NationStates Jolt Archive

(MAP) (http://img518.imageshack.us/img518/7087/thetaborir9.png)

The village air was crisp, and Harto Bolttracker sat in his thatched hut, his hand delicately moving the radio knob. It was old, from Colony days, and Harto cursed it's rust and poor wiring. Suddenly he heard a faint voice at the low end of the dial, and knew instantly he had found what he was searching for.

The voice, though faint, was impassioned and grisly, the voice of a man who had served his time in The Green. He had caught the man mid-speech, and he cursed his luck, leaning in to hear better.

"...against Grunt power for the purpose of restoring the rule of the Governor and the power of the landowners and bankers. But this will not happen. The Army has closed its ranks, has risen up and driven the landowners' mercenaries and Homeguard traitors from the Gatora Swamp, has recaptured Freetown and almost the whole of the hobo lands, and is marching towards the capital and Vault 1.

A little more effort, a few more months of fighting the enemy, and victory will be ours. The Army is strong because it is consciously and united marching into battle for the tribal's land, for the rule of the soldiers and natives, for Grunt power.

The Army is invincible because it has united thousands of Tribals with the Grunts who have been training for years, have acquired comradely discipline, who do not lose heart, who become steeled after slight reverses, and are more and more boldly marching against the enemy, convinced he will soon be defeated.

Comrades, Army men! The alliance of the soldiers and tribals of the Army is firm, close and insoluble. The Officers, the very rich, are trying to foment revolts against Grunt power, but they constitute an insignificant minority. They rarely succeed in fooling the tribals, and then not for long. The tribals know that only in alliance with the soldiers can they vanquish the slaves of the Governor.

Sometimes, in the rural districts people call themselves Grunts who are actually the worst enemies of the Tabor people, bullies who hang on to the authorities in pursuit of their own selfish aims, and who resort to deception, commit acts of injustice and wrong the hobo. The soldiers' and tribals' government has firmly decided to fight against these people and clear them out of the countryside.

The hobos are not enemies but friends of the soldiers, friends of Grunt power. The struggle-conscious tribals and genuine Grunts treat the hobos as comrades. The hobos do not exploit the labor of others, they do not grow rich at other people's expense, as the officers do; the hobos work themselves, they live by their own labor. The Grunts will crush the Officers, will comb out of the villages those who treat the hobos unjustly with violence and, come what may, will pursue the policy of alliance between the Grunts and all the working people - both tribal and hobo.

Comrades, Army men! Be staunch, firm and united. March boldly forward against the enemy. Victory will be ours. The power of the landowners and the capitalists, broken in the lands of the Tabor, will be defeated throughout the land!"

Harto smiled, his hands clutching his shoddy AK-103. He was overcome with joy, for surely if the Grunts had re-captured Freetown, they might pass through his tribe's lands. He jumped out his chair, pretending to fire his gun at unseen foes. Surely if they came through they would let him join. Hadn't they been a call for warriors just last week?

Tgebd Lowfinder, Harto's best friend came running through the hut door. "Hurry, the police are here!" Harto's heart skipped a beat. This was it, his chance. He peered through the window of the hut. Yep, he saw them alright, about 20 of the bastards right in the middle of the village. The Khan was speaking to them, desperately telling them the village was in support of the government.

The sergeant laughed. "Listen 'ere ya old Foogi!" Foogi, slang for fugitive. His people had originally been brought here as convicts, and the Officers just never seem to let it go. "We got reports 'ouve been letting the bloody Grunts camp here, and that don't sound loyal to me."

"The Grunts have never been here. Have we not always payed our taxes?" The Elder knew violence was near.

"Well then, maybe we should burn this stinkhole to the ground then? Get the napalm boys!" Harto knew the time was his. He lifted his rifle through the window and yelled. "Long live the Grunt revolution!" With the pull of the trigger, rounds spat out from the gun like angry hornets, slamming into everything in their path. 4 Officers fell dead, their badges sprinkled with blood. From Cokni Keylode's hut another rifle joined in, hitting the sergeant with a bullet through the forehead. 2 more huts joined in, the village now alive with gunfire. The Elder had managed to scurry away, and the Officer's were now wetting themselves with fear.

