NationStates Jolt Archive

JENRAK
Central Nakros Ishrii News Network

Recently, Jenrakian city state of Nakros Ishrii leading House Leader Diana Seere has made further plans for Nakros Ishrii's independence. After the Freedom of Civil and Political Speech Rights' Act was passed by King Miriana Treyuko, the need to separate from the mainland to form an independent state has been on top of Mayor Seere's agenda. Recently, she has said,

"The Ishrii people want to be recognized as the Ishrii people, not just a Jenrakian shootoff. We want to become our own independent state, hoping that we can follow the footsteps of our Jenrakian motherland to provide a better future for our people." Seere said.

Miriana Treyuko, the current king of all 97 City States of the Jenrakian Empire, expressed disapproval for the city's desire to separate. "The city of Nakros Ishrii is not capable of appropriately detaching themselves from the Jenrakian infrastructure. Perhaps, one day in the future it may be a realistic goal, but right now it is too harmful economically and socially for any city state to separate."

Miriana Treyuko has also said that although he does not want to, economic pressure and political pressure will be applied should things get out of hand. Diana Seere has not made a reply statement.

END

A reported only sat down with another man across from her, smiling brightly and appropriately as all reporters should. She carried a set of long wavy blond hair, smiling toothily as she wore a plump figure, retaining somewhat of a baby face as her eyes swam in an emerald sea. Her bosom was wrapped in a cherry red suit, a clipboard in her hand as across from her in a different couch was a shorter, much older and silver haired man with a thick, grizzly mane of a beard. He sat in a crisp suit, his shirt tucked neatly as he sat, looking across at her.

The camera panned out, revealing the two sitting across from each other in a fair distance, though still in conversation distance. Upon the screen, the letters Evening with Linda Krane were visible in brilliant and sparkling ruby colored letters, fading off gently before the clapping in the background died out to a slow draw. She smiled at the screen, her information panel popping up at the bottoms. "Today on Evening with Linda Krane we've got a special guest here, one of the university of Nakros Ishrii's political professors, Mr. Hrhraen Jenis." She said, as the clapping resumed.

"Thank you, thank you." The man said with a wide, ecstatic wave. "Thanks for inviting me here, Linda." He chuckled slightly. Linda chuckled as well.

"Now, Mr. Jenis, obviously the hot spot of the day today is the political move made by mayor Seere. Obviously she herself wants to free Nakros Ishrii from Jenrakian rule, though Lord Miriana is obviously against that. Why side are you on?"

"To be honest, Linda, I'm actually on Miriana's side." Jenis said. Linda was quite surprised.

"Why do you think so?"

"Well, Jenrak is still a monarchy and for the past 7,000 or so years we have always been oppressed either by our own kings or other kings. Now, only recently, Miriana of the 97 Crowns has given the 97 Cities of Jenrak their free reign to free speech and political elections. It's an unprecedented move of leniency on Lord Miriana's part, though obviously we see some issues right here. The need to separate as an independent state, I believe, is quite naive."

"Why do you think that? Personally, I believe that an independent state could be a good stepping stone of a possible self-functioning nation."

"Ah, but what about the motherland economy? The loss of one of the city states is a strong blow to both the city's economy and the country's economy. Because after all, there's country overhead and overhaul, legal matters regarding property, border agreements and water control, as well as property that is still Haasdra's but within the city. Moving all that would be crippling to the tiny nation state that could form."

"Wouldn't the government provide that?"

"Why should they? The objects are Jenrakian property, but refusing to move things would warrant an objective amount of lawsuits that could damage the city itself. If the city did reach independence, they'd have to ship all the things out of Nakros Ishrii and back to Haasdra. That includes military equipment and foreign embassies. That would only strain political connections too."

"Shouldn't it be logical to assume that the trade routes are still active, though?"

"Should Nakros Ishrii adopt a tariff system, then Jenrak sees no reason to trade with a nuisance nation. Dollar per dollar for this operation of independence is much more expensive than say, a war."

"Why is that? I thought wars would be fairly costly."

"Well, Nakros Ishrii makes around 20,000 average salary. There are 5 million within Nakros Ishrii right now who are employed, so that means there is a gross amount of 100 billion dollars per year, not including corporate sponsorships and military funding as well as foreign salaries. That means almost a couple trillion dollars are shipped between Jenrak and Nakros Ishrii per year. Losing on a couple trillion per year is a very pricey move to make, and in the end, there is nothing to gain."

"What about the Council of 9?"

"They also rejected the proposal, so Nakros Ishrii is very much on the edge. Miriana's main concern right now is likely whether they will attempt a revolution in terms of force, though citizen voters said that only a slight majority want separatism."

"Can you please explain what the Council of Nine is to the viewers who aren't familiar with Jenrakian politics?"

"The Council of Nine are the leaders of the Nine wealthiest cities of Jenrak. The wealthiest of the Nine is automatically in power of the King, forcing a sort of economic competitiveness that overall benefits Jenrak entirely. Many times Miriana Treyuko has been at the top, and it seems like that way for a while, given how much surplus Haasdra pushes out due to its superb management."

"What about Nakros Ishirii? What position is it in within the 97 states?"

"Around 44th-40th."

"So it's nowhere near to be able to challenge the Council of Nine?"

"Politically, that is."

[OoC: Jenrak TGs]

"Lord Miriana, what is your point?" Seere asked, as Miriana sat across from her, his eyes cold and silent, his fingers tapping on the table annoyingly as his face was resting upon his wrist. "What are you trying to pull?!"

"I'm not pulling anything. I'm just saying, Ms. Seere, that should you continue this, I will have you removed from office." Miriana spoke, the Temsplace behind him, having their thick, powerful hands reaching deep into their long flowing azure robes, their helmets carrying shadowed faces that were an evil ebony color. Miriana raised his hands to quell their movements, his hair shifted slightly to move it out of his eyes. "Ms. Seere, understand that you are causing quite a stir amongst the other city states. Please co-operate." Miriana said, as Seere frowned.

"Lord Miriana, know that I am merely doing what the people wish. The city will be an independent state, end of story." She said, frowning at him, glaring at him with utmost hatred. Miriana did not change his expression.

"End of story? No, the story has simply just begun." Miriana warned her, his tone threatening. "Understand that there are multitudes of dictatorships out there, Ms. Seere. Failure to abide by their rules results in immediate death, many times by firing squad for fairly treasonous actions against their crown. What you are committing right now is blatant treason, and by all rights, I have the authority to condemn you to death. The international community is also helpless to stop me, for those who can do not care, whilst those who do care cannot. Am I clear?"

"A threatening tone, Lord Miriana." Seere said, her glare more prominent. "So, how will you silence me?"

"Silence? I do not plan to silence you. But if your words become actions, I will be forced to do such." He got up, the Temsplace guarding him giving a condescending and hateful look of utmost loathing and disgust at Seere, forming a concrete circle around him. "Remember; I am the King, and thus the decisions you decide are all ultimately at my mercy. Do not test my patience, Ms. Seere."

"Damn that Miriana." Seere said, her hand running through her hands, her fingers tapping gently. "The plan will never go through if this continues." Seere said, looking at the picture of Tserax hidden deep within her desk. "Lord Redeye, I can't continue this with Miriana continuing." She said silently to herself, her finger running along the photo's smooth surface longingly. "Fucking Miriana." She to the washroom to wash her face.

Coming back, a thin man with a wreathed smile and fox-like slit eyes sat, his hair messy and his smile long and wide. He was in a crisp, beautiful black suit, his fingers tapping his hand lightly, looking at Seere with interest. Opening his mouth, a deep black tattoo was visible in the shape of a deep dark '3', licking his face greedily and hungrily. However, this man was no stranger; he was on the council, Ishidun Geriuusk. "Seere. News from Redeye." He said, as Seere looked at him accusingly.

"Lord Autumn Rose." She said, continuing. "Ishidun Geriuusk." She backed off slightly, as Geriuusk walked past her, accusingly, disappearing in the blackness of the hallway before she was left with a cold, airy silence that still smelled strongly of the powerful lavender stench that all Exkrucia carried. Turning to her desk, she opened up the drawing, kissing the picture of Tserax fanatically, before turning on the communications.

"Yes, Ma'am?" Her military captain base asked, unsure what was going on.

"Mobilize." She ordered.

Central Nakros Ishrii News Network

At 8PM later this night the military of Nakros Ishrii has been seen going through military exercises around the outer edges of the city, with no reply coming from Mayor Diana Seere. Although she has no issued a proper statement on the purpose of this mobilization, it has raised alarms for the adjacent city states of Nakros Senshaa and Nakros Heidhakros.

Leaders Suruak Ghee and Kheredruum Johnson has issued statements of military alertness as well to combat any possible movements from the military of Nakros Ishrii to prevent any form of intercity warfare. Miriana of the 97 Crowns, recently, has stated the following.

