No longer shall you shit on the world and do whatever you see fit. No longer shall the world bend over as you rape it of it’s freedom and joy. Today, here and now, it all ends. Today marks the beginning of the end for Tyranny! The beginning of the end for Questers!”

Instantly the massive crowds assembled to view Emperor Bhalk speak erupted into applause and cheering. So loud were their exclamations of joy, and so heavy was the combined weight of their ecstatic jumping that the world seemed to shake. Numbers of people has brought fireworks which they fired off into the sky as hundreds of Imperial flags seemed to rise out of nowhere. Billowing in the wind, above all but one Imperial flag, was the standard of Gholgoth. Mounted into the ground near the Palace, several feet beneath the Official Imperial Flag (The highest point in the capital), the wind beat the mighty symbol, yet it would not bend or fold. The flag stood firm in the wind, unnaturally holding its rigid shape and sending awe through all that saw it.


Imperial Palace
“Excellent job if I do say so myself Emperor.”

“I’ve done better. How comes the mobilization?”

“Fantastic! We’re all done on our end, just waiting for the private sector to fully convert. But, the masses just found out, so we can allow them some time. Several fleets have already departed, with Armies inside their metal hulls, on their way to help defend Automagfreek.”

“Excellent. Make sure the Generians are aware of our stance and what we’ve deployed thus far.”

“On it now sir!”

OOC: Please... subscribe to the thread. It's in one of those little menus at the top. Let's keep this thread a bit cleaner if we can?

Various Charr milled around the large round table, in various states of dress, each taking their respective seats and keeping respectfully clear of late Torus' place. None of the clan leaders knew the purposes of the assembly which had been called out of the blue, but all of them had shown up.

It was Burntfur who had called this assembly, quite outside of normal hours, and he had quite a determined manner about him on this day which he had carried since his mate perished. It was well known that he now intended to put an end, one way or the other, to the persistent debates which had engulfed the Council of Clans of late, and with the recent news of a Gholgoth mobilisation many believed that this was the purposes of this assembly today. His own opinions regarding Gholgoth were somewhat difficult to determine of late, despite the fact that it was he who had initially brought the UCC into the alliance. His clan, Thraktok, was the largest and most powerful clan in Tyria today, and was traditionally regarded as the pinnacle of honour and glory. Burntfur also commanded Clan Rrawfur, since their clan leader died. As well as being the Grand Clan Leader this made him the single most important individual in Tyria, and his apparent indecision on such an important issue was somewhat disturbing.

Viletooth sat next to him, in his traditional and somewhat spartan tribal garments as per usual, covering very little of his darkened fur. He spoke with Burntfur periodically as they waited for order to come about, occasionally letting a roaring belly laugh deafen the room as he laughed at his own jokes. His clan Zukatha was the second largest clan in Tyria, almost as powerful as Burntfur's own clan, and it represented a diverse number of different opinions, though was generally considered honourable. Viletooth's support of Gholgoth was inconsistent and fleeting, oft-influenced by his own relationship with Burntfur, but it was negative more often than not. This presented a political barrier to many things Gholgoth related, for where the second-largest clan went, smaller ones tended to follow, especially when it was considered to be an honourable clan.

Drub Gorefang and his bright red fur had been the first to sit down at the splintered wooden table, and he did not look happy - not that he ever did, mind. Clan Heerkak was technically the third largest clan in Tyria, until Clan Rrawfur got around to electing a new leader at least, and for that reason the support of Gorefang was politically important. On matters of Gholgoth, that support was not generally present. Indeed, he was one of the most anti-Gholgoth leaders around, and was inclined to vote against any proposal involving the organisation regardless of its content.

Bloodbane, of course, insisted on wearing his ceremonial plate battle armour (which Viletooth often jokingly referred to as prattle armour, a joke that was rarely well received), glistening gold in colour and long-since rendered obsolete, and which made peculiar chinking sounds as he moved. Much of his brown fur was completely covered by the armour, which could not possibly have been comfortable to wear, and only his horns, jaws and assorted spikes emerged from within the metal shell. He was a warrior, first and foremost, and his clan Uthur, though small, was similarly inclined towards solving their problems through combat. Uthur was oft considered one of the least honourable of all the clans, major or minor, and it was possibly because of this that Bloodbane was one of the few consistently pro-Gholgoth clan leaders on the Council. This did not earn him many friends.

Clan Leader Jaw Smokeskin sat directly opposite Burntfur, and his mottled brown and black fur was as difficult to classify as his own opinions. His clan, Rooarfaa, was of a modest size and standing and generally only allowed a leader to remain in place if he focussed on their own internal issues first and foremost, which is exactly what Smokeskin did. As such he was generally unknown beyond the borders of Tyria and was not considered to be especially important in internal politics either. Nevertheless he was generally thought of as an honourable individual, and his position regarding Gholgoth was surprisingly positive, or at least so was thought. In reality he had not given it a great deal of consideration, as he did not consider it to be an important issue.