"Retreat, retreat!" They ran as fast as they could, cowardly throwing their weapons and belts down in an effort to flee faster. Harto let out a mighty war whoop, soon joined in by the entire village. There would be much celebration tonight.

But the elder sat alone, leading against a rock, heaving for breath, shaking. "So...it is...war..."

(OOC: Any other nations are free to join in)

Koka Axehunter inhaled the sweet smoke of the cigar, letting the smoke drift like a ghost through the jungle foliage. His camo were stained in dirt and blood, and he had seen better days.

But then again, that was revolution for you.

"Sarge." Eeri Grimforger had broken Koka'a momentary peace.

"Da?"

"We believe we've found pigs about four clicks east, lightly armed." The cigar came alive again, the end lighting up like a dragon's eye. Koka said nothing at first, his mind seemingly somewhere else. He had been fighting since he was 16, conscripted into the government's army and used as cannon fodder. Battles no longer seemed interesting to him.

"Well then Eeri, mighty eager to die, eh?"

"What?"

"Never mind. Tell the boys to pack up and load up. We move now." Koka stroked his beard and lifted his pack onto his back. He kept the cigar in his mouth, walking into the jungle with his rifle in one hand. His troops soon followed, moving through the oppressive heat without a word.

It took awhile, but they had found them. It was a patrol, six pigs, and they indeed lightly armed. Koka wanted a better view, and with amazing speed he climbed a massive tree. His troops took point, readying themselves and picking out targets.

With the cigar still smoking, he peered through his dirty binoculars. The underfed and bruised excuses for soldiers were walking with their hands down, more eager to return home then fight. Koka always hated this part. It was here he always began thinking of their families. Did they have children?

He chuckled. "Didn't stop them from throwing me into The Green." He warbled a bird call, indistinguishable from the many animal sounds around him, well....to the pigs.

Gunshots cracked from the bushes below and two pigs went down. The other four dropped their weapons and raised their hands, squinting to view their unseen assailants.

Koka had to make a choice. He saw his men were looking up for guidance. Goddammit, aren't we fighting so they can make their own choices? He warbled a different call, and his men emerged like ghosts from the foilage. He lept 15 feet down from the tree, rolling to avoid injury. In an instant he was back up, his AK-103 in the face of the nearest pig.

The cigar was still lit.

"Where are you coming from?" His grizzly voice took them by suprise. They said nothing, exchanging nervous glances. "Well? What can't talk? Your leader dead."

The largest of the survivors spoke up. "Who's in command here?" Koka smiled.

"Well, it ain't you. Now you gonna talk or is Nubu over there gonna have ta skin ya?" He motioned towards the 7 foot tall Tribal who had joined their ranks just recently, a trained Headhunter covered in tattoos.

One of the smaller survivors spoke up. "We're a patrol from a camp about-"

"Exact coordinates" Koka interrupted. The man hesitated, but reluctantly gave up the longitude and latitude. His allies glared at him. Koka smiled and motioned for the radioman. The rodent like man hurried, and Koka seemed to speak to nobody in particular. He merely read of the coordinates and said one word: pigs.

There was an eerie silence throughout the jungle for 30 seconds. And then the metal rain of artillery was heard. like distant thunder it roared, and birds rose up into the sky to flee. Explosions seemed distant, though the jungle trained men could hear the cries of the wounded.

Koka gave back the radio. "Well, my POW friends, handover all your supplies. Ratface, Chickenshit, grab their guns." Without a word his troops obeyed, the rest keeping their sights trained on the captives.

"We can't keep ya, but WE believe in the freedom of choice. So we're gonna let The Green decide if you live. I wouldn't go north if I were you, there's a village up there that has been dying to have your type for dinner." The captives seemed puzzled by this, till Nubu made a silent slicing motion across his neck. "Alright boys, we got shit to do."

