NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: Continued from "The War of the Proletariat (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=13405148)." Feel free to join.

-Defense Collective Council-
-Dasvaga, Proto-Laurasia-

Then this is war.

--------------

Now was time for the real war. Millions of tunnel shelters were dug. Anti-Air vehicles were erected. Helicopters were armed. Millions of soldiers lurked, latent, by the borders of Faxanavia. The War of the Proletariat was over. Now, the fight began.

The Imperator smiled. It was just what he'd hoped for. The fools had fallen into his trap. He smiled. Now, it was time to conquer.

But, first, he would search for aid. Because, though his armed forces could crush the Proto-Laurasians, he wanted them annihilated and humiliated. So, he sent out an open telegram to any nation willing to listen.

http://img252.imageshack.us/img252/3702/sealrr6.gif

The Orwellian Meritocracy is in grave danger. The state of Proto-Laurasia has declared open warfare on us. Though we shall counterattack with all the power we can muster, we still request the aid of any who are so inclined.

Respectfully yours,
Hephaestus Blackforge
Imperator.

Then again, it was not as though the Faxanavians had not prepared for this day. Operation: Steely Menace commenced. The first stage was insuring the defense of the homeland. Reserve forces were mobilized, and close to 3 million soldiers were mobilized to protect the borders. The anti-aircraft guns all across the country came to life, and prepared to gun down any plane entering Faxanavian airspace. Artillery pieces were set up all along the border- the enemy would feel the sting of artillery up to 90 kilometers from the borders, thanks to DMG's desolator artillery. More artillery would be used, pounding any enemy invasion.

But, defensive was not the only planned attack. The true power behind operation: Steely Menace was about to be released. It began in Faxanavia's missile silos. Red lights flashed and sirens blared as close to 900 of the Faxanavian NNEMP-EPFCG Air Raid missiles lifted off into the air. The Air Raid was an EMP missile, equipped to disperse massive EMP blasts through their EPFCG warheads. These 900 missiles would decimate any military defense the Laurasians had, allowing the second phase to proceed.

"We have liftoff. I repeat. We have liftoff." The voice crackled over the microphone as one after another, planes took off. Lots and lots and lots of plane. Big ones. Fast ones. Deadly ones. This was the key to the offensive, and now a huge force was mustering over Faxanavia, bound west for Proto-Laurasia. There were massive bombers, fighters for defense, AWACS, and even several of the Raven electronic warfare planes so favored by Faxanavia. Together, they turned the sky grey, as they made their way towards Proto-Laurasia, preparing to, in the words of the Imperator, bomb the hell out of them.

OOC: Partial ORBAT; full soon.

BOMBERS

150 B-54 Night Falcon
1100 B-52 Stratofortress
150 B-3 Nightrider
150 B-80 Wraith (Block 20)
150 B-2 Spirit
250 P22 AF-17 Mudhens - armed with 8 GBU-28 bunker busters, 2 Aim-9 Sidewinders, 2 AMRAAMS
250 F/A-22 Raptors - armed with 6 GBU-28 bunker busters, 2 AIM-120 AMRAAM, 2 AIM-9 Sidewinder

FIGHTER ESCORT

700 P22 AF-17 Mudhens - 8 AMRAAMS each; 2 recessed, 6 underwing. 2 Sidewinders on wingtip hardpoints.
700 P9 FX-01 NGATF Stealth "Protractor" - 10 AMRAAMs in internal bay
600 F/A-22 Raptor - 6 AMRAAMS, 2 Sidewinders

SUPPORT

500 KC-135 Stratotankers - Equipped for mid-air refueling
48 E-5 Networker - Equipped for keeping the group synced. Also has defensive jamming active
100 EF-111 Raven - Equipped for offensive ECM

Total number of planes: 4,848

The Defense Council was frantic. The first telegram went out to all citizens as follows:

-Proletariat of Proto-Laurasia-
Now is your finest hour! Today, we will war with Faxanavia. If you wish for your lives, for your solidarity, for the strength of Socialism, you must defend yourselves. Take all available weapons and enter your bomb shelters. This is your fight.

As telegrams flew out, Jacques du Horologe sat at his typewriter, pounding, frenzied, at the keys. Within an hour, the telegram was out.

-Defense Collective Council-
-Dasvaga, Proto-Laurasia-

Dear fine Nations of the World,

It is with reluctance that we beg you of defense. Today, Proto-Laurasia is in threat of attack from the Imperial menace of Faxanavia. Today, we ask you for your great support, for it is with assurance that we trust you with the lives of millions. We beg of you, with our utmost compunction, of help.

In Peace and in Strength,
The Proletariat of Proto-Laurasia

The world seemed to stand still.

<Encrypted Transmission>
To: The Prolotariat of Proto-Laurasia
From: HRH King Michael XIV
Subject: Request for help.

Sirs,

In response to your request for aid against the aggression of Faxanavia, I would like to ask from you exactly what aid you require. If your desire is purely financial, then I grant you funding to purchase whatever you may require in order to defend your country. If you also require assistance in a more direct and military fashion, then my advisors will require a detailed breakdown of the forces you have arrayed against the invaders, and any reserves you have, as well as any information you may have on the disposition of Faxanavian forces in their homeland and in the attacking force.

I look forward to your response,

Michael McLeod.

<End Transmission>

The planes cut through the air like a hot knife through a bad metaphor. They screamed through the sky, ever closer to the Proto-Laurasian homeland. The EMP missiles had been fired, hopefully crippling the Proto-Laurasians. Now, as phase two of the plan inched ever closer to the border of Proto-Laurasia and their target, phase three drifted silently in the black vacuum of space. Odin 1, one of the 6 Odin Weapons Satellites the Faxanavians kept in orbit slid slowly out of its geosynchronous rotation and drifted lazily towards the sky over Proto-Laurasia. Just the third phase in a plan of decimation...

