NationStates Jolt Archive

Londinian Proconsular Office, al-Harith
People's Sovereign Colony of Ghassan

The office of Ghassani Proconsul Dominic Cremona was a very shadowy affair, and his cigar habit only contributed to the decreasing visibility and encroaching clouds of smoke. A small flame appeared, touched the brown tip of a cigar, and flickered out. A door opened, and a young woman, Aamina, timidly entered the room, trying to muffle a cough.

"Proconsul, you wanted to see me?" she said.

"Indeed I did," Dominic said, puffing on his cigar. "Where are those engineers that we requested last week? This country isn't going to build itself up by itself, you know."

"Arrived this morning," replied Aamina. "But the director said his men needed time to adjust to the climate."

"Adjust!? Adjust!?" Dominic bellowed angrily. "We've got shit to do - no time for adjusting!"

"Sir, it's just one day," Aamina said, trying to placate the irate proconsul. "And they're fresh from Oickoidia - not used to this heat in the least. They'd be horrifically inefficient if they started today."

"Touché."

OOC: Ghassan and I worked out an arrangement in which my country takes him on as a colony, and thus this thread is just a general, internal RP thread. It is open, and I apologize for the weak opening.

The marbeled floors of the Procounsel's compound glittered as the Ghassani sun leaked through the windows that lined either side of the hallway. The Procounsel's office itself was a dark and mysterious room, which reflected the man's actions and personality.

Omiri Azaud was a middle-aged Ghassani man who had lived his entire life within the confines of Al-Harith. He spoke three languages fluently, and acted as the Procounsel's link between him and the Emir. It was a tough situation, as the Procounsel was stubborn towards the traditions and codes of the Ghassani people. But as he moved through the cooridor, his mind drifted to the file that was grasped in his right file.

The Procounsel had heard the story one hundred times over, the Ghassani Liberation Movement, raping, pillaging and furtively moving throughout the northern areas. And, with every file that was brought to him, he scoffed at the thought of open conflict, of being the spark to an actual confrontation. Omiri had recieved the file at his home from his assistant, who spoke of its upmost urgency. After reading the file, he would have to agree.

When he opened the door to the Procounsel's office, he witnessed the probing of a younger woman, who was shaken at the man's actions. As Omiri entered, he apologized for interrupting, and then sat in the seat across from the Procounsel.

'Morning Dominic,' he said, the words floating of his tongue with familiarity and flair. He continued, 'please excuse us Aamina, the matters now do not concern you.'

Aamina left quickly, obviously nodding with gratitude towards her rescuer. Dominic remained smoking, and his gaze now shifted towards the placid man who sat opposite him.

'The shit has hit the fan, as your language informs. You're not going to want to hear this, but Muquat and his men are on the move again. He has taken something with him this time as well. The Emir's daughter, Farrah, has been captured from her armored convoy, leaving her ten bodyguards in coffins. She was headed home when they got her. Seems Muquat himself came out of hiding to complete this mission,' he paused for a second, waiting to see if Dominic would do anything, but, with a blow of smoke, he spoke again. 'This is not just an armed rebellion waiting to be quelled anymore. The House of Harith is seeking retribution, and besides public executions and reprisals in the north, war seems to be an option. The Emir himself has begun shutting down his country as he searches for her.'

Omiri stood up abruptly, and headed for the coffee maker in the corner of the room. Within a minute, he had acquired two cups of steaming Ghassani coffee for him and the Procounsel. And, as he readmitted himself to the chair, he awaited a response.

Dominic rubbed his temples.

"Not those cretins again," the Proconsul replied agitatedly. He padded his jacket for a cigarette, finding none. "Hold on a second, Omiri. Aamina, get in here!"

A young, slender Arab woman poked her head into the office. "Yes, sir?"

"Where are my cigarettes?" he asked agitatedly.

"Your wife, sir, and your doctor, both -"

"Look, just hand me the bloody Camels," Dominic interrupted. Aamina duly surrendered them and left, shooting the Proconsul a sour look. He promptly lighted his cigarette and resumed the conversation, all the meanwhile reviewing the dozens of documents strewn on his desk.

"Can't get good help these days, can I? Where were we again? Ah, yes. I have been discussing the situation in the northern provinces with the Consul - he informs me that the Twelfth Legion is setting sail for Ghassani at this very moment; they ought to be arriving in al-Harith by this evening. We'll station a couple thousand blue-helmets in the capital to ensure that the insurrection doesn't spread here, and the rest - about twenty five thousand - will blitzkrieg rebel positions. The Emir wouldn't happen to have any idea where they might have taken his daughter, though? It's an awfully big desert, and these men are used to a much more tropical climate - extended desert ops'll be drain on efficiency."

OOC: Is this gonna be war, or a peaceful annexation?

OOC: We worked it out so that Ghassan is already mine (peaceful annexation, I guess), so I can train his army, build his infrastructure, etc, then peacefully grant Ghassan its freedom.

OOC: So no rape, pillage and burn like in Cazelia then? Good

OOC: Ghassan invited me to send military consultants to assist in stabilizing the nation. So I'm not thread crashing, just had to clarify that.

IC:

A group of Kiravian battlefield engineers, tacticians, and logistics experts sit in the cabin of their plane. They were not discussing what the situation would be in GHassan, but rather, what Ghassan was.

"Can't call it a "colony" in our sense of the word. There's no settlement or incorporation. Or at least I don't think so." one states.

"More of a protectorate, I mean they're defending it, helping route out the enemies, and they control the government.", another replies.

"You forget, it isn't permanent. It's an agreement by both parties to give Londinium control of Ghassan until Ghassan is stable, and hen return it to self-sovereignity.", a tall engineer corrects them.

"So,....It's a trust territory?"

"But there still seems to be some self-rule, unlike a Trust Territory, where the mother nation completely takes over the government."

"A joint-administrative area"

The silent man in the corner, who hadn't talked all day, and whom they assumed was asleep growled, "We don't know any of the details right now, and at the rate you're debating it, it'll be a supra-national entity by the time we land."

Omiri did not falter when the Procounsel mentioned the arrival of additional Londinium forces. The surge did not bother him, as he respected the guidance of the Procounsel, and trusted that this new soldiers would complete the mission at hand. Omiri stood up when Dominic had finished speaking, and picked up the folder that now had shifted towards him. Rifling through the files, he found the one that he needed.

Statistics, enemy rebel movements, their numbers. Pictures of commanders, confirmed hideouts, and destroyed villages. Omiri was overwhelmed again, and he slumped down into his chair and his tanned figures reached for his temples.

'Forgive my rudeness Dominic, but your men will die,' he stopped for a second and then began again, gathering strength as he went. 'Your men have never fought anything like these devils.'

He took out a single picture, and placed it in front of the Procounsel. He knew that it would not phase the arrogance of Dominic, but he hoped it may spark something within his mind. The picture was of a child, no older than four, hung around a noose tied to a tree. His tunic had been ripped and across his chest was the emblazoned symbol of the GLM.

'Procounsel, I pray that you have sense not to send your men right away. These rebels are like nothing your men have dealt with. They are beyond barbaric, and fight in the constant heat. They require no water to move, and their footsprints litter across the Ghassani deserts. Their weapons are archaic, but it does not matter to them, their message blazes in their hearts, and they will stop at nothing until your men are butchered and damned. Your men themselves will feel the Ghassani sun beat at their plating and it will feel like the inferno itself. Procounsel, Dominic, I tell you now that you do not wish this. Conflict is upon us, but your men are not prepared.'

He stopped, and waited for the generic response that awaited him.

------

The plane hit the runway as the sun was preparing to descend from its precipice. As always, the landing was rough and almost catostrophic, as the pilot was inexperienced and barely literate. When it had reached a stop and docked at the Al-Harith International Airport, the pilot exited the cockpit and informed the men that they should not leave the plane yet. Quoting Ghassani tradition, he told them that they must waited to be allowed unto Ghassani soil.

After the first hour, the men were brought Ghassani coffee and pears from the fertile plains of the south. These fruits were so delicious, that they were only given to the richest of the country. As the men began to eat, the metallic noises of the door opening greeted them.

A slender Ghassani, in his mid twenties, greeted them with smiles. He held a crate under his left arm, and placed it in front of the men.

'Hello friends!' He said, his accent obvious and his words carefully chosen. 'Welcome to my country!'

With that he opened the crate. Weapons, ammunition and medical kits. As he waited for them to take it he grinned once more and said, 'never leave home without one.'

And that, was Ghassani culture.

[OOC: My Prime Minister has this obsessed hatred of British Londinium, and is willing to make them bleed anywhere he can. Would you mind if I secretly armed the rebels?]

"Sir, this fruit is delicious! We have nothing even comparable in taste that grows in Kirav!", exclaims Engineer Ethrin Seastone.

Cerin Thayer examines the items in the crate. "Thank you." he grins, "Although I hope we won't need to use them.", he says as he removes some ammunition from the box. Using the items shouldn't be a problem for any of the Kiravians, being from a nation where all able-bodied citizens were trained to defend their homes.(Not to serve in the military, but they are given basic combat skills).

Iridic Needleleaf spreads out a small blueprint. "This is the outline of our plans for Al-Harith. Basically, we want to fix up water utilities and improve roads, but other ideas, like foundation reinforcement, dikes, and rainwater collection systems, will have to wait until we can get information on Ghassan's rainfall, soil types, and population."

Castle Avisronia

Prime Minister David Wallace stood near his office window and looked out over the city of Landin, the capitol of the LFA. It was snowing so heavily that the view from the hilltop castle had been impaired to the point that only the streets immediately near the base of the hill were visible.

These conditions were perfect for Prime Minster Wallace. It created an aura that made him feel as if he could see the world, but the world couldn't see him. Conditions such as these enabled the Prime Minister to be more productive. He was a... weird, man.

