NationStates Jolt Archive

It was that time of year again, and Loyal Minion Number 710 knew it.

Loyal Minion #710 was one of the few denizens of the Empire who was capable of reading and writing. After the last six scribes were tortured to death for minor infractions, he was selected from the populace and forced to give up his name (Fred Smith) in favour of a numerical designation: he was being pressed into the service of the Emperor. As such, he quickly had to memorise the Emperor's title list, as he had had a hunch he would need to use it a whole lot. He was right.

The Emperor was in high bad humour today. He paced back and forth, the antlers of the stag's skull that served as his crown fiercely jabbing the air as he moved his head; he swung a massive sword at tables, tapestries, chandeliers, and anything else that got in his way, such as hapless servants. A Loyal Minion was removing the decapitated remains of one such servant as #710 cautiously peered around the door, wondering why he had been summoned.

"Don't skulk about, nincompoop!" The Emperor roared, seizing #710 with a single paw and dragging him inside by his throat. His Minion was capable of saying, "Ghak ghuk ghaah," or something to that effect, and the Emperor dropped him onto the ground and aimed a kick at his head.

The Minion floored himself into a kowtowing position, partly to avoid the kick and partly because that was standard practice with the Emperor. "What is your desire, O Ruler of Men?" he asked.

The Emperor threw his head back and laughed manically. "I desire war! My Legions are restless and out of practice. And the wizard just forged me a new sword made of a magic metal called aluminum. Feel how light it is in comparison to the old iron one!" The Emperor aimed a sword swing at Minion #710, who threw himself out of the way to avoid being sliced in two, and laughed some more.

"Very well, your Imperial Emperorness. Against whom do you wish to war?"

The Emperor paused. "I wish to conquer more territory for my glorious Empire, and new precious resources. I will invade the state that lies beyond the Sava River, the one where the people still speak prerevolutionian!"

"Er... Croatia?" the Minion gulped. Reportedly, Croatia had vaguely competent armed forces, and was not led by a madman; those qualities alone could determine its victory, to say nothing of the fact that it was about ten times the size of the Empire.

"Yes! Prepare my Legions. We depart at once!"

"You will lead your Legions in person, O Lord of the Earth and Sky? Should you not be coordinating the attacks with your generals?"

"Bah, generals," the Emperor waved a hand dismissively. "What are they good for? Only planning for useless things called strategies and tactics. All the Imperial Legions need to know is whom to put to the sword!"

And so it was settled. The Emperor's word was law. Loyal Minion #710 drafted the subsequent declaration of war:

Official Proclamation of the Empire of Vojvodina-Nihon

The Most Glorious Emperor, Ruler of Mankind, Prince among Princes, Lord of the Earth and Sky, Master over All Things Visible and Invisible, He Who Leads the Nation to Greatness, has authorised me, a humble scribe and minion, to put this statement to paper.

Let it be known, that the End Times have begun. The Most Glorious Emperor, destined Ruler of the Earth and of All Humankind, has deigned to begin His inevitable and righteous conquest of all those who dare resist His powerful rule. The Ruler of Mankind, Prince among Princes, Lord of the Earth and Sky, Master over All Things Visible and Invisible, He Who Leads the Nation to Greatness, shall lead His mighty legions against the pitiful nation of Croatia, which only continues to scrape its meagre existence due to His goodwill.

As of this day, the Empire that rules over Mankind, the Beasts of the Earth, the Fishes of the Sea, the Birds of the Air, and the Stars of the Sky has declared that a State of War exists between itself and the pitiful nation of Croatia, undeserving of being named even by that title in comparison to the mighty Empire against which it now stands. The goodwill of the Emperor who for so long allowed it to blight the world is withdrawn; in its place does the Emperor's wrath arise.

Aye, the destruction shall be mighty and terrible; the mountains shall be leveled into valleys, and the rivers of those valleys shall run red with blood. The houses shall be burned, the cities pillaged, the populace enslaved; even the mightiest nation on earth cannot stand against the inevitable and righteous fist of the Most Glorious Emperor, Who leads the Nation to Greatness, and His almighty legions.

The Most Glorious Emperor, Ruler of Mankind, Prince among Princes, Lord of the Earth and Sky, Master over All Things Visible and Invisible, He Who Leads the Nation to Greatness, has spoken! All hail the Most Glorious Emperor, Ruler of Mankind, Prince among Princes, Lord of the Earth and Sky, Master over All Things Visible and Invisible, He Who Leads the Nation to Greatness!

Loyal Minion #710
Scribe to The Most Glorious Emperor, Ruler of Mankind, Prince among Princes, Lord of the Earth and Sky, Master over All Things Visible and Invisible, He Who Leads the Nation to Greatness

On the same day as this message was released, the military forces of the Empire began their assault. Throwing pontoon bridges across the kilometre-wide Sava, hundreds of horsemen and thousands of infantry began to march across, chanting in unison, "All hail the Most Glorious Emperor, Ruler of Mankind, Prince among Princes, Lord of the Earth and Sky, Master over All Things Visible and Invisible, He Who Leads the Nation to Greatness!" in time with their footsteps. On larger commercial bridges designed for cars and trucks came the war machines: catapults, siege towers, battering rams, even war elephants. It was truly a terrifying sight, if you happened to be frightened of elephants.

The best (or worst), however, was yet to come. In a specially made boat, seven priests accompanied a huge device, their heads bowed in prayer, murmuring chants in praise of God. The device was the Empire's token. As long as it remained with the soldiers, they believed, it would bring them victory. The device was a single 5-kiloton nuclear bomb, popularly known as "The Nucleark of the Covenant".

On the other side of the river, the mighty army regrouped. The vanguard was the five hundred heavy cavalry, armed with sabres, lances, and the ubiquitous moustache. Following the cavalry were the siege towers and catapults, all on wheels and propelled by several dozen serfs pushing and pulling them. Behind them would be the rows of pikemen and spearmen; behind even them were the swordsmen and those wielding ranged weapons, primarily longbows and crossbows. On the flanks marched the elephants. Another hundred cavalry served as the rearguard.

Between the cavalry and the war machines rode the Emperor himself. On a mighty dark throne thirty feet high, carried by a dozen loyal minions, he made a fearsome figure in dark robes, bearing his mighty aluminum sword like a staff and shouting out commands with a poached megaphone. The war was well and truly on.

Bozhansko, population 370, was just another average small village in the rolling Croatian countryside. On this particular morning the men who worked in the city were already at work; the town's single supermarket (really a small grocery store and open-air market) was open and the farmers and merchants were peddling their wares; a flock of sheep grazed in an open field; children played and yelled as they rode their bicycles down the street. It looked an awful lot like Vojvodina-Nihon itself, actually, until the Legions arrived.

