NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: This RP is basically a history of the Queensland war, which was ICly fought between me and Duneria in late 1918. If you wish to join, TG me or Duneria. And no OOC spamming

IC
Under the rule of President Andrew Johnson, The Cazelian Empire flourished, it's bustling city streets overflowed with people. But the Cazelians wanted more. They wanted land, and they had their eyes set on the small nation of Queensland...

OOC: if anybody is confused, New queensland was the name of duneria before Cazelai invaded

IC: It was the dawning of a new day......
Government scribe Jack Stern walked down the streets of his town. Being 19, Jack was the youngest scribe to enter the New Queensland parliament.

And God was it great!

Jack could see how well the new government was doing. Already in it's 30 year session, the parliament brought prosperity and peace to the colony, a feat not seen since the New Queensland Revolution, an event where the colony freed itself from British rule.

The day before, The Parliament had established a rule, stating that "any person interested in defending the great country of New Queensland, will sign up top become a Queensland Defender, and preserve our heritage and our way of life."

Jack was on his way to the enlistment centre. He never liked war, but if anybody attcked his country, he'd defend it.

Walking along the coastline, Jack turned his head and watched the sea, feeling the sea breeze sweep through his wavy hair.

He closed his eyes, feeling the sensation of cold wind against warm flesh.

And then, Jack frowned.

He saw several ships on the horizon, which soon became 12, and then 36.

Jack watched in shock as they steamed toward the harbor. " What kind of cargo ship is that?" he thought.

As the ship's drew closer, Jack could finally see the features of the watercraft.

Suddenly, he turned on his heel and started sprinting towards the direction of town hall. Those ship's weren't carrying supplies.

Those were battleships.

And even as Jack darted from the coastline, he could hear the bombardment starting.

OOC only confused as queensland is a state here

OOC: well new queensland was the former name of duneria, you'll find out the how it changes.

OOC: well new queensland was the former name of duneria, you'll find out the how it changes.
OOC no in RL it is a state

OOc: I just made it up.... Listen, there's no problem.

If you want to join, just TG Caz or me.
Kay?

The loud scream of the ICS Dreadfire's 26 inch guns pleased Admiral Wrathe. Wrathe was the type of man born for the military. He had finished military academy, and was eager for action.

This was his chance....

Messages flicked across the sky, flashes of light that’s meaning would remain hidden. Heliographs clicked away, tiny pinpricks of coded light flying amongst the servants of the Divine Empire. The aging frigate WIS Imperial Gate had reported it, the tell tale roar and spit of naval cannons. Information was still muddled, captains adding personal notations and captions to the message as it ticked along. The Allumna Sea was now burning with life, the Empire was awake.

Low-level radio bridged the occasional gap, entire battle groups swerved to meet the needs of the WIS Imperial Gate. It seemed there was to be war, or judging by the additional cogitations of the captains, a war game, naval testing, or a very large and over advertised naval bakesale. It was perhaps time to retire more then the aging ships of the fleet, but the Cenobiarch had only eyes for the bulk of the information copied in a shaky short hand of an unwilling secretary.

“Combat.” He said quietly pouring over the letter. A group of naval officers, most of who wore the patent pajamas and slippers of the Imperial Navy huddled around the flickering oil lamp.

“It would seem so your Imminence, perhaps we should send a squadron, to observe and possibly assist?” One officer, currently in possession of the largest red beard known to man, spoke in the roaring tones of the High Land Naval Guard.

“Perhaps Derrick perhaps. However I cannot shake the feeling that perhaps this is none of our business? Is it any matter how the heathen and the pagan kill one another?” the Cenobiarch, the Head of the Waldenburger Church, sat down with a thud in a chair so heavily ornamented it outdid the standard income of the average family by at least four digit figures. “Can we take another defeat right now? The Bautzonizn treaty may be expired but can the navy really act?”

A man, who until recently had stood in the corner and taken very little interest in the events of pajama wearing aristocrats unfolded himself from the shadow. “Sir we are up to 150 battleships, and their squadrons. I needed not even mention the airship cores. We are more prepared to fight they before the Third Grey War, the only thing keeping us back is the Emperor, damn puppet.” He actually spat pattering the window with a light sprinkle of spittle.