<MAFCCP, Central McLeod03>

"Sir, SATCOM reports one of the suspected Faxanavian weapons platforms is moving into a firing position over Proto-Laurasia. Capacity and destructive potential is unknown, but we strongly suspect Faxanavia to have nuclear warheads. That satellite could level several cities without any defences at all. We can have the alert Horus squadron scrambled and airborne inside half an hour, and into position to engage seventy minutes later. That gives us about ten minutes before we estimate the satellite will be able to fire."

"Very well, scramble the fighters, weapons free on that and any other identified Faxanavian orbital targets of opportunity." replied the MAFCC Duty Officer, Brigadier General Sir Anthony Germany. "Bring me ORBCOMs latest deployments, and draft orders for four constellations of NIRTSSATs to cover the border area and Proto-Laurasia. Get anything we have together in a document I can present to the King a-sap."


<RAF Cambridge, twenty-five minutes later>

Two sleek evil looking black painted aircraft were lined up on the runway by tugs, which then rapidly moved away once the engines were settled at idle and all was ready for take-off. The crews ran final pre-flight checks, then reported ready. Computer systems checked themselves once more, and they too reported green across the board. With the briefest of conversation, the pilots opened up the throttles slowly, and the satellite interceptors leapt down the runway before soaring into the dawn sky on twin trails of fire.

"Horus One-One airborne. Time-to intercept six-five minutes"

<MAFCCP, Central McLeod03>

"Sir, SATCOM reports one of the suspected Faxanavian weapons platforms is moving into a firing position over Proto-Laurasia. Capacity and destructive potential is unknown, but we strongly suspect Faxanavia to have nuclear warheads. That satellite could level several cities without any defences at all. We can have the alert Horus squadron scrambled and airborne inside half an hour, and into position to engage seventy minutes later. That gives us about ten minutes before we estimate the satellite will be able to fire."

"Very well, scramble the fighters, weapons free on that and any other identified Faxanavian orbital targets of opportunity." replied the MAFCC Duty Officer, Brigadier General Sir Anthony Germany. "Bring me ORBCOMs latest deployments, and draft orders for four constellations of NIRTSSATs to cover the border area and Proto-Laurasia. Get anything we have together in a document I can present to the King a-sap."


<RAF Cambridge, twenty-five minutes later>

Two sleek evil looking black painted aircraft were lined up on the runway by tugs, which then rapidly moved away once the engines were settled at idle and all was ready for take-off. The crews ran final pre-flight checks, then reported ready. Computer systems checked themselves once more, and they too reported green across the board. With the briefest of conversation, the pilots opened up the throttles slowly, and the satellite interceptors leapt down the runway before soaring into the dawn sky on twin trails of fire.

"Horus One-One airborne. Time-to intercept six-five minutes"

"Sir, its Mcleod03. They're interfering with phase 3." William White, minister of Defense, gritted his teeth as the young intern backed away from him. White was 50-ish, and his shock of grey hair matched the grey of his eyes, which now flashed at the young man who had delivered this news. As the young intern fled, he turned back to the console in front of him. He quickly opened a communication window to the boys down in the space labs, where the satellites could be controlled automatically. "Boys, you might have some trouble inbound." On the other side, two 30-ish, unshaven men looked back at him. "On Odin 1, I mean." said White, exasperated. The two nodded with recognition, and in a moment a live feed of the satellites radar popped up. Sure enough, several fighters were already inbound towards the satellite. "Right. How many spikes we got?" asked White. Spikes were the terminology for the several meter long tungsten penetrators fired from the Odin. "Full load of 60, sir." responded one of the two men. "Right," said White. "Lets see if we can't blow 'em out of the sky."

Several miles above them, Odin 1 switched into defense mode, and brought one of the 6 rotating Raven units forward to bare, aimed directly at the fighters. "Fire when ready." said White, smiling.

As the space battle began, White brought up another window, this one a connection to one of the 48 E-5 Networkers which was supplying communications in the huge fleet of planes converging on Proto-Laurasia. "This is William White. There may be McLeod03 planes which will attempt to halt you. Tell the fighters they may use any force necessary."

(OOC:If you want more on the Odin system, check it out here (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13070112&postcount=1).

<Encrypted Transmission>
To: The Prolotariat of Proto-Laurasia
From: HRH King Michael XIV
Subject: Request for help.

Sirs,

In response to your request for aid against the aggression of Faxanavia, I would like to ask from you exactly what aid you require. If your desire is purely financial, then I grant you funding to purchase whatever you may require in order to defend your country. If you also require assistance in a more direct and military fashion, then my advisors will require a detailed breakdown of the forces you have arrayed against the invaders, and any reserves you have, as well as any information you may have on the disposition of Faxanavian forces in their homeland and in the attacking force.

I look forward to your response,

Michael McLeod.

<End Transmission>

-Defense Collective Council-
-Dasvaga, Proto-Laurasia

Dear Sirs,

We are grateful for your assistance and friendship to our nation in its hour of need. As of yet, all that is required would be funds to purchase the necessary weaponry for our defense. If further assistance is required, Proto-Laurasia will be in contact. You are thanked with the utmost appreciation.

In Peace and in Strength,
The Proletariat of Proto-Laurasia.

<Horus One-One, that same time>

"Horus Flight, ORBCOM. Be advised that satellite is now nearing position. It appears to be controlling six smaller satellites, presumably the weapons systems themselves. Your target is the central unit, one missile apiece, then all other munitions aimed at the orbiting platforms. Weapons free, good hunting."

The two pilot's acknowledged receipt with a coded reply, then the main section of the flight began. The aircraft accelerated to full afterburner and pulled up into a steep climb, rapidly passing through 75,000 feet, where they launched their munitions. Three long missiles fell from each weapons bay, and dropped away from the aircraft. With a barely audible whoomph they ignited a trio of rocket engines, and pulled away from the Horus interceptors, passing through Mach 10 and still accelerating in the thin air. It would be the work of but a moment for their tungsten shrapnel warheads to fling a shower of particles at high speed into the path of the orbitting satellites, shredding anything they touched.

Their missiles gone, the aircraft started a long turn and descent for home. They had barely completed the turn when a beam of fire lanced down between the two, slamming superheated shockwaves into them both, throwing the crews around before they recovered and accelerated again trying to move faster than the unguided rods could track them.