As the wind changed directions and changed what the view of the city looked like, David Wallace heard something enter his office behind him. He slowly turned to find his assistant holding a manila envelope with the Avisronian Central Intelligence Division seal on its cover.

"Report on British Londinium. They've effectively colonized the small nation of Ghassan. They're saying they'll leave whenever the nation is... something, but we have no reason to believe they'll leave."

Wallace had, several weeks prior established through secret executive order, a special branch within the Avisronian Central Intelligence Division. Its sole purpose was to track down opportunities to harm the British Londinium government.

"And how does this matter to us? Are they executing people yet?"

"Well sir, there's already an established rebel group with Ghassan. If we armed them with some more advanced weapons..."

The Prime Minister smiled.

"Get the A.C.I.D. to establish communication. Make sure they say they're a terrorist group or something. The LFA wouldn't support rebels. Of course not..."

-----------

Later that day an Avisronian Scion-class Attack Submarine cruised out of Krieta Harbor, submerged, and entered silent running conditions en route to the nation of Ghassan.

The Proconsul, surprisingly, smiled, and began to chuckle softly.

"Omiri, some days I wonder if you read the international papers," Dominic said. "Brutality is the speciality of the Londinian Armed Forces - the rebels will not be too much of a concern. But you do have a point - our men will be ill-prepared for the desert conditions. I assure you, we will take our time, and defeat them in one, overwhelming swoop. I don't plan on moving out of the coastal cities for at least a couple of weeks. I'll have my secretary forward the new directives to the Ministry of War at once."

He pushed the picture back towards Omiri. "Still, though, that is rather gruesome."

Their Ghassani guided listened to their comments, all the while grinning. After they had finished, they presented him with a manila file filled with their plans for his homeland. He refused these documents though, and then ushered them out of the plane.

The tarmac was vast, and behind it lies the cityscape of Al-Harith. The sun glistened on the buildings, although they were covered in a layer of dust that rendered them almost colorless and bland. Across the runway were Ghassani employees, who shuttled around baggage trains and waved neon handsticks. All of them had pistols strapped around their waists, and all looked wary as they went about their buisness.

Their jubilant guide though, led them across this, as many Ghassanis turned to glare at the newest visitors. The guide remarked that it is hard for foreigners to gain the trust of the Ghassani people, especially with the conflict that now raged in the north. As they reached an armoured limousine, the guide asked them to join him inside, and he would show them the capital of Al-Harith.

As they entered, they were immediatly greeted by the soft soothing noises of Ghassani music, which was dominated by Arabic words and praises. The seats were comfortable, and instead of being leather, they were made with the cushions that usually dominated Ghassani tables. And, as they entered, they noticed a small contraption in the middle of the limo, which distributed Ghassani coffee and sahrin, which the man handed to each of the new arrivals.

'A great feast has been prepared for your arrival. I will take you to your embassy in order to see if it is to your liking,' the man motioned towards the driver who turned on the ignition and pulled out of the airport.

As the guide led them on a tour through the city, they passed the many landmarks of the city. The various war memorials and palaces, which looked elaborate against the simplicity of the skyscrapers and apartment buildings. At the main boulevard were the royal gardens, which were a testament to the patron of the country.

And finally, after many hours in the vehicle, they entered a compound guarded by Ghassani Security Forces. 'You may transfer the guard once you have been settled. Here we are.'

And in front of them was a traditional Ghassani palace, filled with the domes that were often found across the city. And, as the vehicle came to a stop, the door was open, and around one hundred Ghassani men approached the vehicle, praising the new Kiravian arrivals.

---

The associate of the Ghassani Liberation Movement, sifted silently through the marshes that surrounded the port city of Al-Mahir. He was supposed to meet an associate from another nation who would supply the Movement. But he was furtive now, seeking out the location that was wired to him from his leader.

He noticed the harbor itself, and he slipped in past the two guards that were manning the entrance. With his carbine steady in his hand, he moved towards the old docks, which were now deserted. It was here that a submarine now emerged.

The man waved them in.

---

Omiri laughed as Dominic concluded his course of actions. He knew that it would be as such, and could hope for little deviation. But still, Dominic had heard his point of view, and that was all that he could alleviate at the moment. As he sipped his coffee once more, he looked again towards Dominic, who was concentrating on his cigar.

And, after a slightly uncomfortable silence, Omiri startled the room by commenting once more. 'Dominic. We welcome your country's arrival here, but we need action now. We need you to confirm that people are coming to help us. Has your embassy even been established?'

The associate of the Ghassani Liberation Movement, sifted silently through the marshes that surrounded the port city of Al-Mahir. He was supposed to meet an associate from another nation who would supply the Movement. But he was furtive now, seeking out the location that was wired to him from his leader.

He noticed the harbor itself, and he slipped in past the two guards that were manning the entrance. With his carbine steady in his hand, he moved towards the old docks, which were now deserted. It was here that a submarine now emerged.

The man waved them in.

[OOC: Just for the record, the Avisronians probably wouldn't surface in their main attack submarine. That would remain far out in the safety of the sea.]

--



The submarine was a small, white, and rectangular in nature. A generic, while still advanced, design that could not be traced back to the LFA should this entire operation go fatally wrong. After sitting at the surface for just a moment, a hatch on the rear of the vehicle slowly lifted open. It revealed a bluely-lit interior that gave the miniature submarine a very futuristic and advanced feel. In fact, that was the sole purpose of the ambient lighting feature.

After another moment of judging just how to go about the task of getting from the submarine to the old dock, what looked like a shady Avisronian teenage grunger emerged from the hatchway and managed to climb, claw, and slide his way onto the dock. He had long, dark brown hair, was dressed in a blue-plaid overshirt with a black tee underneath, black jeans, and Chuck Taylor ripoffs. Underneath his overshirt was, of course, a SX-90 Submachine Gun.

The aura emanating from the old docks was immense.

Upon scanning the docks themselves and then the shoreline, the Avisronian noticed someone discreetly waving at him from the base of the docks. [I]You've got to be kidding, he thought. This is like something out of an old movie.

He slowly and discreetly made his way to the end of the dock, then slid himself under it. Slowly, he approached the man who had been waving at him.

THe Kiravians accept the thanks and praise of the Ghassanis as they walk into the compound. Needleaf says to their guide, "Sir, Al-Jarith is an impressive work of architecture and urban planning. Thank you for showing us around, and for granting us this Embassy."

Ambassador Vüren Palmshade greets his fellow Kiravians. "Welcome," he salutes, "Quarters have been prepared for you on the upper level. He signals to a Kindistani servant, "Jamal, once the new arrivals are settled, call the Imperial Security Bureau, and have them send 5 guards, although, I must say, our Ghassani hosts have been vigilant. In fact, we should keep the Ghassan guards as well, but in case they're needed for an emergency elsewhere, we should have backup."

Used to a range of climates frome temperate to subarctic, most of the engineers were at least slightly uncomforatble with the heat. Not Seafoam. He had visited Ghassan before, as well as other arid nations. He was also a Kiravian colonist from the tropical governate of Ifija. Another testament to the diversity of the Empire.

"Omiri, this is our embassy," Dominic replied. "The Proconsular Office, the astello proconsulere, is the primary organ of Londinian-Ghassani relations, Omiri. An embassy implies independence, sovereignty. I hate to say it, but Ghassan is just another part of the, well, People's Sovereign...Empire. I like that. You want confirmation that our people are coming? Look out that window."

Through the large, Plexiglas window that dominated an entire wall of the office, one could see the port of al-Harith - and the dozens of vessels flying the Londinian flag unloading container after container of goods. Even more military ships were at the docks, with columns of sweaty, tired Army soldiers, sweltering under the unfamiliar heat.

"We do not forget our possessions, Omiri. But it will take time for you to appreciate what we are doing. Roads do not build themselves immediately, and rebels are not crushed with the snap of a finger. But as I speak, we are doing all we can. My engineers are preparing to construct an arteriaroute system that will rival the one at home. Our soldiers, give them a week or two, will acclimate to the desert, and within another two weeks, this rebellion in the north will be squashed like a bug. Royale Media agreed to create an extremely powerful wireless internet network throughout the country - Ghassanis'll be able to access it for free. The Deputy Consul, James Azzopardi, is personally financing plans to distribute the so-called 'one-hundred-dollar-computer' to people throughout the land. Please, Omiri, do not make the mistake of thinking that we have forgotten you."

As they sit in a room of the Embassy, discussing how to acquire labour for their aqueduct plans, one engineer speaks up, "You know, we've been in this Londinian protecto..., Oh shut up!" he says as another engineer opens his mouth to resume the debate over Ghassan's rightful title,"Anyway, we've been in this Londinian posession, for 2 days now, but we haven't met the Londinians. I mean, isn't it logical that we at least meet the people whose land were irrigating?"

Needleaf replies, "Reckon we need a permit or something of the sort?"

"Probably not, aren't we here under the authority of Ghassan itself?"

"You forget, there is no Ghassan itself, it's like a Departmental Colony, it has no domestic government, but is governed by a department of the Empire, which can be elected by citizens of the colony, of course, that's not th case here, but..."

"Let's not get into this again, maybe the Londinians can explain a bit."


http://editthis.info/images/sovfed/f/f2/GhassanEMbassy.PNG


Kiravian Empire

Permissum Astrum Subleuco

Imperial Ghassan Embassy

We wish to conduct a meeting with the Proconsul of Ghassan to gain information on Londinium's government here and to discuss Kiravian and Kiravian-assisted infrastructure improvement projects.

Regards,

Ambassador Vüren Palmshade

Imperial Ambassador to Ghassan

http://img393.imageshack.us/img393/2306/rsplbada2sc0.jpg

Official Communiqué

Ambassador Vüren Palmshade:

I would be delighted to receive you in the Astello Proconsulere at your earliest convenience. Any opportunity to interface with those who intend on interacting with Ghassan on a regular basis is a welcome one. I await our meeting, Ambassador.