“You will watch your mouth Admiral Kennedy!” The Cenobiarch snapped. Technically he was a puppet too, installed after the defeat of the Waldenburger armies a year ago by the hands of the Grand Coalition.

“I apologize sir, but the whiles of the heathen are indeed infuriating.” Kennedy, who had fought a massive campaign for the survival of Waldenburg for the last three years now had sunken eyes and a cruel twist to his lips. His fleet had sent 300 capital ships to the bottom and staved off an imminent invasion for years, this was not accomplished by playing nice. “I do not mean to speak against the Emperor, however we cannot completely confirm Felix von Waldenburg’s death.”

“That is not a matter for this discussion or indeed any discussion, you shall keep such thought in your head. The young Emperor is of the Imperial line, and he shall reign over us for, if the trend continues, a great deal of time. Nigel Shutter, the Cenobiarch poured himself a cup of what would be tea had not the war destroyed such luxuries, now it was simply boiled orange peels which made a surprisingly decent drink. “Kennedy you seem confident, may I remind you of the last little fling of yours? Twenty thousand dead and our fleet smoking in the harbor, your flagship, the mighty WIS Ark of Heaven pounded into a flaming hulk? I’m sure you also remember the song composed about it? The heroic ode to your greatness?”

Kennedy ground his teeth furiously, pulling back in disgust from his spiritual elder and head of government, “Your Imminence is only too kind to remind me. However in memory of those thousands dead we need this, a symbol, our aspirations were crushed in the Battle of Blünderburg, our capital burnt. Violence may not be off your nature but it will always be the nature of religion. Here, away from the crowds, the cheering multitudes can you deny it? Every God needs a crusade, blood must always refresh the pallet of religion. Will you let your people die, or Empire so constructed in the soul will blow away within the decade.” Kennedy had played the trump card and all assembled knew it. Naval officers chimed with “Harrumph” and other faint signs of agreement. Robert Kennedy placed two white gloves hands down on the Cenobiarch’s desk pressing his face inches from the Supreme Prophet of God. “Do you remember?”

“I have seen men had their eyes ripped out, their face removed and hot silver poured into their lungs for less.” In a whisper the two men continued for a moment, their words unknown to the other officers. It took nearly two minutes but eventually the two men drew back looking equally disgusted.

“The Divine Legion fleet shall be placed at your command. You and your officers are to follow all instructions explicitly, the Empire may not go to war, but perhaps I must.” With a brimstone and fire look, that even though he had not inherited their size, bearing or “damn your eyes” attitude, which the Cenobiarch had inherited from his predecessors he melted the hands from his desk. “I’m afraid a certain amount of violence must ensue.”

Waldenburger Battle Group St. Peter 200 Miles off Queensland Exclusion Zone

A small Divine Legion squadron, had been preserved through the war, most by patrolling the larger rivers in the desert where only the terminally insane would dare invade. It was under strict orders not to intervene yet, even though eighteen ships would hardly do any good. The Zeppelin tender was at least a comfort, it alone doubled the power of the naval group by supporting four circling airships, and each armed with a heavy cannon and recon equipment. The fleet steamed forward. Mission and target were unclear, but as the mission was sent by the Holy Church and not the Empire it was most definitely going to end in blood.

This was Hell.

Or so Jack thought.
By the time he arrived, most of the town was in flames.

Children cried for their parents, and yelling adults with tear-stricken faces looked for their offspring. Buildings burned and crumbled, nost with with screaming citizens trapped inside.

Panic and confusion was abound, No-one knew what was going on, or what had happened. What had they done to deserve this? Wasn't New Queensland a neutral nation? Wasn't it peaceful enough?

Evidently not.

As he ran through the crowd's, Jack saw his good friend, Robert, holding two rifles in his hairy hands.
"Hey Jackie boy!", Robert cried out "Catch one of these!"

Jack caught the rifle, and began loading the weapon.

"As of this moment..... you are now officially conscripted into the Queensland military."