With that they walked back into the foliage, leaving the wide eyed Officers to make their own choice and listen despairingly to the sounds of large monitor lizards moving towards them.

"Comrades, the revolution continues all across the island, and our foes are driven back in every theater. Word has reached our headquarters that the Hobo King has pledged himself to the Grunt Power ideal, along with his fellow nomads.

The Officers, the pigs of colonial law, grow increasingly desperate as their defeat draws ever near. Tribals! Beware the pig, for he shall burn your huts and rape your women! Hobos! The pig seeks only your enslavement and death! Grunts! Cast of the chains of command and bondage!

The time is now, and soon the last vestiges of colonial rule shall be no more then a twisted and macabre footnote in our long and glorious history. We have the rails, we have Freetown, and after we purge The Green of traitorous elements we shall march united through the halls of Vault 1!

Show no mercy comrades, for the enemy shall show none to you. Beware of foreign agents or mercenaries, and report any suspicious activity to your nearest Grunt. He'll know what to do. Another day passes comrades, and another milestone towards victory grows closer. Keep strong comrades, and keep listening, as we leave you with the revolutionary anthem..."

*Bump*

Princess Diamond, Daughter of King Nexx, High Lord of Pwnanation, watched with sorrow as the telly flashed photo after photo of the bloody battle taking place in the area of the Tabor known as The Green. Her pale white hands were lifted daintily to her mouth and her eyes were large and sad as the announcer continued to rattle off statistics of the dead and injured. She wanted to help, but knew her nation too young to offer any real support.

Brusquely, she turned off the telly and walked to her desk. From its drawers she drew out a sheet of delicate paper, nearly as fair as her own soft skin, and an ancient pen which had belonged to her mother's mother. She began to write.

To the Freedom Fighters in the Land of Tabor:

My heart yearns to assist your struggle for freedom from your oppressors, but my nation is yet young and not well equipped to offer military aid. I can, however, offer other assistance in the form of food and medicine drops for the towns in the region of the Green. I will speak with my father this afternoon about this matter, and he will not refuse me what is, in his mind, so insignificant a request. If you will please provide me with coordinates of your most war-ravaged towns, I will see that the drops are made within the week.

Signed, the Lady Diamond, Grand Princess of Pwnanation

She sealed the letter with her personal crest and called for her senior attendant. She gave instructions that the letter be delivered with the utmost expediency, then brushed from the room to find her father.

"Sarge, I think you better come see this." Sih Axemaker groaned. These new recruits never did anything for themselves!

"What is it, I'm very busy."

"But, sir-"

"What did you call me?"

"SARGE...you were just staring into the fire."

"I know....I was reliving memories." Sih, got up, his rifle slung around his back. His troops were raggedy, taking heavy fire just two days ago. He had lost 8 men, 5 of them not even 18. "Alright, what is it? If it's another lizard, I'm not going to tell you Freetown boys again! They ain't poisonous, you can eat em!"

"No sarge...it's a letter."

Sih was confused. Letter? Why would headquarters send a letter rather then a broadcast? "Lemme see this thing." The baby-faced soldier handed it to him, and Sih shooed him off to read it in private. He remembered letters....before the revolution...when they were your only tie to civilization out in The Green.

To the Freedom Fighters in the Land of Tabor:

My heart yearns to assist your struggle for freedom from your oppressors, but my nation is yet young and not well equipped to offer military aid. I can, however, offer other assistance in the form of food and medicine drops for the towns in the region of the Green. I will speak with my father this afternoon about this matter, and he will not refuse me what is, in his mind, so insignificant a request. If you will please provide me with coordinates of your most war-ravaged towns, I will see that the drops are made within the week.

Signed, the Lady Diamond, Grand Princess of Pwnanation

Pwnanation....he heard never heard of them. Then again, owning a map was forbidden under old colonial law. He got on the radio. "Headquarters come in, over."

"This is headquarters, over."

"Listen, i just got a foreign letter, asking if they can send supplies...to us....over."