Sincerely,
Dominic S. Cremona
Proconsul of the People's Sovereign Colony of Ghassan

As the Avisronian teenager approached Saharn, the Ghassani grabbed the foreigner by his collar and led him into an adjacent warehouse complex. Ignoring the weapon that the boy was carrying, he waved past the two interior guards, and entered a completely enclosed cubicle.

Motioning for his accomplice to sit down in the chair that was opposite a more grand one, he reached in a cabinet and handed the boy a folder. Inside were the details on the Ghassani Liberation Movement and their shadowy leader. With no regrets, Saharn handed the folder to the teenager, and waited for a second. After a brief pause, he spoke.

'We welcome your nation's aid to the cause. May Allah guide us in the coming tide brother.' His words were spoken in English, and obviously sounded odd coming from him. Still, they struck a chord within the other one in the room.

'Now,' he continued, 'what do you require for us?'

----

'Your kindness is well appreciated Procounsel. My people are a resilient one, and we do not welcome foreign aid often. But, we need action, we need something to give us hope.'

Omiri paused, and reached into his briefcase pulling out a pen and a red notebook. Opening it to a fresh page that was not filled with numbers and contacts, he clicked the pen and held it at the ready. Sipping his coffee with the other hand, he stared now at the man in front of him.

'So Procounsel, as leader of this colony, what do we need to do?'

And as the pen lowered, he waited for the dry lecture that would erupt from Dominic's mouth. Oh, such a foreigner.

----

As the Kiravians started to settle, and their message was sent to the Procounsel's office, a Ghassani women came to where they were. She was elegant and beautiful, and wore very modest clothing. She nodded at them in dutiful respect, and then paused for a moment while she gathered her words. After what seemed like eternity, she spoke again, addressing the gathering of the Kiravians and the ambassador she served.

'You have been invited to a feast by the Emir himself, in the Al-Harith Palace. If you wish to join his majesty, then there is a vehicle waiting outside.'

This women was one of the Emir's daughters, and since she had come by herself to ask their attendance, it meant a lot. It was the greatest honor to feast with the Emir, and no Ghassani dare deny it.

"What I need from you, Hetære Azaud, is to ensure that British Londinium remains a beacon of civilization and prosperity to the average Ghassani," Dominic said, puffing on his cigar. "Our entire operation depends on it. When the people of al-Harith look out their windows in the morning, and see the standard of the PSR billowing in the wind above the Ghassani flag, the last thing we need are feelings of hatred bubbling within their, er...what do you call them? Oh, yes - souls. Regardless, you and I are both perfectly aware that there can't be feelings of...discontent festering like open sores in Ghassan. Can you provide that?"

THe Kiravians entered the vehicle. They awaited the feast with the Emir.

Meanwhile, Ambassador Palmshade, covered by a cloak, walks to the Astello Proconsulere to meet with the Proconsul. There was much that needed to be discussed. It was quite difficult to organize a large-scale development operation in a country, when you had only a vague idea of what was going on politically.

Aamina, the Proconsul's personal secretary, sat behind her desk, typing up a report for Dominic when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ambassador Palmshade.

"Ah, yes, you must be the Ambassador the Proconsul told me about," she said. "Head right in."

When Dominic saw the Kiravian ambassador enter his office, he greeted him with a handshake.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr Palmshade," he said.

"And an honour to meet you, Proconsul. Thank you for hosting this meeting, as it is of utmost importance to the Empire's interests in Ghassan. Firstly, we were wondering what the nature of Londinian Proconsular government in Ghassan is."

As the Avisronian teenager approached Saharn, the Ghassani grabbed the foreigner by his collar and led him into an adjacent warehouse complex. Ignoring the weapon that the boy was carrying, he waved past the two interior guards, and entered a completely enclosed cubicle.

Motioning for his accomplice to sit down in the chair that was opposite a more grand one, he reached in a cabinet and handed the boy a folder. Inside were the details on the Ghassani Liberation Movement and their shadowy leader. With no regrets, Saharn handed the folder to the teenager, and waited for a second. After a brief pause, he spoke.

'We welcome your nation's aid to the cause. May Allah guide us in the coming tide brother.' His words were spoken in English, and obviously sounded odd coming from him. Still, they struck a chord within the other one in the room.

'Now,' he continued, 'what do you require for us?'

The Avisronian straightened his shirt a bit before speaking. He made every attempt to remain a calm demeanor. It would make his position more powerful.

"My... organization... wishes to inflict damage upon British Londinium. Honestly, we don't care about your inter-nation politics. But we're sure you can agree that a relationship between our two groups could be mutually beneficial. You'll help us kill scores of those fucking Londinium soldiers, maybe capture a few, and we'll buy you some of the most efficient weapons on the planet. If you manage to take over the nation with our help, you'll have my organizations future support. It's a game of investment and return."

"Well, the Astello Proconsulere serves as the organ of Londinian control in Ghassan," Dominic said, sitting back down at his desk. "There are similar offices in our colonies worldwide - Oickoidia, Pirandello, Britzkium, et cetera. The proconsul serves as the representative of Parliament, and is granted significant leeway as the territorial governor of his or her colony.

The Ghassani government is spearheaded by me, naturally, though I do not rule as some sort of dictator or whatnot. There is a bicameral legislature. The primary house is the Royal Assembly - don't ask me why it's called that - comprising three hundred Londinian officials who manage the nation. The secondary house is the House of Harith, which deals with Islamic law - that's completely Ghassani."

"Ah..now I understand. Londinium rules, but the Ghassanis do have input. Our governate of Ifija operates in a similar manner. May I ask, Proconsul, what does Londinium consider to be a "colony"?"

Omiri listened as the Procounsel detailed what would be needed. Writing it in his notebook, he studied it with a careful and intense mindset. His pensive gaze sat locked on the notebook for a full minute before he spoke again, 'I shall inform the GNN to start filming Pro-Londinium television and write of your conquests in the daily papers.'

With that, he nodded at the Procounsel and left the room, placing the emptied cup of coffee next to where the janitor would take it. Exiting the room with a wave towards Dominic, he informed him he would be back later. On his way out, he passed a cloaked figure from Kirav. The ambassador.

----

When the Avisronian finished speaking, Saharn weighed his options. He could accept the offer and form the partnership, but in doing so, he would compromise the mission statement of the organization that he sought to uphold. But, if he refused, he would loose out on a key ally that would help them to eradicate the Ghassani traitors and their Londinium allies.

With a smile, he nodded in approval. Ushering him out of the cubicle and back into the area of the old docks, he handed him a small folder, saying, 'this contains the whereabouts of our warehouse compound. That is where the goods will be delivered.'

As he pointed the man back towards his submarine, he said, 'It's been a pleasure.' And with that, he turned and snuck back into the recesses of marshes.

----

The vehicle halted at an intersection which was monitored by a broken traffic light. The Kiravians in the vehicle were being treated to Ghassani coffee and spirits, while their country's music was being played via satellite. As the vehicle completely stopped and waited for them to be allowed to go, there was a crash outside, and a man stepped into the limo from the street.

'I do not have time. Do not trust the Emir, that is all I can say,' were his only words, before being pulled out by a carbine holding Ghassani police officer.

One of the Kiravians rolled down a window and looked at what was to happen. In the distance was the smoldering wreckage of a cafe, obviously blown as a diversion technique. The man himself had been led to a nearby alleyway, where two soldiers were beating him with clubs. After a minute of this carnage, a gun shot blew the man away, and the screams murmured throughout the street. The police officers reboarded the vehicle following the limo, and the convoy continued.

After another twenty minutes passed with no incidents, they reached the Al-Harith Palace. As the driver opened their doors, they were completely flabergasted at what was laid out before them. The palace was so magnificent that it seemed to touch the clouds, and it was so beautiful gilden beneath the Ghassani sun. The doors were so wide they could accomodate an army to pass through, and there was gold everywhere.

'Greetings Kiravians, welcome to my home,' the Emir said once he opened the doors.

The Kiravians bow, shoulders touched in salute.

"Your Highness, we are extremely grateful that you have invited us.
The Kiravian reaches into his Kevlar vest and ramoves a shimmering form of metal. "Sir, this figure was shaped by our finest platinum-workers in the Colony of Iscova.

The platinum work was the flowing form of the word "Allah" writtent in Arabic calligraphy seven times, each instance of the holy name intertwined with the others.
"Consider this a token of the Empire's friendship."

"Ah..now I understand. Londinium rules, but the Ghassanis do have input. Our governate of Ifija operates in a similar manner. May I ask, Proconsul, what does Londinium consider to be a "colony"?"

"Simply put, an area under the permanent control of British Londinium not on the Home Island," Dominic said. "I'm afraid we don't have a particularly fancy definition."

"Oh. Kirav's colonies are defined as a country under Kiravian governmental control, governed as a department or otherwise of the Empire, and where Kiravians settlers are a significant portion of the population. This definition excludes Kirav, Kirverda, and the portions of Coscivia that we control. We also have governates, administrates, territories, dependancies, posessions, trust territories, mandates, protectorates, and other types of countries in our Empire. We find it interesting that so many nations have colonies. Before we opened up diplomatic contact, it was thought that we were the world's sole colonial empire."

"I see," Dominic replied. "And, mind you, colony is the most generic term. There are, naturally, various subdefinitions and whatnot, but the simplest way to define Ghassan is as a colony. Now, I understand that you wished to discuss Kiravian operations here."

"Yes, indeed, sir. As you've probab;y heard, the EMpire has sent a team of engineers to Ghasan to improve infrastructure. Mainly roads, water, irrigation, communications, and whatnot. They do have more ambitious plans, such as nitrogen-enhancement of cropland, and runoff recycling. We wonder wheather we require any special permissions, and if we could co-operate with Londinian engineers."