Jack smiled.
"Thanks Rob, wouldn't have it any other way."
Smiling, the two friends ran for the beach.

The situation was perhaps to good, the elements too set to be as they appeared but perhaps the greatest glory that could be achieved was not through directness. Every battle could be fought through separate means Kennedy had learned this, after three years of holding back a torrent of enemy battle fleets it had been rammed home under with the force of cannon blasts. The WSS Iolite, one of the zeppelins had scouted ahead very purposefully being spotted by a battleship. It seemed, a group of ships, of quite large caliber were arranged around a urban area, and shelling it mercilessly. Battle Group St. Peter had only a small distance to travel between Waldenburg and here, and information came in quickly but as always muddled.

A full force, fighting sprint to shore had been discarded within a few seconds, the Divine Legion fleet was one more of stealth and coercion rather then the high handed actions of the Imperial Surface Groups. It was a matter of some pride however that they never ran, it didn’t matter who from but they would always fight. As the song, The Song, really, said “Stomp the Heathen till he stands no more.” Kennedy who was perhaps a little disappointed with the lack of reconnaissance heliographed a letter back to Waldenburg to be retransferred to the The Cazelian Empire.

Encrypted Telegram To: President Andrew Johnson of The Cazelian Empire
From: Office of the Divine Canonarch of Waldenburg

Greetings, it seems though we are separated by miles of sea we share the same basic aspirations. As your government has no doubt been made aware, your fleet surrounding a certain island has spotted a certain rigid airship. It is one of ours, the Divine Waldenburger Empire. For the longest time we have had our eyes set on this little prize, this gem thrust from the sea. As made clear by your actions so is Cazelia. However our definitions of Empire change, where as yours may include riches and rand ours dwells merely in the soul, and Empire of God you may say.

To that extent we wish to propose a mutually beneficial set of opportunities. First off it should be an imperative to take the island from it’s inhabitants, here is where the plan begins. Our fleet, though slightly small makes a loud and quick entrance into the theater. Your fleet, apparently frightened away by our huge thundering and air superiority, flees leaving our ships in control of the harbor. We, the Divine Legion Guard proceed to land and ‘fortify’ the city claiming that you won’t be held off for long. By night, if the plan goes well there will not be a man left standing to raise arms. We have the benefit of taking the souls and your empire may expand in the more mundane and temporal sense. I would go into further detail, but I have yet to here your response. Admiral Kennedy of our observation fleet may take any messages from here, and will hopefully await your response. Once you see our fleet there shall be no question as to this being our only viable tactic, as it is an observation fleet, we pray for your answer, hopefully a favorable one.

Signed:
His Imminence Quincy Fielder Canoarch of the Holy Waldenburg Church

OOC I do apologize about rushing this but there’s the whole so little time in the week syndrome.

"RUN!!!!" yelled Jack, "for gods sake..... run to the hills!"

Running with the crowd, Jack could see Robert directing the flow of escapees along the trecherous mountain road. Already 3 people had fallen to their deaths, and almost 60% of the refugees had not reached safety yet.

The town, which was being shelled to oblivion, had been left to it's fate. The life that Jack knew and loved, was gone. Instead, his life was know headed toward nothingness.

And hate.

90 minutes later...............

Panting, Jack finally reached the border of the promised land.

The Queensland Dunes......

From the distance, he could see cities and Queensland military formations, recently and ramshackly set up. The enemy would have no idea that the Refugees were gathering here.

Tightening the grip on his gun, Jack set out from the blistering desert, and into the Oasis.

OOC: This post may not make sense.....
What's happened is that the refugees have fled into the queensland dunes, and therefore have set a formidable base of operations away from the sea, along with cities

This post was rushed.... sorry.

"Go get em' lads!" roared Staff Sgt. Harry Wrathe, loading his Enfield rifle. Wrathe bolted out of the large life boat, which was being used for the landings. 400 other men were also landing, the men running for cover. Wrathe and his squad (http://www.aefsupply.com/sp_bombers.jpg) found cover and gave covering fire to a squad advancing up the beach.