The Warmaster
17-04-2008, 02:40
“And I stood upon the sand of the sea, and saw a beast rise up out of the sea, having seven heads and ten horns, and upon his horns ten crowns, and upon his heads the name of blasphemy…And they worshiped the dragon which gave power unto the beast: and they worshiped the beast, saying, ‘Who is like unto the beast? Who is able to make war with him?’…and he causeth all, both small and great, rich and poor, free and bond, to receive a mark in their right hand, or in their foreheads: and that no man might buy or sell, save that he had the mark, or the name of the beast…”
-Excerpt from the Book of Revelation, chapter 13
* * *
Euripides, the great Athenian tragedian, wrote, “The god of war hates those who hesitate.” Truly, many crimes could be laid at the feet of the Kregaian Imperium, from extortion to genocide, but hesitation to plunge the world into war was certainly not one of them. For months now, the secret halls of the Palace had echoed with the whispers of those who held the power to change history, speaking of shifting alliances, strategic routes, conscription statistics. If greed and hate were the cornerstones upon which war was built, such matters as these were surely not far from the foundations.
To a Kregaian, war is perhaps the purest of arts. There is no canvas, no stone that may contain impurities: the work is displayed not on solid objects, but across whole nations and throughout the relentless march of history. Some, yokels, heathens, and heretics chief among them, would say that war is awful, that war is nothing more than a needless surge of hate resulting from petty causes. Some would say that a war between the two most powerful alliances in the world would be a terrible thing. But to a Kregaian, especially an educated man, such a world war would be glorious. Mesmerizing. Perfect.
It takes a great artist to make such a war.
* * *
I am the new hell on earth,
The lord of agony divine:
Domination, intimidation
Lives within these eyes;
Reign of power,
Remorseless anarchy,
I am arrogance in the flesh…
-“Here Comes the Pain” by Slayer
Emperor Ishamael, eyes alight with determination and confidence, decked out in the black and gold ceremonial armor of his office, stood before the Council of Prefects as the television crews prepared to broadcast his speech live. The Council, of course, was only there by dint of ancient tradition: he would have preferred to speak from the Rostra, whipping a crowd of two million into a frenzy by the fury of his oratory, and be filmed with a fanatical mob as a backdrop. But tonight was not a time for outright fury: tonight was a time for controlled rage, for ice-cold hatred, for pure triumph. His masterpiece began tonight.
The cameramen gestured silently, and Ishamael was live.
“To all the people of the world,” the Emperor began, speaking slowly, “to my subjects, to our brothers in Gholgoth, to the cravens of APOC, to friend and foe: Good evening. I bring word tonight not of justice, not of peaceful profit, but of disturbance, of upheaval, and of dishonor.
"For years, Gholgoth and NATO have existed in Haven, together with whatever alliance dominated that region at the time. Political tensions have come and gone, but in general, peace has continued. If anything, the 4 Day War should have proven beyond dispute that there is no profit in disturbing Gothic or NATO nations, only the harsh justice of revenge. And yet, ever since the foundation of the Alliance for the Preservation of Civilization, Haven and Gholgoth have been struggling under the shadow of war. A storm has gathered over the civilized world. The reason I come before you tonight is because that storm has broken.
"And it should come as no surprise that Gholgoth has not been the one to break the peace. The Gothic Lords know how we are seen by those who do not know us, and we have earned the right to be feared. But we are not feared. Fear would keep the weak and the cowards of the world in line. Fear would have kept APOC from coming together at all. Instead, the Gothic Lords are met with envy. Envy has driven the leaders of APOC mad, and caused them to break the peace. And for this, even taking into account the insanity evident in any attack on Gholgoth and NATO, there can be no forgiveness."
I am brutality, the face of everlasting pain:
Annihilation, obliteration
Pulses in these veins;
Sheer defiance drives my hostility,
I am merciless to the core,
Chaotic fury breeds…
Ishamael's gaze hardened and his jaw tightened, transforming him into a terrible judge, like a prophet of old proclaiming his flock to have strayed from the will of the gods. "And so, we watch with rising anger the transgressions of those lofty princes, the heads of NATO. It cannot be borne; titans do not suffer the umbrage of the weak. The gods mutter in anger, for their servants have not acted, and sacrifices will only satisfy their thirst for war for a time. The gods demand blood. Imperial honor demands blood. And so there is no choice at all before us: merely the path of truth.