The assault on Bozhansko started out with missiles. A crossbow bolt flew through the air with an abrupt whistle; children looked up, their games forgotten, as a dog leaped into the air with a howl. A bolt pierced the dog as it leaped, driving it back a full ten feet with the force of the bolt. Immediately the air was thick with bolts and arrows raining down upon the terrified townspeople, who fled in all directions. Fire arrows from another regiment of longbowmen set ripe fields to the torch and terrifying cows and sheep; the trumpet of a war elephant further intensified the fear.

With a mighty crash the cows stampeded across the gates of the pastures and through the muddy streets of the village, crushing all in their wake. Screams and bellows mingled with the distant trumpets of elephants and the megaphoned commands of the Emperor. The fire arrows failed to do any damage to the cottages, which relied on brick and clay rather than thatched roofs; but huge boulders fired from the catapults made short work of the houses, smashing in roofs and walls and occasionally people. Then the cavalry arrived.

The swordsmen and lancemen of the Imperial Army pounded out of the woods into the village, shrieking war cries to the sky. The leader, a warrior named Grimhoof, relayed the Emperor's distant commands. "Burn the houses— pillage the loot— eliminate the townsfolk!" As hapless villagers were impaled on lances or cut down by swords, men wielding lit torches began hurling them this way and that, causing huge bonfires to erupt, while the rest of the Imperial Army began to march in only to find that the remaining villagers had long since fled.

Grimhoof and a pair of other cavalrymen, Deathmane and Doomcheval, dismounted and entered the supermarket, Deathmane cleaving open the cash register with a single blow of his sabre. Grimhoof emerged with two hundred and seventeen dinars; while sufficient to purchase BLTs for the three of them at the next-door restaurant, it was otherwise not a particularly impressive sum of money. Grimhoof was not discouraged, however; he ordered his men to loot the rest of the village. They found a good deal of food and some agricultural implements, but not much else that could particularly help the Vodinian Imperial Army on its march of destruction across Croatia.

Elsewhere, of course, there was panic.



Zagreb, Croatia

President Milan Yushkadalenyanovski massaged his aching temples as he complained, "You said who's attacking us?"

"Er, someone known as the Empire of Vojvodina-Nihon," a random secretary said. "We received a message from them, as you remember."

"I thought that was a joke!"

"They have attacked the village of Bozhansko in the extreme northeast. Twenty were killed and two hundred wounded."

"Civilians?"

"Yes. Civilians."

Yushkadalenyanovski shook his head. "Why are they attacking us?"

The secretary paused. "Uhm, something about how they're destined to conquer the world and we're only the first step."

The Minister of Defence spoke up. "Well, information is optimistic. What they've deployed so far looks to be an advance force, maybe a few thousand strong, and with little armoured support. We have picked up some large vehicles that could be tanks, or maybe trucks, or maybe elephants. To be honest, the spy satellites really suffered in the last round of budget cu..."

Yushkadalenyanovski silenced him with a wave of the hand. "Yes, Boris, I know all about the spy satellites. Well, deploy an armoured brigade and an aerial regiment to stop them."

"Sir. Not only are our planes extremely outdated, but the enemy has no air cover," a secretary interrupted.

"Who cares. This is an emergency!"

Back in Bozhansko, the valiant warriors of the Empire heard a strange noise. They looked around, but could not tell from whence it came. Then there was a chattering noise from on high and they looked up to see a giant metal bird swooping through the sky, an implement on its beak spewing shards of metal that felled warrior after warrior. Crossbow bolts pinged off its skin; although one especially stalwart bowman put a bolt through its wing, it appeared unaffected. The Vodinians regrouped in the cover of the trees.

The Imperial Commander, the valiant Sickeye, complained, "We came to fight men! We did not wager on giant metal birds."

The Emperor took off his head with a single swipe of the sword. "Idiot! Like any bird, it can be killed by sword or fire. Blackfang!"

One of the infantrymen saluted. "Yes, O Ruler of the Known and Unknown Multiverse?"

"Known and unknown multiverse, I like that. Fire your catapult at that bird!"

"O your Majesterial Imperial Highness, it is moving too fast to—"

"FIRE IT!"

A boulder soared through the air, narrowly avoided the aged MiG, and punched through the cockpit of another bird in the formation without warning, killing the pilot instantly. The bird plummeted from the sky into the forest in flames.

It proved to be only a lucky shot, however. Further attacks failed to make any mark on the metal birds. Meanwhile, the small pieces of metal they fired from their beaks continued to take a toll on the Imperial warriors, with over forty slain. The Emperor resolved on a desperate strategy. After praying to the Nucleark of the Covenant for success, he had the serfs attach throwing ropes with long hooks to the catapults, and waited for birds to come close enough before firing them. In several instances the hooks caught within the engines, stopping the aircraft, and dragging it down towards the ground. More often rope and hook alike were shredded or torn from the catapult, but hey, it was worth a try. (The downed planes were immediately set upon by infantrymen, who destroyed them utterly.)

"The tide has broken!" howled Doomclaw excitedly.

Doomclaw, the Emperor's newest Imperial Commander -- a perilous position, as those forced into it tended to be slain at the hands of their unpredictable lord -- was mixing metaphors as he stared at the massive contraption that approached. It had been shipped straight from Novi Sad; it stood taller than a man and was guarded on all sides by the boldest and best of the Emperor's many warriors.

Blackfang, who had also been promoted -- to 'Imperial Slightly-Less-Than-Commander' -- stared uncomprehendingly at the device and almost thoughtlessly crossed himself. "It looks of demoniac origin."

"Aye, but with the help of Almighty God's grace and He Who Leads the Nation To Greatness, we have brought it to work on our behalf. Watch this!"

As one of the Croatian fighters returned for a strafing run, a great noise erupted from the demoniac device. Many clasped their hands over their ears and ran to and fro in panic; but those who, like Doomclaw, did not panic, stared up at the sky. The fighter was hit immediately and did not even hit the ground; it exploded in mid-air, raining tiny metallic shards over the forest below. The remaining planes in the flight approached closer to determine what had happened; inside the contraption, the young wizard who had been selected to operate it had skilfully calculated some little engineering details and fired three shells in rapid succession. Two of them hit their marks, bringing one of the fighters to earth in flames (the other blew up in the air); the third was avoided as the fighter banked hard to the right and immediately swung away to return to its airbase. The Imperial soldiery cheered, but Doomclaw ordered: "Quick! A score of horsemen! Follow the metal bird, and find its nest. Then report to us and we will destroy it!"