<Horus One-One, that same time>

"Horus Flight, ORBCOM. Be advised that satellite is now nearing position. It appears to be controlling six smaller satellites, presumably the weapons systems themselves. Your target is the central unit, one missile apiece, then all other munitions aimed at the orbiting platforms. Weapons free, good hunting."

The two pilot's acknowledged receipt with a coded reply, then the main section of the flight began. The aircraft accelerated to full afterburner and pulled up into a steep climb, rapidly passing through 75,000 feet, where they launched their munitions. Three long missiles fell from each weapons bay, and dropped away from the aircraft. With a barely audible whoomph they ignited a trio of rocket engines, and pulled away from the Horus interceptors, passing through Mach 10 and still accelerating in the thin air. It would be the work of but a moment for their tungsten shrapnel warheads to fling a shower of particles at high speed into the path of the orbitting satellites, shredding anything they touched.

Their missiles gone, the aircraft started a long turn and descent for home. They had barely completed the turn when a beam of fire lanced down between the two, slamming superheated shockwaves into them both, throwing the crews around before they recovered and accelerated again trying to move faster than the unguided rods could track them.

White swore. The damn planes had gotten through! hammering his hand against the console, he roared angrily. Finally calming down, he re-opened the window connecting to the boys in the space lab. "Take them down. Target 1, and target 2." The satellite might not have much time left, but it was damn well taking down its targets with it. It split its systems in half. 30 rods would be used to take down the Horuses, guided by the satellites failing systems. However, the other 30 were bound for their intended target- Dasvaga, the capital of Proto-Laurasia. Equipped with high explosive C4 warheads, they would be more effective then any bunker buster in making the currently underground Laurasian government feel the power of Faxanavia.

In a sort of hazy dream, the silos opened up on the LION islands. Missiles shoved off from the ground in a grand arc, where to was not yet known. What was known was that LION was attacking someone, but who was not known. Yet.

The missiles turned now at the top of their arc, and accelerated rapidly to various different locations. And this wasn't the standard missile attack either, all of the missiles were biological. Above major population centers, the capital, rivers, farmland, industrial centers, military centers, and anything else of note in this tiny country were attacked. The disease of choice was a mutation of the Black Plague, and it was airborne above the cities to infect inhabitants, rivers to carry the disease elsewhere, farms to kill crops, industrial centers to destroy production, and military centers to kill the army. There were fifty of them in all, carrying the Dark Plague.

A message was sent from the League to Proto-Laurasia: "We are mildly in favor of Faxanavia in this conflict."

<Encrypted Transmission>
To: The Prolotariat of Proto-Laurasia
From: HRH King Michael XIV

Sirs,

Very well, as you wish. My financial team will be wiring the sum of £1 trillion dollars to your own accounts in order to allow you to purchase whatever is necessary. It would appear now that other nations are gathering against you, and our offer of military assistance will stand until your country is safe.

Yours,

King Michael XIV

<End Transmission>


<Horus One-One>

The rods of fire streamed down around the aircraft, causing massive thermals and shockwaves all around them, causing the two hypersonic interceptors to buck and dive dangerously, setting off all manner of alarms in their cockpits. Each crew-member transmitted a heavily encoded letter to their families, and made their peace with god. It was in his hands now.

"Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed by Thy name. Thy kingdom co.."

SHOOM

In a lucky hit, one of the falling kinetics impacted just inboard of the starboard engine, vaporising the wing and rear fuselage. The force of the impace snapped the remaining sections in two, folding the cockpit into the tail. Remarkably, the cockpit section snapped off soon after, and tumbled away still intact, the crewmen inside pinned down by g-forces, deafened by the blast.

The other Horus continued onwards, weaving and diving like a falcon, swinging around the burning trails of air around it.


<MAFCCP, that same time>

"Sir, ORBCOM alert five message. NIRTSSATs above Proto-Laurasia report inbound ballistic missiles, unknown warhead, unknown origin. Recommend moving to Alert Three." reported a junior Lieutenant.

"Make it so. Scramble the alert ABM fleet, bring all military units to readiness, recall all leave. Get us some cover, then find out who launched those missiles" replied Germany.


<Across the country, minutes later>

The mighty war machine of the McLeods dusted itself off, and alert aircraft that hadn't launched outside of drills for nearly three years leapt skywards, radars and NIRTSSAT links constantly looking for incoming ballistic threats. All the while the country was at Alert Three, coverage by the AL-52s and ABM sites would be nearly complete. Aircraft would be on a high rotation, and they wouldn't last forever, but for now, the cities and bases were as safe as they could be.

<Encrypted Transmission>
To: The Prolotariat of Proto-Laurasia
From: HRH King Michael XIV

Sirs,

Very well, as you wish. My financial team will be wiring the sum of £1 trillion dollars to your own accounts in order to allow you to purchase whatever is necessary. It would appear now that other nations are gathering against you, and our offer of military assistance will stand until your country is safe.

Yours,

King Michael XIV

<End Transmission>


<Horus One-One>

The rods of fire streamed down around the aircraft, causing massive thermals and shockwaves all around them, causing the two hypersonic interceptors to buck and dive dangerously, setting off all manner of alarms in their cockpits. Each crew-member transmitted a heavily encoded letter to their families, and made their peace with god. It was in his hands now.

"Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed by Thy name. Thy kingdom co.."

SHOOM

In a lucky hit, one of the falling kinetics impacted just inboard of the starboard engine, vaporising the wing and rear fuselage. The force of the impace snapped the remaining sections in two, folding the cockpit into the tail. Remarkably, the cockpit section snapped off soon after, and tumbled away still intact, the crewmen inside pinned down by g-forces, deafened by the blast.

The other Horus continued onwards, weaving and diving like a falcon, swinging around the burning trails of air around it.


<MAFCCP, that same time>

"Sir, ORBCOM alert five message. NIRTSSATs above Proto-Laurasia report inbound ballistic missiles, unknown warhead, unknown origin. Recommend moving to Alert Three." reported a junior Lieutenant.