"As Emperor, I hereby declare a state of war to exist between the Imperium and both the Crown Commonwealth of Praetonia and the Imperial Crown Kingdom of Clandonia."
Here comes the pain,
You're no different from the rest;
Victim is your name in my vicious wasteland,
Here comes the pain,
Your destruction manifests,
Lying there broken looking up as I still stand...
"We shall not accept cries for mercy; the gods have no mercy for infidels. We shall not heed pleas for surrender: the dead alone can make peace with us. They have raised their hand against Gholgoth, and shall not raise it again. Even now, the world will watch; even now, at my command, the heavens and the earth conspire against them, and they glimpse their utter ruin. Even now, as I speak to you, the fleets I have called to Korronis depart, on their way to Haven, to end the fight which the heathen filth have begun. To other nations of the world, I say only that you need fear nothing from Gholgoth. To my subjects, I say only that victory is already ours; we simply must give shape to it. And finally, to the heathens of Praetonia and Clandonia, I say only this..." The Emperor smiled wryly, mockingly, his gaze dripping with contempt, as he intoned, "God save the King."
* * *
This war had been long-awaited and long-prepared by the Kregaians. Fleets had been assembled, funds had been saved, supplies had been stockpiled, armies had been consolidated, and defenses had been reinforced, all in preparation for this moment. Even as the Emperor made his speech, the wheels of war went into motion, and Operation Stillborn began.
From missile sites all across Kregaia, anti-satellite missiles were launched. The ASM-140 Caelus was the Imperium's choice for this commonplace task, namely, the destruction of enemy satellites, both military and commercial. Every single Praetonian and Clandonian satellite that was either a communications satellite or a suspected enemy spy satellite (although there was, of course, a considerable margin of error in deciding which satellites were spy satellites and which were not) was targeted by at least two missiles; this, hopefully, would not only deprive the enemy of satellite reconnaissance but create chaos in his homeland with the collapse of satellite communications.
Godrods were not an accurate weapon. This was common knowledge. Hurling what amounts to a giant spear through the atmosphere will inevitably result in a few deviations from the plotted course. But it was just as commonly known that there are some targets that are too big to miss. For example, the cities of Warminster and Kingston. Such targets were absolutely ideal for godrods anyway: they are truly terrifying weapons, perfect for shock-and-awe tactics. And since the Imperium maintained quite a fleet of weapons satellites (each carrying a dozen godrods), those cities could be pounded quite mercilessly for some time.
To be specific, there were a good fifty-two Demiurge weapons satellites within range of Kingston or Warminster: twenty-eight aimed at Kingston and twenty-four at Warminster. And so, one godrod at a time, they proceeded to unleash Praetonia's and Clandonia's respective first tastes of Kregaian warfare. Like steady broadsides from a man o' war, the volleys of godrods shrieked down into the atmosphere, the air trapped beneath them rapidly heating to red-hot temperatures and the sound of their passage rather resembling what one might expect a yelling, drunken god to sound like. And as the technicians responsible for unleashing this hell sat back in their chairs, thousands of miles away in Kregaia, they did not question the morality of perpetrating such an act, instead idly wondering whether the Emperor would give the order to use the unconventional weapons that the satellites carried as well.
* * *
“They shall flee from him into the haven that they have prepared…And he that is coming shall have no mercy; he is crowned with might and upon his brow is written Fury.”
-Twilight of the Gods (Kregaian holy book), Book of Eternities
* * *
Meanwhile, the greatest fleet the Imperium had ever seen was leaving Korronis. Greater even than the colossal armada that had garrisoned Innovata during earlier tensions between Gholgoth and the Havenite powers, it was reinforced still further by elements of the Novan and Aequatian Navies, sailing with the Kregaians to the cleansing of Haven. At its helm stood the duo that had controlled Imperial expeditions for so long: the hero of Czardas, Lord Rahvin Ares, and High Admiral Ludo Anor. Around their flagship, the colossal supercapital HIMS Apophis, crowded thousands upon thousands of ships, from lumbering troop transports and carriers to the swift, nimble minesweepers that preceded the fleet. It was a truly awe-inspiring sight: the crimson Quinquales* waving boldly on the black flags of the Kregaian fleet, stretching much farther than the eye could possibly see, and beyond them, the fleets of the other Gothic powers.