".....shit. Really?"

"Yeah."

"Well hell, get your ass over here Axemaker!"

"And abandon this position? I got pigs to the north and east, and they got 6 tanks split between 'em."

"We'll tell Propfighter and his boys over to where you are, they want the action and I'm sure you could use the rest."

"You got that right. We're inbound."
==========================================================

Headquarters.

Sure, it was nothing more then a mobile base, and a shoddy one at that. But for all it's flaws, it had led them to victory time and time again, while keeping commands and authority to a minimum. It had taken Sih and his men 5 days to reach the present location, all on foot. After a night of rest he handed over the letter, and the battle hardened men of Headquarters fired off a response.

Dear Lady Diamond, Grand Princess of Pwnanation:

First off, we would like to thank you for your kind letter. The smell of the female form surrounded it, and nothing made the men out here happier. We assure you your size is no issue, for we ain't that big either. Hell, a bombing run over the Capital would do wonders, but we ain't here to pressure your boys into dyin for folks they ain't never even met. If you would like to deliver foodstuffs or medicine, which we desperately need, you can deliver them by boat or bird to Freetown, the city under our control. We got our boys in there, and they'll make sure everybody gets an equal share.

Once again I would like to thank you, and after this is all over, perhaps we might explore diplomatic relations with each other. Hell, you should come down after we get this shit settled, see the place for yourself.

Best regards,
Grunt Power Headquarters

"You think she won't mind the language?"

"Well, lets hope so, cause thats the only way I can write..."

0200, Hurfdurfistan City
Praetorian Hall

Why was it, Blackwell wondered, that urgent briefings always arrived while he was asleep? Nonetheless, the Praetor of the Federation of Hurfdurfistan rose from bed and dressed quickly, as his cabinet was assembled scarcely twenty meters away and were waiting on him. He walked into the council chamber, his cabinet stood up, and with the same hand gesture as always he bade them sit. As he sat down, an aide brought him a sheaf of papers, marked "Tabor Report".

... it seems that the crux of the conflict between the self-proclaimed "Grunts" and the "Officers" is a sort of ethnic oppression (if our intelligence data is accurate). It is unclear what triggered the current conflict, but it stands to reason that continued conflict between the two groups will lead to extensive regional instability and potential economic collapse. Naturally, given Hurfdurfistani economic interests in the region, this stands to be of considerable importance...

Blackwell put the documents down, having skimmed them, and sat back in his chair. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. When he opened his eyes again, he asked "Well, what do our options look like?"

---------

0420, C-130 TRN0058
Four miles above The Tabor

There were only a dozen of them, the men chosen for the mission. Truth be told, the head of Hurfdurfistan's Foreign Intelligence Service had known that Blackwell would choose to investigate the Taborian conflict with special operators well before calling a meeting, and had assembled and deployed the team hours in advance. They were professionals of the highest calibre, ex-special forces all, specializing in stealth and subterfuge. Moments from now, they would HALO drop into The Green.

Well, all but one were elite soldiers. The last was a diplomat. A warrior-poet of sorts. He was technically in charge of the mission, this Daniel Green, but he would of course defer most decisions to the leader of the special operators, one Captain Jack Williams. But Green was authorized, once the special operators had determined the subtleties of the local political atmosphere, to offer any sort of aid he felt necessary and proper, up to and including military action.

The rear hatch of the Hercules opened, and the ghillie-suited men participating in Operation Gom Jabbar dropped out into the sky. Mere hundreds of feet from the ground, they opened their 'chutes, all landing within a 50-meter radius. Upon regrouping, they hid, taking up surveillance and sharpshooting positions. Their SigInt specialist, Sergeant Michael Franklin, began setting up his equipment, attempting to hide it as best he could, but it was relatively difficult to hide the large number of antennae leading out from the gear, not to mention the miniaturized satellite dish.