Burr Mankiller, Clan Leader of Yathkavish, commanded the smallest clan represented in the Council of Clans, but he commanded a measure of respect that was well above his station due to his eloquence and rational method of thinking. Yathkavish was one of the three clans to have mobilised and contributed to the Horde in defence of the Generic Empire, and was one of the few to be openly pro-Gholgoth, and Mankiller had been fervent in his defence of the alliance in the debates which had recently ensued. Though small, Yathkavishi troops were amongst the most feared and fearless in Tyria, and they had a demonstrated willingness to use them.

Even Hollis Ryatt, the leader of the essentially nameless human clan, was present at the table in his elegant green suit complete with gold highlights. Such little importance was assigned to the clan he represented that he was often left out of important national decisions, but today here he sat, defiant in the face of the larger Charr that surrounded him. Ryatt tended to side with any human organisation, domestic or foreign, even though he had moral qualms with the Gholgoth alliance in general.

When the various clan leaders had finally taken their seats, murmured growls formed the background noise which obscured the crackling fires of the torches which illuminated the room as they discussed the purposes for this assembly amongst themselves. They continued to do so until Burntfur rose from his chair and slammed his palm down on the table loudly.

"This assembly shall be short and direct," he roared. "There shall be no further debate."

Clan leaders looked around at each other, and then focussed with intent on the imposing figure of Burntfur as they listened to what he had to say.

"Gholgoth," he said simply. The murmurs began again momentarily until his clawed hand raised sharply. "I said no debate! Since the beginning of Charrian supremacy this Council has stood for honour and justice, keeping the Union of Clans at peace with one another irrespective of the circumstances. For the last eight hundred years Tyria has been a bastion of prosperity and security, and this Council has ensured that the principles of honour have been maintained without restricting the liberties of any Charr. And yet, I find myself disgusted with this Council and its members."

As Burntfur's angered spittle hit the wooden floor the roars of complaints erupted, broken only by the bellowing laughter of an amused Viletooth as he sloshed a tankard of ale around merrily. Only Ryatt sat in silence, rolling his eyes at the boisterous antics of his fellow clan leaders.

"Silence!" Burntfur roared. "You are right. I challenge your honour. This Council has become infected by politics and bureaucracy, and honour has been lost in its wake. You waste time bickering and squabbling like baldies over issues which are clear - namely, Gholgoth. Today I, Burntfur of Thraktok, descendent of Teerf Burntfur the Destroyer of Demons, shall restore honour and sanity to this congregation.

"Gholgoth is an alliance of dictators and tyrants," he continued. "In the time since our joining alone, we have witnessed grievous acts of dishonour that would make the Gods combust with rage, and political manoeuvres committed deceitfully in the name of honour that even a child would recognise as heinous. Many more were committed before our arrival. Any who blindly support this organisation forfeit their honour."

Whispers began again, as clan leaders suddenly realised that maybe Burntfur wasn't in favour of Gholgoth as much as they had believed. But again he raised his hand and hissed a desire for silence.

"Find me a human organisation that has not," Burntfur said with a note of finality. "Gholgoth is an alliance of the only humans with any semblance of strength, and while committing despicable acts of dishonour they also have certain traits of honour, brotherhood and loyalty. I have seen no other humans with these virtues. The enemies of Gholgoth are liars, politicians and hypocrites, and they do not have any redeeming qualities, and they seek now to destroy Gholgoth in an unprovoked attack of questionable motivations. Any who blindly support leaving this organisation, especially on the eve of an unprovoked assault, forfeit their bravery. Add to this the fact that the UCC has gone from a minuscule power to a great nation, and you also forfeit our own strength."

Confused, the clan leaders gave each other uncertain glances and remained silent, wondering what he was getting at.

"There is no ideal choice here, but I give you two," Burntfur said. "You can either vote to leave Gholgoth, and endure the humiliation of cowardice and the absence of strength. Alternatively, you can vote to remain, and though you will endure their dishonour, you will also embrace their honour and hope that our own sense of honour influences them further. I do not work with cowards, and I support the latter proposal. No more time shall we waste on this issue, and so without further ado: those warriors who pledge their support of Gholgoth, signal it is so now."

Five fists slammed down, including the metallic clanging of Bloodbane's armoured hand. Burntfur was amongst them, as was Mankiller's, Smokeskin's and Ryatt's (though dainty in comparison). The Charr roared deafeningly in unison as was tradition, whilst Ryatt simply said 'aye' in a drowned-out voice.

"My vote includes both clans of Thraktok and Rrawfur," Burntfur added. "All those warriors who do pledge their support of Gholgoth, signal it is so now."

Only one fist, but a terrible roar, broke the silence, that of Drub Gorefang, as was expected. Viletooth sat in silence, with his arms folded and his tankard firmly grasped between his two fingers - a political move perhaps, as he had no intention of his clan becoming associated with either dishonour or cowardice. By abstaining, he signalled that he did not support either view particularly strongly, and evaded both labels. It was also quite possible that he just didn't care.

"Then it is so," Burntfur said after a long, silent pause. He was secretly pleased, not only that he had finally ended the dispute by taking a firm hold over the Council, but also that it had gone in the direction he had wanted. Though his own support for Gholgoth had waned over the last couple of years, he had no particularly strong desire to leave at the moment. "No longer shall this Council debate this matter. Let politics and quarrels begone from these chambers. And prepare the Hordes for mobilisation. I shall prepare a communique for our allies in due course."

