NationStates Jolt Archive

The Glorious Russian Empire has decided to pursue her manifest destiny. Within the month 8,000 cavalrymen will charge across the Ural Mountains, across the Russian border, and into the uncivilized wilderness. There, in Siberia, they have been given orders to subdue any and all native resistance though we expect there shall be little. The native population there is small and divided between local ties and alliances. We, the people of Russia, will unify these Siberian tribes under one banner, ours. We will bring civilization, culture, and our advanced technology to these backwoods regions. We wish to make it clear Russia has no intention of conquering all of Siberia -- yet --. Instead we plan to make a small invasion of the border regions.

OOC: Once I figure this stupid uploading picture thing out, I'll upload a picture of the area I intend to invade. Does anyone have any idea why it might not be working?

The Glorious Russian Empire has decided to pursue her manifest destiny. Within the month 8,000 cavalrymen will charge across the Ural Mountains, across the Russian border, and into the uncivilized wilderness. There, in Siberia, they have been given orders to subdue any and all native resistance though we expect there shall be little. The native population there is small and divided between local ties and alliances. We, the people of Russia, will unify these Siberian tribes under one banner, ours. We will bring civilization, culture, and our advanced technology to these backwoods regions. We wish to make it clear Russia has no intention of conquering all of Siberia -- yet --. Instead we plan to make a small invasion of the border regions.

OOC: Once I figure this stupid uploading picture thing out, I'll upload a picture of the area I intend to invade. Does anyone have any idea why it might not be working?
OOC: I would suggest posting a link to the picture, rather than the picture itself. Imageshack (http://www.imageshack.us/) is a good site to use to host a picture.

OOC: I would suggest posting a link to the picture, rather than the picture itself. Imageshack (http://www.imageshack.us/) is a good site to use to host a picture.

OOC: Thanks No Taxes.

EDIT: Okay, here is my area of invasion: http://img145.imageshack.us/my.php?image=mapqk3.png

The heat stung at the back of Ivan's neck relentlessly. He lowered his head over his horse and let sweat drops roll off his nose onto his saddle. What a wasteland the young prince thought. He looked up at the rows of guards surrounding him and the deselet steppe landscape. Here he was, joint heir to the throne of the Russian Empire, sweating like a horse in the middle of this no-man's-land. Dmitri, the head of his guard force was two horses ahead of the prince, a look of uncertainity on his face. His mood was reflected in the faces of every man in the party. Where were the fifteen scouts they had dispatched that morning to clear the road for the prince? They were suposed to have arrived back at least an hour ago. The anxious faces of the men at his side did little to encourage the prince.

"Ah, here they are!" Yelled one of the younger guards, Malkov. He gestured off to the west. Across the flat shimmering horizon of the late afternoon they could see several men on horseback riding towards them.
"Bet they found a caravan of wine and had themselves a good afternoon." Laughed Malkov. The prince squinted again, looking at the dark shapes galloping towards them... almost charging at them.

"Run, get out of here!" Yelled another guard, Alexie. With that the prince was hustled by Dmitri to the east.

"Come, we must go." Shouted Dmitri. Ivan looked back at the horsemen, they were now yelling in a strange language and whirling swords above their heads.

"Kazakhs!" Shouted Alexie from behind.

"Protect the prince!" Yelled another man. Now Ivan was speeding away from his baggage train, laden with gifts from the Dalia Lama of Tibet and the butter tea he loved oh so much. The Kazakh horsemen had closed in on the baggage train and were killing any men who had stayed behind to defend it. They greatly outnumbered the Russian troops. Dmitri yelled then reached for the princes' reigns from his own horse and tugged them. The prince came to a screeching halt and he almost toppled off his horse. He looked up. Twenty or thirty more Kazakh warriors, both on foot and horseback were coming straight at them now. They were trapped, encircled.

Instinctively the prince spun his horse around and charged headlong for the south. His thoughts raced. How had this happened? It must have been the Tatar scout he admitted into his party, Dmitri had warned him about trusting him. He was the swiftest rider in the kingdom, Ivan had thought he might have been able to impress the Lama with his riding. Or perhaps his body slave, Sajib who had come from Morrocco. Surely he would profit from the prince's demise. He looked back and what he saw cleared Sajib's name. The slave and his donkey were slummped side by side on the ground as horses' hoofs kicked up dust across their bodies.

This is not the way the prince was meant to die. The heir to the Russian throne. He supposed to be at the side of his father, the tsar. Or with his wife and newborn son, Ivan VI. Not like this. He still had to kill his brother Peter so he could take the throne for himself. He still had to enslave the boyars so he would have full power of the kingdom. He still had to teach his son to ride. So much had not been done. So much had -- and then all went black. The prince slumped over his horse, an arrow sticking out of his spine. Then he toppled to the ground. He shot a dying glance backwards. Dmetri had a pistol in each hand and was firing at the oncoming warriors. Then a Kazakh spear ran him through. He saw Malkov fall from his horse and watched a man wielding a spear finish him off. He faced foward again. Alexie was charging foward, bleeding out of his right cheek. What had happened? What had gone wrong thought the prince. Then he heard a Kazakh man yell something, then watched two horsemen pursue Alexie. He could hear hoofs running off, back towards the baggage train in search of loot. He felt a sword prick him in the side and a beed of blood came out of him. Then he succumbed to the pain in his spine. He died then and there.

OOC: This doesn't have anything immediate to do with the Siberian campaign but you'll see where this RP is headed.