The plan was to move about by night, staying mostly still during the day so as to avoid detection. Of course, for most of the men, "mostly still" meant "asleep," and as long as they awoke when they needed to, that was fine by Williams, who lounged in a tree branch, his suppressed M24A3 on his lap. A few meters away his XO, First Lieutenant John Anderson, napped quietly, his SOPMOD M4 at the ready. They were ready for a long day of nothing.

(Goin away for the weekend. I'll post after I get back.)

Dear Lady Diamond, Grand Princess of Pwnanation:

First off, we would like to thank you for your kind letter. The smell of the female form surrounded it, and nothing made the men out here happier. We assure you your size is no issue, for we ain't that big either. Hell, a bombing run over the Capital would do wonders, but we ain't here to pressure your boys into dyin for folks they ain't never even met. If you would like to deliver foodstuffs or medicine, which we desperately need, you can deliver them by boat or bird to Freetown, the city under our control. We got our boys in there, and they'll make sure everybody gets an equal share.

Once again I would like to thank you, and after this is all over, perhaps we might explore diplomatic relations with each other. Hell, you should come down after we get this shit settled, see the place for yourself.

Best regards,
Grunt Power Headquarters

As expected, King Nexx gave hardly a thought to Princess Diamond's request before approving it. "Of course, my dear, whatever you like," he said, with a distracted wave of his hand. "Though why you care to assist a nation of backwards malcontents, I don't know."

"I do care, Father," the princess responded, gently. "Thank you."

"Whatever makes you happy, my dear," he answered, turning back to his paperwork. "Now be a good dear and let daddy get back to work, will you?"

"Yes, Father," she replied, and with a curtsy, was gone.

Two days later, a convoy of cargo ships filled with food, blankets, and medical supplies was on its way to Freetown with enough of each to supply a half-dozen small towns or military outposts.* Also enclosed was another letter, again penned on the delicate parchment.

To the Freedom Fighters in the Land of Tabor,

I am gratified to hear that my letter was of some small comfort to the brave soldiers fighting for freedom in the Green. I hope the convoy I am sending provides you now with some more tangible relief from your struggles. I am sorry I cannot provide you with military aid; as we are a newly established land, our forces are needed on our own borders.

Once your struggle is won, I would be most pleased to visit your country. Relations with such a courageous land as your own would be a benefit to my own and an encouragement to my heart. In the meantime, you may contact me at any time if you find yourself in great need.

Be of cheer; any land so loved as yours plainly is will doubtless yield itself up to the side of right. Know that my thoughts are with you and your cause.

Signed, the Lady Diamond, Grand Princess of Pwnanation
-------------------------------
*OOC: I really have no idea what would be a reasonable contribution from my nation to yours; I tried to research it, but failed utterly to find anything of use. So please just take this to mean enough supplies to be of some significant help, without being overdone.

Freetown seemed to come alive when the supplies hit. Gangbangers, Pirates, Grunts, and Hobos all came out to the docks to witness the first act of charity the Tabor had ever known. To keep looters and thieves away the Grunts had set up camp, and they kept their machine guns pointed at the ever increasing crowd. Slowly but surely the supplies were emptied and sent to where they were most needed. Headquarters estimated the supplies would keep an extra 50 men alive each day, and all inhabitants were very greatful.

The Grunt Power movement knew they had to use this increase in supplies and morale well, and so they launched a major offensive against the capital. Artillery rained from the skies into the walled city non-stop for three days, as tanks and soldiers came from all directions to join in the fight.

Soon, very soon the revolution might be over, and victory might at last finally be theirs...

OOC: Do I get to be involved, or not?

OOC: Sure, make a post

IC:

"....*radio fuzz*...chemical weapons...assive fighting....llets in all directions...*BOOM**BOOM**BOOM*......artillery com....continue to fight comrades! We are two days into the Capital Siege and the banner of Grunt power marches forward....o fear in death for our glorious ideal....NCOMING!....have been hit....porter out."