" The chill of this mountains air is nothing compared to that of your father Azrael. This mountain most mean something to you.... something powerful... something beyond the meaning of others. These mountains seem to be like a fortress wall.... surrounding your city. I presume you feel these mountains are like the cold barrier that exists between your father and you. Or perhaps they mean nothing at all. And if they where lost to Questerian bombers would mean nothing to you. But this raises more questions... you choose to come here... to push your self up to reach the top.... to succeed. Is this mountain your symbolic resolve to yourself... and your people? Maybe... maybe not. But with this threat will you protect this nation.... and continue to serve your father... Or will you turn this nation from its dark way and bring a new era of peace to the world? Know this Azrael... My people have been waiting for a chance to rid the world of you and your father... but we are also a people of forgiveness. I hope you will not give me a reason to meet you again.... Good bye Azrael.." said Agent 4 as he started to walk away from Azrael.

Then as a wind kicked up some snow the agent looked back before the white mist over took him .. to see the eyes of Azrael. Then as the wind died Agent 4 was gone... leaving no trace of his being there, not a foot print nor disturbance in the snow...

"Face your fear, accept your war,
It is what it is..."
-"Fire It Up" by the Black Label Society

***

“World war.”

A small thing, a little thing; two syllables that represented murder and screaming death for thousands, if not millions. It drifted like a wisp of smoke down the table, whispering of craters, the twisted, submerged wreckage of ships, the thunder of bombs and the tramp of soldiers, until one prayed for the smoke to dissipate...but it does not matter, because the smoke is not real. The war is. And so these two syllables, this smoke, herald weeks or months or years of torment for billions...and yet they come from a man who utters them as reverently as a man would utter the sacred name of his god.

The god-king, the bloody-handed deity, The Most Imperial Highness, His Divine Majesty Sacred Emperor Lucifer I stood at the head of the table where the Inner Court was accustomed to meet, his eyes alive with excitement. His lords, his ministers, his generals and admirals sat around the table, and their reactions were very different. Some hid fear; others smiled with unfeigned happiness. The Inquisitors grinned their demonic grins, eyes like frozen daggers; priests remained emotionless. Murmurs flowed around the table in places, but they were frozen solid by the cold clarity of Lucifer speaking again.

“Gentlemen, the world has been in turmoil for some time now. Historically speaking, modern times have been dominated by three powers: Gholgoth, the Sovereign League, and the CAD. Times are changing rapidly. Gholgoth acquires the GASN; APOC briefly dominates the world, then slides apart like a sand castle amidst the tides. And now, the Questarian government orders a massive mobilization, countered by a similar mobilization from all of Gholgoth, which is reinforced by a substantial Ardan force, even as Dreadfire continues his assault on the Imperium Doomanum.

“Great events are in motion, gentlemen. Things are coming to a head. The pattern has been set for some time now, and is almost complete. I do not intend to allow what could be the most catastrophic war in world history pass untouched. Yes, General?”

High General Yataghan, looking confused, raised a hand. “Divine One, you intend us to intervene in the war?” Heaving a patient sigh, Lucifer replied slowly, “Of course. That is what the Imperium does, General. We will attempt to guide events towards greater prosperity for the Imperium. At the moment, I am not sure if it would be profitable to send troops to the conflict; that may change. Follow your orders, General, and leave grand strategy to me.

“There are a number of ways in which the war will impact us. To begin with, the anti-Communist crusade; Questers is a key ally of ours in that respect, and if they lose the war, they will be largely unable to assist in the purge of the Red filth. Assuming, of course, that victorious Gholgothan forces don’t follow them home and lay waste to their territory. Moreover, we can expect Sovereign League forces to assist the Crown Imperium, many of whom are similarly key enemies of the Red threat. Second is the matter of the Generian Empire. They have left the CAD alliance and are now nominally part of Gholgoth, although not actually in the region, and thus now we must consider very carefully where exactly their loyalties lie. If we were to join in the war, Generian forces would be ideally placed to catch us off guard at home. Minister Aurelius, have your diplomats, especially Lord Volscian, take a humbler tone with the Generians, and present the Emperor with a suitable gift.

"Thirdly, there is the matter of the future. There are two broad possibilities emerging from the war: the Sovereign League will be victorious, or Gholgoth will. Either way, both sides will have suffered significant damage to their military capabilities. Equally significant will be the loser's drop in prestige. With the CAD shrinking, whoever emerges victorious from this conflict will dominate the world, and with AMF as essentially the leader of Gholgoth and Questers as the spearhead of the Sovereign League, politically this comes down to the Crown Imperium against the Excessively Armed Empire over control of the earth. The question for us is still 'What is best for the Imperium?', and until the war begins, I cannot be sure of the answer.

"Events have conspired to place the world upon a balance point; the Sovereign League on the one hand, Gholgoth on the other. The world, and the Imperium with it, stands in the middle, and sooner or later we are going to have to choose a side. All that remains is for us to wait, and choose wisely.

"Imperator Vuell, I am ordering a full mobilization. Again, I doubt that this conflict will require Imperial armed intervention, but, as you will be aware, we have other concerns, regarding the Corporatists and the imminent war. We need the troops anyway. So summon up the reserves and assemble the armies required, Imperator. I expect a report on the proceedings by four o' clock. You are all dismissed."