"Make it so. Scramble the alert ABM fleet, bring all military units to readiness, recall all leave. Get us some cover, then find out who launched those missiles" replied Germany.


<Across the country, minutes later>

The mighty war machine of the McLeods dusted itself off, and alert aircraft that hadn't launched outside of drills for nearly three years leapt skywards, radars and NIRTSSAT links constantly looking for incoming ballistic threats. All the while the country was at Alert Three, coverage by the AL-52s and ABM sites would be nearly complete. Aircraft would be on a high rotation, and they wouldn't last forever, but for now, the cities and bases were as safe as they could be.

OOC: Sorry. I'm just somewhat confused. Are you launching in protection of your own country, or in protection of Proto-Laurasia? Just a little confused, as it seems that his takes place in McLeod03, but on the other hand I fired on Proto-Laurasia. just wanted to clear that up.

OOC: I detected the missiles launched by Vontanas, and launched as a result. Standard procedure when someone launches ballistics missiles at a theatre I'm involved in.

OOC: Those missiles were launched at Proto-Laurasia, and weren't launched by Vantanas in any way or form. I don't intend on doing anything further, as I feel that this is sufficient enough to crush him. Since he's too young to have an ABM capable of stopping this, and no one else has moved anything to protect him, then this should be all you need from Lion, Faxy-boy.

OOC: Wow, RPing has really changed around here. This could have gone on for days, weeks even, but you ended it with a massed biological strike. That shows RPing skill alright. [/sarcasm]

OOC: Those missiles were launched at Proto-Laurasia, and weren't launched by Vantanas in any way or form. I don't intend on doing anything further, as I feel that this is sufficient enough to crush him. Since he's too young to have an ABM capable of stopping this, and no one else has moved anything to protect him, then this should be all you need from Lion, Faxy-boy.

OOC: Thankyou kindly. Now if he'd just respond...

OOC: Wow, RPing has really changed around here. This could have gone on for days, weeks even, but you ended it with a massed biological strike. That shows RPing skill alright. [/sarcasm]

OOC: He asked for help, I gave it. And fifty lower class Biologicals does not a mass strike make, in my book. Besides, there's still plenty of opportunity for an underground guerilla resistance, which it basically would have been anyways. And besides, this is war. The point of war is to end the conflict as quickly and decisively as possible, and with such a lopsided conflict, it's not surprising. War ain't pretty, friend.
EDIT: Just look at your signature, "War is cruelty. There's no use trying to reform it, the crueler it is the sooner it will be over."

http://img252.imageshack.us/img252/3702/sealrr6.gif

Official Message to The Righteous Monarchy of McLeod03:

The Orwellian Meritocracy of Faxanavia greets you, and wishes to speak with you on our war against Proto-Laurasia. It seems that McLeod03 has stepped in in defense of Proto-Laurasia. We must admit, we are confused. Why would they side with scum who slaughtered 50,000 men in the name of their so called "justice"? We wish to do right in abolishing this menace from the face of our earth. We are willing to excuse the McLeod03 attack on our satellite as nothing- we can only assume it was for your own safety, and we send our deepest condolences to the families of those lost. The Faxanavian government will be supplying sufficient funds to pay for their funerals. But, again, we must question your decision to side with Proto-Laurasia. Were it not they who declared war on us? Why side with the offender, especially one who has committed such acts of indecency? Please, we ask that you think on this in considering your next move.

Respectfully yours,
Hephaestus Blackforge
Imperator

It was almost surreal, the sheer brutality and torture of it seemed almost sublime. It was a storybook scenario, a worst nightmare that refused to end. Thousands died. Hundreds of thousands were sick. Most industry was frozen. Underground hospitals, originally meant for the government, went into expedited expansion. The unaffected citizens remained donned their gas masks, Biological Defense suits, and with whatever weapons they could find, entered their bomb holes. However, for the military, much of it was too late.

The massive deployment of troops had already begun. Troops traveled quickly across unexplored territory, a full 6 Million soldiers, followed by tanks and helicopters, marched within 100 miles of the Faxanavian Border, as anti-air defenses and howitzers began to arrive and set up. The air raid was over, but the war had just begun.

OOC: Yes, because guerrillas work really well with no water, no food, no cover, and no live people to hide amongst. Ah well, my turn.

IC:

<MAFCCP>

"Sir, we have locations those missile launches, looks like a series of islands spread around the globe. NIRTSSATs are being assigned now to look for any indications of nationality. For the time being, we assume they were Faxanavian, based on their hostile intent, and use of massed orbital artillery strikes on civilian targets." reported that same junior lieutenant.

"Very well, call SOCOM, tell them that Halicarnassus is a go. Bring me our current unit status, tell me what we have capable of striking back against those murderous bastards. Call the Chiefs, inform them of the situation, and organise a meeting with His Royal Majesty as soon as possible" replied Germany, a deep frown forming as he leafed through the documents.

"Jones!" he shouted, startling a young operator sat at a screen nearby.

"Y-y-yes sir" came the nervous reply.

"What's the letter after S in the alphabet, boy?" Germany snapped.

"Err, T, sir.." stammered Jones.

"Yes thankyou Jones, milk and no sugar"


<Vallingard airport, Faxanavia>

A couple carrying Faxanavian passports walked through customs, hand in hand, looking all the part like newly-weds back from their honeymoon. They walked through the residents arrivals area, heading for the exit. They gave nothing away, perfectly trained to blend in with a crowd, and not stand out at all.

Outside, a taxi rank, and the opportunity to disappear into Faxanavia.

OOC: Its unlikely that you'd stop them, but I'm not going to assume they both got in, that's down to you, otherwise it's a godmod. However, they really will look like your own citizens, and they would have come on a flight from a country uninvolved in any form of conflict with yourselves.