"The demand that the city of Nakros Ishrii pull down their military forces. Mobilizing for no reason is a waste of the taxpayer's money, as there is no need to mobilize against nonexistent foes nor any civil disorder. If this is related to the independence of Nakros Ishrii from the Jenrakian Amalgamates, and should Diana Seere refuse a direct and agreed order by the Council of Nine, then political, economic and military pressure will be put underway to ensure that neither economic bases of both the Amalgamate and Nakros Ishrii are put in danger."

Recently, however, Ishidun Geriuusk, Leader of the city Nakros Nahm, has vetoed from the Council of Nine that military force from Nakros Haasdra be suspended. Miriana Treyuko has not yet issued a Dominate Declaration*, and it is unknown whether he would.

*Note: Any city within the Council of Nine is capable of Vetoing any decision made, though the strongest of the Council of Nine (in this case, Nakros Haasdra and its leader Miriana Treyuko) is capable of eliminating any Veto in extremely dire situations.

She stood atop the podium, her voice booming into the microphone as it augmented her every words, her conviction powerful, her soul pouring out in lesions as she looked from head to head. It was a swarming swarm of flesh, a horde of militia as they stood high, tall, nodding and crying out in excitement, awaiting the unknown fruits of their unearned labor. "Nakros Ishrii!" She cried out, yelling loudly. "It will no longer be called Nakros Ishrii! It will simply be Ishrii, no longer a pawn of the Amalgamate." She yelled, as they roared like beasts amongst the pantheon of powerful voices.

"The Jenrakians are us, and we are the Jenrakians! But there is no need to be chained down by cities that are much wealthier than us! How are we to prosper when under the jackboot of others who have it much better than us? How can we grow and become powerful when there are too powerful of rivals to compete against? Who are we? Toys? Fools? Slaves? Tell me!"

A giant shockwave of sound blasted through the velvet gardens of the city halls. "No one!" It yelled, a giant single entity made of millions of fervent, vicious men and women who sought nothing but their own selfish will.

"Miriana sits on a golden crown in Nakros Haasdra! He knows nothing about the suffering out here! What are we to do? We will force his eyes open when we become an independent nation! I hereby declare Nakros Ishrii an independent body separate from the Amalgamate!" She cried loudly, her arm raised high in a stance of victory.

Amidst the restless city, the loyalists to the Amalgamate were being hunted down. Chaos was spreading through the once peaceful city of Nakros Ishrii.

ETA 6 Hours. The carrier Shikrasha Naik'Vaazu pushed through the waves, it's crashing power rushing through the waters, a behemoth of the ocean as it quickly sped through the waters, the golden rays of the morning mist crashing loudly against the side, powerful blackhawks neatly placed upon the windy open strip, their rotors stationary as the glass troopers stood quietly, placing their equipment on as they prepared themselves for the initial strike. It was still a little while before the sight of Nakros Ishirii would come into view, and Miriana sat within the safety of his office within Nakros Haasdra, looking at the four monitors that shimmered wonderfully on his screen. He looked carefully, a cup of tea in his hands as his lips touched the scorchingly hot drink, the strong flavor of jasmine tickling his turn painfully. "Seere, you've outlasted your term. Do not expect this issue to go over easily." He said, looking at the screen of the morning fog.

From the carrier's command tower, a man dressed in a long white draping cloth stood, his coat billowing over his body, his face expressionless, somewhat bored, looking at the splash of water before he looked at the radar that was pulsating at his waist, his eyes swimming from one location to another. 6 hours. He thought. It would be 6 hours, and it was not enough time for the guerrillas in Nakros Ishrii to brace themselves for the impact against the preliminary strike. However, they needed to be quick yet careful. A swift pounce of force was needed. This man, his eyes a hazelnut shade, his mouth thin, his lips a pale white shade, his nose sharp and his hair slightly messy. He wore a long white set of robes that elegantly billowed around, gray clothing underneath. At his waist, wrapped in a porcelain sheath, his sword was clanking noisily before he clicked it in place, no more noise emanating from its handle. "Nakros Ishrii? What's the layout of the city?" He asked, looking at the screen of the crashing waves.

Behind him was a man who was slightly older than him it seemed by the stubble of hair growing healthily on his chin, his hair slightly messy as well though still kept well to a degree, his eyes a swimming azure blue. When he spoke, it was a deep, gruff, rough voice of a man who had seen much. "The city is divided into eight sections." He said, putting the map on the screen, an octagon of a city with a set of two prongs erected at the southeast corner for the port. "The southeast third section of the city is for the port, and their navy will most definitely be stationed there. All around the perimeter Vizith-Level Cannons are set up, with the enemy maintaining them all impeccably well. Satellite imagery in the past 2 days have shown strong aircraft capability as well as infantry fortifications. Here," He pointed to one point, "is the main stronghold for enemy formation A-1 to A-12."

"What about the other formations?" The other man asked, looking carefully. "Surely they must have more than a few thousand." The other man nodded, pointing to a large mass of red that circled out like a writhing octopus upon the harsh dune sea. "Where are the others? Hidden amongst the civilians?"

"Yes. Formation B is, from satellite heat imagery, likely hidden here." He pointed to a deep ghetto entrenched within the western part of the city. "Formation B-4 to B-28 is strongest in these sectors, but Formation C is likely going to be the biggest obstacle." He pulled out another image into the black screen, screen shots of what seemed to be long rectangular shapes amidst tiny dots. The roads were somewhat clear, the waves still rushing like a turquoise blanket, vacant warehouses nothing more than ghost houses upon the harbor. "Enemy tanks have been detected, a few of them Main Battle Tanks of high caliber. We don't know who has been supplying them with this, since they have ignored all shipping protocols in the past two days, but we know that it came obviously from the south since that was the arrival vector of all the ships from within the past two days other than government sanctioned ships. Lord, Saerus, this is going to be a challenging foe to defeat with just one carrier."

"So they have tanks, well deployed infantry and fortresses littered all over the place." Saerus said, tapping his chin softly, carefully, thinking it over before he moved a black dot to the northern part. "What about here? The city hall is the most northern point of the city, though the defenses are only two Vizith-level Cannons and a Main Battle Tank team of 8. It looks too enticing." Saerus said, before he though even more carefully. "Or perhaps she'd think I'm assuming it's a bluff, and that she's actually in there?"

"Seere?" The other man asked, Saerus nodding in reply. "We have been keeping tabs on her, and our spies reported that she never left the building the whole day, so it's a 100% chance that she'll be in the building still."

"But you're doing this since there's a possibility that she'll escape the city?" He continued, Saerus continuing his nod. "So we capture the port, rush up through the city and capture the airstrips. Taking all five airports will be easy considering they are far from the ghetto, where we can just bomb and eliminate easily. After that, we speed our way through 4th and 5th sector streets and strike right at the heart of the city's town hall. What is expected time of completion, do you think?" He asked, Saerus thinking closely.

"4 days." Saerus said, as the man looked incredulously.

"Why?" He asked in return.

"They wouldn't challenge us if they knew they were going to lose. It will take one day to take the port and the airstrips, one day to defend against whatever weapon or tactic they have in store for us, one day to launch a counterattack, and one day to take the city's heart at City Hall." Saerus looked out at the morning mist that was developing. "It makes me sad to know that night will fall soon so early in the morning."

The NLU Capsules were being prepared.

"Information gathering is of the utmost priority, the utmost importance." Saerus said, his eyes scanning from left to right, his fingers tapping on the metal coat carefully, slowly, softly, gently. He waited silently, waiting for the movements of the enemy to appear on his radar. "They're going to play it guerrilla style. Guerrilla. Since they're short on manpower and technology, it'll be most likely their own defensive knowledge of the city and hiding themselves amongst the rubble. So let me see," He looked at the lines, his captains standing patiently behind him, looking at the screen along with him.

Meanwhile, at Nakros Ishrii, Seere looked at the large bloc of green units moving through the rushing waters, scratching her head in frustration as already a small trickle of blood came about. She knew all too well the Jenrakian strategy; their biological weaponry had no competitor, the strongest chemical weapons in the world coming from Jenrak. But she knew; they were here to capture, not to destroy. And it would be their undoing. Drawing a line with a fine red marker, she saw the blocks of streets and buildings clumped together lightly as a good sign, a spot to fortify her position strongly before taking any chances. Main Battle tanks upon the shoreline, it was a skip of a journey to race across the western jungles.

"He'll likely begin his bombardment in terms of naval annihilation. Since we don't have a blue water navy, carrier strikes will be the main force. As such, prepare anti-missile weaponry rather than anti-aircraft weaponry." She looked at the large naval force that was assembled before her only a few kilometers away from the shoreline, the tiny blackness of steel lingering on the crimson horizon.