***

The word went out, across the Empire, as it always has; emails and cold calls, flyers posted in town squares, letters and word of mouth: all carry the news to the ears of the people, that the Imperium is gathering its might together yet again, building up the host that will soon. Husbands and sons hugged their families and marched off silently, mindful of the honor they could achieve. Citizens read the newspapers and wondered where exactly the millions of reservists would be going; there was talk of war with Gholgoth, of course, but no more than there had been when Dreadfire declared war on the Imperium Doomanum, or when Gholgoth absorbed the GASN.

Factories worked harder than ever, churning out guns, tanks, and planes; in the great docks at Slivan, vast ships were rushed to completion, as in the waters beyond, the new vessels were tested and evaluated. In Korronis, vast armies were ferried to the barracks near the southern ports, where they waited to board the looming transports that were anchored in the docklands. In the Palace, the sprawling information networks that were the eyes and ears of the Imperium filtered reports into the minds of the Inner Court, and as outside the world teetered on a knife's blade, Lucifer made his final plans.

The ships at anchor were an unusual sight for the average beholder at Pascagoula Naval Yard. The markings, even after one looked twice, indicated their belonging to the First (IW) Fleet. This was only odd because the First Fleet was never at anchor at Pascagoula, unless something was dreadfully wrong. The ships didn't, in any way, make up the entirity of the fleet, but were only a rather small detachment, designated Detachment 86. The ships were being stocked with extra supplies and going through regular maintenance, while also being loaded up with ground equipment such as tanks and APCs.

To make the situation that much more interesting, there had been constant air operations from AO-101 to Pascagoula via fixed wing and helicopters, bringing in what seemed to be massive amounts of troops. With just shy of five million total GRUNTs, the request was made by CGN Spitz for 750,000 GRUNT volunteers to defend Sniper Country from the inevitable Questarian invasion of the region. What he got was 1.5-million GRUNTs lined up and ready to fight for their nation. Only 750,000 were chosen for the defense, though, as the rest were needed elsewhere. And they were ready for a fight.

The sight was something to behold. While Sniper Country could probably be considered one of the more mild nations within the boundaries of Gholgoth, it held its own when it came to honoring their neighboring nations and Gholgothan citizens. What's more, they held a firm belief against abandoning their friends in a time of need, and Sniper Country would not be one to disapppoint.

While the amount of troops being mobilized in Sniper Country was only a fraction of what other nations were mobilizing, each soldier, as well as those who were staying behind, knew in their hearts and minds they were giving just as much as any other. It was commonly stated throughout the SCAF that one grunt in the Sniper Country Armed Forces was the better equivalent of at least ten troops from the next nation. And they held that reputation in high regard. There was no way they would let that down. For many, it was all they had. For others, it was all they wanted.

The buzz continued around the base all day and all night. All lights remained on at practically all times, with the air traffic controllers being constantly swamped with upwards of twenty aircraft at a time coming in to land and drop off troops or supplies, with another twenty and upwards ready to depart for more. The mood was apprehensive, yet at the same time very comical. Humor was a leadership quality, and the commanders of the troops showed it to the greatest extent possible, playing random songs over the loudspeakers throughout the base, making awkward announcements, and other various ideas to keep the troops entertained. Many, though, focused on their gear and weapons. This would be the first time most were to see actual combat, aside from what they faced in their seemingly continuous training at AO-101.

The order had not yet been given. But when it was, the troops were ready to board their ships and head out within hours. This was it. This was where it all began.

Erika Kars was not sitting at her desk by this point. After the call to arms by Azrael and the mobilizations of many nations that had become to be considered hostile, she,her staff and many of the major figures of the government had been transferred to the wartime command center of all Illiorian forces: Mount Maul. Mount Maul was a formidable base, a hollowed out granite mountain, it now housed facilities for close to 5-7 million and supplies for their survival for close to thirty five years. The facilities within Mount Maul were formidable, with a full sized military command center for each of the branches, allowing the top generals to communicate with their dispersed underlings, and conduct total war if necessary.

She stood, watching the usual press corps set up their equipment, waiting for the 30 second cue before she would move to her desk. She glanced at the clock on the wall, eight minutes before I might change the course of Illior, just as my father did.

“Ms. Kars?” A young blonde woman in a knee length skirt and matching jacket said as she walked towards Erika.

“Yes Elena,” Erika replied, noticing that Elena was carrying a small black folder, with the Illiorian coat of arms on its cover.

“Madam, here’s the speech, done as you requested.” She said it quite nervously as Erika took the folder from her hands. She watched tentatively as Erika read it over carefully, looking for small tweaks to make at the last minute. A smile grew on her usually stoic face as she finished.

“A work of art, Elena, your skills are more than a match for your predecessor, rest her soul, and believe me, will do just what we need for the speech,” Erika said, giving a reassuring pat on Elena’s back.

“Thank you, but to be truly honest, I can’t say I want to be the one that wrote the demise of our great nation.”

“Elena, I must say, I’m slightly surprised. Have you ever truly met an Illiorian soldier?”

“No ma’am I can’t say I have. I’ve met a sailor once but I doubt he was the example of the Illiorian Armed Forces.”