Official Message to The Righteous Monarchy of McLeod03:

The Orwellian Meritocracy of Faxanavia greets you, and wishes to speak with you on our war against Proto-Laurasia. It seems that McLeod03 has stepped in in defense of Proto-Laurasia. We must admit, we are confused. Why would they side with scum who slaughtered 50,000 men in the name of their so called "justice"? We wish to do right in abolishing this menace from the face of our earth. We are willing to excuse the McLeod03 attack on our satellite as nothing- we can only assume it was for your own safety, and we send our deepest condolences to the families of those lost. The Faxanavian government will be supplying sufficient funds to pay for their funerals. But, again, we must question your decision to side with Proto-Laurasia. Were it not they who declared war on us? Why side with the offender, especially one who has committed such acts of indecency? Please, we ask that you think on this in considering your next move.

Respectfully yours,
Hephaestus Blackforge
Imperator


<Official Response>
To: Hephaestus Blackforge
From: Minister Bradshaw, McLeodian Foreign Office

Sir,

I believe there must have been some mistake. At this time, no McLeodian forces are involved in operations anywhere in the globe, but we thankyou for you condolences to the families of a crew lost during our recent wargames readiness operation. Quite how you knew is beyond us, but again, out thanks for your kindness.

We are monitoring the situation in Proto-Laurasia carefully, and have some concern at your use of biological and orbital weaponry against civilian centres of population. That is, however, none of our concern, as long as you accept our extreme displeasure at such barbarous acts.


Yours,

Minister Charles Bradshaw,
Foreign Office.

It was almost surreal, the sheer brutality and torture of it seemed almost sublime. It was a storybook scenario, a worst nightmare that refused to end. Thousands died. Hundreds of thousands were sick. Most industry was frozen. Underground hospitals, originally meant for the government, went into expedited expansion. The unaffected citizens remained donned their gas masks, Biological Defense suits, and with whatever weapons they could find, entered their bomb holes. However, for the military, much of it was too late.

The massive deployment of troops had already begun. Troops traveled quickly across unexplored territory, a full 6 Million soldiers, followed by tanks and helicopters, marched within 100 miles of the Faxanavian Border, as anti-air defenses and howitzers began to arrive and set up. The air raid was over, but the war had just begun.

OOC: Do you two share a border? Because something tells me you don't, but that's for Faxanavia to decide, not me.

What I can say though, is that you don't have six million soldiers. That's nearly a third of your country, and far more than any nation could have. Let me explain, the highest percent of population in the military was 10% in Nazi Germany, WWII. And that was after basically sacrificing their economy. The accepted maximum wartime military is five percent, and anything beyond that gets serious economic problems. Not to mention that after "most industries were frozen", I doubt you could support much of an army at all. Your best bet is some sort of guerilla resistance.

OOC: Do you two share a border? Because something tells me you don't, but that's for Faxanavia to decide, not me.

What I can say though, is that you don't have six million soldiers. That's nearly a third of your country, and far more than any nation could have. Let me explain, the highest percent of population in the military was 10% in Nazi Germany, WWII. And that was after basically sacrificing their economy. The accepted maximum wartime military is five percent, and anything beyond that gets serious economic problems. Not to mention that after "most industries were frozen", I doubt you could support much of an army at all. Your best bet is some sort of guerilla resistance.

OOC: We do not, in fact. If you'd like to check out the regional map, you can find it posted... in the region.

OOC: Yes, because guerrillas work really well with no water, no food, no cover, and no live people to hide amongst. Ah well, my turn. OOC: Referring to me? If so, they do what they can. And don't forget, looting is going to occur to survive. Still, granted, my civilians are no superpower.

IC: The Faxanavian Air Assault wreaked much damage on the Proto-Laurasia infrastructure. Though most major cities were already left without electricity, Anti-Air and RADAR became almost useless. The remaining civilians looted to survive, amassing what they could to prepare for a guerilla war. Ruined buildings and half-burnt bodies spread the smell of sulfur and burning flesh throughout the countryside. Shelters were dug deeper. Concrete was poured. Ghille suits were donned, and magazines were loaded. The greatest hope lay in the troops at the Faxanavian border.

<Official Response>
To: Hephaestus Blackforge
From: Minister Bradshaw, McLeodian Foreign Office

Sir,

I believe there must have been some mistake. At this time, no McLeodian forces are involved in operations anywhere in the globe, but we thankyou for you condolences to the families of a crew lost during our recent wargames readiness operation. Quite how you knew is beyond us, but again, out thanks for your kindness.

We are monitoring the situation in Proto-Laurasia carefully, and have some concern at your use of biological and orbital weaponry against civilian centres of population. That is, however, none of our concern, as long as you accept our extreme displeasure at such barbarous acts.


Yours,

Minister Charles Bradshaw,
Foreign Office.

We apologize profusely for our misconception. Certain sources had lead us to believe that you were in someway involved in said war. This is our mistake. We regret the force with which we attack Proto-Laurasia, but they have been bothersome in the past and we feel it is finally time to put them to rest. We hope that our actions have not shed a bad light on the Orwellian Meritocracy in the eyes of McLeod03.

Respectfully yours,
Hephaestus Blackforge
Imperator

OOC: Referring to me? If so, they do what they can. And don't forget, looting is going to occur to survive. Nobody's actaully destroyed anything yet. Still, granted, my civilians are no superpower.

IC: The Faxanavian Air Assault, or what was left of it, wreaked much damage on the Proto-Laurasia infrastructure. Though most major cities were already left without electricity, Anti-Air and RADAR became almost useless. The remaining civilians looted to survive, amassing what they could to prepare for a guerilla war. Shelters were dug deeper. Concrete was poured. Ghille suits were donned, and magazines were loaded. The greatest hope lay in the troops at the Faxanavian border.

OOC: Okay. fine. Destruction time.
IC: The bombers let loose with enough firepower to decimate basically anything. Combined, the bombers were carrying over 100 million tons of ordinance. This was dropped on civilian centers, on military installments, on transports, on cities, everywhere. The fighters added to this, blasting anything moving on the ground with their missiles. The 500 fighters equipped with penetrators rained them down upon Dasvaga, intent upon destroying the underground government. Panic reigned.

<Official Response>
To: Hephaestus Blackforge
From: King Michael XIV.

Sir,

Mistakes are made, and I realise that. All I hope is that you can provide these people with the support they need rebuilding everything of theirs you have destroyed. You are, you realise, punishing the people for the actions of the government. This is something I frown upon, rest assured.