Meanwhile, at the Shikrasha Naik'Vaazu was drifted slowly in the single spot, stationary as they waited to load their blackhawks, rotors furiously beginning to roar loudly, a chopping noise filling the air as shouts of men are being crackled about. Saerus sat there, looking at the scene. "She'll try to fortify her defenses, possibly to aim at my aircraft since I have sent an aircraft carrier. Therefore, missile weaponry will only yield a fraction of success. However," He pointed to the town's central forums. "If we can take the outer rings of the city and then launch a multi-front war towards the north, we can take it easily." Saerus looked over it a bit more. "Begin."

Missiles fired, though it was not any missile designed to cause damage - as it skimmed across the sky delicately, the steel blanket smoothly riding the wind like waves before a curtain of flames ignited them, blowing them apart in a display of beautiful wildfire. Seere smiled, nodding. It was all going according to plan, it seemed. But things weren't as simple.

The missiles immediately issued a spray of black cloud, spreading and thickening in the windy air, circles of darkness forming over the city as entire sectors were blocked out of all sunlight, darkness approaching with the city lights already turning on. Almost as if it were a gargantuan ebony hand, darkness fell over the city, screams emanating from the scared civilians as Saerus sat quietly in his carrier, sipping his cup of tea. "Now, launch the Glasstroopers, 6th, 9th, 12th, and 13th divisions with Sadicistra backup of divisions 3, 4 and 8." He looked at the screen, the blackhawks pouring out in the darkness, under the guise of a false night.

"Saerus Annirak." Seere quietly chuckled, looking at the mass of green objects, sneering evilly with her expression cold and calculating. "You fell for my trap, didn't you?" She looked closely, waiting for the mass to begin to die one by one, bit by bit, the remnants to be routed carefully, but it was a quick bit before night fell, her windows dark and her room cold without sunlight. The effect was immediate. Her long beautiful hallway, drenched in once golden rays of sunlight, was now an onyx black and a sapphire blue, the velvet curtains black and forlorn. Silky decorations lined along the pillars, a fountain trickling silently in the darkness, a haunting noise before not long the lights automatically turn to life, illuminating the eerie hallway with fresh crimson warmth.

She stood there, surprised, shocked, rushing to the nearest window (which, by all accounts, dwarfed her, for that was the extravagance of the Mayor of Nakros Ishrii), brushing aside the smooth curtain before not long she was beheld a massive landscape drenched in blackness, flooded with an eerie silence, the city entirely in darkness for it was not the time to turn the lights on. She flicked to her watch; 8:15 AM. It was far too early within the day for darkness to fall, especially one so powerful and overwhelming as this one. Something was dreadfully wrong. The lights of the buildings in the valley below only began to quickly turn on their lights, many of them still not noticing the time. "What is this?!" She said to herself aloud, thinking, wondering. She rushed towards the outer sanctum of her palace, her Generals standing there with their eyes wide open in nonchalant surprise. "What is this?!" She said, as they nodded apologetically in manner.

One of them, a burly man in a navy uniform with his medals pinned neatly on his chest, stood forwards, his face scarred and broken, his skin rough and tattered like a burgundy leathery mask, and his mouth was surrounded by an armor of a thick a gray beard. He fit the stereotypical image of such a man of war; experienced, sagely, full of advice. When he spoke, he filled the last gap with his strong, commanding tone and convictive reverberating boom, like a deep war drum rumbling upon a noiseless hill. "Lady Seere, we've underestimated the capabilities of Nakros Haasdra." He said, the others nodding with him. "I suggest we prepare for a counterattack as soon as possible. This cloud of darkness is their own doing; the Nekkoro Luungash's Umbrella will dissipate in 3 days, from the size of our city. They'll use this darkness to their advantage."

Central Nakros Ishrii News Network

After the unprecedented political attack upon Miriana of Haasdra, the military mobilization of Nakros Ishrii has met incredible difficulties. Citizens are holed up for their own safety, many unable to leave. In the ports, the warship Shikrasha Naik'Vaazu has been spotted launching an unknown device into the sky. Local weather patterns predict irregular cumulus movements, predicting some sort of rain ahead.

Seere has expressed and called for aide in regarding the issue of this unwanted act of aggression upon Nakros Ishrii sovereignty, though Miriana has yet to make a statement upon this action nor the sovereignty of Nakros Ishrii.

Children are lying in the streets, tears welling in their eyes as they cried loudly, parents running about, snatching them up into their arms out of harm's way. Flowers of fire light up into the black blanket of the sunrise-devoid morning, the cold chill of abnormality sweeping the once populous streets of the industrious Nakros Ishrii. Infantry skidded across the streets, Ishrii military running down along a dark, damp road with the smell of smoke and litter carelessly sprayed upon the concrete ground. One of them, a man drenched in camouflage, his sleeve carrying a dark green armband, flickered his fingers forwards as two of his men moved to the nearby parked car. "Block all the gates." He whispered as they passed, nodding to him in understanding.

They quickly, but cautiously, sped up towards the metal gate of the city's streets, finally stopping at an intersection where there were no cars. It was silent, and it was tense, to say the very least. It was no scene of the apocalypse, no ruins or bodies laid to bare and rot in the streets. There were no flames licking and dancing merrily here, all the streetlights shining brightly and in perfect order, the intersection lights still ticking it's crimson hand. To the right, a green grassy plain that stretched a few meters in height, the noise of the grinding tanks still audible, black masses moving slowly along the road ahead. To the left, an ocean-like that seemed to stretch on for infinity, until the eyes touched upon the large long black wall that was visible, snaking through one's field of vision. The grass grew tall on that end, as if this road a barrier between an unending marshland and a softly billowing plain atop the tiny plateaus.

"Push forwards." He whispered, them following him. Gunfire erupted, though not from enemies within the blackness; from within his own ranks. Two of the soldiers from the back of his company opened fire, gunning madly as the sergeant turned his head, a bullet cutting his cheek as he felt the hot lead still simmer it's dangerous kiss upon his face. A steaming, burning sensation was felt, but it was not long before he knew that such a warmth that trickled through his face was not mere feeling; it was blood. Blood was trickling down in tiny tentacle droplets from his face, vein-like paths drawn in cherry red upon his already cherry red cheeks.

Getting up, he rushed to the cover of the nearby mustang parked quietly beside him, before not long he waited silently, a flash of light illuminating the two soldiers who had opened fire. Charles, A. He thought, seeing the first one, a boy with a seedy face and straw-yellow hair, his eyes somewhat droopy and his cheeks somewhat thin. The second was a shock. Lieutenant Hanbel, C. His best friend, forcing a clenched set of teeth from him, his rifle up and steady as he fired, shooting the first one in the head, the second one firing at him in the leg, upon which he lobbed a grenade over the car, the blast of infernal thunder rumbling through the morning night.

He turned, moving slightly before shooting, hitting his former friend in the head, sighing quietly, moaning and groaning in exhaustion and shock. Why?! He thought through his head, his hands gripping his helmet tightly, the butt of his rifle very close to being smashed angrily against the ground.

A bullet ripped through his head. Blood was everywhere, a cinnabar crown of thorns upon the sergeant's head. Near the plains, four snipers sat quietly, smoke steaming from their silencers, their cloaking shields making them nothing more than a gust of divine wind.

"General Saerus!" The telegram secretary said, as Saerus looked back at her, his tea at his lips. She was a pretty girl, indeed, and a femininity (a quite rare asset in the Jenrakian navy, as one of his friends had always lovingly put it) that exceeded even feminine women. In other words, she was cute when she wanted to be, but had a strong womanly aura around her otherwise. Such an odd spectrum of personalities that made her all the more extreme, but amusing at the same time. Her copper hair was cut a little bit back, yet it grew and became a neat set of shoulder-length hair, or at least the further tip become shoulder length; the rest was still quite messy. She did not opt to wear makeup, and her baby-face innocence put a bright smile on Saerus' face.

Though why was she hired, anyways? He was married, had children, was a father, and (although he did not look like it, but definitely did begin to feel it) quickly reaching the ripe age of 43. He should have hit his midlife crisis by now. Nevertheless, he was adept at keeping his more bestial feelings in his pants, as many have said with utmost slang in their tongue. His tea still sipping, his tongue still burning, he listened.

"Satellite imagery reports 45,664 troops upon the west bank, 34,500 troops upon the southwest bank. Overall, 80,000 troops exist within the western quarter, triple that of two hours ago. All Glasstroopers are reporting fine for their duties without much difficulty from their enemies, and so far all the presence that has existed has been tiny scuffles and sleepers within their ranks. 56,000 troops exist in the northern quarter, with the coastline spreading 5.63 miles. In that 5.63 miles, 78,430 troops are there, including four civil stations and twenty eight coastal guns. Currently 3 anti-aircraft SAMs exist as well, but they have hauled out 9 more, and we suspect they to manufacture some as well." She bowed quickly, giving Saerus the report as she left, Saerus reading it over.