Carrier Battle Group 13
Sixty nautical miles from Tabor

Rear Admiral Martin Ryan sat at the head of the large table that dominated the briefing room deep inside of the carrier Peregrine and surveyed the others sitting in on the current meeting. In addition to several members of his staff and some of the senior escort commanders there were several others present. The four Marines from 18th MEU were at ease among all the Navy brass but the three civilians were different. The three man delegation consisted of representatives from the Ministries of Commerce and Foreign Affairs as well as an "aide" who Ryan was certain was actually an operative from the NDI and proably the true head of the delegation.

Sam Kure, the man from Commerce, finally ended his long winded speech on government policy and plans.

"So we are all clear as to our course of action?'

Seeing no obvious dissent he started speaking again.

"Very well. Admiral how soon can your people send the signal?"

Ryan thought for a moment before speaking.
"At your conveinence Mr. Kure."

With that the meeting adjourned.

*********

Dispatch to the Tabor Loyalist Forces

FROM: Sam Kure, Ministry of Commerce, Commonwealth of Tolvan

RE: Military Aid

The Commonwealth typically takes no interest in the internal affairs of other nations but your nation lies in a region of strategic and economic interest for the Commonwealth. As a result we are prepared to offer limited military assistance in the form of a Carrier Battle Group and a Marine Expeditionary Unit positioned near your nation. We are prepared to commence air strikes against rebel positions within two hours and to begin landing arms and supplies to your forces within six hours.

In return all we ask is favourable access to Taborian markets when the current crisis is averted.

What is your reponse?

As artillery whizzed overhead and tank shells screamed through the night, camp 164 was laughing. They had intercepted a communication meant for the government forces, promising them help in exchange for diminished sovreignity. Too bad the capital had no power, no lights, no communication at all. It was a pitch black death pit, explosions and rifle fire the only thing brining light into the eyes of soldiers awash in blood.

Already the capital was in ruins, no landmarks left to remember the old days by. now only Vault 1, a massive underground fallout shelter, remained. The Grunt Power forces were on hour 16 of trying to gain entrance, but knew by morning the door would fly open to reveal their hated foes.

Victory seemed near, and the revolution almost complete.

Airspace over Vault 1, Tabor

The Prophet UAV had launched from the helo pad of the frigate Billan nearly an hour ago and set out towards the capital of Tabor. The drone flew at the modest speed of 80 knots per hour at an altitude of 5,000 meters as it made several large looping passes near the city. It's onboard sensors were busy taking pictures and relaying SIGINT data back to the Peregrine about the condition of the capital and its denizens.

6 months after Revolution

Gruel Skyhammer shifted his machine gun to the left, the APC seemingly hitting every pot hole on the trail. He sighed, lost in his memories. The opening of the Vault, the things they found there....but all that was behind the Tabor now.

It had become a land of peace, and the entire island had done away with government altogether. Now people lived in tribes, clans....gangs, and warbands. While the existence of the latter two posed a threat to the future, for now at least, they upheld the Grunt Power ideal.

So why was he not enjoying this peace?

He couldn't stand it.

It seemed the soldiers who had fought and died for the island now wanted nothing to do with it. 15 years of brutal savagery had changed them, and they just didn't seem to fit into regular society. oh sure, he could head to Freeport and become a criminal, but Gruel wanted blood, not cash.

He wasn't the only one. Statistics claimed 30% of the former revolutionary forces were selling their services to the world, unable to stifle their hunger for death. Warbands on their way to Freeport would stop wherever they could, eager to recruit more. Riches and power were promised, though if that wasn't enough, a drugged drink usually did the trick.

However, the Hobo King and his people seemed immune to the "bloodthirst" as it was called, and they were the only faction who had no interest in the rest of the world. Eager to relax, party, and ride the rails, very few had been seen since the End.

Some whispered they planned secession. Others said they were just to hungover to fight.

So, for now, the Tabor people were at peace, even if that wasn't what they wanted....

7 months after Revolution

Economy.

It had never been really thought of during the revolution, and indeed, even before, it had never been truly developed. The Tabor were simply exploited and taught nothing. While they lacked traditional education or skilled scientists, the Tabor had already begun to notice their natural guile and will to live was all they needed.