“Then let me set the record straight. The Illiorian armed forces are one of the best, with our army being possibly the smallest for our size, but they can take on any real army any day, and sure as hell none of those fuckin’ nations that think they can take on our brothers in Gholgoth or NATO will be able to do much against our smaller numbers.”

“But Questers and her allies have the largest navy in the world!”

“Fuck them and their large navy, their king’s just making up for his lack of a penis. We’ve got twelve thousand ships of war, not to mention our cutters and the like, which should stop them dead in their tracks, not to mention our large fleet of submarines, which will do immeasurable damage to their fleets. As well, as you saw in the message, we’ve got some major help when it comes to taking out fleets thanks to our air arm.”

“I understand what we have, and how we’ll use it, but either way, there’s a lot of my brothers that are going to die because of this…”

“And our allies have sacrificed millions of their own sons and daughters to protect our sovereignty, saving millions, if not billions, of our own men. This is what your speech will do dear, it will make our people believe.”

“MS. KARS! THIRTY SECONDS!” An aid called, and Erika turned away from Elena and walked to her desk, a darkly polished work of oak, sturdy, strong, imposing, all representing Illior. She sat in a black leather chair, with oak hand railings as well, and behind her were three flags. One was the Illiorian flag, the second, a flag of a collage of the flags of the Gholgothian and NATO nations and finally: A black flag, with an imposing, blood red wolf head. All the viewers of this speech would note that the last two flags were new, but the second of the three was understandable. The third was a complete anomaly, and truly, only a devout historian of Illior would understand it.

“We’re live in, 3…2…1…” The aid called and pointed his finger at Erika who then turned towards the camera.

“My fellow Illiorians, Gholgothians, NATO citizens, citizens of the world. I come to you today in a time of trouble, a time of deep and fearful uncertainty. In the past several days, militaries have begun to move, the usual anti Gholgothian rhetoric has increased in several orders of magnitude, in nations, once considered allies or even friendly have now joined the call to war against Automagfreek by our onetime GASN ally, Questers. Questers has mobilized her entire military, massing men and material, preparing ships of war, and creating birds of prey.

“In response, our allies have mobilized to protect our brother nation, who has done so much to help protect our nation, our way of life. It is today that they fight for freedom, they fight for their sovereignty and their way of life. My brothers, my sisters, it is our turn to repay them, it is our turn, no longer will we sit in the shadows, no longer shall we be the meek, the craven and the saved. It is our time, our time to repay, it is our time to help our needy brothers. It is in this time of uncertainty, one of the few certain things left will be our trust, our unwavering support, our sacrifice.

“It is never an easy thing to ask someone to give up their lives for someone who’s not of their own countrymen, nor is it easy to ask anyone to give up their life in general, but I must ask our men and women of the armed forced to put their lives on the line. I do not ask this lightly, and I also ask congress to enact a bill I am submitting asking for the alerting of the 4th and 5th reserve armies in case we do get attacked by being in the way of Automagfreek. As well, you may have noticed the recent mobilizations of our marine corps and our naval fleets, and today, I would like to complete those, by brining the 1st corps to full active duty, the second to ready leave and move the third to ready leave as well. The navy already has a third of their fleets active, and I understand that this will seem stressing, but I am ordering the activation of the first full twenty fleets, and activating the naval reserve to allow relief of the vessels stationed for homeland defense, and freeing up others for defense of the colonies. As well, I’ve ordered the construction of many emplaced facilities within the Joint Colony of Northland and Burning Bay. Our allies in NATO and through Gholgoth are now helping to fortify these areas and soon, they will be incredibly tough to take. The air force is stepping up its combat air patrols, and any aggressive movements will be returned in kind.

“Hestor be with us all.”


In Northland

Things were beginning to look like havoc within Northland, the Illiorian forces began their fortification efforts. All along the shores, batteries of guns were put in, with calibers ranging from 6.55mm all the way up to 762mm. Silos were being emplaced all along the coast, with Kahns filling them, sledgehammer IIs filling them, and Porcupine ICCMs began filling GS-427s that began to fill the air. Citizens began being advised to return to their home nations for the time being, as more and more and more soldiers began to move in.

Official Annnouncement of Alexander Kazansky, Fieldmarshal of the Republic

I, Alexander Kirillovich Kazansky, Sword of the Queen, former Emperor of Greater Prussia, former President of the United States, count of Centreville, by the power vested in me by President Friedrich Goldwasser, the Congress and People of the United States, hereby announce the formation of one thousand more tank divisions.

The equipment has been long stored by us for just such an emergency event, and now, seeing as the Doomani beast is again rearing it's head against civilization, we must now unwrap the tanks, man the cannon, put the rifle in the hand of the Freeman Soldier. Let us call out the reserves, let us enlist a thousand, a million more troops to man every one of those tanks. Let us be ready.

Should the Doomani make an attempt against a free country again, let us ensure that the world will reply in kind. Let us ensure that the streets will run red with Doomani blood, let us make Urbs Doomanus a new Cairo, a new Najaster, a new Berlin, a new Hiroshima a thousand times over!

Let us trample the Doomani vermin under our boot like a housewife crushing a cockroach, let us be prepared to kill, crush, and destroy the Doomani if they make one more wrong move.