The score of horsemen obeyed, galloping away at top speed heedless of branches and trees. Doomclaw meanwhile turned back to the assembled masses, including the increasingly restless war elephants (whose copious droppings were becoming a hassle to clean up). "This baby," he pointed to the demoniac device, "is a MACT.XI Advanced Towed Anti-Aircraft Artillery System."

"A what?" someone asked. Doomclaw repeated the name, slower. "It is an animal that spits fire. With a dedicated wizard at the reins, the animal can be driven to attack the metal birds, its favourite food. Are there any questions?"

There were many questions. People wished to know how the animal moved, what it ate (aside from metal birds), its mating habits. In the end Doomclaw muttered, "You can't all be wizards", and the animal inquiringly lowered its gun barrel a smidgen with a faint creak, restoring silence. A team of apprentice wizards arrived with what looked like food capsules the size of a small child, and the bird-eating animal was fed an entire wagonful of the capsules (awed whispers conveyed sentiments such as, "Boy, it must be hungry!" and "What about the metal birds? I wanna see it eat one!")

The Emperor was off on business of import, and in his absence his subjects were somewhat demotivated; nonetheless, His orders were to continue into Croatian territory, and after packing up camp and readying supplies the soldiers did just that.

The infantry were arranged in definite ranks, marching as one with shields at the ready. Crossbowmen and longbowmen held their flanks and back, while on the outside of the whole formation was the remaining cavalry. Towards the very back lumbered the mighty war elephants; in front of them the war machines; and in the very center of the formation, the Nucleark of the Covenant with the anti-aircraft gun towed in front of it on a kind of leash. The gun was silent, apparently content to watch its surroundings.

The airbase was about eight kilometers away. The horsemen had found it easily enough; rather than scouting around, they simply turned tail and returned to the army, which was gradually approaching their position. They made a concise report to Doomclaw, who nodded once, sharply, and directed the massive army to change direction ever so slightly. They marched along a dirt road next to a railroad that headed towards the airfield; the road was not wide enough to accomodate the entire army, so several elephants were ordered to form the right vanguard, crushing and trampling the trees so that the numerous infantry, cavalry and war machines could pass through easily. As a direct result of this incursion, at least one passenger train was completely derailed and went into a ravine. (The army took only a few minutes to completely destroy the train and any who might have survived the train crash.)

Fortunately, the railroad line was not heavily traveled and the army camped along it at nightfall, causing another train crash -- that is, the train crashed into a sleeping elephant, which went berserk and trampled a number of infantry and cavalry alike before stampeding off into the woods and disappearing. (As for the train, it went off the tracks and into the same ravine, and the survivors were eaten by tigers.) That was assumed to be the end of the matter, but the crazed elephant later turned up in Vienna, Austria, where it proved to be the -real- cause of death of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. He was enjoying a night out at the pub when the elephant crashed through the pub, trampled the composer and several of his associates, then disappeared through the back wall and fell dead of exhaustion. Originally, its appearance was attributed to drunkenness; the back room in which its carcass rested was not reopened for almost a hundred years, when the skeleton was discovered among the remains of several thousand persistently missing British soldiers who had never been accounted for after the Battle of Iwo Jima, which was especially curious as no British soldiers had ever taken part in said battle.

Office of the Chief Governor, Situation Room

Chief Governor Dunan Ruu was already busy planning his strikes with the Cripistan Nation, plotting and placing bases for construction and engineer and medical work to commence. It was a busy day today, especially since the two Super-Carriers and the Super-Battleship had arrived on station to initiate Forced Supremacy. Six more fleets remained either in dock or in the wide ocean, of which one was closest to the situation that could be called, at best, outrageous.

"Who the hell attacks with bow and arrows anymore?" Dunan had just finished laughing to tears at the reports, quickly subsiding at the civilian casualties. "I mean, what the hell is this, a joke?"

"No...no...not a joke. They mean to conquer."

"What, so, we just send a fleet in and squash their pathetic armies?" The Chief Governor had been in contact with the Anagonian-Class Carrier Union that was near the situation area. It would take a day at least to arrive and another hour to initiate military operations. "This is insane. I feel like a guy swatting at a fly."

"Yes, yes, swatting at a fly. Basically. But, you know, it might be good training."

"For what, swords? Our Marines would beat the living tar out of anyone else with Swords. Their the best of the damned best, remember?" Dunan sipped at his regular coffee.

"Eh," the Advisor shrugged, "Could be fun."

"Why not...advise the Union to make way towards the scene but not to engage unless help is requested. I'm pretty damn sure that a Modern Tech nation like Croatia could squash them alone."

"Very well, Chief Governor."

And that was that. The Union would approach quickly enough, two battleships, four Cruisers, eight Destroyers, and some transport and supply ships with submarine defenses. Regular formations, nothing too fancy. The Admiral in command felt bad for even going near there, because he knew he'd just be getting in the way of the Croatia's. Orders were orders, and a message of assistance was sent.

I wonder what Nova Pictavia had to say.

Zagreb, Croatia

Incredulity prevailed.

First there was the large number of people who had to be fired for incompetence. This was a sure sign that the dudes with swords and crossbows had to be taken seriously, and eliminated seriously. After six of the nation's finest fighter pilots had been slain -- although oddly, the enemy seemed to limit itself to throwing rocks at the planes until suddenly and unexpectedly bringing out its AA guns -- and with panic spreading through far-northeastern Croatia, to say nothing of a mounting civilian casualty list as passenger trains began to disappear, the War Ministry was moving the nation to high alert and preparing to bring all of the available resources of the OSRH to bear. Which, given the recent budget cuts, was not all that much.

"All right. Vassily. Where is the enemy force, how numerous is it, where is it going?"

Vassily Aisivatudidzer, the nation's Minister of Intelligence, shuffled some papers aimlessly. "Agents have reported that the force is currently encamped at some point along the Banica-Slushkin Railroad, near the northern border with Vojvodina, the enemy's nation of origin. Estimates place the force at approximately five hundred horsemen, perhaps five or six thousand infantry; between six and ten war elephants have been identified, as well as siege towers, catapults, and battering rams."

"Er.... horsemen? Siege towers? War elephants?"

"That is correct. This force uses extremely antiquated weaponry and modes of combat, and linguists have identified their tongue as Old Church Slavonic. I would say they are at least six hundred years behind the times in terms of technology."

"Well, that changes things," the President mused. "But what about the anti-aircraft gun?"