It had been dubbed Warlord economy. Basically warriors and soldiers went out into the world, fought, got paid, and stole whatever they could, bringing it back to be given to their respective community. The richer the community, the more powerful it was. The more powerful, the more it was regarded as the "capital." One could say it had a little in common with the old system of the Sumerians. And so far it was doing very well, considering the communities needed little, and prided themselves on it.

The city of Freeport, really the only city left and now run by a "congress" formed by local gangs and mafias, had begun to send what few subs they had to rob passing cruise ships, and the results were astounding.

You'd be amazed what you can get when your pointing a missile at someone.

New Tabor Tribal Anthem
------------------------
Tabor people greatest people in the world.
All other countries fight like little girls.
Tabor will stand and fight, shoot you in the face
Other countries retreat from place to place

Tabor homeland deadliest of homelands
Snakes: thirty meters
Man: six meters
Our jungles a marvel to behold
They remove 80 percent of human solid waste

Tabor Tribe, Tabor Tribe, you survive any place.
From swamps of Gatora to ghettos of Freeport.
Tabor Tribe friend of all except those who cross us.
Tabor warriors crush you like you under bus.

Tabor Tribe industry best in the world.
While others make it, we simply take it
Tabor Tribe number one miners of potassium.
Other countries have inferior potassium.

Tabor no negotiate
We do not capitulate
We will take, while you give
You will die, so we may live
Spirit world guides us, we are not afraid to die
We'll return to Great Spirit in the Sky

" And next we come to the recent string of cruise ship robberies right here" said High Council member Fred Jackson. He brought up a map of Tabor and the ocean around it. " Two of Zackarothain ships have been robbed and the companies are pleading to the goverment to do something. The only problem is, the country of Tabor has no real goverment system. Its basically the surival of the strongest and baddest. There mercs are well known for being cannon fodder, right up there with the Mandorlians. I am suggesting we send a force there and secure that nation" the Council man finished up.

The High Leader, Aimless von Strangaild spoke up " No. While they may be "cannon fodder" to you, there bloodlust presents a large problem to overcome. Armies are so used to fighting other well organized armies, when nations like this pop up suddenly they have an advantage. While I doubt we cannot win a war, I am not going to sustain major loss of life unless I deem the cause nesscary. Let them rip each other apart. Nations such as them in the end will. I will allow however, armed escorts manditory to all cruise liners heading past that country. If they are still brave enough to attack Zackarothain escorts then we shall deal with them as I see fit" the High leader concluded. The Council bowed there heads, respecting the leader's descion and switched focus to another issue at hand...

OOC: Finally, a realistic response instead of this 'ima invade yo ass' so common here! I can assure you, your armed escorts will scare away anything from attacking you. :p

News spreads fast in the world, and nothing faster when business is concerned. In this case, business is war. The Mercenary State of Nation of Fortune had followed this hopeless conflict closely. Unfortunately this revolution had not lasted long enough, nor been big enough, to render such professional forces as the NoF's Einherjar. It seemed the country had fallen into peace for the time being. Then this happened. Attacks on international civilian ships.

Cyrus Lanier had a great interest in this conflict from the beginning, and then he saw this opening. He called a Nofian officer into his office.

"Get me as many details on the former nation of The Tabor's army. Most notably rosters of lower enlisted ranks."

"Roger that," the officer didn't question his motives. Undying loyalty had been bred into this nations forces.

Cyrus had been somewhat of a revolutionary himself, having come from origins similar to The Tabor.

A few minutes later the officer came back with a large file, and dropped it on Cyrus's desk. He picked up the file and started looking through it. Several hours later he had devised a list.

"Bring me Valerie," he yelled down the hall. A loud grunt came from the hall, and several men scattered.

Later that afternoon a blonde woman with a look of death entered Cyrus's office. In her right hand she fiddled with a knife. She stared at him with her green eyes. Her eyes said everything they needed to say, she didn't care. She had been christened on the battlefield when she was just fourteen, having spent the years of her life before that in the nations sadistic training school. "Born to fight, trained to kill, ready to die, but never will." This was a saying that had never been held so true.