Mostly militia. He thought to himself, looking at the numbers that were needlessly pointed at him. Most of them are undisciplined, led by fervor and separatist ideals of independence. It should be difficult to force a beachhead landing, though obviously that's going to be difficult with the small force I have at my disposal, I have to make proper use of the men. They're strong, highly trained and capable, but a bit expensive. I can't let them be captured, or their technological advantage could possibly be reversed engineered. So, it's likely that the most logical sense of movement would be the southeast bank of the inner city lake. He reached for his oak drawer, pulling out a blue marker and circled a tiny lake in the bottom right corner, a series of gray blocks surrounding it.

Meanwhile, Seere sat quietly in her room, her Generals surrounding her as they looked at the map. She was sweating quite profusely and worriedly now, given that a few hundred troops had gone missing, their corpses found in the most unlikely of places, her fears rising. She couldn't compete with the strong technological advantage that Haasdra held against Ishrii. Although they did outnumber the forces that were certainly sent, they could not track down a single enemy, and all the while they had lost many. "General Saerus will likely strike an extremely important position that will determine the war in a single blow. As such, because he's still restricted by the Territorial Restrictions, he'll be forced to attack by sea. Two places are open, though they both lead to uphill warfare against downtown guerrilla fighters stationed there. So, he can't attack right and take the city properly."

Until I capture the industrial sector -

" - and use it for his own uses. Therefore, the defense of the area is of - "

- utmost importance that I gain this area. There, the annexation of the industrial sector must be met.

There was a no more need to keep it quiet; the place had to be taken, the location was vital, and the enemy had found out as well. Seere was not to be underestimated, he knew that from the first hour, but within three hours, she was able to disable his movements on the coastline, his movements in the western sector, and forced him to put a landing as well as unable to strike at the coastal lines without retaliation from the enemy. The night was as black as ever. Cold winds blew across the waves, form black mists amongst the shadowy rocks, crashing noises loudly as the chirping of misled birds audible. Now then a sword of sunlight poked through the sky, but it was engulfed once more in blackness, never to be seen again. There was no choice.

"Launch the Temsplace divisions." Saerus ordered. "Attack co-ordinates 78-05, 78-06 and 77-08. Two divisions at 78-05, three divisions at 78-06 and six divisions at 77-08. Provide Vizith Repeater backup once they've been able to secure a 300 meter safety zone any of the three spots." He looked at his captains, whom nodded, carrying out his orders. From the long bay of his carrier, transports were being dropped off, their lights off, their paint black, a stealth mode as they fanned the entire machine to be freezing cold, matching the ambient temperature around them. It would be difficult to spot them, even with radar or heat-seekers, for they glided along the waters ever so gently, hundreds of transports with only a 6 of them actual transports. Slowly, they drifted, but surely, before speeding up, creating realistic troughs and crests in the waters, crashing expectedly amongst the shoreline.

It happened immediately. A burst of noise erupted around them, before followed by an infernal light, and decoy 04 was smashed into pieces, shrapnel flying everywhere as flames grew around them, the oily fire floating on the water a beacon of warning before another noise was heard, the crushing, crumbling, roaring noise of a hungry dragon smashing into the water for its fat fish. Only eels were there, and it growled once more, another jet of flame soaring into the sky, smashing into the water with a pummeling rush, mist flying up everywhere in a sightless twinkle.

"Continue!" The Temsplace Captains roared, their uniforms azure blue rather than regular teal, or in this mission, jet black. They nodded, waiting quietly, before another jet of light illuminated the area, though this time it did not arc into the sky, but rather stayed stasis before turning into a shining angelic ray of light; much worse than any bomb.

"Flash bomb!" They yelled, fumbling to hide from its shadow murdering eyes, the battlefield lit up in brilliant brightness for a few seconds, and whilst not strong enough to blind an enemy, certainly strong enough to pierce every crevice and corner of the battlefield. The Temsplace rushed, their boat hitting brown water before getting off, the water knee deep, though they did not care about the chilly splash upon their legs. Drenched in armor, they walked with strength; massive men, with little weakness physically as they were biological tanks, rocket launchers perched and slung over their shoulders, javelins carried like pistols. Their guns were miniguns, tied to their waists as their javelins were prepared.

In an instant, the moment they reached shore, they fired long smoky fingers of crimson destruction towards the enemy coastal guns, a site lighting up in fire as the flames danced merrily, licking the scenery before they rushed through the bushes of the beach, the southern divisions following suite in strategy. Meanwhile, frontline Temsplace provided a wall of protective fire to confuse the enemy, though the militiamen held their ground within their trenches quite well.

"Take out the nests." The captain spoke. They were indeed large; holy warriors of the Tsellian faith, the Temsplace enforced faith, peace and righteousness throughout the empire, from the sand choked oceans of Haasdra to the monstrous icy mountains of Horsingraa. They were well armored, protecting them from distant small arms fire and shrapnel, as well as preventing bullet removal difficulties from enemy snipers. Their strength is immense, able to run at incredible speeds with such heavy equipment on, covering vast distances on foot in short times. Flags were carried on their backs, giving them an elegant, ethereal feel, as if they were divine warriors, their silky robes flowing out beneath their gargantuan armor.

Emotionless, expressionless, ideal-deprived, they were the perfect strike force for such a mission; to crush and destroy their way to the industrial sector of Nakros Ishrii.

Seere's counterattack would begin soon.

When people said that Jenrak excelled at chemical and biological warfare, it was no mere rumor or some speculation; it was truth. No other nation spent more on researching the human body and its weaknesses than the Jenrakians. No other nation spent more on the development of incurable diseases, insect super-strains and bestial mutations than the Jenrakians. Therefore, it wasn't supposed to come as a shock when gas sprayed down the trenches into the holdings of the Temsplace, forcing them to push back a quarter mile, their shields upon, their fans blowing swiftly as it slowly pushed them the gas, forcing it back to their masters. But what surprised them was the application of the gas.

As the Temsplace pushed forwards, their heavy armor and weaponry bogged them down in the recently broken dirt, muddy and much like a blackened quicksand. Trying to regain composure and formation, they fired at a downwards angular rotation, pushing them out bit by bit through force of arms. Eclectic fire jumped around from side to side, the Temsplace almost trying to blast themselves out of the simplistic, predictable, and yet, unexpected attack. They were caught off guard by believing the enemy would not deploy such an idiotic tactic, and so they were the idiots for believing as such. rocket fire jumped towards the enemy trenches, and the Ishrii militia, quick on their feet, light, and swift, rushed forwards, guns roaring wildly.

But Saerus was not a Temsplace.

From the transports, lancers rushed out on their bikes, large hook-like pikes stabbing into the hearth of the enemy frontliners, blood spraying everywhere to adorn the gray battlefield with a maelstrom of cherry rain. Flamethrowers lashing out their 20 foot tongues, it lit up the entire eastern and south eastern coastline in an infernal composition of hellfire and damnation. Bodies screamed still in their blackest demise, lit up as candlelight amongst the black morning sky. The mud was horrid, full of the stench of death, but it mattered not. The Lancers spewed their dragon's breath, holding the line for the Temsplace to regain formation. It was now the Haasdra forces that were on the defensive, and wildly at that.

But wildly suited the Jenrakians. Immediately, the Ishrii militiamen took up sniper positions upon the nests in the nearby plateaus, their bunkers dug deep into the slit-narrow cliff lines, rocky outcrops supporting pill-shaped safe houses for enemy sharpshooters as bullets whizzed past them with all the lethality of the war. Thunder rumbled, but it turned out to be rocket fire, and lightning that cackled across the sky was merely nothing more than the lobbing shells of enemy guns pounding upon the sea surface, misty waves frothing and splashing upon the hulls of the Shikrasha Naik'Vaazu. Meanwhile, within the industrial sector, battle tanks began to form, preparing themselves for the imminent breach of the sector, but they did not count on the Glassmen still existing.

Apparently their ignored a few hundred men, and that disgusting mistake would prove to be their downfall, as from beneath the roads a series of charges gave sunlight from beneath the ground, and opened the gates to Hell.

The United Socialist States of New Brittonia wishes to send a dipolmatic envoy to meet with the leaders of Nakros Ishrii.

Signed,
Foreign Minister of the United Socialist States of New Brittonia
Nabila Katchab

To Nabila Katchab,
Foreign Minister of the United Socialist States of New Brittonia,

We are certainly ecstatic at your desire to meet with us. Given our current situation, we believe it may be a bit difficult to guarantee a safe meeting with you in person, as I myself cannot leave Nakros Ishrii due to the fact that I must supervise the workings of my city and ensure that the soldiers of Nakros Haasdra do not breach the outer walls. As such, I can offer to send a small protective group of aircraft that will oversee your safe arrival into the city and the town hall.

Although this is not a foolproof plan, it is the safest way that I am aware of at the moment, and any suggestions to further strengthen the safety within this plan is certainly welcome. If you agree to this, please notify me and I will deploy a group to escort you safely to the city hall via unmarked air routes.