"Probably an old Soviet relic. I wouldn't be surprised if they worshiped it as a god." The Minister of Intelligence smiled and withdrew.

"What is the probable destination of the force?"

"It is difficult to tell, Mr. President, but it seems they are approaching Slushkin airfield. It is likely that we shall receive a communication from the airfield if fighting breaks out."

The President turned to the Minister of Defense. "Vjelis. What forces can we get on the ground to counter this.... Empire?"

Vjelis Ekspelodin consulted a chart. "At the moment, Slushkin airfield has a garrison of forty soldiers, armed with FN FALs, HS 2000s, and maybe one or two Metis's. We can airlift approximately a thousand more to the site with ease. As for vehicles..." he paused. "We are not constrained by technology in this case. We can get M-84s in, we can get mortars, we can get ten kinds of artillery with no trouble. Hell, we can even deploy our reserve T-55s; these things are tanks, and if you're right, Minister Aisivatudidzer, they'll be up against guys in chain mail with swords."

"What about aerial forces? I know we're not doing too well in the aerial department...."

"You're telling me. Well, we have Mi-171s, but otherwise nothing much of note. The Air Force is tied up with Air Defence, and 'Defence' is a big part of that... I guess the HKV will have to take care of this on its own."

"Well, that shouldn't be a problem." The President folded his hands. "Let Slushkin airfield know about this approaching army, if they don't already. And anything we can't airlift straight to the field, route them along the railroad to attack this army from behind. Modern war isn't all about a show of force. It's about technology and intelligence. And the Emperor has neither."

Then it was that the naval reports arrived.

The HRM (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Croatian_war_navy) (Croatian War Navy) was primarily a brown water force. The Adriatic Sea was as far as its area of patrol went; aside from monitoring maritime traffic, escorting merchant vessels, and patrolling maritime borders, it usually had very little to do. Imagine its surprise, therefore, when a naval force larger than its entirety appears, sporting improbably large warships and supply vessels that probably carried enough food to feed Zagreb for a month. Determined to defend the Adriatic Sea even against superior odds, the patrol boats and gunboats formed up in a loose blockade, while coastal guns began to turn towards the approaching fleet. In the subsequent exchange of belligerent messages, it was learned that the newcomers were friendly.

The response was akin to that of a boy finding out that the monster under his bed is actually there to help him. Uncharacteristically grateful, but at the same time wary. The President of Croatia greatly hopes that these new ships have nothing to do with either the Empire of Vojvodina-Nihon, or the fact that the Empire of Vojvodina-Nihon's invasion has diverted Croatia's attention and therefore left it open to attack from other fronts.

Meanwhile, in Slushkin, there is chaos.


Slushkin Airfield; the far northeast.

The Imperial troops were well-trained but unenthusiastic, uneducated, and poorly equipped. Practically the only points in their favour were their numbers and their armour. The numbers were superior to anything that had been presented so far; and their armour had the double effect of looking fearsome and stopping cold most standard bullets fired at more than, say, twenty yards. It had been designed by the Emperor's wizards; and it was so strong because as a test the wizard was forced to stand in the courtyard clad in the armour, while a stolen revolver was emptied into it from firing squad distance. Many a less skilled (or more devious) wizard had died in this way.

Thus, when they awoke at three AM to attack Slushkin airfield, and the first hint of their onslaught came from the wild war cries that seemed to erupt from all sides, momentarily stunning the barely awake garrison, and the garrison dragged out their FN FALs and emerged onto the tarmac -- didn't emerge onto the tarmac, after the first four fell to crossbow bolts, but instead fired from inside -- the Croatians found that their gunfire was rather ineffective.

The catapults came next. Large rocks smashed delicate equipment and hangars; aircraft erupted in flames, à la Hollywood. Rocks also pockmarked the runways and the control tower. Then the infantry became visible; the Croatians were panicked at this point, as they could not yet see what kinds of weapons the enemy wielded. Didn't sound like guns, though. The question was answered as a crossbow bolt thunked into the wall of the listening post. Another one shattered the window barely overhead. Then there was a horrible trumpeting sound.

A pair of war elephants led the charge and completely smashed the listening post. Behind them followed the infantry, now breaking into a run as they charged across the field with swords, spears, pikes, lances, axes and all manner of other weapons at hand. The few surviving Croatians stolidly kept firing; as the range decreased more and more of the enemy began to fall, but then the defenders were engulfed and bloodily slain. Their rifles and sidearms, those that survived trampling, were seized; about five soldiers succeeded in fleeing the carnage, only to be overtaken and impaled by lance-wielding cavalry. Total Imperial losses were about sixty soldiers, partly from gunfire, partly from being trampled in the charge, and partly from fights over the equipment.

Later, once the sun had risen and the Imperial warriors had erected small mobile towers at the corners of the cleared area that formed the airfield, the Emperor himself arrived with serfs and a small additional complement of approximately eighty cavalry and two hundred infantry. The serfs set to work building stockades around the airfield; a bugler was stationed in the control tower, the highest point in the vicinity, to blow a trumpet call whenever the enemy was sighted. (The trumpet call consisted of a line of music, marked mezzo forte, which among trumpet players means to be played ear-splittingly loudly, just a little short of as loudly as possible.)

Union Task Force, five miles from Croatia "fleet"

Admiral Edward Jackson looked at the tiny flotilla of ships that comprised the Croatian Navy. He sighed, rubbing his temple as he stood on the Super-Carrier's bridge. Some nations were lucky, some weren't. Either way the landing party on board would definitely be more superior than anything these people had. They needed Anagonia's help.

He walked over to the ComOpOf and ordered a message sent to the fleet again, asking if the fleet could assist in either Battleship Bombardment or Marine Assistance. They forwarded that they did have Light Tanks and V-22 Osprey's, with various other types of random Carrier Aircraft, to assist in any Operation. The situation had turned into a National Military Assistance Initiative, or NMAI.

In the meantime he went on board one of the Destroyers, a DDG-51 ARLEIGH BURKE-class, and headed to meet the naval ships. Things needed to be sorted out before operations could begin. He would request an audience with whomever was in command to coordinate things.

Commodore General Nikola Nikovski was half diplomat and half military man. One of the chief officers of the Croatian Navy, he was the first to acknowledge that the military strength of Croatia was far from impressive; indeed, he made frequent jokes about it (and more at the expense of the Bosnian Military, as the two nations maintained small military forces to this day). He was also one of the most fluent in English, and for that reason he had been chosen to be the attaché to the newcomer Anakonis, or Aganogians, or whatever they were called.