Let us issue flamethrowers to our men so they can burn the Doomani churches clean of theocrats and rededicate them to Freedom, let us give our soldiers grenades, so they can tear apart the bodies of Doomani, let us give them chainswords, so they can remove the heads of Doomani and drink the blood-wine of victory from them!

I hereby remove Order CS-F566, and all orders prohibiting or limiting mutilation or decapitation of the bodies of enemy soldiers. I know that they were violated by the men in the field anyway, and I say now: these are the Doomani. They are not people. Should there be war with them, you should kill them, torch them, wear their skin as bizarre fetish gear. Prepare for war, violence, death and destruction.

Some will ask whether Allanea is seeking war with Doomingsland. I will answer in the words of President Golwasser: "Allanea does not seek war with Doomingsland, and yet we are prepared for it, and we know it is inevitable."

Let the Doomani know that we have not one hero like Priscilla Conde, but thousands of millions of them.

A single Girl Scout, using a prop-driven aircraft, has turned an entire Doomani province into worthless marshland – even more worthless then Doomani provinces generally are. Now imagine what the goddamn Allanean Strategic Air Corps would do.

Let Maximus tremble!

Let the Doomani fear us!

May Her Majesty, the Queen, be proud of us!

May God bless Allanea and her Majesty, the Queen!

CSS Nod - En-route to Gholgoth

A figure in red battle armor stood in front of the Brotherhood and Marine troops assembled on the flight deck of the carrier. Still a long way off, the Captain had allowed the man a short speech. In his hand was a great helm, the mask black, striped with crimson. He was the clone of Damien Dreadfire, first named The Redeemer, now named Chimola 'The Butcher' Amin. He raised a fist and relative silence overtook the flightdeck.

"Marines! Troopers! What you do in the coming days will shape the future of our nation. This is a day in your life you will never forget. A calm before the greatest storm you will ever see... do not underestimate the power of such a thing. You will see many warriors from many nations. You will see Freeks, Reavers, Charr and nearly every other nation of Gholgoth on whatever shores we land upon. And working together, there is no greater force on this filthy rock we call home! Will you fight for Gholgoth? Will you DIE for Gholgoth?!" The men and women assembled answered loudly. He smiled slowly. "Soon you will get your chance to prove those words. Dismissed!"

Amin strode across the flight deck and down a flight of stairs to stand on an observation platform. The sea air whipped at his long hair, spray from the bow soaking him after a few minutes... he didn't care. Ahead of him was a war larger than any Crimmond had ever taken part in. And he intended to kill as many of the enemy as humanly possible to ensure victory.

-------

The Wilderness - Crimm Gholgothian Province

The Big Thing strode through the woods, disturbing prey species and making them flee. Even predators moved away from It. Coming to the crags facing the ocean, It looked out across the waters and sensed something... war was in the air. And it was different than when the Freeks sailed for war alone... war was in the air everywhere. Something was happening.

It climbed the cliffs and stood on the edge, looking down into the great harbor at Avalon, capital of the Province. It watched Marines prepare the docks for defense, while submarines slid out into the ocean. Soon, preperations were made along the coast itself, a battallion of Marines coming around and scaling the rolling hills which led to the cliffs. They looked surprised and slightly unnerved to find that there was already a guardian standing watch.

It turned towards the Marines. "A force comes to desecrate my lands. I will do to them what I have done to all the forces that have come to destroy what I have cultivated... To the Panterans, I am 'The Taker'. To others, I am 'The Executioner'. Whatever you call me... I am Gar. Hunter of Vrun Dryath... the Blessed Shores. One of many that gave this landmass the moniker 'Dying Grounds'." He chuckled and waved them forward. "And now your names will be added to that list! Defend Gholgoth from the approaching dogs... and forever be remembered in war chants and legends."

In amongst the Marines, the officers felt some of their authority slip away. In this area, Gar had just become the ranking officer. And he intended to do what he had done three times throughout history... slaughter whomever dared defile his lands.

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

Myer City Garrison - European Mainland

Colonel Otto Skorzeny III, great-grandson of the 'Most Dangerous Man In Europe', stood looking over his forces. "There will be a war coming to Gholgoth. Whether it will strike Europe or not is unknown. I hope it does. Because we will fight them unlike any other force they have ever faced." He was looking at three squads of Imperial Commandos. "There is an old term for what I am thinking of. 'Going Bandit'. We will slip away from all military forces and sit and wait and strike when the enemy shows a weakness. If they do not come here, we will instead go to them and hot-drop into the invaded nations and do the same there. I trust you are all up on your languages?" The group doesn't answer. "Good. I don't want to hear about anyone getting shot because they called a bathroom a kitchen. The only language you don't know is the one used by the Charrian humans. Don't worry, I seriously doubt they will be invaded. Now, I want you all to recheck your gear and stay on alert. Three shifts and be ready to mobilize at a single word. Dismissed."

The Commandos headed off to do what they were instructed to do, save for Samantha Laran, the ranking NCO. "Sir."

"Speak freely, Gunnery Sergeant."

"Can you tell me more about 'Going Bandit', if you have the time?"