Near the Northern Ghassani Border
12 Hours after Contact Between Avisronian Agents and Rebels

Deep in the desert a camel stands near the top of a sand dune. Perched on top of the camel is its expert handler. The two had been privateers for the last few years. The handler knew the surrounding deserts like the back of his hand. A skill like this was extremely valuable in old world hellholes like this. In the civilized world the camel would be mounted with a GPS unit.

Suddenly, a crackle. The rider violently falls from the camel. Fractions of a second later the camel explodes in a shower of flesh and meat that would be the product of only one thing: A grenade.

A few minutes later a massive caravan of generic dune buggies pulling trailers stacked with tarp covered crates moved across the massive sand dune in a single file line.

This was the first shipment of Avisronian aid. Moments after the deal had been finalized it had left Avisron on a series of small, Regional Tactical Transport airliners. Due to Avisrons foreign policy and history of stealth based operations, the RTT was designed to be discreet. The Avisronian special forces had been deployed to a position in the anarchic lands to the north of Ghassan, and would soon be crossing into the country.

The shipment consisted of some 3000 AX-47 Battle Rifles, which were essentially guns produced from the open source design of the AK-47. Their upgrades included a much great effective range as well as a higher rate of fire. These two statistics essentially provided a platform that could be used in quasi-sniper attacks, while providing much improved close in capabilities.

Also included in the shipment was a portable command and control platform. It was to be set up at the warehouse and enable the Avisronian government to talk directly to their assets on the ground.

"Yes, indeed, sir. As you've probab;y heard, the EMpire has sent a team of engineers to Ghasan to improve infrastructure. Mainly roads, water, irrigation, communications, and whatnot. They do have more ambitious plans, such as nitrogen-enhancement of cropland, and runoff recycling. We wonder wheather we require any special permissions, and if we could co-operate with Londinian engineers."

"No, no special permissions," Dominic said. "Simply submitting the plans to the Assembly is perfectly fine. And, as for cooperation, I'm sure our engineers would welcome your people - there's a lot of work to be done."

"Indeed there is. I don't have the plans myself, but I'll have the engineering team submit them. I still do not understand the conflict here fully. We do know that there is a schism between Westernization and Shar'iaht Law, but we don't know who's on what side."

al-Harith
People's Sovereign Londinian Dependency of Ghassan
0035 hours

A convoy of humvees cruised down the deserted streets of the Ghassani capital, escorted by row after row of Londinian soldiers. This was the best time to work for the Londinians, who had only arrived several days ago, and were still vulnerable to the deadly heat of Sol Invictus.

Red brake-lights began to flash as the cavalcade slowed to halt. From each vehicle emerged several members of the People's Corps of Engineers and a plethora of engineering supplies. As the hours passed, and as the engineers came closer to completing their labour, it became clear that a series of spartan public loudspeakers were being erected at street corners throughout the capital.

Early that morning, the people of al-Harith woke to the first ever use of the Public Awareness System.

"Attention, attention," they blared all across the city. "This is a test of the PAS, a project authorized by Proconsul Dominic Cremona. All inquiries should be directed to the Proconsular Office. Thank you for your time."

The Kiravian engineers followed the Emir through the ornate passageways of his palace. The same question was on each of their minds: Should they trust him? The Empire and the PSR did, and he seemed gracious enough to invite them for dinner. But why did that man warn against him?

Al-Harith
A Southern Apartment Complex
0600 hours

Rahir awoke to the first broadcast of the Public Awareness System. With a jolt, he pushed himself from his satin sheets, and prepared a glass of Ghassani coffee in his kitchen.

He watched the rising sun as it emerged and shone through his window. Admiring the beauty of his homeland, he watched as the people began to migrate from their homes towards the public transportation systems and their personal vehicles. He watched as children went into the streets for matches of football and for games of baseball.

After these scenes, he went back to the confines of his bedroom and reached for the cellular phone that was perched atop his cabinet. Dialing a number, and waiting as the line became secure, it was eventually picked up by an angry sounding man. It was his brother. Rahir spoke first.

'Brother, they have begun, and so shall we. Prepare our armies, and let this world know the fury that we shall show them. Ghassan shall eventually fall to us, and these invaders will burn at the torch. May Allah guide us in the coming months.'

When he was finished, Rahir hung up the phone, and proceeded back to his window, where he continued to watch his people.

-----

Al-Harith Palace

The Emir invited the Kiravians inside his house with a flick of his wrist, and when they came inside, they were immediatly met by the sounds and images of affluence.

The Emir's palace was so grand, that it was met with gasps by its new visitors. The ceilings were so high that they touched the heavens, and they were adorned with traditional Islamic caligraphy and geometric patterns. These patterns were made out of jewels and gone over with a burnished trim. The first room they entered was a simple foyer, but it was covered from head to toe with priceless statues and artwork that were displayed. There were also people congregated about, ministers and assistants who catered to the many men. The women themselves were all crowded into their own area, where they enjoyed simple appetizers and tea.

After venturing through this first room, the next was a great hall. This room was like the first in the fact that it was covered in artifacts, yet this room was noticeable for its windows that lined both sides. These windows overlooked the river and the city in the distance, which both looked stunning with the light that haloed around them. This room was more crowded than the first, and immediatly when they entered, they were greeted by a crowd of a hundred, all inquiring who these foreigners were. The Emir simply shook them off, and led his new allies to their seats at the table.

The Emir then called for everyone else to sit and wait for the food to be served. Besides the Kiravians were the Emir's myriad of daughters, each covered head to toe in gold and jewelry. And although they were partially clothed by their Islamic robes, they were obviously very beautiful girls. As it was in most cultures, the Emir had placed them there to ensure that the Kiravians show their support by marrying Ghassani women. As these women began speaking towards the Kiravians, the first course was served. The yogurt plate was passed to all, and the feast begun.

'Where is Kirav?' Spoke one of the prettiest daughters, directing her speech towards one of the engineers. 'Our father has told us nothing of your country or your people.'

But before an answer could be provided, one of the Kiravians was taken from his seat by a burly and broad shouldered Ghassani, who requested a private word with him.

After leaving the great hall, the broad shouldered man introduced himself as Dahmis, and took the man to a room that was a great distance from where the Kiravians were now sitting with the beauties.

'You do not know me, and for all purposes, you will forget me. I am nothing, and just a pawn in this country's war. The Emir is a brutal man, do not trust him. He does not even bother to bury his enemies anymore, he just pushes them into our rivers and our ravines. With every clearing of dust, the bodies number in the thousands. I am a member of the Ghassani Liberation Movement, and we wish your support in our war of liberation. If you do not reply, then we shall show your people no mercy. We wish you as allies as we conquer this world and proceed to change it into what it should look like. Make your choice brother, and then call this number. Your response shall change this war. Do not tell any Ghassani of this conversation, nor any Londinium. Do you understand?'

With a nod, he led the Kiravian back to the great hall, without another word being expressed between the two. Before parting, he placed a small slip of paper in the Kiravians hand, which had the outlines of a telephone number. As the Kiravian sat back down, he watched as the man was approached by an armed guard. Led outside, there came a muffled sound of gunfire. The guard returned, and resumed his stoic position. The guard did not even look towards the Kiravian who the man had been in company with.

One body floated down the river that night, and the corpse was seen by the Kiravians in the great hall. A decision would be needed in the coming day.

-----

The Ghassani Border
14 Hours After Contact With Avisron

As soon as the Avisronian agents entered the Ghassani border, they were met with swift resistance by the Ghassani Armed Forces. With this preemptive strike, the Ghassani government hoped to counter the aid for the rebels. But the armed forces were undermanned and underpowered, and as soon as they began the firefight, their positions were ambushed by rebel forces who had come to make contact with Avisron.

Once the enemy had been subdued, the rebels approached the Avisronian convoy, and began to transfer the weapons from the dune buggies into laden camels and other beasts of burden. Words were not passed between the two groups, although there was mutual respect and admiration between them. As soon as all the goods had been moved from one to other, the camels began to be transported from the area.

One of the rebels stayed back with a personal camel, and handed a note to the Avisronians that were still there. 'We wish for you to send troops and commanders as well to advise our men. If you wish to comply, then please meet our associate Saharn at this address in Al-Harith.'

And then the man saddled up his camel and moved off towards the sand dunes in the distance.

Consular Office
Aedifices Parliamentarii
Kensington, British Londinium

Dominic Cremona briskly walked towards Sir Alistair's office. He was quite nervous, having never met Consul Davidson personally. The young, beautiful, red-haired secretary outside the office smiled at Dominic warmly. "Mr Cremona, the Consul is expecting you. You may enter."

The Proconsul timidly opened the door to Sir Alistair's office, where the Consul sat behind a tidy, organized desk, sipping a cup of tea. Dominic couldn't help but notice the contrast between the cold, austere Consul and his arresting, kind secretary.

"Take a seat, Mr Cremona," Sir Alistair said. "This is your first time serving as a Proconsul?"

"Yes, yes, sir," Dominic replied.

"It shows," Alistair replied frigidly, rapidly deflating whatever confidence Dominic may have had. "From what I can tell from my Ministry of State Security agents within Ghassan, there seems to be a some sort of unrest in the north."

"Well, yes, sir, but it didn't seem statistically relev-"

"Every insurrection, regardless of size, is statistically relevant, Mr Cremona," Sir Alistair interrupted. "And it mustn't go unpunished. I shan't have a horde of unruly mujahideen running around in a protectorate so close to our Syrian colonies. Is that understood?"

"Y..y..yes, Consul," Dominic stammered. "Right away, right away."

"But I also see that the legions I dispatched there have gone to some use. Fortifying the coastal cities, if I'm not mistaken."

"Correct, sir."

"Then you aren't as provincially obtuse as I would have thought," the Consul said. It was as close to a compliment as he would get that day. "I expect that once you return to al-Harith, the rebellions shall be crushed."