First he responded to the messages of the Angonginian Fleet. No, fleet bombardment would not work, as the enemy forces were too far inland. Yes, helping us with maritime patrol would be greatly appreciated. You will be faxed a page of duties in which the Croatian Navy is commonly employed. Yes, any equipment you can land on the ground would be much appreciated; we expect the vojska to bear the brunt of this assault. Croatian military plans are en route.

The military plans included a map of the northeastern corner of the nation. Highlighted in red was Slushkin airfield; highlighted in orange was the railroad that led to it, through a patch of national forest riddled with trails and old roads. Purple dashes indicated the route traversed by the enemy: demolishing an automobile bridge over the Sava River (far northeast corner) after using it to cross; passing through, and presumably obliterating, several small villages -- refugees from which were crowded in the nearest town, Banica, about fifteen or twenty kilometers south -- and finally to the current position, which was imagined to be somewhere alongside the orange line (the railroad). Slushkin airfield was circled, as transmissions directed at it had gone unanswered and therefore it was presumably under attack. Also attached was the enemy force composition as determined by Minister Aisivatudidzer.

Meanwhile, as the wooden and earthen walls of his new mobile fortress were built by a small army of serfs driven by whip and the promise of gold, (in which the Emperor was finding himself unusually rich due to skyrocketing real estate prices and a competent broker, not to mention the success of his third album across Europe and a recent $40 million record deal, which he obtained after several hours of "negotiation" in the Imperial torture chambers) the Emperor was seated upon a throne in an underground hangar, cradling a FN FAL. "Henchman!" he called.

"Minion, sire," the Minion corrected, emerging from the shadows.

"Nay. Henceforth, you are a Henchman. Get the Chief Wizard."

"Yes, O Majesterial Emperoriality of the Multisuperomnigalactoverse." He bowed, and withdrew. A moment later the Chief Wizard was dragged before the Emperor in chains and prostrated himself upon the floor.

"What is your desire, O ruler of the Earth and Sky?"

The Emperor hurled the gun at his feet. "Design and craft enough of these to serve my elite guard, by nightfall. Or die!"

"At once, High Majesty of Everything!"

Once out of earshot and eyesight from his liege, the Wizard withdrew a cellular phone and called a black market dealer named Ivan. Within an hour or two Ivan's truck arrived and several serfs carried off a crate or two of rifles while Ivan carefully counted the stacks of five hundred dinar notes the Wizard had handed him. In retaliation, another Wizard examined every one of the rifles. Satisfied, Ivan departed; the other Wizard pronounced them working. (The five hundred dinar notes were almost all counterfeit, albeit skilled counterfeit; the Wizard always kept plenty of them on hand. As for the guns, half of them would barely last through a cartridge before falling apart. There was a reason they were so cheap.)

May not be around tomorrow or the next day. In short, expect inactivity.

And so the fleet dispatched without delay, landing their Marines numbering in the five-hundred range and deploying about twenty LAV's with cannon and anti-personnel and anti-air emplacements. They would move forward to the position where the invading Imperials were last seen. The Super-Carrier Union would stay put to begin air ops. A squadron of F-34 Joint Strike Fighters were dispatched to the scene with Super Cobra Gunship support for the troops.

This would probably be one of the biggest wank-fests ever for any Anagonian Engagement. Blood, armor, and everything. Bullets against Arrows. Stones against Missiles. With experienced pilots on their side, it probably was the doom of the Imperial Army anyway.

Next would be the dispatch and emplacement of troops on the ground from the Motherland. Then, next, would be the toppling of the Empire. Hell, maybe they'd leave it in chaos just for fun.

((Fantastic beyond measure! Keep it up.))

The Righteous Hegemony of Sovereign Nations of The True, The Eternal, The Only His Majesty, Mon Kye En, The Supreme Sovereign, Who Administers Over The ten To The Four Thousand Ninety Sixth Power Dark Universes, The Ten To The Four Thousand Ninety Six Light Universes, And The Two Time Ten To The Tour Thousand Ninety Six Universes Militaries had 5 large airports, 4 Air Bases, and an almost uncountable number of airfields. All were busy with activity as almost 5000 troops and 300 officers headed out on the His Majesty, Mon Kye En, The Supreme Sovereign's first military campaign since his return (if you believe that he the Supreme Sovereign and not some wacko who happened to kill the leader of the nation's Junta on TV and, then along with his 40 female spear wielding accomplices, hold out in a museum exhibit until popular support happened to call for him to be appointed leader, otherwise it's his first campaign).

The nation's the majority of the nations (requisitioned) which consisted of Air Force consisted of 47 DC-3's, 53 Fokker F27's, 11 C-124 Globemaster II's, 19 C-119 Flying Boxcars, 3 C-46 Commando's, 11 LZ-96 Zeplin clones, 1 LZ 130 Graf Zeppelin clone, 3 ZRS-5 clones, 15 F9C Sparrowhawk clones, 1 Nord 1500 Griffon... took to the air in order to support the Emperor of Vojvodina-Nihon. They followed the nation's only B-52 which was converted to a transport and filled with 753 FN FAL rifles (32 in 7x43mm, 502 are IMBEL LAR's, the rest are L1A1's) and ammo. Why no one new but it was a specific request of the Supreme Sovereign.

The B-52 soon took a far lead despite flying at "tree top" level. And soon the hot pink aircraft with yellow polka dots (a stealth feature) looked like it was going to reach the former Croatian air base. Hopefully not before the message indicating that The Righteous Hegemony of Sovereign Nations of The True, The Eternal, The Only His Majesty, Mon Kye En, The Supreme Sovereign, Who Administers Over The ten To The Four Thousand Ninety Sixth Power Dark Universes, The Ten To The Four Thousand Ninety Six Light Universes, And The Two Time Ten To The Tour Thousand Ninety Six Universes Militaries is supporting the Emperor of Vojvodina-Nihon.

Slushkin airfield, Northeastern Croatia

Imagine the guard's surprise when an otherwise innocuous object in the room he has converted into a concert hall begins to speak to him.

You can't. Suffice it to say that the guard immediately pulled out his baton and began to conduct the orchestra in a growling leitmotiv that prominently featured the double basses and tuba, in the same rhythm as the theme from 'Jaws'. (How exactly the orchestra fit inside the control tower of a small airfield is a mystery. I blame my ghostwriters.) This theme immediately informed everyone that the enemy was close by, in the manner that only film music can do.