Signed,
Lady Seere

To Nabila Katchab,
Foreign Minister of the United Socialist States of New Brittonia,

We are certainly ecstatic at your desire to meet with us. Given our current situation, we believe it may be a bit difficult to guarantee a safe meeting with you in person, as I myself cannot leave Nakros Ishrii due to the fact that I must supervise the workings of my city and ensure that the soldiers of Nakros Haasdra do not breach the outer walls. As such, I can offer to send a small protective group of aircraft that will oversee your safe arrival into the city and the town hall.

Although this is not a foolproof plan, it is the safest way that I am aware of at the moment, and any suggestions to further strengthen the safety within this plan is certainly welcome. If you agree to this, please notify me and I will deploy a group to escort you safely to the city hall via unmarked air routes.

Signed,
Lady Seere

Thank you for allowing us to enter your ciy. As the safety of New Brittonia's iplomats and officials is of upmost importance to both nations, I suggest that Colleen Mann and I be transported to the city by diplomatically markes privae jets. In order to reach the city hall safely, I suggest that we be transported by uparmoured, diplomatically flagged, white Cadillac Escilades. In order for the vehiacle to not be attacked, it will be traveling in speeds in xcess of over 90 miles per hour. For safety, I wish that certain streets be closed

Sined,
Foreign Minister of the United Socialist States of New Brittonia
Nabila Katchab

Thank you for allowing us to enter your ciy. As the safety of New Brittonia's iplomats and officials is of upmost importance to both nations, I suggest that Colleen Mann and I be transported to the city by diplomatically markes privae jets. In order to reach the city hall safely, I suggest that we be transported by uparmoured, diplomatically flagged, white Cadillac Escilades. In order for the vehiacle to not be attacked, it will be traveling in speeds in xcess of over 90 miles per hour. For safety, I wish that certain streets be closed

Sined,
Foreign Minister of the United Socialist States of New Brittonia
Nabila Katchab

That certainly can be done. It will be done immediately. Please let me know when you are going to plan on arriving within the city, and I will set up safety waypoints to ensure your unharmed survival.

Signed,
Lady Seere

That certainly can be done. It will be done immediately. Please let me know when you are going to plan on arriving within the city, and I will set up safety waypoints to ensure your unharmed survival.

Signed,
Lady Seere

Thank you. I wish to arrive ASAP.

Signed,
Foreign Minister of the United Socialist States of New Brittonia
Nabila Katchab

What is the worth of one diplomat? One drop of foreign blood, what danger did it pose? Much, it seemed, as entire companies rushed through towards the north, leaving entire southern flanks without reinforcements as the Temsplace crushed through the south, sweeping down into the east, carving their cross-stained blood soaked west through towards the western wall. Now the lower half was in the hands of Miriana Treyuko's glass fist. From the carrier, Saerus looked with excitement, smiling his wickedly handsome yet also devilishly deceptive smile. His eyes scanned the screen quickly, his teeth almost fanglike in the bleak black light. He looked.

Seere was having a difficult time. Saerus was no fool, and his viciousness never proved more prolific than now. As the Temsplace rushed through the industrial area, the industrial area sector E held roughly for only an hour before it crumbled. Rocket fire danced from sector to sector, the long lines of snipers still smoking from their silenced barrels almost like screaming ghosts with thread-thin fingers. Crumbling roared through the sectors, as finally, in the checkpoint, rocket fire glazed upon the battlefield.

What was once a dark industrial park gloomy in the thundering landscape was now an even gloomier battlefield, acid rain pouring down in poisonous droves, soldiers on both sides waiting it out in their bunkers, waiting for the stormy death to subside before making their move. Watchers from both sides glared from their respective towers, their eyes cold and malicious, awaiting the doom to befall their opponents. At least, they hoped. From each command center, they watched as the trickle of numbers flow towards them onto the screen. Four times as many lost for Seere. It wasn't due to the fact that she was incompetent, nor due to the fact that her ideas were reckless, but due to the fact that Haasdra's minions were far too experienced in the ravaging of Jenrakian states in their dominance to be placed on an equal scale as them.

For two days, acid rain poured, the stench unbearable, the stinging sensation to those unlucky enough to have been out in the rain without proper equipment, to have acquired wounds from enemy snipers, all unlucky. For pain was not a word to use to describe the unbearable sensation many of them felt. But it happened in an instant. Immediately, Vizirepeater fire trickled through into the sky. A crimson flower blossoming into the rainy night, hellfire was unleashed upon the holed defending units, the companies of Seere's defensive militia pounded under near-nuclear strength guns, toxic waste piling up in colorless, stench filled pits, fire dancing from spray to spray, lighting entire buildings on fire in the midst of the rain.

The Cessna Mustang touched down in Nakos Ishirii without a scratch on it. That was good news for Colleen Mann and Nabila Katchab, two of New Brittonia's youngest Ministers, 28 and 35 respectively. A man weighing over 300 pounds and wearing a black pinstripe suit said to them, standing on the tarmac now,
"It is time to go"

He then opened the door to the Escalade and sat in between the two ladies. With that signal, the car sped off in orrder to avoid any attacks in this war zone.

It was an odd discipline in a way, almost like some sort of art show was being played, a movie flickering before their eyes from all directions. In the midst of their car, bombs exploded and missiles flung, gunfire crackling like ground lightning as their thunderous roar chortled with ferocity. In the middle of the battlefield, their car continued, but not a single bullet hit them, not a single shard of shrapnel cut their car, not a single inferno (and there were many lingering about) glazed over their vehicle. It was as if it were some sort of show, some kind of experience to only be watched, as Temsplace and militamen clashed violently, roaring, pounding and smashing against each other, blood spraying everywhere like fresh rainfall.

Saerus sat in his chair, his face wondering, his eyes scanning, his fingers tapping and tapping, and tapping, and tapping. He waited, looking at the satellite imagery of the tiny, minuscule black mass eventually pull into the northern gates, into the protected area he had yet to breach. From there, the Temsplace and the militiamen clashed recklessly once more, firepower throbbing with extreme violence on both sides.

From the northern gates, Seere stood from the safety of her bulletproof windows, her curtains flung slightly closed as she peeked into the courtyard, the car pulling slowly up towards the garage, the opening clunking loudly before she waited within. From the doors, a fairly well dressed man stood, awaiting the diplomat's car, his attire impeccable, his eyes soft and his face heavily wrinkled.

It was an odd discipline in a way, almost like some sort of art show was being played, a movie flickering before their eyes from all directions. In the midst of their car, bombs exploded and missiles flung, gunfire crackling like ground lightning as their thunderous roar chortled with ferocity. In the middle of the battlefield, their car continued, but not a single bullet hit them, not a single shard of shrapnel cut their car, not a single inferno (and there were many lingering about) glazed over their vehicle. It was as if it were some sort of show, some kind of experience to only be watched, as Temsplace and militamen clashed violently, roaring, pounding and smashing against each other, blood spraying everywhere like fresh rainfall.

Saerus sat in his chair, his face wondering, his eyes scanning, his fingers tapping and tapping, and tapping, and tapping. He waited, looking at the satellite imagery of the tiny, minuscule black mass eventually pull into the northern gates, into the protected area he had yet to breach. From there, the Temsplace and the militiamen clashed recklessly once more, firepower throbbing with extreme violence on both sides.

From the northern gates, Seere stood from the safety of her bulletproof windows, her curtains flung slightly closed as she peeked into the courtyard, the car pulling slowly up towards the garage, the opening clunking loudly before she waited within. From the doors, a fairly well dressed man stood, awaiting the diplomat's car, his attire impeccable, his eyes soft and his face heavily wrinkled.

OOC: Man you're good

Nabila and Colleen walked out of the Escalade and began a quick jolt into the building where they waited paitently for their host.

Seere may have some of her beliefs without tandem of her subjects, but she held an ideal of equal suffering. She did not present herself in elegant, wondrous robes of beautiful velvet and ruby red crimson dresses amidst flesh pink lipstick, but she wore herself and presented herself as very professionally in a simple manner. Standing there, she herself was in a suit, crisp and jet black as it sucked in all light that touched its smooth surface. In her hands, a series of paper maps hug delicately, the smell like fresh rainfall or the scent of an ancient library wafting through the room from such items. Her hair, an onyx black with a series of golden blades, was tied back elegantly with it in a long, wreathing ponytail, the roots tying back the many years of wrinkles that enveloped her face. Although past her prime, she dressed smartly and held herself in high dignity. Truly befitting such a reputation.

As she walked, she had a small silver tray follow her, upon it a moderate dish of plain flower-shaped biscuits, warm milk and scented jasmine from a wafting incense stick. It clashed moderately and with some mediocrity against the acrid stench of the maps, but it would do, it seemed. "I'm sorry." She apologized, smiling politely and gently at them, red flushing into her cheeks, an airy warmth in her smile. "Rations are low, and this is all I can spare in my time right now while the war goes on. We can only spare this much." She looked pitiful in her eyes, though their shimmering held back only tears of disgrace and sorrow. Despite her poorly masked expression, she held a strong front. "Would you like to sit?" She asked, pointing to the stainless steel chairs that sat within the halls.