Dmetri Malovich sat starring over the frozen tundra of Siberia. His calvalry troop had encountered no native resistance since they had crossed the Urals. He had left his second-in-command in charge of setting up defensive positions in Tara, Tobolsk, Mangayeza, and Yeniseysk. The native populace had jumped at the oppurtunity of working the garrisons in these new forts.

Dmetri had left the camp now. He had personally requested a group of Nenet guides take him to take him north to the Gulf of Ob. He wanted to see the frozen Artic Ocean. Turning back towards the frozen water he looked on silently. It amazed him life could exist in such a barren, frigid land. He looked back south, the way they had come. A single dark figure was moving rapidly towards them, they had been watching him for over an hour as he approached. He was close now.

A reindeer led sleigh was flying over the ice towards them. As it got with in ear shot the driver yelled,

"The prince is dead! Ivan is dead! Killed by Kazakhs! The prince is dead!"

Dmetri could barely hear the man over the blistering wind but he could make out the key words he had been yelling. He ran through the snow towards the sleigh.

"What has happened?" Yelled Dmetri.

"Prince Ivan was killed by a band of Kazakhs while returning home from Tibet. The tsar suspects they were working for local princes. I've been looking for you for days. The entire empire is in uproar. They demand Kazakh blood. You have orders to wrap up this campaign and move into the land of the Kazakhs to reinforce Peter I, brother of Ivan. His father has sent him there with 17,000 pikemen, 15,000 musketeers, 3,000 cavalry, and 120 cannon pieces. He needs your help. You must crush whatever resistance remains here and move on to aid the prince." The messanger paused.
"God knows why the tsar even wants this wasteland..." He paused again. "I must return now, you have your orders."

"Yes thank you." Dmetri shouted over the howling wind which whipped snow into every exposed piece of his body. "We must make for camp."

As far as Dmetri knew the Siberians planned no resistance but he needed a final battle to solidify the victory. He had heard rumors the Tatars inhabiting the far southern regions of Siberia, near Central Asia were unhappy about the presence of Russian troops and might have even begun to rally soldiers to their cause. He would have to look there for his battle.

"Take me to my army." He shouted.

OOC: Why do you not move into Kazashkstan due to it being more fertile?

OOC: I have two seperate invasions going. I invaded Siberia first. Then my prince was killed in Kazakhstan so I invaded there too. Then I needed reinforcements from the Siberian invasion (which was nearly over), so I redirected my Siberian calvarly to Central Asia.

Peter sat in his Central Asian camp. The dry autumn weather nearly choked him. He took a swig of water from his animal hide sack. He looked out to the north-west and watched the black blurs move towards them across the horizon. For the past hour he had sat and watched Dmetri Malovich's cavalry reinforcements move across the steppe and get steadily closer to them.

Another three hours passed. Peter was still sitting on the same log which sat beside the previous night's firepit. Maloviches troops were beginning to stream into the camp.

"You." Called Peter. A man who had been rumaging through a sack of personal belongings looked up.

"Yes, m'lord?" Said the soldier.

"Bring Dmetri Malovich to me." Responded the prince. The man stood up and headed over to a group of men on horseback. Peter threw his curly black hair back and looked up at the hot, cloudless sky. He wiped the sweat from his brow and looked back in the direction the soldier had run off. A tall, skinny man was walking towards him. He had rough facial features and a scar across his upper lip.

"Sir." Said Dmetri and he saluted. Peter continued to look him up and down, not responding.

"My father speaks highly of you." Said Peter, after a long pause. "It's good to finally meet you."

"Thank you, sir." He said.

"How did you finally subdue the Siberians?" Asked Peter.

"Well, we searched the country looking for a decsive battle, one that would end any resistance that might spring up the second my troops left but the Siberians seemed eager to help us. They liked the oppurtunity of serving in our local garrisons. Then we decided to dry the deep south, Tatar country you know. They had some modern technology and horses. And they were none to happy about our presence in the region. Word reached us they were trying to mount some resistance. We met them in the south of the country, nearly 1,300 of um, mostly mounted like us. They had managed to fool about six or seven hundred local Siberians into serving with them as well. We met in a massive cavalry charge which was an instant victory for us. Then they moved in on us with infantrymen, carrying spears and pikes. So we were at a disadvantage, being entirely mounted and all. But those Siberians weren't warriors. A couple hard charges forced them into a frenzied retreat which only served to muck up the Tatar lines and cause confusion among our enemy. After about three hours of fighting they broke and fled. We pursued and cut down as many as we could find. Then we came straight here, like you ordered."

"Casualities?" The prince asked.

"About five hundred out of the 8,000 we set out with." The general responded.

"Excellent," said the prince, "you've done well for your nation." He paused and took another sip of water. "I have a job for you." He paused again and then continued. "I need you to take command here while I go to Tehran."

"Tehran?" Asked the general, clearly confused.

"Yes, I'm going there to meet and wed my bride, an Indian princess. And while I'm gone I need you to continue the fight here. We've encounted little resistance so far. Each local prince keeps claiming they had nothing to do with it. The last prince we met with let our army into his city without even trying to resist us. I've heard rumors that a boy named Prince Muhammad al-Bahn is building an army near the Aral Sea. He is foolish and brash, those who follow him have no faith in him as a leader, they rally around him only because he is the only hope they have to live in a non-Russian Kazakhstan. I hear he has roughly 11,000 strong. I want you to crush him before he gets anymore support. He doesn't have many muskets and only a handful of cannons. Batter him with our superior firepower then finish him off with troops. I will take my leave tonight. From here on in, you're in charge."