Five soldiers burst into the control tower room, brandishing swords and halberds. The Maestro informed them to send for a wizard; even as the wizard hastened up the stairs the strange machine spoke again, and the soldiers leveled their weapons at it, and crossed themselves nervously. The wizard entered and approached the machine, engulfing himself in a mysterious green light; he sprinkled holy water over it and recited a benediction, then pressed a button. "This is Control Tower. Request reason for landing. This base is currently property of the Most Glorious Emperor, He Who Rules Over Mankind, Lord of the Omniverse, King over All Living Creatures, High Prince of Things Audible, Inaudible, and Conditionally Audible, Manipulator of Matter. All who oppose Him and support the heathen Croatians, say thy final prayers."

A few moments later a horseman rode up delivering the urgent message, which was seized upon by the Emperor's loyal soldiers. He and his horse immediately fell dead of exhaustion. The messenger's possesions were divided up, whereas his horse was blown, by a very strong wind, onto a pile of dry wood that moments before had been set aflame by being struck by lightning. (No, the very strong wind did not extinguish the flames.) This in turn provided food for the soldiers, to say nothing of the elephants.

Anyway, the message was brought to the Emperor by being passed up a succession of Minions until one found himself with nobody to pass it to. The Minion was now bowing deeply before the Emperor, and he murmured to the ground, "Here is the message, O Mightiest Ruler of the Cosmos."

"What does it say?" The Emperor growled, being unable to read (a secret which afforded him some shame).

"Um, um, O King of the Multiverse, it states that 'The Righteous Hegemony of Sovereign Nations of The True, The Eternal, The Only His Majesty, Mon Kye En, The Supreme Sovereign, Who Administers Over The ten To The Four Thousand Ninety Sixth Power Dark Universes, The Ten To The Four Thousand Ninety Six Light Universes, And The Two Times Ten To The Tour Thousand Ninety Six Universes Militaries' wishes to support your cause."

"The what?"

"The Righteous Hegemony of...."

"No, no, you blundering idiot. This individual. He must be one of my underlings; he only administers over the Light and Dark Universes, you say? Evidently such a minor underling I had never heard of him before. Tell the Sovereign Hegemony of Righteous Administrators.... or whatever it is called. Tell him that it is about time he showed up, and he is fortunate to escape severe punishment for his lateness, as it is only early in the campaign. Also tell him that any mighty army he commands should be deployed at once to ravage the cities of Croatia, to burn the houses, plunder the wealth, kill the townsfolk; to level the mountains into valleys, to sunder the valleys into oceans, to make those oceans red with blood...." the Emperor continued in this vein for about ten minutes, while the Minion scampered to write it all down on his arm, as he lacked a sheet of paper. The message would subsequently be sent out with another fine horseman, who would presumably also die of exhaustion, or alternately by radio.

At the same time, the warriors of the Empire had cause to marvel greatly; for a large pink bird with yellow spots appeared in the sky, and roared towards them with great speed, and zoomed overhead; it looked too large for even the Imperial Animal-That-Eats-Metal-Birds to devour. There was much debate amongst the warriors as to what manner of bird this was; some said that no birds were pink, with the reddish cardinals being the closest it got, but others had heard legends of pink birds from the far west, called flamingos. As they debated several Sergeants and Cavalry emerged from the control tower and bade them clear a large stone area shaped almost like a path, with all haste. They did so; and it was not long before the flamingo descended from its great height onto this path and raced along towards them before finally slowing to a stop....


Along the Banica-Slushkin Railroad, Croatia; about 20 kilometers south of the airfield

There had not been enough room in the train, and anyway it would have left the vojski without vehicular support. So a little over half of the Croatian force was arrayed in jeeps and whatever mechanization was available; the tanks and artillery were prominent, and well manned. It could be said that everyone was thinking the same: This is going to be a pushover. The way their COs had framed it, these were guys with swords and axes; for ranged weapons, the best they could manage were crossbows, which lacked both the range and power of guns. With a little bit of creativity, the airfield could even be recaptured intact; indeed, that was the Croatians' primary goal.

A Colonel Roman Plandecki was in charge of the operation; he was a man of generous proportions in terms of both height and breadth, and easily dwarfed any other man on the field. His voice was deep and booming, but he was capable of a deep gentleness and humour the opposite of that produced by his sergeant major, a short bald man known only as Sergeant Souliak. As the ponderous procession came to a corner -- a slow train packed to the brim with FN-wielding vojski, the line of jeeps and personnel carriers and tanks stretching into the distance, the minesweepers deployed ahead as a precaution -- Plandecki stood up in the back of his jeep and raised both hands to stop. Gradually everything ground to a halt and Plandecki spoke into his microphone.

"Vojski! We are entering the final leg of our journey. The enemy will be in our sights within eight kilometers or less. Moreover, the Anagonian Marines will arrive within this hour to aid us in our struggle against the invader. Remember this! They may be more numerous than us, their appearance more fearsome; but frankly, they are pretty stupid. In terms of tactics they are uneducated; in terms of weaponry, underequipped; in terms of morale, given the way in which their leader speaks of himself, one could easily convert them to our side and convince them to overthrow the ruler. Croatians, onward!"

There was much cheering, as is traditional (an old custom from the days of Soviet emulation, when failing to cheer would get one shot by a KGB-Hrvatska agent). Then the army picked up the pace as it began its iron tread towards the enemy camp. They did not, as yet, know their primary opponent.

Doomclaw, formerly known as Nikitoya Shukusei before his foolish dreams of power took hold, was no fool. He knew that, in practical terms, the Empire of Vojvodina-Nihon was doomed. But he also knew that arranging a victory for his forces, or at least an apparent victory, would gain him wealth and the favour of the unpredictable Emperor. Both of these could be used, once the Emperor was overthrown and slain as was inevitable, to gain Doomclaw the antler crown and aluminum sword, and Croatia to boot. Therefore, Doomclaw planned his strategy carefully.

Even as it seemed that the base was at rest, Doomclaw had instructed them to be ready to take arms at a moment's notice; elephants and teams of crossbowmen and longbowmen had been directed to hide in the forests, prepared to attack the Croatians whenever they came into range; even war machines had been placed at strategic locations so that they could be fired onto the roadway and railroad, all camouflaged under cover of the trees. Doomclaw himself wielded a purloined FN FAL, which he had named Bal'il in the time-honoured tradition of naming weapons (e.g. Excalibur); as, for the moment, only senior officers were allowed to wield such mighty weapons, he used it and threats of magic to maintain command over his forces equaled only by the threat of the Emperor's dreaded wrath.

Doomclaw's strategic aim was to play off the weaknesses of the Croatian Army and attempt to lure it into close range, practically the only area in which the Imperial troops had any sort of advantage. Of course, he hadn't reckoned with the Anagonians.