Skorzeny smiled as they walked off to his office to discuss the finer points of his plans. "My dear... it is a way of fighting my great-grandfather invented. And I intend to perfect it and test it on whoever is stupid enough to invade Gholgoth."

There were some things that took place within the Ministry of Defense that went completely unknown to the public. Many of these things would most certainly disturb and alarm the general public, while others might inspire derision (like the bureau whose sole task was formulating plans in event of extraterrestrial contact). Directive 19 would fall somewhere in between the two extremes.

To many, the image of the Samtonian Defensive Forces was of an elephant- large, ponderous. Almost unstoppable once aroused, but so immense as to prove nearly impossible to get moving quickly. And this image was generally the correct one- the sheer size of the SDF meant that, like the Soviet army of old, mobilization was a slow thing in coming. It could take months to get everything readied for even a small deployment overseas.

Not under the planning of Directive 19. It was to be used only in grave emergencies- matters of importance so large that speed, not careful deliberation, was the overriding concern. It was a strategic-scale mobilization plan, one that called for mobilization so swift that any foreign nation would be caught unawares. A one-trick pony it might be teemed. But what a horse!

Within three days of implementation, the entirety of the navy would be prepared, Expeditionary Fleets already moving towards intended destinations. The air force would be at its highest state of readiness mere hours after implementation of the plan- attacks could commence almost immediately, depending on the target. The army would take only three days to get its first wave of expeditionary troops prepared- the entire army would be mobilized two days later. Millions of men, tens of thousands of ships and planes and tanks, thousands of satellite systems- the SDF would be at wartime readiness less than a week after the implementation of the Directive.

Corners would be cut- many of the units mobilized could not be deployed overseas for at least another few weeks. The cost would be immense. Social disruption would be widespread- a large chunk of the populace would be moved into their positions in the military with only a few hours warning. The Directive was, in short, something that straddled the line between genius and insanity in its strategic operation.

And it was to be undertaken. Directive 19, rapid strategic mobilization, was ordered a little after twelve days from the hurried emergency meeting of the National Intelligence Staff with recent satellite feeds over Haven the main matter of business, a little after six days from the Freekian warnings to Gholgoth that merely confirmed what was already expected, and a little after three days from the second emergency meeting of the Council of Thirteen. Five days later it would be finished- and the timeframe after that rapidly dwindled. War. War for the survival of allies, war for the protection of ideals, and war for the protection of the national interests. A war that Samtonia would be well prepared to enter.

War Room, High General's Palace

The High General and his advisers watched events unfold on the large monitors of the war room. Aurum Domus had officially thrown its support behind Questers, they had allies in common and had fought together on several occasions, but they were beginning to regret doing so.

"High General, a war like this could totally destroy us. I suggest we declare neutrality and run covert operations. The UFAN will understand, afterall its not like Questers is a member state."

"If thats the only way then so be it."

Five days ago...
A meeting with the Emperor and the "House of Lords", was already underway. Initially the meeting was arranged in preperation of the "Emperor's Ceremonial Imperial Directive" speech. The speech is given at the end of the Holy Month,
U-Naktra. The U-Naktra is the only "Holy" celebration per year, and it is also the longest, lasting thirty days.

As they gathered, the Emperor was advised of the military mobilization of the nation of Questers, against "The Freaks". Tape was obtained and Questers statement was reviewed, as well as that of the response of other Gholgothan nations. As not to disturb the citizens holy month, the Emperor and House of Lord's made certain that news of these developments didn't reach the "streets". Few Imperial protocols needed adjusting as to media censorship within the Empire. It was concluded that the "Mwto'ar" broadcast the speech on unrestricted, uncensored, channels. Troop movements began in a manner not to cause alarm to the general populas, umong the millions of pilgrims that seek fulfilment at the Imperial Palace. The meeting concluded and the four Lord's returned to their lands as to prepare their Legions.

Three days ago..

(From the streets)
Dogs of war and men of hate. With no cause we don't descriminate. Discovery is to be disowned. Our currency is flesh and bone. Hell opened up and put on sale. Gather 'round and haggle. For hard cash, we will lie and decieve, even our masters don't know the web we weave. One world, it's a battleground. One world, and we smash it down...

Through the twisted maze of steel and stone the people gather. Despite the Empires best efforts to provide relief, an estimated five thousand citizens fell to their deaths in the sweltering heat while making the pilgrimage to the Imperial Palace. Temperatures exceeded 115F with a record braking 78% humidity. The "chatter" was mind-numbing in the streets. Blares of the horns emulating at the Imperial Palace, drawing "its" Empire closer. The Imperial directives and religious conviction of the populas of evident as they scrap and claw their way to the "Mwto'ar".

Two days ago...

(From the Palace)
Invisible transfers, long distance calls, hollow laughter in the marble halls. Steps have been taken, a silent uproar has unleashed the dogs of war. You cant stop what has begun. Signed, sealed, they deliver oblivion. We all have a dark side, to say the least. And dealing in death is the nature of the beast.