"Naturally, sir, naturally," Dominic muttered as he left the room.

"I wouldn't worry about it, Proconsul Cremona," the secretary said as Dominic hurried out of the building. "He's like that to most people these days."

Near Hafiz, Southern Ghassan
Gahil Beach Resort

Harry Bowden, was a foreign tourist who was visiting Ghassan. He enjoyed American football and photography, and was majoring in Ghassani Affairs at the University of Southern California.

His girlfriend Amanda sat at the overlook and watched the beaches that stretched across the horizon. Harry himself was watching the international news, and commented on something about how Ghassani's famous cook was now a personal chef for the Londinium Procounsel.

Amanda leaned over the balcony, and watched as the pool began to fill up for the day with foreigners and tourists. She watched as a family sipped lemonade and smiled at one another, and before she could speak to her boyfriend, there was a knocking at their door.

Harry stood to answer it, but seconds before he reached for the handle, the sound of gunfire ripped through the wooden door, and rendered Harry's body full with bullets. Crying out to Amanda, his body staggered and then slumped down, dead.

Amanda, seeing this carnage, fled first to her closet, where she grabbed her passport and money. Gazing at her boyfriend, the shock was almost overwhelming, but as the attackers began breaking down the door, Amanda knew what she must do. Vaulting from their second story hotel room, her body hit the poolside hard, and her head smacked the concrete. As she went unconscious, she saw the family she had watched, their lemonade glasses now smashed against the ground.

-----

Al-Harith, Ghassan
Residence of Omiri Azaud

As soon as the phone rang, Omiri knew that it would not be good. His son was playing with a toy train in the same room, and Omiri ushered him out, along with his wife who had been preparing dinner.

'Omiri, we need to speak to the Procounsel.'

'He is out in Kensington, but you can speak to me.'

'There is a serious issue at hand. The rebels have taken hold of the Gahil Beach Resort near Hafiz. During these seasons, the resort is nearly full with foreign tourists. The rebels have already killed around a hundred of the resorts eight hundred denizens. They are threatening to kill the others, and they wish only to speak with the Procounsel,' the man said, with no emotion and with little emphasis.

'I will patch you through then. This is sorry news to hear,' replied Omiri, obviously shaken by the news.

And, when Dominic's phone rang, Omiri knew that the news would be overwhelming. He called his son back into the room, and held him, for he knew that dark days were coming.

Dominic Cremona sipped a vodka martini as he reclined in his aircraft seat, if only to soothe his nerves. After all, he had just experienced one of the most embarrassing meetings of his life.

Ugh, he thought. Can't believe that happened.

"Mr Cremona, there's a phone call for you," said his secretary, who had just entered the cabin. "It's quite important, as far as I can tell."

Dominic took the phone from her.

"This is Proconsul Cremona. What is it?"

**after the Kiravian is re-seated**

His comrades shoot him confused glances as Needleaf answers the Emir's daughter's question. "Well, Kirav is a few oceans away from Ghassan, on a continent called Northera. However, Kirav has many colonies that are much closer to Ghassan. It's much colder there, and mostly mountains and different types of forests. We do have a desert, the Surdánan, but it's more rock than sand."

Stoneplain, the Kiravian who had been contacted by the late Ghassani, looks around in bewilderment. He kept the telephone number jammed deep in his pocket, and the burly man's message deep in his mind.

Thayer addresses the Emir, "Sir, the architecture of your palace is impecable. It's more intricate, yet solid."


--

Ambassador Palmshade and his wife are in the Embassy basement. After the attacks on the Hariz resort, the Empire had ordered the Embassy personnel to get to the bomb-secure cellar of the Embassy. Kiravian and Ghassani soldiers were on watch within the compund walls.

Unidentified Airspace
Private Londinium Plane
Three Hours After the Seizure

'Procounsel, this is Corporal Bahif of the Ghassani Armed Forces, and I am currently the highest ranking officer at our military installation near the Gahil Beach Resort.'

He paused for a moment and waited for a second as he caught his breath. His words did not stagger though, and he remained calm and composed. This was the first time he had spoken to the leader of Ghassan, and he would make it worthwhile.

'The Resort itself has been seized by members of the Ghassani Liberation Movement. We have deduced that there are around two hundred armed fighters in the complex, with one hundred and seventy five serving as rifleman, and the remaining as anti-aircraft personnel. The resort itself we believe is home to around eight hundred, including its year-round staff. These men have already killed one hundred tourists, and are threatening to continue.'

He waited for a response, but none came, so he finished with what he dreaded the most.

'I am patching up a video to your assistant Procounsel, and it should play over your plane's private channel. If you need to reach me, then contact the Gahil Fort. For now, I must say goodbye, and may Allah grant us strength and perserverance.'

The phone call abruptly ended, and the video began patching through.

----Begin Transmission------------
---------Patching through....-------
------------20% buffered------------
---------------45% buffered----------
-----------------62% buffered----------
------------------87% buffered----------
-------------------Buffering Complete-----
--------------------Playing Video----------

The video was grainy, but indistinguishable. It showed a hotel lobby, that was crammed full of people. It was obviously the main lobby, as the vaulted ceilings and central dome were commonsight. The people numbered around three hundred, and it was easily understood that the others must be held in the other lobbies.

This main lobby overlooked the poolside, and while the lobby was on the second floor, the pool was on the first. The windows of the lobby had small alcoves that stretched out and overlooked the pool area. There were around five of these alcoves on the west side of the room, which were directly above the lounging and pool area.

Five of the hostages were led to their own alcove, and each was escorted by a single guard, each holding small handguns. Once these hostages had been placed at each alcove, trash bags were placed over their heads, and each one was shot with not a second thought. Once dead, their bodies were pushed over the edge, and a splashing was heard by the camera. This was nothing though, as the cameraman then approached the edge of the closest alcove.

There, below in the pool, were the bloated corpses, of the already dead one hundred tourists.

-----

The Al-Harith Palace

The Emir heard the praise and took it with great humility, but he could not help but watch one of the Kiravians who fidgeted in his seat. He watched as this Kiravian's fingers kept reaching towards his pocket, as if looking to make sure he had not lost something. The Emir told this to one of his guards, who would keep an eye on this man. But this feast should not be beligered by paranoia. No, he would hear nothing of it.

The daughter listened attentively, and her grin widened as the Kiravian spoke of his home with such ferver. When he had finished, she continued grinning, and when realized that he was done speaking, she looked at him and said, 'my name is Parisia. I am the Emir's third daughter.'

She then took the Kiravian and kissed him at both cheeks, which was customary when meeting a Ghassani. Then, she spoke once more. 'You do not have to recreate our country tonight, do you? Is there time for you to see our city with its celebrity?'

She smiled.

-----

Kiravian Embassy
Hours After the Attack

A scout sniper team had been placed on the room of the watchtower, the one tower that overlooked the embassy street of Al-Harith. The embassies themselves were becoming deserted, as helicopters blasted away from Ghassan, towards destinations safer.

This team was very unique, as the sniper was Ghassani, and his spotter was Kiravian. And although the two cultures were different, the essence of the mission was not. Both were military-bred soldiers, who would die for their homelands.

It was quiet where they were, no explosions or mortars, nor the sounds of gunfire in the distance. It was this which prompted the Ghassani to speak.

'In Ghassan, silence is the sound of the coming tide,' he said, smiling towards his counterpart as he loosened his finger on the trigger. The Kiravian said nothing in return, and so, the Ghassani spoke again.

'This place will fall, but your people will not see it so. You shall be evacuated, and you shall return to your homes to merry cheers and warm comforts. But we shall not. We shall remain here, and endure the suffering and pains of coup. You shall see the stories on your news, and you shall cry out towards the heavens to help, but you shall do nothing. You shall remain in your home with your cheers and your comforts. And we shall remain here, in the endless cycle of poverty and violence.'

He returned his finger to the trigger.

Al-Harith Palace

Needleaf smiles at his quite attractive hostess. "I would love to, ma'am, Shall we?"

Seafoam shoots him a don't-do-anything-stupid-or-we'll-end-up-like-that-guy-Stonefield-just-talked-to look.

--
The Embassy

The Kiravian spotter says to his partner, "A coming tide is the harbinger of a receeding one. Yes, suffering will come to Ghassan, but it will recover. No nation has reached greatness without suffering first. Kirav did not build its Empire until ethnic wars broke out and millions died from famine. Londinium would never have become the great nation it is now before Rome fell [OOC: BL, I'm assuming that's how your history goes, If I'm wrong, sorry.]. This must end someday, and when it does, Ghassan will be a nation greater than ever before.

Kiravian Embassy

The sniper listened as the Kiravian belted out his own wisdom. As he contemplated these words, a harsh silence fell over the embassies' grounds. The sniper sat in this meditation for some minutes, and then turned and faced the Kiravian again.

'Your logic is appreciated brother, but I cannot just accept it. We may become a great nation, but I shall never see it, and neither shall my sons, and perhaps even their own sons,' he paused, and then looked back at his rifle.

Without turning back he said one more statement, 'this is not your world Kiravian. You may understand our world in papers and in documents, but that is nothing like it is. We survive on violence, and our poverty is endless. There is no solving for these problems, especially in this nation. I wish for the end to these problems, but I realize, that this is to much for me to ask for.'

-----

Al-Harith Palace

As the two stepped out, the Emir nodded in approval. As he watched them exit, he signaled for five of his personal bodyguard to follow them out.

The feast continued, and it was merry. But there was a distinct demeanor among the Ghassani men. They were cheery around the Kiravians, but when they were alone in their corners, they became furtive and dark. It was a very creep atmosphere, but none of the Kiravians spoke up. There was still a body floating down the river, and none of the boat-men dared to look at its face.