OOC:

OMG! I AM LAUGHING SO HARD MY EXTERNAL ORGANS HURT! HELP!

IC:

The Anagonians would approach the airfield in haste. Ahead of them the F-35(Correction!) Joint Strike Fighters had made it to the air field to discover a huge bomber on the field that they instantly recognized as a B-52. They didn't care much for that, expect laughing so hard at the pokadot scheme that one nearly peed his pants. After righting his aircraft and entering a hover mode, five F-35's hovered around the airfield as the Air-to-Ground Missiles exited the hidden compartments to make way for a wank-fest, which everyone was expecting.

Five minutes afterward, the loud thumping of the Super Cobra's was heard, seconds later six Super Cobra Gunships moved around the airfield to scout the area, their blades making loud thump-thump's in the wind as they caused anyone near not ready for such a concussion of wind to scream in pain by the ears. They, too, also hovered for a time, then continued to scout.

The Five-Hundred Marines and twenty LAV Light Personnel Tanks made way to the airfield and stopped in surprise. No one was here! Man, they had been expecting to kill some Dark Age goon and laugh at them! This wasn't fair! Needless to say, after a short moment of thought, every marine screamed a battle cry so ravage and so animal that it seemed like a roar, then proceeded to run into the airfield and cloud every building searching for prey.

Hell, they wanted to kill somebody.

Behold!

Before us there rises a column of flame. On our right, another, and yet another on our left. The Beast, devourer of metal birds, saddled by a Wizard, chatters as it spits its venom towards the sky, where huge metal arrows descend; its fire engulfs them, but there are many more. Aye, and where these demonic arrows touch, the spot is engulfed in flames; already part of the wooden stockade is burning, and the serfs rush to put out the fire. The Emperor below will not forgive us if we fail.

Behold!

Other birds of the air have come. They thump and screech in primal calls; perhaps this is their mating ritual? In the background we hear dramatic orchestral music; French horns, trombones. We wait in our hidden positions. The longbowmen hide in their prepared barricades. This is the nature of Doomclaw's trap; Doomclaw, our dread lord and commander, second only to the Emperor Himself, may He live for a trillion years and may His name resound to the farthest dimensions.

We wait. Now the Agoronians [sic] have entered the confines of the stockade; the foul heathens, evidently precursors of the evil Croatians. With them are demonic carriages of metal that move without requiring horses to propel them. They approach us; they run towards our concealed positions bearing their thundersticks. The thunderstick officer gives us our command and raises his weapon; as the Angoras run towards us the thunderstick officer opens fire. There are a series of deafening reports in quick succession.

Behold!

The heathen Anigindoans continue to run. One was felled. The rest avoided. Now there is a continued barrage of sparks and fire and noise from the enemy as they use their demonic weapons on us; but we are concealed behind a tall swinging door, like a drawbridge, and their shots cannot reach us. Now is our signal to attack. The men in front grasp their pikes and the door slams down; the pikes thrust forwards, neck level, as we have been trained. The first row of the Onagonoan phalanx is decapitated. But the second behind them fires its thundersticks, and the brave pikemen are cut down. Now it is our turn.

Behold!

With brave cries of "God save the Emperor!" we leap forward into swordfighting range. Sword against thunderstick we battle. Some of the enemy soldiers pull smaller thundersticks from their belts and send tongues of flame to burn holes in the armour and bodies of the warriors. But some cannot do so in time, and the keen blades of the Empire slash across their bodies and dispatch their heathen souls straight to Hell....

There is a familiar sound of crossbows. A company, across the breadth of the stockade, is firing upon the enemy; bolts seem to grow from the necks of the enemy and they fall dead to the ground. But the succor is brief. The crossbows fall silent one by one; and without looking, in our furious duel against enemy soldiery, we know that another company of the infidels has discovered the crossbowmen and slain them cruelly. Alternately they got tired and went to get lunch.

I myself dispatch five of the enemy; but I am a lucky one. Many of my fellow swordsmen do not even manage one; the enemy outnumbers us, and they bear weapons born of the devil whereas we poor fellows must settle for honest steel. From my second infidel I capture a thunder-stick and use their own demonic creation upon them; but one of them comes upon me from behind, and as my eyes meet the dust whence I was born I distantly hear the harsh and punctuating beats of the tympani.

Behold!

We did something really stupid.

* * * * *

Tank versus elephant. Who wins?

When the elephant comes from behind, it is the elephant. Driven berserk, partly by the lust of battle and partly by a poor childhood, dysfunctional family, etc., a war elephant named Ubangi charges out of the woods, smashes part of the stockade, and hits one of the light tanks from behind. Trumpeting to the sky, it succeeds in crashing straight into a mass of Anagonian soldiers before having its head blown apart by a mortar round and screeching to a relative halt, slowly toppling from side to side before it falls and completely crushes anything lighter than an elephant.

In the elephant's wake is the cavalry, wielding long lances and throwing spears. The lances are slightly more useful; the spears do not succeed in hitting their marks and, even when they do, rarely do more than pierce the armour; the lances, on the other hand, impale people, provided the cavalrymen get close enough to use them. More often, the warrior and/or horse expired before doing so, primarily due to gunshots but also due to being trampled or Spontaneous Cranial Combustion Syndrome. Slightly more effective are the Elephants, With Guns!, plated with armour and mounted by a gaggle of FN FAL wielding ninjas. Still, there are only so many elephants, and mortars and tank rounds are equally effective at stopping them. In addition, they have an odd tendency to trample everyone indiscriminately.

The Croatians haven't arrived yet. This is because they are under sudden and unexpected attack by Doomclaw's infantry and small portions of the cavalry; but the result is highly similar. The Croatians are perhaps slightly less experienced and not as well-trained; but they make up for that by having greater numbers. By and large the battle consists of a disorganized melée ranging through the forest while elephants and siege machines lumber about crushing anything in their wake and catapults fling huge boulders about, sometimes crushing enemy vojski or tanks and sometimes landing innocuously a few miles off the mark.

A trio of catapults are introduced from a corner of the stockade, firing a fusillade of giant boulders towards Anagonian marines and tanks, at least two of which go completely off course and end up destroying, respectively, a short length of railroad track and a small building that serves no obvious function except to explode messily when nobody is looking then appear unharmed when people arrive to check it out.

OOC:

MY EYES BLEED! I CAN'T LAUGH ANY HARDER!