APOC was in for a rude awakening.
*OOC: The Quinquales comes from the Latin, and means "five arms"; it's the word for the five-armed cross that is the symbol of the Imperium. Every member of the Armed Forces has it tattooed on their bodies.
-Excerpt from the Book of Revelation, chapter 13
* * *
Euripides, the great Athenian tragedian, wrote, “The god of war hates those who hesitate.” Truly, many crimes could be laid at the feet of the Kregaian Imperium, from extortion to genocide, but hesitation to plunge the world into war was certainly not one of them. For months now, the secret halls of the Palace had echoed with the whispers of those who held the power to change history, speaking of shifting alliances, strategic routes, conscription statistics. If greed and hate were the cornerstones upon which war was built, such matters as these were surely not far from the foundations.
To a Kregaian, war is perhaps the purest of arts. There is no canvas, no stone that may contain impurities: the work is displayed not on solid objects, but across whole nations and throughout the relentless march of history. Some, yokels, heathens, and heretics chief among them, would say that war is awful, that war is nothing more than a needless surge of hate resulting from petty causes. Some would say that a war between the two most powerful alliances in the world would be a terrible thing. But to a Kregaian, especially an educated man, such a world war would be glorious. Mesmerizing. Perfect.
It takes a great artist to make such a war.
* * *
I am the new hell on earth,
The lord of agony divine:
Domination, intimidation
Lives within these eyes;
Reign of power,
Remorseless anarchy,
I am arrogance in the flesh…
-“Here Comes the Pain” by Slayer
Emperor Ishamael, eyes alight with determination and confidence, decked out in the black and gold ceremonial armor of his office, stood before the Council of Prefects as the television crews prepared to broadcast his speech live. The Council, of course, was only there by dint of ancient tradition: he would have preferred to speak from the Rostra, whipping a crowd of two million into a frenzy by the fury of his oratory, and be filmed with a fanatical mob as a backdrop. But tonight was not a time for outright fury: tonight was a time for controlled rage, for ice-cold hatred, for pure triumph. His masterpiece began tonight.
The cameramen gestured silently, and Ishamael was live.
“To all the people of the world,” the Emperor began, speaking slowly, “to my subjects, to our brothers in Gholgoth, to the cravens of APOC, to friend and foe: Good evening. I bring word tonight not of justice, not of peaceful profit, but of disturbance, of upheaval, and of dishonor.
"For years, Gholgoth and NATO have existed in Haven, together with whatever alliance dominated that region at the time. Political tensions have come and gone, but in general, peace has continued. If anything, the 4 Day War should have proven beyond dispute that there is no profit in disturbing Gothic or NATO nations, only the harsh justice of revenge. And yet, ever since the foundation of the Alliance for the Preservation of Civilization, Haven and Gholgoth have been struggling under the shadow of war. A storm has gathered over the civilized world. The reason I come before you tonight is because that storm has broken.
"And it should come as no surprise that Gholgoth has not been the one to break the peace. The Gothic Lords know how we are seen by those who do not know us, and we have earned the right to be feared. But we are not feared. Fear would keep the weak and the cowards of the world in line. Fear would have kept APOC from coming together at all. Instead, the Gothic Lords are met with envy. Envy has driven the leaders of APOC mad, and caused them to break the peace. And for this, even taking into account the insanity evident in any attack on Gholgoth and NATO, there can be no forgiveness."
I am brutality, the face of everlasting pain:
Annihilation, obliteration
Pulses in these veins;
Sheer defiance drives my hostility,
I am merciless to the core,
Chaotic fury breeds…
Ishamael's gaze hardened and his jaw tightened, transforming him into a terrible judge, like a prophet of old proclaiming his flock to have strayed from the will of the gods. "And so, we watch with rising anger the transgressions of those lofty princes, the heads of NATO. It cannot be borne; titans do not suffer the umbrage of the weak. The gods mutter in anger, for their servants have not acted, and sacrifices will only satisfy their thirst for war for a time. The gods demand blood. Imperial honor demands blood. And so there is no choice at all before us: merely the path of truth.
"As Emperor, I hereby declare a state of war to exist between the Imperium and both the Crown Commonwealth of Praetonia and the Imperial Crown Kingdom of Clandonia."