Kiravian Embassy

"Aye, you are correct. This is not our world. Ours is a world of the State, where governments, policies, armies, colonies, settlements, and science is the way of life, and where order has been maintained by the investment of power to a single entity, the Empire, which is as much a part of our culture and daily life as the streets we walk. Greatness came to my world, the world of the State, through research and colonization, our way of life. Here, violence and poverty is the way of life, and through that, greatness will come. Violence will give power to whomever fights strongest, as will poverty. The only deciding factor is; Who will do so? It all relies upon that, wheather Ghassan shall rise up, or collapse in ash."
--
Al-Harith

Needleaf carries on conversation with Parisia. He told her of his home, and she of hers. She pointed out Al-Harith's best venues for food, entertainment, and architectural beauty, while Needleaf spoke of the medium-sized mountain city of Alpinefir, of its humble delights and eccentric inhabitants. Still, he coulld not elp but look beyond the mundane(yet quite pleasureful) conversation, and notice how strange this situation was, walking with the daughter of an Emir, who may or may not be on the side of the Empire, escorted by his security force, whom may or may not be hostile, through a city that had the aura of a war zone.
--
Al-Harith Palace

Icelake, the hydrotechnician, seated next to Stonefield, speaks to his colleague in High Coscivian, a complex form of Kirav's language that few Kiravians knew, let alone other people, and came in handy when one need not be overheard, "Well, what was that all about?"

"Same as the guy who blew up the café. Telling us not to trust the Emir, but this one gave me a phone number."

"We must report it to the Intelligence Secriat as soon as we can leave."

"Affirmative"

OOC: Ghassan, I'll make a response once this thing with Kraven finishes, as most of my troops are tied up in BL defending the country.

OOC: BL, would you like some help with this defencive war? We'd gladly assist.

OOC: If you've got troops to spare, I'd love some help.

I've got one legion that's unoccupied right now. Which thread should I use?

OOC: Will any forces be coming to Ghassan?

BL's probably spending the night with hell in the other rp, so I'll try to answer.

I judge not. Most of NS doesn't even recognize colonies and the like, besides, their target is Londinium proper. Moreover, the pact between you two was in the NationStates sub-forum, which no one reads, and you're not listed in BL's signature, so they probaly don't even know about you. You don't need to worry about being attacked by BL's assailants.

OOC: I meant will your forces be coming Kirav in order to combat the situation. :)

{Seeing as my spare legion is not going to Londinium, I'll gladly send them into Ghassan.]

The Imperial 34th Legion will arrive by ship to an undisclosed location near Al-Harith in 24 hours of its dispatch by the Imperial Senate.

Kiravian Embassy

Listening to the words of the Kiravian seated near him, the Ghassani nodded in approval. He had never really liked these newcomers, but this man was alright.

He was sitting there with the finger on the trigger when the orders came that the Imperial 34th Legion would be arriving to combat the threat, and he was unhappy to say the least when the news was given to the pair. He was unimpressed by the show of force, and was confident in his own people's abilities, but it seemed that the Western world believed differently.

And as the horizon came up and the ships began to arrive near the Al-Harith harbor, the man prepared for what he knew would come next.

-----

Gahil Beach Resort
Southwestern Ghassan

Saharn sat it what was the remains of the owner's office. The chair was plastered in a faux leather that felt warm against the Ghassani man's back. He was sitting there when he heard that the Imperial 34th Legion was arriving.

'Hopefully, they will realize who this country should belong to.'

And the madness continued.

-----

Near Al-Harith Palace

Parisia thought honestly that the evening had gone well. She was not often involved with the men of her father's choosing, but this one had seemed different. Unlike the Ghassani, this man was cultured, and she was very interested in his homeland and all she had heard about it.

The guards that were with her were mocking the Kiravian, and only she could have noticed it. This escort was not of normal soldiers, but of the Royal Guard, the Emir's chief security force. They were battle hardened units that had been born into warfare, and who would eventually die by gunpoint. Their rifle shots never missed, and they would gladly die for the Emir himself. It was even said that they were direct descendents of ancient warriors of Allah himself.

Parisia was now in the limousine with Needleleaf, and they were about twenty blocks from the Palace. The area around the Palace was populated by rich officials and their families, and this was the sector that they entered. It was here, that the bang was heard. It had been dark out, and from the shadows emerged at least twenty men. These were not liberators, nor soldiers, just mere thugs. One of the thugs though, was white, obviously a Londinium.

The limousine was quickly overcome, and the five Royal Guards tried valiantly, but they were cut down like blades of grass. Their blood filled the limousine, and the only people that were left were Parisia and Needleleaf. Parisia, reached for one of the soldier's carbines, and opened the door. Grabbing a hold of Needleleaf, she led him out, back towards the ghettos of Al-Harith.

Back towards the hellish poverty that enveloped these ghettos.

-----

Al-Harith Palace

The feast had almost concluded when the Emir heard the news. His daughter, the stunning Parisia, had been kidnapped, and the five men with her had been brutally slaughtered. And, unaccounted for, was a single Kiravian combat engineer.

Reaching towards his wine goblet, he knew what must be done. Pointing towards a few of his remaining soldiers, they acknowledged the order. Drawing their weapons, the Kiravians were quickly overrun. As they raised their hands, the Emir watched them cautiously.

'One of your men has aided in kidnapping my daughter. This shall not be forgotten, and for every death, comes another.'

The gunfire reigned, and one of the Kiravians slumped towards the ground. As the others were lead out of the room towards a damp chamber, they knew that this would not be good.

OOC: I hope all this is okay, if not, let me know and I will edit it.

OOC: The Kraven RP isn't taking up as much time as I expected, so consider this fluidtimed.

Proconsular Office
al-Harith, People's Sovereign Emirate of Ghassan

"General Cowden, let me make myself perfectly clear," Proconsul Cremona said minatorily. "This...uprising in the southwest is intolerable. I will not stand for part of my dependency in the hands of a provincial Islamist. I expect that you will eliminate these extremists with extreme prejudice."

"Are you ordering me, Proconsul?" General Cowden, bedecked in the formal black uniform of the Londinian Army, replied.

"Yes, yes, I am, General," the Proconsul replied with a sneer. "Your establishment was built to serve me. I suggest you get on it."

***

Gahil Beach Resort

A squadron of WAH-64 attack helicopters flew steadily towards the Gahil Resort, escorting several dozen Sikorsky S-92 transport helicopters, each loaded with around twenty Londinian combat soldiers. The S-92s set down half a kilometre away from the resort, giving the soldiers a secure place to unload and regroup before marching on the GLM-held retreat.

Near the Gahil Beach Resort

The scout noticed the S-92s as they landed, and he estimated that they were around a kilometer away from the current position of the Ghassani Army that were now stationed near the resort. The scout ordered that the Corporal be notified immediatly, that the Londiniums were coming to the relief of their forces.

When Corporal Bahif heard the news, he sent four of his men in a dilapadated humvee to the position where the Londinium forces had begun to regroup. As the vehicle approached, the Ghassani signaled to these new men, and motioned towards the Ghassani Army Forces camp that was only a kilometer to the west.

Escorting them there, the four men then left the Londinium forces near the tent of the Corporal.

'Welcome to the front brothers,' said the Corporal. 'Is there anything that I can provide for your mission? We have already set up temporary shelters with food and water in the western sector of the camp.'

Corporal Bahif looked at the men, and knew that things were now in motion that would change his country.

-----

Inside the Gahil Resort

Saharn knew that things were escalating in Ghassan. The Imperial 34th Legion were arriving, as were a strike force from British Londinium. He knew that he must do something decisive in order to make them at his mercy. He contemplated that if he did not do anything, that they would take control, and would offer him the ultimatum. He must do it differently.

As he called in one of his men, he knew that he would not like this decision, but it would be one that was necessary for his country.

'The bodies of the hundred. Nail them to the front that the Army camp overlooks.'

'Evacuate the hundreds, and whichever ones don't comply, kill.' Saharn said both orders quickly, and the man that had arrived nodded in approval.

Their waists bound to the walls with chains, the remaining Kiravians spoke in hushed tones in the dungeouns of Al-Harith.

"I still can't beleive they killed Crowston. I wasn't fond of him but still. These Muslims are crazy. They kill until there's no one left to persecute."

"Spoken like a true Lutheran, Avric."

Seafoam kicked in, "Shut up. He's got somewhat of a right to say that. Not that it's right, though. I've He was there during the Kaşrān massacre. His Lutheranism's nothing to do with it."

Stonefield changes the subject, "Well, we know not to trust the Emir now."

**reverant silence**

"You reckon we should say a few words in his name?" Seafoam asks.

"No, he wouldn't have wanted it, remember? He said that the concept of a 'soul' is primal."

"We've more important topics to discuss anyway."

"What'd that man give you Stonefield? If he's against the Emir, whoever he's working for would be a good person to know at this point."

Stonefield pulls out the crumpled paper. "A phone number. Reckon we...?"

"Aye," says Greenpine, "Hold on,...". Reaching into his Kevlar, which Crowston had refused to wear, and which their out-of-earshot guards had neglected to consider, he removes a thin silver phone. "I though we might need it. Dialing the number that had been so important that someone had died to deliver it, he calls their best hope.

[OOC: Ghassan, I'm guessing you intended to RP the part of whoever picks up the other end.]

--
The Ghettos of Al-Harith

As they walk briskly through the impovereished districts of the city, Neeldeaf asks, "What the hell was that?"
--
The Imperial 12th fleet hovers offshore from Ghassan, bearing the 34th legion aboard.

The commanders were awaiting Londinian instruction on where to land their forces to begin enforcing order in the towns and large villages that were breeding grounds for rebellion.

Near the Gahil Resort

"Corporal...Bahif, is it?," said Commander Aiken, leader of the Londinian strike team, replied. "Good to see the Ghassani military at work here. Got to tell you - these new BDUs are kickass, mate. I can barely feel the heat! Ah, but, anyways, I digress. We're going to need some building schematics, and your estimations of how many fuckin' quislings there are in there. Bloody ingrates."