IC:

The Anagonian Troops had been lucky so far. The Marines, trained in the most harshest of conditions and experienced in all forms of known combat, had fun weilding the enemies swords and decapitating them with moves that had to come from "Crouching Tiger; Hidden Dragon". Alternatevly, they blew the heads off so many Dark Age idiots that it started to become a game. A squad of marines set up in the center of the airfield a board with a score. They kept score on how many times you could awesomely make someone die. Anagonians got top score. With one addition by a marine who decapitated twenty Dark Arge idiots with his own knife, just by yelling "CHUCK NORRIS!"

Other people tried yelling "CHUCK NORRIS", but nothing happened. That's because Chuck Norris showed up and put a stop to that. Well, there went the board.

So, fighting went on without score. Later they realized that Chuck Norris felt pity on the Idiots and round-housed kicked them to death. He didn't mean for the Marine to take any credit, but who could see Chuck Norris? He was too damned fast! He kicked that Marine in the gut and made sure everyone saw it, then went back to wherever Chuck Norris goes to after Pawning in an Awesome Manner lots of people.

The LAV's had little time after being surprised to retaliate against the elephants. One shot, one kill. Hell, just by shooting the damned things groin it fell. Just like the little guy's. The tank men had a fun time blowing holes in the elephants, and counting the holes in the process. At one time four LAV Cannon's fired and created one-hundred and sixty-two holes in a single elephant. That was marked on the board, right before Chuck Norris round-house kicked the score-keeper for not putting his name automatically on top.

Ouch. Well, to appease the Great Norris they continued fighting.

The F-35's and the Super Cobra's felt little resistance as they easily avoided large rocks and bows that bounced off the metal. They chewed holes in the tiny black armored people and blew eyes out of elephants. The catapults were score-counted as wank-fests until Chuck Norris round-housed kicked a Cobra Pilot. The Pilot then lost control and crashed the chopper, fearing the worst. Yet Chuck Norris, in his infinite wisdom, only used his leg of "Order" and did not kill the guy. If he was to use "Law", everyone would have died in a ten-mile radius.

The battle went on with the Almighty Chuck Norris, Angels singing in the Backround, laughed at the one-sided battle. He then left, like before said going back to wherever Chuck goes when he kills people.

Marine Casulties = 24 (Twenty by Chuck Norris on accident and Four by the Dark Age Idiots)
One Cobra Lost = (Chuck Norris)
Two tanks lost = (Chuck Norris and Elephant)

Due to the weariness of the author, character roleplay is temporarily suspended.

It is difficult to tell when Doomclaw realised that his forces were taking the worst of it. A token force of nine hundred infantry and a hundred cavalry, along with assorted catapults and war elephants, had utterly failed to make a significant dent in enemy forces, while suffering heavy losses itself. Meanwhile, the main body of his forces were basically lost in the woods. The battle against the Croatians also fared poorly; while losses were heavier on the enemy side, the Croatians having been the party surprised, they were fighting back very well. The Imperial warriors had an advantage in close combat due to their swords, spears, and axes, which killed more efficiently than guns at closer range; but the Croatians rarely allowed them close enough to do any damage, keeping them at bay with gunfire and artillery, and pursuing them into the forest.

In short, he realised he had to withdraw. The order was made to begin a "Strategic Troop Movement"; the survivors, and those capable of extricating themselves in time, fled the scene in as dignified a manner as possible, whereas the Emperor was teleported due to a plot hole and character shield. The anti-aircraft gun was rescued at the cost of twenty lives, and the Imperial warriors retreated to a distant hillock in the forest, where they regrouped and prepared to assess the situation.

Immediately the warriors noticed something was missing. Their holiest of holies, their token that granted them victory in battle. No wonder the heathen had prevailed! I have already referred to the Nucleark of the Covenant in these pages. At the moment an orderly was in the hangar, fearfully awaiting the arrival of the Anagonian soldiers that were currently cleaning up the last vestiges of Imperial soldiery and regrouping in order to pursue. How would he escape with the ancient relic, said to have been mined by Joseph of Arimathea himself, and with golden wires that had been drawn out from the gifts the Magi presented to an infant Jesus Christ? Then he knew of the answer. Against the heathen, the huge tub of holy water would render him and his precious cargo safely through. He sprinkled the water upon himself, then poured the rest of the heavy tub over the Nucleark of the Covenant.

We know what happened next. At the hillock, the warriors knelt in prayer, seeing it as a great sign and omen; the Croatians stopped their pursuit in surprise; the Anagonians, well, those who were over two or three hundred feet from the airbase, were thrown to the ground and nearly deafened; when the dust had cleared, what was left of the airbase was a twenty foot deep crater, in the middle of which sat Chuck Norris rubbing his now nearly bald head (sacrilege!) and craning his neck in search of the camera. Scientists later hypothesized that over the millennia, the Nucleark's uranium had gradually decayed and become unstable, making it much more susceptible to triggers. Whatever the cause, it had blown sky-high when it wasn't supposed to.

This produced a problem. The Imperial troops refused to fight without a holy relic; while a 'backup Nucleark' was immediately summoned from Vojvodina-Nihon itself, it would be hours or perhaps a day in arriving. And during that time the Croatian Army, or whatever Anagonians had survived, could stumble upon the Imperial Army and make even greater mincemeat of it. The Emperor thought about this for a long moment. Finally he decided that the only solution was to employ a team of ninjas, to distract the enemy until the new Nucleark arrived. And whatever was the Emperor's word, was done.

Your eyes and internal organs may take a rest. I'm done, probably will be out for the next couple of days for Thanksgiving, hence the plot hole.

Your eyes and internal organs may take a rest. I'm done, probably will be out for the next couple of days for Thanksgiving, hence the plot hole.

OOC:

Nice Plot Twist. And okay, I will. Watch out for Chuck Norris tonight, he tends to dislike people dissing his hair! Lol. Just post again when your ready to continue.

With the lead plane to far in the lead to see, and a flotilla consisting of aircraft where some aircraft had stall speed almost 6 times the maximum speed of other aircraft it was a miracle that 2000 of the 5000 infantry were able to make it to Croatia (the rest ended up in international waters... most with out flotation devices) . Unfortunately with the intended airbase destroyed by Nuclear arms, and Chuck Norris the infantry were forced to parachute down (thanks the re-placement of most of the flotation devices with parachutes). But due to lack of training and age of the equipment only half of 2000 survived the Jump. The survivors looked around and found themselves scattered about a crater with a, as they called it, "a funny looking bald man" in it.

Meanwhile the 300 officers, in Airships, spotted what appeared to be a number of warship of an unknown origin. Fearing hostilities, they launched their 15 parasite fighters, readied their bombs, and loaded their 150 pound Type 97 Rifles.