Good day, sir.

King Michael XIV.

OOC: Yes, because guerrillas work really well with no water, no food, no cover, and no live people to hide amongst. Ah well, my turn.

IC:

<MAFCCP>

"Sir, we have locations those missile launches, looks like a series of islands spread around the globe. NIRTSSATs are being assigned now to look for any indications of nationality. For the time being, we assume they were Faxanavian, based on their hostile intent, and use of massed orbital artillery strikes on civilian targets." reported that same junior lieutenant.

"Very well, call SOCOM, tell them that Halicarnassus is a go. Bring me our current unit status, tell me what we have capable of striking back against those murderous bastards. Call the Chiefs, inform them of the situation, and organise a meeting with His Royal Majesty as soon as possible" replied Germany, a deep frown forming as he leafed through the documents.

"Jones!" he shouted, startling a young operator sat at a screen nearby.

"Y-y-yes sir" came the nervous reply.

"What's the letter after S in the alphabet, boy?" Germany snapped.

"Err, T, sir.." stammered Jones.

"Yes thankyou Jones, milk and no sugar"


<Vallingard airport, Faxanavia>

A couple carrying Faxanavian passports walked through customs, hand in hand, looking all the part like newly-weds back from their honeymoon. They walked through the residents arrivals area, heading for the exit. They gave nothing away, perfectly trained to blend in with a crowd, and not stand out at all.

Outside, a taxi rank, and the opportunity to disappear into Faxanavia.

OOC: Its unlikely that you'd stop them, but I'm not going to assume they both got in, that's down to you, otherwise it's a godmod. However, they really will look like your own citizens, and they would have come on a flight from a country uninvolved in any form of conflict with yourselves.

OOC: It's okay by me, but if you've got anything big planned (I.E. assassinating the Imperator, etc.), run it by me first, okay?

OOC: It's okay by me, but if you've got anything big planned (I.E. assassinating the Imperator, etc.), run it by me first, okay?

OOC: Not the Imperator. Not yet.

IC:

The couple stepped out of the cab at a nearby car-rental firm, and paid up front cash for a mid-range saloon. The man drove, with the woman opening a sealed envelope, and pulling out a map. Marked upon it was a location some distance away, a signal recieved from a tiny tracking device located in a bunch of rare flowers sent to a Mr and Mrs Xatan, proud parents of a new baby girl.

The drive would take a few hours at the speed limits, during which time, neither agent spoke, they just prepared themselves for the mission ahead, and the female unpacked a lined suitcase on the back seats, withdrawing ceramic blades and two composite bolt launchers designed to look as non-descript and un-lethal as possible, despite the springs inside, and the barrel for launching four-inch long ceramic bolts easily capable of killing a man.

OOC: Ah, you are somewhat connected. But, Proto-Laurasia still doesn't have six million troops, unless they aren't modernly equipped. And going through such a large unexplored area would take time, and definitely lots of money. I'd say it's only reasonable for him to have a few thousand troops actually able to get to your coast. And PL, those things you bought from DMG wouln't be arriving anytime soon, I think he said six NS months time.

OOC: Not the Imperator. Not yet.

IC:

The couple stepped out of the cab at a nearby car-rental firm, and paid up front cash for a mid-range saloon. The man drove, with the woman opening a sealed envelope, and pulling out a map. Marked upon it was a location some distance away, a signal recieved from a tiny tracking device located in a bunch of rare flowers sent to a Mr and Mrs Xatan, proud parents of a new baby girl.

The drive would take a few hours at the speed limits, during which time, neither agent spoke, they just prepared themselves for the mission ahead, and the female unpacked a lined suitcase on the back seats, withdrawing ceramic blades and two composite bolt launchers designed to look as non-descript and un-lethal as possible, despite the springs inside, and the barrel for launching four-inch long ceramic bolts easily capable of killing a man.

OOC: Sorry for the OOC chatter, but I have to say its genius to capitalize on the flowers you sent in the other post. Thats just an excellent tactic.

OOC: Ah, you are somewhat connected. But, Proto-Laurasia still doesn't have six million troops, unless they aren't modernly equipped. And going through such a large unexplored area would take time, and definitely lots of money. I'd say it's only reasonable for him to have a few thousand troops actually able to get to your coast. And PL, those things you bought from DMG wouln't be arriving anytime soon, I think he said six NS months time.

OOC: He said, in fact, 4 years. So, I don't they'll have bearing.

OOC: I know, I am that good. It's more interesting than ICBM strikes. *Glares at Vontanas*

This may offend some people, I apologise if it does. I'll try not to make it too graphic, but you can see where its going.

IC:

<Faxanavia, late that night>

The saloon was parked in a dark alleyway two streets away from the Xatan's house. The two agents were dressed in black suits, with gloves and full face black hockey masks. They carrier a bolt-gun each, and several blades weighted for throwing some distance accurately. The pair quickly rushed along the deserted streets, heading for a house they'd scoped out all afternoon from a distance. There were no dogs nearby, no police stations for some way, and no noticeable alarm systems. It should be the work of but five minutes to finish the job and leave.

The two had been chosen for their complete lack of emotion, and utter commitment to their country. A message needed to be sent, and they were the messengers. Creeping around the the rear of the house, they jimmied open a window and leapt inside, closing it behind them. Silently, they cleared the ground floor. Everyone was asleep. Handing her gun to the male agent, the female opened the door to the bedroom all three Xatans were sharing. The baby was asleep, the parents enjoying the chance to sleep before their daughter started screaming again. She was their billionth citizen, revered by the country, a symbol of their expansion and power.

Silently, the male aimed the two bolts at the sleeping forms, aiming for hearts and throats, anything that would kill quickly and quietly. Two soft cough's sounded, and he dropped the empty canisters, moving quickly to finish the job with a wickedly carved ceramic blade. Meanwhile, his partner carried out her task quietly and without fuss with a simple swipe of a blade and a clamped hand. Seconds later, all three Faxanavians were dispatched, and the message could be written.