Outside, there was another conference being held in Haasdra. Miriana sat quietly, his fingers tapping together with his hands held in a lock, his snake-pupils slithering from side to side, his long, thin and doll-like in his perpetual frown. Silver slivers of knife-like metal hung from his ears, as atop his mat of porcelain white hair, a feathery crown was looming like wings of his mind. It spread out down onto his back, arching majestically along his ghostly robes. At this black round table, his eyes looked at the others who were there with him.

One of them was a fox-eyed man with messy black hair, a police officer's cap atop his hat, tilted slightly as if he was conscious of the fact. He had a thin, unattractive yet somehow mesmerizing face; sharp and refined to say the least. Beside him, a man with bottle-cap round glasses, slicked hair and a dark, black frown. His skin was as dark as the table, the shadows barely visible upon his brow.

From there sat another; a woman, this time, if waist length hair, poured out like liquid onto the table, her arms crossed as her bosom popped up into bunches above her chest. Her face was somewhat attractive to say the least, though her fierce aura ripped her of her otherwise formidable attractiveness. Beside her was one of complete opposites; one with immense attractiveness, as a tiny, yet cute face was adorned atop a thin, yet not too thin body, pair with bronze hair and ebony lashes. However, it was also a man.

Miriana looked at them. The Five of them. Four more will come. If they do, then the army bombarding Nakros Ishrii will swell up to more than quadruple its current size.

Seere may have some of her beliefs without tandem of her subjects, but she held an ideal of equal suffering. She did not present herself in elegant, wondrous robes of beautiful velvet and ruby red crimson dresses amidst flesh pink lipstick, but she wore herself and presented herself as very professionally in a simple manner. Standing there, she herself was in a suit, crisp and jet black as it sucked in all light that touched its smooth surface. In her hands, a series of paper maps hug delicately, the smell like fresh rainfall or the scent of an ancient library wafting through the room from such items. Her hair, an onyx black with a series of golden blades, was tied back elegantly with it in a long, wreathing ponytail, the roots tying back the many years of wrinkles that enveloped her face. Although past her prime, she dressed smartly and held herself in high dignity. Truly befitting such a reputation.

As she walked, she had a small silver tray follow her, upon it a moderate dish of plain flower-shaped biscuits, warm milk and scented jasmine from a wafting incense stick. It clashed moderately and with some mediocrity against the acrid stench of the maps, but it would do, it seemed. "I'm sorry." She apologized, smiling politely and gently at them, red flushing into her cheeks, an airy warmth in her smile. "Rations are low, and this is all I can spare in my time right now while the war goes on. We can only spare this much." She looked pitiful in her eyes, though their shimmering held back only tears of disgrace and sorrow. Despite her poorly masked expression, she held a strong front. "Would you like to sit?" She asked, pointing to the stainless steel chairs that sat within the halls.

Outside, there was another conference being held in Haasdra. Miriana sat quietly, his fingers tapping together with his hands held in a lock, his snake-pupils slithering from side to side, his long, thin and doll-like in his perpetual frown. Silver slivers of knife-like metal hung from his ears, as atop his mat of porcelain white hair, a feathery crown was looming like wings of his mind. It spread out down onto his back, arching majestically along his ghostly robes. At this black round table, his eyes looked at the others who were there with him.

One of them was a fox-eyed man with messy black hair, a police officer's cap atop his hat, tilted slightly as if he was conscious of the fact. He had a thin, unattractive yet somehow mesmerizing face; sharp and refined to say the least. Beside him, a man with bottle-cap round glasses, slicked hair and a dark, black frown. His skin was as dark as the table, the shadows barely visible upon his brow.

From there sat another; a woman, this time, if waist length hair, poured out like liquid onto the table, her arms crossed as her bosom popped up into bunches above her chest. Her face was somewhat attractive to say the least, though her fierce aura ripped her of her otherwise formidable attractiveness. Beside her was one of complete opposites; one with immense attractiveness, as a tiny, yet cute face was adorned atop a thin, yet not too thin body, pair with bronze hair and ebony lashes. However, it was also a man.

Miriana looked at them. The Five of them. Four more will come. If they do, then the army bombarding Nakros Ishrii will swell up to more than quadruple its current size.

Nabila Katchab, the woman wearing a green hijab, the headscarf worn by women of the Islamic faith, saw her plight while wishing that New Brittonia was not a neutral nation so they could do more to help. She said,

"Thank you very much for this offer. I am Nabila Katchab, Foreign Minister of the United Socialist States of New Brittonia. To my left", she gestured to the rather young dirty blonde woman wearing the womens' suit and a long skirt, "is Minister of National Service Colleen Mann"

They both nodded their heads in unison.

To King Miriana Treyuko and the Council of Nine,

The Farminan government is disturbed by recent happenings in Nakros Ishrii. The Democratic Republic of Farmina insists that the forces of Jenrakian Empire desist in their hard-line military purge against independence seekers in the city of Nakros Ishrii. Continued Jenrakian action in Narkos Ishrii may be met with force.

Tobias Grey
President of the Republic

***



Tobias Grey signed his name and passed the brief warning to his secretary. It at first seemed blunt, but below the surface was incredibly vague. The message never gave any support to autonomy in Nakros Ishrii, nor did it suggest Farmina would deploy force against Jenrak. “…may be met with force” was a double out: first ‘may’ also meant ‘may not’, and secondly the force mentioned was never specified as Farminan force.

President Grey smiled in approval; the message contained enough spin to run a washing machine.

Seere nodded, sitting down. "So, what do you want to talk about?" She asked brashly, with an elegant shade, though obviously still stressed and under pressure, the rumbling of bombs heard outside.

Dear Mr. Tobias Grey

Thank you for your concern, but I refuse to take your advice due to variables I cannot divulge.

Miriana Treyuko, Lord of Haasdra

Miriana read the message, his pen running along it smoothly as he corrected the faults he believed were pertinent. King. May. Purge. Insists. All of them, to him, lies. Blatant, outright, lies, twisted by the devious media of the Nakros Ishrii, forcing a headache upon him. It was Nakros Haasdra going to war, not the entire Jenrakian empire. It was not a warning; it was a threat. There is no purge; merely a collection of the city and its boundaries for proper education on whom called the shots of independence or not, and finally, there is no insisting; only empty words that fall upon Miriana's ears without impact. Nakros Ishrii would be taken, Seere ejected from the 97, and her exile made an example of to show the requirements to ensure a strong force throughout.

It was raining. Only slight droplets pitter-pattered upon the frozen windowsill, the rain chilly and cold, people in the streets walking and bustling, their breaths creating a small fog that clouded the roads. Cars rushed forth and to, their lights blazing as horns honked, Miriana's eyes running slowly along them. It never snowed in the desert. But when it rained, it rained hard, cold, and fast, in spurts that showed the dangerous and erratic climate distorted by men long ago. He sighed.

President Tobias Grey tapped the ash off the end of his cigarette into the ceramic dish, “Jenrak refuses to interfere in its own affairs.”

“And we would expect more?” asked the long figure of Chancellor Rickhart.

“No,” said Grey, “And we shall be true to form. Where intervention has no clear benefit, we shall take no action.”

“Another triumphant ‘no action’ in a long line of ‘no action’s,” suggested Rickhart, “Nonetheless, I agree with your decision. Jenrak has been friendly towards us for the greater stretch of history, there is no point stirring that particular pot. Especially considering how many ‘favors’ we are yet to repay to those who were not so friendly…”

What carnage is worth the price of life?
My dear son, whom only reaches the ripeness of his age,
Dances in the blackness of damnation.
Where o'er the mountains and cross the seas there lies,
but only gray grass.

Droplets simpered down the windowpane,
The fingers of lightning hath naught of fire,
Where once teal blossoms were as rain,
Whose cry become so dire,
but only gray grass remains.

Cry high, my children, your children, of men
And women
And slaves.

For here, in the rain,
We die,
We cry,
We sigh,
All in this rain,
O'er mountains and cross the seas there lies,
the windowpane,
and across lies the gray grass.

The meadow of dust,
of rust, of blood,
of pain.

Very few understood the meaning behind Saura Greccko's The Gray Grass when he wrote it, but it was enough to express his emotions. So hard, so harsh, where thunder roared and lightning crackled, the sea of blood dancing and washing upon the shores. He sat within the buildings, his pen scribbled across the paper he had found amongst the wreckage. He wrote in what little ink he carried within the dried up pen, but many times he substituted it for blood. Some of it his, most of it others. It was a hard time, and rations were poor. Haasdra would not show any mercy towards the defiant.