He pointed to the group of commandos establishing a defensive perimeter at the front of the Ghassani camp.

"Now, I've got about two hundred and forty men here, but if we need more, just say the word, and I can get a regiment or two out here within an hour."

Near Gahil Beach Resort
Ghassani Armed Forces Forward Operating Base

Corporal Bahif moved as soon as Commander Aiken finished speaking. He handed the report of the complex to the Commander, which contained both the building schematics and the overview of the two hundred fighters holed up at the resort.

'Your forces should be adequate. I've got fifty here as well, and those two combined should be enough.' He stopped for a second, and used his binoculars to watch the building in the distance. 'As for strategy, my scouts have told me that the terrorists are divided into two divisions.'

Bahif led them over to a display-screen, which when pressed on, formed into the designs of the beach resort. Red dots signified the enemy forces, which were congregated into the western and the eastern areas of the resort. Hundreds of yellow dots were placed in rooms, and each hallway was monitored by another red dot.

'I propose that we send two strike forces, one to the western sector and one to the eastern. These two will be Londinium men, and a third force shall assault the hotel from the front, providing a diversion for the strike forces. This will allow them to have time to evacuate hostages and eliminate the guerillas with stealth.'


-----

Al-Harith Ghetto

Parisia led Needleleaf to a narrowway passageway, that was at best considered a dark alley. At the end of the alley was a iron-sealed door, which was almost impossible to be destroyed.

Parisia told Needleleaf to wait near the entrance, and then she knocked at the door, and a small mouth emerged from a slit on the door. Speaking briefly with this unnamed doorman, the door then opened with a creak, and Parisia urged Needleleaf to join her.

Upon entrance, they were met with the glaring eyes of twenty Ghassani men, all with holstered pistols and slung-over rifles. A distinct symbol was tattooed on each of their arms. It was the coat of arms of the Ghassani Liberation Movement, these were the liberators.

-----

Undisclosed Safehouse
Near Al-Farid, Ghassan

As the phone rung, the man at the desk knew exactly who it was. He was wearing the bottoms of army fatigues, and had an ammo belt slung from his shoulders. His shirt was a thin cotton blend, and it felt damp in this un-airconditioned safehouse.

'Do not speak Kiravian, for I know your story. You are in need of help, and you have realized what this country really is. Blood has been spilled, and you have seen it with your eyes, and for this I mourn for your loss. But a time will come when graves shall be formed, but this is not that day. You are in a prison, but there is a false.'

The phone was hung up abruptly.

-----

Emir's Secret Political Prisoner
Al-Harith Palace

It seemed to the Kiravians, that these words were riddles. As they pondered this, one of them noticed a loose stone. And another.

The Emir's Political Prison

"Look ,mates!" whispered Stonefield excitedly, "The stones in this corner aren't mortared down! They're loose!"

Icebay examines the stones closely,"Y'reckon that's what the bloke on the other end meant? False...entrance or exit? Like a Bolt Hole in clan castles?"

"I reckon it is!", said Greenpine.

"Hold it." orders Seafoam as Stonefield and Greenpine eagerly began to remove the petric camoflauge of their escape route,"We can't go now, they'll notice. But I've been observinge their watches. at about thirteen-hundred hours, they leave for the changing of the guard for 17 minutes. If we work quickly, we'll be able to escape. Also, I reckon we ought to speak in High Coscivian from now on, for secrecy."
--
Untraceable location in Al-Harith

Needleaf understood almost instantaneously who the men were, liberators. The same people that opposed the Emirate, and most likely, he thought, the Proconsulate governments. But why then, would they be accepting him in? He was obviously Kiravian, from a nation whose Empire seemed to be leaning towards the Emir and his policy. Was this an attempt to sway him and thus the Empire towards their cause as two men had tried to do earlier? If it was, then it was working.

--
3 nautical miles from the South Ghassani Coast

Legionant Fjordis Gemforest sits in his temporary command center aboard the assault carrier I.N.S. Templar.

"We need instructions from the Proconsular government before we make landfall, Commander. I don't care how long it takes, we're not going to land forces on Londinian soil, er.., sand without express permission. If necessary, we'll head back to the Erinava colony to resupply. Lieutenant, get me a troop roster to send the PSR.

1,000 general operations personnel

1,000 Infantry personnel
-250 light
-250 medium
-100 heavy
-150 mechanized

35 standard Imperial War Engineering tanks
-175 cavalry personnel

10 COST(Combat, Ordinance, Support, and Transport) helicopters
-25 pilots, crewers, and warrant officers

300 mechanics, technicians, medics, groundcrewmen, specialists, and support staff.

155 jeeps

TOTAL: 2,500 troops

OOC: British, I am waiting for our joint attack to post, so its you first :)

total and utter bumpage

I'm not one to bump, but it is necessary here.

OOC: Agh, too many RPs. Ghassan, I'm sort of vaguely busy at the moment; would you mind RPing both of our forces?

BL, could you send a few instructions to my fleet? It shouldn't take long, and their beginning to get seasick, lol.

>>>auth code DOMCREM£ßå¥
>>>decrypt key VXCTWQ*912
>>>transmission commences below

>>TO: Kiravian Naval Forces
>>FROM: Office of the Proconsul, People's Sovereign Extraterritorial Dependency of Ghassan

>>Please direct all available forces to seal off the Gahil Beach Resort town. Be advised that your authority over all civilians in the area is granted by Proconsular Order XII. You are instructed to punish individuals opposing or failing to support your forces with extreme prejudice, and to give neither quarter or mercy to any members of the rebel movement you discover.

>>>doc serial #1042 - verify with records
>>>transmission ceases

Onboard the I.N.S. Templar

"Right, men. We've got the orders. Set a course for Gahil. I want the frigates and gunships to create a perimeter to seal of the sea route. Get the landing ships unloaded, 30 men on each, we'll start with Heavy Infantry. Get blastboats to escort the landers. Our first objectiv eis to create a perimeter and gain some defencibel ground to set up a shore base. Clear? Battle stations!"

A rush of activity ensued. Soldiers changed from the dark green duty uniforms and greentone Temperate Vegetation FOU's and into the tan and brown Desert BDU's and ACU's. The armouries were dispensed, and troops assembled. The tanks were fueled and supplies loaded. The fleet moved into position around the small bay. On Gemforst's orders, the bay doors of the Assault ships give way to seawater as the Landing ships come forth from the wet-hold.

Escorted by the blastboats, the landing teams met no resistance. A mine-clearing round of artillery was fired to assure safety on the beach, and the operation began. Men charged from the armoured bows of the Landers, weapons drawn, and flying the four-pointed star of the Empire. They ran up the sandy shore and set up positions in the dunes. "Area secure. We're clear for delivery of artillery and reinforcements. Once we've done recon on the foreground, we'll signal to you to land the others and set up a fortification.", an NCO radios to his superior aboard the Templar.

"Excellent work, Blackriver. We'll send boats with artillery and men to you shortly"

b'umped

OOC: Post is coming tomorrow, got swamped at work.

I feel for ya man.

Gahil Beach Resort
Operation Delat-Blockade

Strike force Omega moved silently through the towering palms that lead to the Gahil Beach Resort. Omega Leader Fadih Salas was commanding thirty other Ghassani Special Forces soldiers through the foliage, and when he finally came upon the resort, he held his hand up. The troops behind him stopped in unison.

Fadih was not from here, and this was his first test as Omega Leader. As he waited in the brush, he knew that the Londinium forces were amassing on the western and eastern sectors. With a hand firmly on his rifle, he reached for his binoculars. He raised them towards the resort.

There were a myriad of soldiers that sat at the entrance, along with two unclassified armored vehicles. Fadih also noticed the three snipers atop the main entrance, their eyes distracted and their rifles unmanned. Fadih motioned for five of his own snipers to climb the trees around them, and prepare their weapons. Two of the demolitions experts also prepared to the left of him, and the rest were preparing their own strategies.

Once they had been set, Fadih uttered a single command over the secured line between the Ghassani and the Londinium forces. In a manner of seconds, a breach could be heard, and the soldiers at the main entrance were alert and jolted. Fadih was the first to emerge from the forest outside the resort, as sniper rounds bolted past and anti-armor explosives blasted on either side. Fadih too, raised his weapon, and unloaded it in the direction of the enemy. It was a strange feeling being there, and as he slid into the designated cover, he was thankful to be alive.

-----

Al-Harith Ghetto
Undisclosed Complex

As Parisia entered with Needleaf, the men stopped what they were doing and immediatly set their eyes on the new visitor. Parisia noted the hostility in the room, and she could sense the confusion in her companion. Raising her hand towards her countrymen, she nodded in her head in respect and veneration. After completing this, she moved towards one of the men, who was missing a left arm and had a gash below his right eye.

Speaking in traditional Ghassani Arabic, she obviously argued with the man, motioning towards Needleaf on multiple occasions. The man seemed stubborn, with a very determined policy of ignoring her. After what seemed like eternity, he eventually responded, barking at her in their harsh language. She was taken aback, but when he had completed, she turned the tables on him. The other men were whispering and looking at Needleaf, but none of them approached him.

This went on for around ten minutes, and eventually Parisia retreated back to her Kiravian ally. She did not detail him what the conversation entailed, but instead, moved towards a corner where an armchair was. She sat down gracefully, and proceeded to look as content as she was before her verbal battle.

The man than moved forward, addressing the Kiravian. "Hello. My name is not important, for neither am I. My wounds tell the story of our oppression, which has increased with this new authority. We are labeled as murderers and cutthroats, but we are not. We are nothing, and our stories shall not be remembered."

He paused, looking uncomfortable, and then continued.

"We are the silent, the phantoms of this world. We are the ones whose bodies float in war, and those who are massacred at the onset of genocide. Our majority means nothing, for we do nothing with it."