The Imperial Palace known to the Sambizie as "Hok'u-l", loose translation of "Gates of Hell". For centuries, the rulers of Sambizie have resided in this Palace. Each with their own addition and testament to their conquests and beliefs. It is Sambizie belief that they are to hell what St. Peter is to Heaven. They have thusly called the reigning "Emperor", the "Mwto'ar". The term Mwto'ar is translated to "the Angle, Chosen, or Elightened One". Sambizie typically drop the title "Emperor" and just refer to the ruler as Mwto'ar Uganda, (Angle of Death). Empire, Religion, and Service is the foundation of every Imperial Citizen.

The dogs of war don't negotiate. The dogs of war don't capitulate. They will take and you will give. and you must die so that they may live. You can knock at any door, But whever you go, you know they've been there. Well winners can lose and thing can get strained. But whatever you change, you know the dogs remain.

U-Naktra...

Like thunder, in front of the Imperial Palace, in the streets, in every household across the Empire and it's colonies, millions listened in as Mwto'ar Uganda was about to perform the closing Ceremonial Speech of the U-Naktra. They became almost elictrified, forgetting about the swealtering heat, chanting U-Naktra...U-Naktra...U-Naktra..Suddenly the crowd went balistic with emotion and excitement as the Emperor and his Lord's appeared on the viewscreens....

"Glory be the Gods in the Highest", Mwto'ar shouted.
The crowd responded, "Glory be SAMBIZIE".
"Glory be the Empire", Mwto'ar stated as he raised his hands high over his head.
The crowd went nuts chanting.."Mwto'ar...Mwto'ar...Mwto'ar.
Glory be GHOLGOTH!!
The crowd erupts in a thunderious explosion, shouting various, (Imperial Approved) "catch phrases" from allied nations. Some screem "Freeeeks", others shout "Drag the Waters of War", whilst some continue chanting Mwto'ar.

The Emperor lowers his hands as to silence the "masses".
Brothers and Sisters of the Empire. I address you this day, the holiest of days, the day of the U-Naktra!!
The crowd again cheers..
The pigs come to destroy us..They come to take you from what is all holiest and just to the highest!!
Crowd hisses and boo's
The pig's, the dog's, and vermon of the world..Come to tell Sambizie, that their way of life will become our way of life.
crowd boos..
You may be asking once again, Who are the pig's at our gates? Names matter not, they never have and never will. For centuries, have we not turned away the beast? It will be no different this time...
it was at this point that the crowd had come to relise that the Empire was going to war.
The crowd exploded once again exploded in a thunderious roar. after several minutes the crowd slowly came to chant the term, "A-Siak'sUn". It was a military term for the most part meaning "honarable-death".

To the beasts that come I say this, When your skies blacken with "freakish" flame and furry, When your land and waters run red with the blood of your children and bitches, Fear not for what is, but for that, which is about to come. I call out to all Imperial brothers near and far, Forever crusade against the beasts for their will is not just and without cause. The claim "we" attack them but yet "the dogs" come to us. They claim the Reavers and Freaks to be unjust, but yet "the pigs" come to us.

"To the Empire!! I say let the beasts come...for every beast will have a Master!!
"GLORY BE THE EMPIRE"
The crowd cheers...

The People's Sovereign Republic

http://img187.imageshack.us/img187/5760/21798610db9.gif
Official Communiqué

Open Declaration:

At this time, the People's Sovereign Republic is unwilling to donate troops to aid NATO and Gholgoth in crushing the Sovereign League. But our hearts and minds remain wholly with Automagfreek, and, as a gesture of goodwill, we intend on doubling our oil output to AMF, as well as ceasing all oil exports to SL nations. May Aequitas favor Gholgoth in this conflict.

Sincerely,
http://img222.imageshack.us/img222/2462/signkc8ht0.png
The Rt. Hon. Sir Alistair Davidson (http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/8/8d/Dominique_villepin.jpg/165px-Dominique_villepin.jpg), MP
Consul of British Londinium

"AMF's next target, ehh?"

"Aye Admiral."

Admiral Illiyich stood on the bow of the CHN Jabruk, one of the "newer" ships of the fleet, meaning constructed in the last ten years. "Why would the President raslin be asking me for advice? I'm just an old man." Illiyich stared out into the open sea, gazing at seemingly nothing.

"An old man, who led our nation into a golden age. Sir, don't knock yourself down." The Captain of the ship put his arm around Illiyich. "Remember, I served you well during your years as the raslin."

Illiyich didn't let up his gaze. "Yes you did, Miche. But I'm not sure I really led us into a golden age. Sure, the people get everything they need. Crime is almost non-existant, and we lead happy, peaceful lives. But where's the excitement? Where's the patriotic fevor? Did you know we've had a larger migration rate this year than any in the last two decades?"

"Admiral, war is a bad thing. Even as... no, especially as military men, we know this. You can't honestly be thinking about telling Pavon to offer aid to the Freeks."

"No, no. But its more than that. War is simply a way of expressing yourself. Very violently." Illiyich said, with a grin. "I kid, my friend. I don't know... tell pavon that we should maintain the course we've had for over a century. The Freeks know that if they ask for our aid, we will do whatever we can to help them. Not that they ever really ask, or need it. Going to war would be a waste if we can't help it. Of course... Killing some Questarians would be nice. But we won't push for anything."

"Aye, admiral."

"Call me Gregov, you son of a bitch." Illiyich said, slaping Miche on the back.