The agents left the house through the same window they had entered, and stole back towards their car, before driving quickly away from the town, and heading back towards the capital.


<The next morning>

It was a neighbour that first noticed the stains on the usually clean window, but until the sun came up fully, she couldn't see what was scrawled on the window. It was a message, in deep red ink, and it said simply 'Don't punish the people'. Framing the message were too decapitated heads, and the form of a young infant, slumped across the windowsill.

The message was sent.

OOC what the fuck

OOC: I know, I am that good. It's more interesting than ICBM strikes. *Glares at Vontanas*

This may offend some people, I apologise if it does. I'll try not to make it too graphic, but you can see where its going.

IC:

<Faxanavia, late that night>

The saloon was parked in a dark alleyway two streets away from the Xatan's house. The two agents were dressed in black suits, with gloves and full face black hockey masks. They carrier a bolt-gun each, and several blades weighted for throwing some distance accurately. The pair quickly rushed along the deserted streets, heading for a house they'd scoped out all afternoon from a distance. There were no dogs nearby, no police stations for some way, and no noticeable alarm systems. It should be the work of but five minutes to finish the job and leave.

The two had been chosen for their complete lack of emotion, and utter commitment to their country. A message needed to be sent, and they were the messengers. Creeping around the the rear of the house, they jimmied open a window and leapt inside, closing it behind them. Silently, they cleared the ground floor. Everyone was asleep. Handing her gun to the male agent, the female opened the door to the bedroom all three Xatans were sharing. The baby was asleep, the parents enjoying the chance to sleep before their daughter started screaming again. She was their billionth citizen, revered by the country, a symbol of their expansion and power.

Silently, the male aimed the two bolts at the sleeping forms, aiming for hearts and throats, anything that would kill quickly and quietly. Two soft cough's sounded, and he dropped the empty canisters, moving quickly to finish the job with a wickedly carved ceramic blade. Meanwhile, his partner carried out her task quietly and without fuss with a simple swipe of a blade and a clamped hand. Seconds later, all three Faxanavians were dispatched, and the message could be written.

The agents left the house through the same window they had entered, and stole back towards their car, before driving quickly away from the town, and heading back towards the capital.


<The next morning>

It was a neighbour that first noticed the stains on the usually clean window, but until the sun came up fully, she couldn't see what was scrawled on the window. It was a message, in deep red ink, and it said simply 'Don't punish the people'. Framing the message were too decapitated heads, and the form of a young infant, slumped across the windowsill.

The message was sent.

It seemed that the people of McLeod03 didn't get Faxanavia. Didn't get the loyalty with which the people served their country. Didn't know about the daughter of a Third Spanish States immigrant who had been killed by two men in an alley, whose body had been left in a stream, and who had been ignored by all because of her only crime of spreading communist doctrine. It was unpatriotic, and Faxanavians didn't stand for that. Which was why when said woman discovered the murder of the billionth citizen, she went not to the police, but to the local tavern. A group convened. Plans were made. That very afternoon, a contingent arrived at the airport, awaiting the arrival of the two. One of their number had seen the man and the woman enter the house, but had thought nothing of it. Now, they were here for revenge. And they were going to get it.

"What now?" asked Adolina, the woman who had discovered the deaths. Her husband, Boris, shushed her. "We await them." And, down the long running conveyor belt which carried travelers came the two agents. Boris waited for them to step from the transport, and approached them. Tapping the man on the shoulder, he said, "I am sorry to interrupt you sir, but could you and your companion step this way for a moment?" He led them off to the side, into the clump of waiting people. "This will just take a second sir. We just have a quick survey." said Boris, patiently leading the man and the woman into the bathroom.

Several hours later, they would be discovered, contorted limbs snapped in half, blood splattered across the bathroom tiles. Spray painted across their chests was the word, "Unpatriotic", and all the paramedics could think as they were loaded for transportation to the mourge was, "They got what they deserved."

OOC what the fuck

OOC: I'm sorry? What is your problem?

OOC: The irony is, you're punishing the people for the actions of the government. Anyways, isa, get a stomach.

OOC: I'm sorry? What is your problem?
i just did not see what happen coming
Anyways, isa, get a stomach.
oh please i read what BL did with the woman and the over size food blender and how The Kraven Corporation Capitol Police troopers are made ,thats nothing

OOC: I never should have tried.

-Defense Collective Council-
-Dasvaga, Proto-Laurasia-

Hereby, Proto-Laurasia, accepting defeat from the hands of Faxanavia and her allies, does surrender to Faxanavia. Proto-Laurasia wishes to confer with Faxanavia on further matters, and suggests that a conference be held as soon as is possible in the fair nation of Gourmondinia.

The remaining civilian commissars watched, out of the rubble, the insurgent army amass and train. They had but little time.

OOC: I never should have tried.



The remaining civilian commissars watched, out of the rubble, the insurgent army amass and train. They had but little time.

OOC: No hard feelings. It takes time.

http://img252.imageshack.us/img252/3702/sealrr6.gif

The Orwellian Meritocracy of Faxanavia will accept your offer assuming that all forces have been returned to your nation and that any and all military groups are disarmed.

The Imperator stepped down from the small white passenger jet emblazoned with the crest of Faxanavia that he usually took as transport to meetings such as this. He was accompanied by Belfred Wiwan, the minister of Commerce. The two walked towards the small black car awaiting them to provide transportation, shoes clicking on the hard black tarmac. The Imperator did not travel lavishly- it drew unwanted attention. He came with a brushed aluminum suitcase handcuffed to his wrist. It was like this because inside of the suitcase sat the future of Proto-Laurasia. The future was now.

OOC: I suggest that we continue the next phase of this war in another thread. Fax?

OOC: I suggest that we continue the next phase of this war in another thread. Fax?

OOC: There isn't really any point in doing so. It works fine if we leave it here, and it cuts down on clutter.

The King of Dashie has released the following message:

We support Faxanavia in its war against Proto-Laurasia. We would like to deploy forces (which are still at home miles away and out of striking distance for either side), and await suggestions. I offer you this suggestion: A planned troop deployment at a safe side of Faxanavia. Troops can converge on fighting locations and give support to your army upon request.