"That is, until this day. We shall not take this anymore. We shall rise up amid our conquerers and shall meet their blades with our own. But we cannot do this alone. We need to be guarenteed your help."

He offered out his hand, a simple gesture of the most dire realism.

------

Room 203
Gahil Beach Resort
Registered to Steven Gaugn

The first breach shook the entire resort, and Steven Gaugn lurched with it. He was inside the room that he had purchased with five others, including his wife and their four children. The fifth was a housemaid, that had been cleaning the adjacent room when the attack had commenced.

Steven moved towards the window, which on some mornings had let in the Ghassani sun, and looked outside. His view overlooked the entrance of the resort, and the small outlying forestry. There were Ghassani Armed Forces men moving from the forest, and he could hear their bullets smash against the walls of the resort.

Then, there was a knocking at the door. Three men came in, brandishing guns and pointing them at Steven. As he backed away, they shot one of his children, and the others screamed in protest. His wife, tried to reach for one of the men, but another got her as well. Dumping these two casualties out the window, the men exited leaving the four huddled and terrified.

-----

Outside the Gahil Beach Resort
Omega Team's Progress

As Fadih gazed over his protective barrier at the ongoing fight, he noticed the slumping of two bodies over a railing. As they fell to the ground, he realized how this was spiraling out of control.

Gahil Beach: Kiravian Front

With a shore position secure, the heavy infantry and mechanized units prepared to strike. The Theists and Christians repeated prayers of old, the Pagans held meditative poses in contact with the Earth, and the Universalists and Sikhs sang songs of glory. It was Kiravian custom to pray before battle, to assert one's devotion to God or Gods or whatever else before dying an honourable death in battle, if that was their fate.

Then it began.

Artillery emplaced on the beach behind the dunes sent hunks of metal into the resort walls, sending splintered stone about in their wake. A modernized catapult hurled a large propane grenade towad the fortification. after several minutes of bombardment, the wall was reduced to sand, and sand it would remain, until the Earth Lords that some of the Pagan soldiers worshipped, or the geological phenomena that the Theists acknowledged, would meld them into sandstone once more, millions of years later.

The soldiers charged, the Quadrine Star flown proudly above their heads. Weapons blazing, they flooded into the resort, pounding buildings with gunfire. Snipers picked off some of the valiant Imperials, but soon they themselves were dispatched by vengeful Kiravians. Enemy warriors could be heard gathering in the distance. "Gahil Forward Command Centre, we need light and Tanks. Now."

But a white flag flew from behind the building. The Imperial troops lowered their weapons. A gnarled but strong Ghassani warrior came to them. "Kiravian. The Emir has betrayed you. A man from your engineering team is dead, another was attacked, and has pledged to assist us. THe rest of them were imprisoned by the Emire but escaped with our help. They are safe with us now. You must help us. We hold your men hostage not. But still, the Emir is an evil man. He killed a Kiravian in cold blood. He has killed countless of us. What do you say?"

The NCO in charge though about it, then remembered how to handle this from his training. He knew them well, so was particularly adpt at this manuver.

"What are the names of the men?"

"Seafoam, Thayer, Greenpine, Longbranch, Crowston, Stonefield, Needleaf, Treefield,..."

"Good enough. Who was killed?"

"Crowston"

"Which one is blond?"

"Treefield"

"What does Thayer's accent resemble?"

The Ghassani was not well-traveled and struggled with this," Erm.... Those crazy island people that call themselves fruit and add a "Y" to the end of everything?"

"New Zealanders. Correct."

After a few minutes of arguing and discussing the matter, from Gahil, to the Templar, all the way back to Kartika, the result came back: "The Empire has decided to back you and your cause. However, going against Londinium could mean the death of every man, woman, and child, Dolphin and Human, in every colony, province, and homeland, in the whole Empire."
--
Al-Harith Ghetto

Needleaf processed the man's words. Reluctantly, he concurred. Nothing, these men were, hiding in the shadows of this arid city, waiting to make their stand, to take their substance, to become something. They were liberators. Against the Emir. So far, Kirav was nto for nor against the Emir, as far as he knew. But these people had provided him refuge, albeit reluctantly. Under any Foreign Policy code he could think of, that made them an ally of the Empire. He gave his hand, "Sir, you have it."
--
The Emir's Political Prison

The guards were changing. The desperate Kiravians removed the last stone from the cell floor to reveal a pit. Thayer tossed a piece of dried MRE meat into it, to test its depth. "Not too deep. Maybe 7 feet." One by one, they descended into it. Seafoam and Longbranch strectched to replace the stones. Using the light from Grenpine's communicator, they navigated a long twisting tunnel. It could have been a few yards, or a few miles, they could not tell. All that concerned them was speed. They needed to exit before their guards figured out what had transpired in their absence. It brought a smile to Seafoam's face thinking about the Emir's thugs wracking their brains over the traceless dissapearance of the Kiravians. Longbranch looked into the distance, noticing something he alerted his comrades, "Not to be proverbial, but I see light at the end of the tunnel." They approached the luminous glow. It was indeed the end of the tunnel. A dead end. A light hung down from the roofing of the passageway, illuminating a faint scrap of paper hanging from its edge. Stonefield read it, struggling a bit with the Arabic. "It says, 'Speak your reason for being here'".

Longbranch took the oppurtunity, "We flee the Emir's political prison. Our friend was killed by the Emir, and another presumably captured. We seek shelter and consul on our next action. We were led here by a man, a man at," Stonefield repeated the phone number, "..yes, that number. He told us how to find this place"

Nothing happened. Then, one Kiravian notice something. "The stone at the tunnel end is beige, but the walls, floor, and ceiling are tan!" As if on cue, the beige wall rotatedon an axis. flooding the passageway in light. A Ghassani man stood at the entrance, beckoning to them.

Gahil Beach
Kiravian Front

As soon as the Kiravian had spoken these warnings, the minds of the Ghassani men were filled with sickening images. They were the liberators of their country, and wished that no atrocities would be encountered on account of their actions. If any Kiravian casualty came as a result of their war for freedom, the Ghassani Liberation Movement would be a failure.

When they were contemplating these thoughts, the distant explosions near the entrance of the resort came as reminders. The Ghassani man that had spoken previous now approached the Kiravian front. He was haggard and his face bore the scars of torture. The pain in his eyes spoke for the countless generations before him.

The Ghassani lead the Kiravian forces into the beach resort, through an area that was nearly unmanned and out of the range of the Londinium forces. Therefore, if the Kiravians felt they needed to evacuate quickly, they could do so, with little interference from the Londinium forces.

The Ghassani took a few of the Kiravian commanders and took them through the actual resort, towards the charred remains of the owner's offices. On the way they passed countless hotel rooms that were patrolled by Liberation soldiers and filled with government-aligned prisoners. The worst site came near the pool area, where hundreds of corpses had been dumped from the windows that overlooked it.

When the caravan reached the owner's office, they noticed that it had been blown into, and that the tinders and splinters of the room were all that was left. The remaining Liberation guards informed them that the room had been mortared, and that the Liberation leaders had moved into the secondary offices. Fortunatly, the secondary offices had not been attacked yet, and the primary bombings had halted as the Liberation forces had annihilated the first strike forces that came to the building.

Surely the Londinium officers in charge would not be jovial, since many of their soldiers on the western and eastern sectors had already been killed, and a few taken as prisoners. The Ghassani man lead them to the secondary offices, and the scene in their was just as gruesome.

A camera surrounded by Ghassani crews was filming one of the Ghassani Liberation leaders with a Londinium corporal prisoner. The prisoner had been stripped to his basic fatigues, and had a bag placed over his head. The Liberation leader was stoic, and was speaking towards the camera in traditional Ghassani Arabic.

With a cough from their Ghassani guide, the Kiravian forces were introduced to the leader, Saharn. Giving them each a cup of Ghassani coffee, the man waved off the film crew, who took the prisoner as they exited. Saharn then motioned towards a large table, where he sat, along with the Kiravians and a few Liberation commanders.

Saharn looked at them squarely, and expected their answer to the question that he had continually asked of them, "Shall you aid us?"

And he knew that the repurcussions from the Londinium forces would be swift, but their Fifth Civil War was toiling hard on them, and they would not notice a few Londinium casualties in the distant lands of Ghassan.

-----

Al-Harith Ghetto

Parisia smiled as Needleaf shook hands with the Liberation commander. The commander himself was delighted, and the other soldiers in the presence clapped in approval. Their faces remained taut and stony, embattled in fear and tension.

Then, unexpectadley, another door opened beneath them, exposing a miniscule Ghassani that spoke very quickly in Arabic to the commander. The midget then climbed out from the cellar, and was followed by a few Kiravians. The Kiravians, once exposed, noticed Needleaf and were equally optimistic. As they exchanged their foreign greetings, the Liberation commander recieved a phone call.

"Your forces have arrived, and are amassing in the Gahil Beach Resort with the Liberation forces already present. It comes soon the day of reckoning, and I am glad to be fighting by your side," were the words that he said once he had finished the phone call.

"A helicopter is being prepared to evacuate us to a safer location, as this may soon be overrun with government and pro-Londinium forces. You are welcome to come with us Kiravians, or go to your people. But I fear that you shall never make it across this country without being killed" And he walked up a staircase, one that led to the helipad.

-----
OOC: Again, I am sorry for the inactivity, but I promise that this will become active again. I will be able to post more frequently here, so let us continue with all parties involved.

Gahil Beach, Kiravian Front

"Indeed we shall. You have helped our citizens, and now we shall help yours. This war will end in a free Ghassan and a dead Emir. And 2,000 Kiravians will fight to make it so. We pledge our honour to your cause. What is your battle plan?"
--
Al-Harith Ghetto

Stonefield spoke, "We will accompany you. The Embassy is probably either evacuated or destroyed by now, and I agree, this place must be fled from. We are proud to fight alongside you as well. May Allah guide us."