Daily, the rumbling of war guns and artillery shocked and rocked the town, the desolate battlefield nothing but a battle of apparitions, their ghostly visages swimming in the dense fog that was only broken often by the crackled of flames. Infernos whipped up a great frenzy, and only past down the streets did he shiver of the fearsome opponent that was to come; the cannibal army, they were called. The children of the Tongue Queen, a woman who sat upon a chair of dried tongues torn from all her foes, some still flickering and curling up occasionally as she stroked the gentle fleshy throne. He shuddered at the thought of it, looking out the windows carefully, his scope speeding slowly as white figures slipped through the walls, into the gates of the furthermost end. He was frightened.

If they caught him, he was a dead man, and it was an easy punishment compared to the torture he would be put under. But his lack of action would be a failure of duty for his city, and he - wait - why was he doing this? Why this independence? What happened to the loyalists who supported the way it was? What happened to them? What was going on? The independence only gave way to more carnage, more damage, more horror and destruction, and Miriana was known to not let up against his opponent when they were beaten, raped and brutally destroyed. He made an example of Nakros Sentiauhk and Nakros Hedhakros in their own little scuffle between each other. What made Nakros Ishrii any different?

He did not know, but he waited, the smell of death encompassing him, the rusty taste of coppery blood filling his mouth as he tasted the slit of a wound upon his chapped lips.

Seere nodded, sitting down. "So, what do you want to talk about?" She asked brashly, with an elegant shade, though obviously still stressed and under pressure, the rumbling of bombs heard outside.

Coleen spoke and said only one word, the one word that is popular with New Brittonian foreign policy,
"Aid. We want to talk about aid."

"Oh? Your aid, or mine?" She asked in specifics, a hurling noise heard as shouts rang throughout the hallways, unmoving, looking intently, carefully, a strong stare penetrating all that it could. "What aid would you offer me? And what is it in return?"

Miriana was tired of this. It was time to send in the big guns. Only a few hundred kilometers off of the boundaries of Nakros Ishrii, a long battleship rushed through the seas, crushing through the waves with its hardy underbody, the clash of water frothing up in ghastly and ghostly shapes that screamed with pouring water. Soldiers and sailors alike, rushing through the docks, the helicopters fluttering carefully amidst its massive guns. It was a floating fortress, drifting on the water with no intent of letting up, crushing and crashing amidst the sea.

"Nakros Ishrii." The one in charge spoke, looking at the map. She was a young woman, her eyes drooping slightly in boredom, her cheek knelt upon her wrist, long fiery red hair slowly drifting down unto her bosom. She looked sitting up straight, her arms crossed with patience. "Saerus is taking too long." She said with dissatisfaction. "Bombard the damn coastline. Get rid of everything." She said, as the shadowy figures behind her bowed respectfully.

"Yes, General Ashili." They complied.

"Oh? Your aid, or mine?" She asked in specifics, a hurling noise heard as shouts rang throughout the hallways, unmoving, looking intently, carefully, a strong stare penetrating all that it could. "What aid would you offer me? And what is it in return?"

"Well", Colleen said, "New Brittonia is a neutral nation, so military aid is completely out of the question. Economic and humanitarian aid, however, is not."

"And how do you expect to help?" She asked in return. "My men are having enough difficulty trying to keep the routes open, and corporations don't think twice about moving north and south into Nakros Heeshuun and Nakros Sedekhrac. How do you plan on breaking the enemy wall?"

Greetings, Nakuros Ishrii! The Empire of Belkaros would like to send an Imperial Inquisitor and an Ambassador to your fine city to investigate future relations between our nations. We would also be willing to send in 500 Imperial Enforcers to aid in peacekeeping operations during this delicate time of transition. If additional forces are required, and the negotiations go well, we are always willing to help a friend.

Emperor Gnaeus Mundus I

"And how do you expect to help?" She asked in return. "My men are having enough difficulty trying to keep the routes open, and corporations don't think twice about moving north and south into Nakros Heeshuun and Nakros Sedekhrac. How do you plan on breaking the enemy wall?"

"We will try to airdrop supplies."

Greetings, Nakuros Ishrii! The Empire of Belkaros would like to send an Imperial Inquisitor and an Ambassador to your fine city to investigate future relations between our nations. We would also be willing to send in 500 Imperial Enforcers to aid in peacekeeping operations during this delicate time of transition. If additional forces are required, and the negotiations go well, we are always willing to help a friend.

Emperor Gnaeus Mundus I

To Emperor Gnaeus Mundus

I appreciate your offer to send help. Madam Seere is currently busy at the moment, and in her stead, I thankfully hope that such peacekeeping forces being deployed will speed up the process of ending this conflict and allowing Nakros Ishrii to obtain independence.

General Ma'ackraag

"We will try to airdrop supplies."

"Then it'll be imperative to keep certain spots open." Seere advised, thinking clearly. "I can't have them dropped within these borders, since automated anti-aircraft defenses would blow them up into pieces, nullifying whatever help can be done." She paused. "However, how quickly can you muster supplies?"

"Then it'll be imperative to keep certain spots open." Seere advised, thinking clearly. "I can't have them dropped within these borders, since automated anti-aircraft defenses would blow them up into pieces, nullifying whatever help can be done." She paused. "However, how quickly can you muster supplies?"

"Hopefully in two days, realistically up to four. More realistically, is that we will pull a Berlin and use airplanes owned by the Foreign Ministry and send them to Nakros in groups of about say fifteen to twenty a day delivering food, milk, fuel, et cetera.", Nabila said.

If you have any oceanic access from Nakros Ishrii, we could send you supplies via submarine lander. We are also still willing to send in troops and armor to help capture surrounding resources and secure your soverenty.

"Hopefully in two days, realistically up to four. More realistically, is that we will pull a Berlin and use airplanes owned by the Foreign Ministry and send them to Nakros in groups of about say fifteen to twenty a day delivering food, milk, fuel, et cetera.", Nabila said.

"I would rather have civilians evacuated." Seere thought to herself. "If I can move the people out of harm's way, I can wage war in any form I want without fear of civilian casualty."

If you have any oceanic access from Nakros Ishrii, we could send you supplies via submarine lander. We are also still willing to send in troops and armor to help capture surrounding resources and secure your soverenty.

The West Coast is currently open, and two harbors are available for use there. The East Coast is currently unusable, and the South-West and South-East coastlines are under enemy control. We are unsure of how long the southwest coastline can be maintained, but how quickly can supplies be put together?

"I would rather have civilians evacuated." Seere thought to herself. "If I can move the people out of harm's way, I can wage war in any form I want without fear of civilian casualty."



"And that is better. You see, if we admit the civilians as refugees, the press and people will think of New Brittonia as humanitarians saving a group of people struggling for self determination. Let me just say, it works well with Brittonian moral and ethical principles, and Prime Minister Javaid will most definately accept that plan as well."

We can send the 104th Armored Division, 4,500 Imperial Infantry, a 5 ship battle group, 60 tons of food, 10 tons of medical supplies and 105,000 gallons of water within the week. With this level of comittment to your cause, we will be expecting an Embassy location and some form of compensation once your nation is secured.

Emperator Gnaeus Mundus I

"And that is better. You see, if we admit the civilians as refugees, the press and people will think of New Brittonia as humanitarians saving a group of people struggling for self determination. Let me just say, it works well with Brittonian moral and ethical principles, and Prime Minister Javaid will most definately accept that plan as well."

"Then it would be in both our interests to have the civilians moved to any sanctuary countries as soon as possible." Seere offered.

We can send the 104th Armored Division, 4,500 Imperial Infantry, a 5 ship battle group, 60 tons of food, 10 tons of medical supplies and 105,000 gallons of water within the week. With this level of comittment to your cause, we will be expecting an Embassy location and some form of compensation once your nation is secured.

Emperator Gnaeus Mundus I

That can certainly be arranged and guaranteed.

"Then it would be in both our interests to have the civilians moved to any sanctuary countries as soon as possible." Seere offered.

"Yes, so what we will do is transport all civilians to New Brittonia via the embassy. Now, what about the politicains such as you?"

"Yes, so what we will do is transport all civilians to New Brittonia via the embassy. Now, what about the politicains such as you?"

Seere smiled. "Let me show you something." She said, standing up, as her Generals nodded and bowed appreciatively. "I have a surefire means of winning against the Haasdra military." She spoke with such confidence.

Henry Terren was a rank and file soldier, a militiaman who was known amongst his peers as being a bit weak, a bit inexperienced, and a bit naive at times, but he was smart, he was fast, and he did not hesitate to kill when needed while possessing a strong streak for victory. However, he had his reasons for joining the militiamen and not going off. He had a sister. And he loved her so.

Her heart was weak, as weak as he, but this weakness was fatal to her. It was a problem with her aorta, her doctors said, and how her capillaries did not properly form when she was born; in other words, she grew up intense pain, raised and taught to live in intense pain, her chest always stabbed through by the sheer shock of immense and incredible uncomfortable strips of horrible shock. The doctors said if she acquired a heart attack in any means, she would die, or any form of asthma would deprive her heart of its oxygen so much that she would not last long. So frail, but she was his sister, and he cared for her in such a god-forsaken world.