OOC: was going to put troops and stuff, but still looking at this thread. Maybe later.

The King of Dashie has released the following message:

We support Faxanavia in its war against Proto-Laurasia. We would like to deploy forces (which are still at home miles away and out of striking distance for either side), and await suggestions. I offer you this suggestion: A planned troop deployment at a safe side of Faxanavia. Troops can converge on fighting locations and give support to your army upon request.

OOC: was going to put troops and stuff, but still looking at this thread. Maybe later.

We thank you for your kind message. At this time, we are not in need of your support, as peace negotiations are in play. However, we would suggest that you remain on standby, as if these discussions fail, we will call on your aid.

Respectfully yours,
Hephaestus Blackforge
Imperator

Du Horologe entered stepped out his private jet, and with the hot Gourmondinian sun in his eyes, squinted. The airport was small, with other personal jets buzzing through the air. He could get to like this place.

du Horologe was not paranoid man, but he was at times uneasy. This was one of those times; as he stepped onto the Tarmac he loaded his Glock. Just for security.

Horologe jumped as he heard a voice to his left. "Sir, the Imperator wishes to greet you. Just to the left." du Horologe nodded, and pulled out a small vial of ricin. Just for security.

Du Horologe entered stepped out his private jet, and with the hot Gourmondinian sun in his eyes, squinted. The airport was small, with other personal jets buzzing through the air. He could get to like this place.

du Horologe was not paranoid man, but he was at times uneasy. This was one of those times; as he stepped onto the Tarmac he loaded his Glock. Just for security.

Horologe jumped as he heard a voice to his left. "Sir, the Imperator wishes to greet you. Just to the left." du Horologe nodded, and pulled out a small vial of ricin. Just for security.

The Imperator watched the approaching Horloge with disinterest. Another flunky of their government. He tapped his pain impatiently, its eagles foot end clicking against the tarmac. Two armed guards stood at his side, as was the customary precaution. He raised his hand in greeting. "Mr. Horloge, I presume."

du Horologe feigned a smile. "That's du Horologe. Well, today is certainly a somber day. And respectively, today is a happy day. Today marks the fall of a nation, and the birth of a nation. I greet you in peace."
Now du Horologe got down to business. He sighed. "We are willing to offer you our support as an independent protectorate of yours. So long as you do not impinge upon our military, we offer you control of our police force as a measure of enforcement. We will stand alongside you in war, and supply you with agriculture and industry. That is all."

There was further negotiation, and du Horologe agreed to the Imperator's final terms. With apprehensiveness, he signed the treaty. Now the deed was done. With urgency and with strength, with fear and with force, he pulled out his glock and emptied the clip into the Imperator's head.

du Horologe feigned a smile. "That's du Horologe. Well, today is certainly a somber day. And respectively, today is a happy day. Today marks the fall of a nation, and the birth of a nation. I greet you in peace."
Now du Horologe got down to business. He sighed. "We are willing to offer you our support as an independent protectorate of yours. So long as you do not impinge upon our military, we offer you control of our police force as a measure of enforcement. We will stand alongside you in war, and supply you with agriculture and industry. That is all."

There was further negotiation, and du Horologe agreed to the Imperator's final terms. With apprehensiveness, he signed the treaty. Now the deed was done. With urgency and with strength, with fear and with force, he pulled out his glock and emptied the clip into the Imperator's head.

The Imperator was body slammed by one of his guards, ramming him into the ground, and covering him with his mass. The bullets soared, impounding themselves in the heads of the guard. The second ripped out his gun and fired on Du Horloge, clipping the temple. The bloodied body dropped to the ground, out cold. As one guard attended to Du Horloge, handcuffing him and taking his weapon, the Imperator brushed himself down. He walked over to the table where the treaty still lay, and with several brush strokes, annotated it. They would pay for their attack.

|Official Treaty of the Orwellian Meritocracy of Faxanavia and the Community of Proto-Laurasia|

Upon the signing of this agreement, these following terms shall be reached.
I. The Community of Proto-Laurasia shall become the official protectorate of the Orwellian Meritocracy.
II. The Community of Proto-Laurasia shall cease all military activity and disarm all troops until such times as Faxanavian reviewers may analyze and define the necessary forces the Proto-Laurasian military may hold.
III. The Community of Proto-Laurasia shall swear loyalty to the Imperator and to Faxanavia.
IV. The Community of Proto-Laurasia shall be renamed the Protectorate of Proto-Laurasia.
V. The Orwellian Meritocracy of Faxanavia shall provide military protection to Proto-Laurasia.
VI. The Orwellian Meritocracy of Faxanavia will grant freedom of self government to the protectorate of Proto-Laurasia with a Faxanavian overseer being put in place to insure all runs smoothly.
VII. The Orwellian Meritocracy of Faxanavia and the protectorate of Proto-Laurasia shall agree to stand beside each other if at any such time war should break out within one or both of their countries.
VIII. The Orwellian Meritocracy of Faxanavia and the protectorate of Proto-Laurasia shall agree upon free trade between their two states.

Signed,
Hephaestus Blackforge
Imperator of Faxanavia

Du Horloge
Representative of the Proleteriat of Proto-Laurasia

This is an open communication stating that I am closing and exiting this RP because Faxanavia, OOC, has proven to be quite a god moder. His view of war is unrealistic and I refuse to RP with such an egotist.

This is an open communication stating that I am closing and exiting this RP because Faxanavia, OOC, has proven to be quite a god moder. His view of war is unrealistic and I refuse to RP with such an egotist.

OOC: please stop trolling my thread.

That's nice. I started the thread.

This is an open communication stating that I am closing and exiting this RP because Faxanavia, OOC, has proven to be quite a god moder. His view of war is unrealistic and I refuse to RP with such an egotist.

Pot, meet kettle. He's actually a better RP'er than yourself, and ignoring him just because you lost a fair war, which you could have done much more to fight, is just going to lead you onto the path to n00b-hood. Like a young Hataria.

But, see, Vontanas, you haven't talked to him about this in real life. That makes it very different.