"I thank you for making the time to come see me. As you know I trust nobody more than you, if I set you to a task I know it will get done. Well I need this done, I need several people found. Here's the list. I'm sure if you find one or two of them on the list, the rest will come easily."

She said nothing, instead she lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. The smoke she blew through her nose made her nostrils tingle. She wanted blood.

"Another revolution may be about in this troubled country, and you could be in the middle of another war."

She smiled a slightly twisted smile. She ashed her cigarette and grabbed the list. She glanced over it briefly and walked out the door to gather a couple more Nofian Einherjars.

**************
Valerie had made the arrangements, and would brief her team on the way to Freeport.

The flight offered little comfort, but it didn't matter to these warriors of warriors, they smelt a potential fight brewing. Valerie was glancing through some papers before she spoke up.

"The mission is simple we have to find several people. Everyone we are looking for is a revolutionary. They fought in the wars, and now they are out of business. They are most likely to be sympathetic to our cause. They have been in heavy fighting for several years, so combat is not unknown to them, they just don't live it like us. Not yet anyway."

She took a short pause took a drag from her cigarette.

"The main names we are looking for are: Harto Bolttracker,
Koka Axehunter, Sih Axemaker, and Gruel Skyhammer."

She held up a picture of each. The sources had been easy to come across with the types of records all militaries kept.

((OOC:I gotta finish this later))

OOC: Fine with me, though if your invading me or other such nonsense, please put it on hold.

((OOC: My intentions will become clear soon enough. If you hadn't noticed my title, it's a Mercenary State. Our primary concern is what the client wants. Although the intentions now have other motives, none of which even have a client.))

The other Einherjar on the small transport plane nodded as the pictures were passed around. There were six of them total, to scour this country for these men.

"Once we find at least one of these men it will make our task easier, unless he refuses us."

She paused, and the knife in her hand sliced her flesh open. She didn't flinch at the familiar pain of her flesh being cut open. The blood trickled down her finger, and splattered on the ground.

"We will split into two teams. One searching the north end of the town, the other the south. Once they are found contact me, we will arrange a meeting with them."

She opened her hand, where she had been cut was now healed. She flicked her hand towards the wall, spraying droplets of blood on the wall.

"Insertion will be into the seas a mile off of the coast. We will be working in the darkness, so keep close until we hit the shore. That is all for now."

*************
Several hours later
The plane lowered it's altitude so the fall into the water would not kill them. The door was thrust open and they dived one after the other into the icy waters below. Years of training and actually doing this made it a seemingly task. They began the mile long swim.

(When you get to freeport, I'll start from there. Though I awrn you, your gonna look foreign as hell....and we haven't had any vistors. :p

The swim had taken them well over an hour. The six of them drudged onto the beach, sopping wet. Valerie's face contorted into an annoyed look. It was late, and the concealment was only good for insertion. She had foreseen this, and had planned for the insertion to be later, only like any military operation things go wrong. The flight was shorter than she had expected. Searching during the night would prove to be useless.

"Let us search for some form of lodgings, or something we can use as a base of operations."

The group took off into the night.

Oops, over already.

The group made their way through the country side. Signs that war had torn through this country were there. Some of the foliage had started growing back, but most of it was still ravaged.

The group moved almost silently, ignoring a dead body that had been left to rot in the dense jungle. Bullet holes riddled the trees, and empty casings littered the ground, rattling with each step.

A short time after they started, they reached Freeport's city limits. The south side showed that fighting had happened here, just not recently. Several abandoned buildings that look as if they were once government housing stood crumbled in the early morning sky. Valerie stopped.

"We'll stop here, for now. Rest for a couple hours, and make sure our weapons are clean. For now this will be our base of operations, although I would like to find something more like a hotel that is more centralized."

The group nodded and they took an apartment on the first floor.