Henry did not really have a knack for politics, nor did he spend his days working and his nights watching the news or browsing through the cartoons like many boys his young, ripe age of adulthood were doing. He had three full time jobs, many times being forced to juggle them all, always paying for his sister's horrendously large medical bills, and everyday he was always beset by a grief stricken and sorrowful 'I'm sorry' from her as she laid there like a wheezing corpse on her soon-to-be deathbed. Nothing was to look forward to in this world. However, whether it be godsend or the devil's temptation, some sort of assistance came.

When the Haasdra military smashed their way through the first four walls of defense in nearly under a month, the military offered anyone willing to pay for all their bills and expenses for indefinite service into the military or until the menace was abated. Immediately signing up, it allowed him to properly pay for his sister's medical bills and for him to properly get them food on the table to eat. So starved was she, and so starved was he. Henry sat within the trenches, looking at the industrial wasteland before him.

Here, a beach of blood and saliva was splashed all over the battlefield, the black clouds long gone as the lightning still crackled in the morning sunlight dance. It was a while since he had seen sunlight since the opening the sky, and the illumination gave way to show the carnage ravaged battlefield before him. It was an unpleasant sight, but he continued. His machete in his heath, his rifle in his hands, he sped through the rows of trenches as enemy artillery fire engulfed his comrades in a blazing inferno, blossoming flowers of cherry-red incendiary blasts rocking up intensely hot effigies. Smoke rose in the midst of the chaos, and he rushed and rushed and rushed, running through the muddy waters still stained with blood.

Passing through a series of columns, he ran as he accidentally stepped on a protruding shard of shrapnel, his foot searing in unbelievable pain, but he continued in defiance. The more he ran, the swifter he continued, the less it hurt. He bit his lips to prevent any pain running down to his foot, and his mouth was soon bleeding, his eyes tearing as he could not even find an enemy to shoot at. The rumbling beasts were marching forwards. Trying to push forwards, he immediately rushed up, before another splash of shrapnel cut into his ribs, blood spraying from his sides as his uniform was stained a strawberry red before turning a burgundy brown.

Blackness began to envelop him, and he died praying for his sister's well being, but knew of his predicament. Two days later, Sarah Terren was ejected from the hospital on grounds of being unable to pay, and she died one and a half hours later on the streets.

OOC: I don't get it

OOC: I don't get it

OOC: Pay attention only to the first paragraph. The rest is me just building up the mood of the war. And please, no pure OOC posts (I know I'm sounding very hypocritical right now with this)

Men were really brutal in war sometimes. But it also brings out the best in men, whether they be on the front lines, smashing bullet after bullet into against enemy encampments, trying to take out opposing machine nests or jumping in front of their comrades. There were multiple laws that soon developed in such an envelope of heavy fire and fighting upon the terms of the militiamen; one, always try to take a bullet for your best friend. If you don't, you'll feel bad if your friend gets shot, and if you get shot and die, you'll be seen by your friend as a better guy. A life-threatening, but surefire way to fix up relationships, especially when you did it with your best friend's wife.

The second rule; no books of any religious significance. If you want to read it, read it in the washroom after curry night. That way no one will know who's going to the washroom for an out-of-this-world anal explosion, or going to learn a bit more about how Joshua dominated the Canaanites with little applicable strategy today. Nobody wants to know you read the bible, the Koran, the Shiria - it didn't matter to them. They didn't want to die, and learning about the afterlife on the front lines only depressed them.

Third and most valued rule - virgins work in support lines. The poor, wretched souls whom have yet hit salvation are to be as far from danger as possible, especially if they have recently acquired a sweetheart upon which they haven't committed the deed yet (upon which a double-edged sword opinion of them being too romantic and feminine eventually develops). To survive the war and go home hot and ready, while the big boys duke it out, was a basis not of any form of military pragmatism or social prudence, but a basic fundamental scale of male pride. A man must help a man with wealth, health and women, though health could take a backseat to wealth and women many times.

Kyle Tennek'khra was a boy who had such a rule implied upon him by his older, burly fellow 8th divisioners, whom they all insist him call them their big brothers. Kyle didn't really having so many brothers, be it name or not. Extremely young, he worked at a deli shop downtown for a good two years with and for his girlfriend, a beautiful brunette who enjoyed it when he stroked her long, flowing hair. He still knew her exact features; a pair of wondrous, thin but fiercely pink lips, a cute baby button nose amidst a pair of shining diamond eyes on a slightly tanner face. Her hair was sometimes in wavy locks with a set of ribbons that started upon the bangs that covered her crown to the back of her head, giving her a very much pretty appearance. Kyle, a somewhat average looking boy with nothing more than sandy blond short hair and just having been taken off of braces (which, he admitted, was quite a relief), did not have much going for him.

He took care of her, protected her (his thin physique hid a beast of a man beneath, as despite weighing a meager 144 pounds, he was more than capable of bench pressing over 200 pounds), and even sat by her side when she contracted what he thought was leukemia (though, it turned out to be an improper diagnosis mixed up with another patient and she just had a slightly more intense version of the common cold) all night long. Of course, being the gentleman, he did not such lewd things, although they did pop into his mind now and then.

Here he was, however, when Seere enacted her draft (a move made unknown by the media), and he was put into such a division. His first few missions were relatively simple, but when his fellow division members found out of his girlfriend (and her extremely high level of attractiveness), but additionally their lack of copulation in their relationship, the rest of the division immediately began keeping him from the front lines and putting him in menial tasks such as logistics and roadside surveying (which he argued was just as dangerous, but they wouldn't have it any other way). Even the Captain agreed wholeheartedly, and made long, winding speeches about how a man's pride is only as tough as his penis. Kyle didn't know how to take those lectures the first few times, but he eventually learned to ignore them outright while skilfully masking himself as interested and subservient to the idea.

It was the ECC40 area in Nakros Ishrii that was hit the hardest, and Kyle's division was called into service to disable a series of short-ranged repeaters that were crawling along the roads. Big, powerful, looming machines, they were described as, capable of tearing entire blocks apart in a mere matter of seconds, and from the explosions and clouds that appeared over entire sections of Nakros Ishrii each day, he didn't doubt that the rumors had some (more than some, he thought sometimes) matter of truth in it. Rushing along the streets, he encountered enemy resistance as a machine gun nest was perched along the topmost balcony of the hotel nearby, enemy soldiers manning it quickly as rocket fire in the background cascaded flames throughout the area.

It was hot, but he continued; pushing up through the north ends of the alleyway, he met a few foes before getting to a door, a few of his members there, smashing it open. Immediately, like always, they pushed him away. Virginity before life, they say. That's the order you should lose things. Getting pushed down through the edge of the alley, Kyle and two others crossed into a corridor-like street, hearing the smashing roar of Temsplace growls in the backdrop. Not this way, they agreed silently, and they rushed back, turning at a fork-like part of the alleyway and emerged at the other end of the hotel. Emerging here, they were quite literally directly under the machine guns, hearing the tussling of their friends before an explosion rocked the uppermost part of the tiny hotel, Jenrakian soldiers rushing out as blood and flames flew everywhere. Kyle immediately took up position, his gun readied as his fellow division members pushed him aside, firing as a wave of lead pierced their bodies, the flickering of yellow light giving off a burning stench.

Kyle fired back, the roaring growing louder, before another brah-brah-brah was audible, the sky growing lighter, the ground a yellow constant tint as his shield was giving out; he could feel as if a hammer was being smashed against his back, and he crawled out to fire, his gun shaking and rattling violently as he fired. Immediately, enemy fire blazed all around him, but he shot the two and another before he crawled. The nest was taken out, and all he had to do was wait silently for reinforcements. He sighed, chuckling loudly, before crying a bit for his fallen comrades, the ones who had so playfully been truly like brothers before. "Thanks, brothers. I'll grow up to be a great guy, just like you guys want." He said quietly, as if spirits still lingered. He waited as the chopper rotors were finally audible in the distance.

Maya Sensse worked cashier at a deli shop her father owned, and she herself was waiting for the return of her boyfriend from the front lines, before she received a large letter in her mailbox. Usually, he sent her letters, but never one so big. Within it, was a beautifully decorated silver ring with a cross in the center, tied to a necklace-like strand of glassy obsidian. She had first thought it was a gift from him, but the enclosed letter said otherwise.

On the final desire of Private Kyle Sedeck Tennek'khra, 8th division of the South Army Defensive, as per accordance to doctrine 5.22, the award of the Silver Cross of outstanding recognition is to be awarded to Maya Sensse.

2 days after his outstanding performance that received such a medal, Kyle was one of the hundreds who had gone missing in the forests of Sathax.

"Although we are a neutral nation.", Nabila said, "We are still very curious about your plan."