Here comes the pain,
You're no different from the rest;
Victim is your name in my vicious wasteland,
Here comes the pain,
Your destruction manifests,
Lying there broken looking up as I still stand...
"We shall not accept cries for mercy; the gods have no mercy for infidels. We shall not heed pleas for surrender: the dead alone can make peace with us. They have raised their hand against Gholgoth, and shall not raise it again. Even now, the world will watch; even now, at my command, the heavens and the earth conspire against them, and they glimpse their utter ruin. Even now, as I speak to you, the fleets I have called to Korronis depart, on their way to Haven, to end the fight which the heathen filth have begun. To other nations of the world, I say only that you need fear nothing from Gholgoth. To my subjects, I say only that victory is already ours; we simply must give shape to it. And finally, to the heathens of Praetonia and Clandonia, I say only this..." The Emperor smiled wryly, mockingly, his gaze dripping with contempt, as he intoned, "God save the King."
* * *
This war had been long-awaited and long-prepared by the Kregaians. Fleets had been assembled, funds had been saved, supplies had been stockpiled, armies had been consolidated, and defenses had been reinforced, all in preparation for this moment. Even as the Emperor made his speech, the wheels of war went into motion, and Operation Stillborn began.
From missile sites all across Kregaia, anti-satellite missiles were launched. The ASM-140 Caelus was the Imperium's choice for this commonplace task, namely, the destruction of enemy satellites, both military and commercial. Every single Praetonian and Clandonian satellite that was either a communications satellite or a suspected enemy spy satellite (although there was, of course, a considerable margin of error in deciding which satellites were spy satellites and which were not) was targeted by at least two missiles; this, hopefully, would not only deprive the enemy of satellite reconnaissance but create chaos in his homeland with the collapse of satellite communications.
Godrods were not an accurate weapon. This was common knowledge. Hurling what amounts to a giant spear through the atmosphere will inevitably result in a few deviations from the plotted course. But it was just as commonly known that there are some targets that are too big to miss. For example, the cities of Warminster and Kingston. Such targets were absolutely ideal for godrods anyway: they are truly terrifying weapons, perfect for shock-and-awe tactics. And since the Imperium maintained quite a fleet of weapons satellites (each carrying a dozen godrods), those cities could be pounded quite mercilessly for some time.
To be specific, there were a good fifty-two Demiurge weapons satellites within range of Kingston or Warminster: twenty-eight aimed at Kingston and twenty-four at Warminster. And so, one godrod at a time, they proceeded to unleash Praetonia's and Clandonia's respective first tastes of Kregaian warfare. Like steady broadsides from a man o' war, the volleys of godrods shrieked down into the atmosphere, the air trapped beneath them rapidly heating to red-hot temperatures and the sound of their passage rather resembling what one might expect a yelling, drunken god to sound like. And as the technicians responsible for unleashing this hell sat back in their chairs, thousands of miles away in Kregaia, they did not question the morality of perpetrating such an act, instead idly wondering whether the Emperor would give the order to use the unconventional weapons that the satellites carried as well.
* * *
“They shall flee from him into the haven that they have prepared…And he that is coming shall have no mercy; he is crowned with might and upon his brow is written Fury.”
-Twilight of the Gods (Kregaian holy book), Book of Eternities
* * *
Meanwhile, the greatest fleet the Imperium had ever seen was leaving Korronis. Greater even than the colossal armada that had garrisoned Innovata during earlier tensions between Gholgoth and the Havenite powers, it was reinforced still further by elements of the Novan and Aequatian Navies, sailing with the Kregaians to the cleansing of Haven. At its helm stood the duo that had controlled Imperial expeditions for so long: the hero of Czardas, Lord Rahvin Ares, and High Admiral Ludo Anor. Around their flagship, the colossal supercapital HIMS Apophis, crowded thousands upon thousands of ships, from lumbering troop transports and carriers to the swift, nimble minesweepers that preceded the fleet. It was a truly awe-inspiring sight: the crimson Quinquales* waving boldly on the black flags of the Kregaian fleet, stretching much farther than the eye could possibly see, and beyond them, the fleets of the other Gothic powers.
APOC was in for a rude awakening.
*OOC: The Quinquales comes from the Latin, and means "five arms"; it's the word for the five-armed cross that is the symbol of the Imperium. Every member of the Armed Forces has it tattooed on their bodies.