Azaha
12-07-2008, 23:31
The small town is Is-Ayath. Usually peaceful in its appearance. Nothing more than a small farming population, content on herding its sheep, and fostering crops on the bank of a small river that runs to the west of their town.
They have never been apart of any big conflict, or any for that matter. The many insurrections, invasions, and land grabs made in the Azahan territory have left this small town to its devices. But as with any good thing, it was bound to come to an end.
The town was strategically placed at the very tip of the Is-Ayoht peninsula. The closest, and possibly perfect striking distance to the Rio Negran landmass. From that point, a few hours flight by transport, and less than that for super sonic fighters and bombers. Even better, was the short distance that the troop ships would have to mad dash to. Limiting their exposure to enemy anti shipping and air attack. Indeed, it was a good place to start a preemptive strike.
It started on a simple sunny day. The crops were sprouting their first bits of fruit, and the season for mothers to give birth was upon the small town. Nothing out of the ordinary, besides the occasional rumble of overheard jet aircraft. While they never flew directly over the town, they did patrol off the coast of it. Every so often, perhaps every half of a day, the scouts would make a pass, then disappear into the clouds. It did not bother the townspeople, they were used to such noises, not even worse than the thunder of storms that frequented the area.
What did bother the townspeople, some weeks after the jets started to make their passes, was the constant stream of construction teams that started to fill the town. They had never had too many people enter their town, usually a wondering nomad, or a small peaceful tribe looking for a night of shelter before moving along their path. But this was different, vastly different. First hundreds, then thousands of men in uniform poured into the town. At first, they were asking politely for shelter, or to live with a family for a few weeks, as was the custom. But soon, they became too numerous. Soon, entire families, and clans were evicted from their homes. Public social areas were made deserted by vast machines with giant dishes that pointed towards the sky. Within a day, next to these dishes were erect small machine guns that pointed towards the sky, then another day passed, and large trucks hauled in massive boxes that also aimed towards the sky.
They were all but forced from their town. But they could not even settle outside their town. Already, the few thousand construction men, that had started to carry around small arms with them were razing the small hills and shrubbery around the town. Giant machines paved the land, making the slightest bump on the surface flat. Behind them, large rollers pressed the loose dirt and rock into a hard road surface. Next to these massive roads construction had started on big hollow buildings. Either half circles, or rectangles, they were made of all sizes. Their town had been surrounded by miles of runway and hangers.
On the bangs of the town, trucks with rolling backs started to haul in thick grey concrete. Massive wood pillars were being slammed into the ground, beneath the water by ships specifically made for the purpose it seemed. Just beyond them, larger ships, although not by much, were anchored off the shore. They did nothing but sit there, but beyond them, ships of all sizes patrolled the waters, supported by the occasional helicopter flying around the groups of ships.
It would seem the people of Is-Ayath would have to move north out of the peninsula.
They have never been apart of any big conflict, or any for that matter. The many insurrections, invasions, and land grabs made in the Azahan territory have left this small town to its devices. But as with any good thing, it was bound to come to an end.
The town was strategically placed at the very tip of the Is-Ayoht peninsula. The closest, and possibly perfect striking distance to the Rio Negran landmass. From that point, a few hours flight by transport, and less than that for super sonic fighters and bombers. Even better, was the short distance that the troop ships would have to mad dash to. Limiting their exposure to enemy anti shipping and air attack. Indeed, it was a good place to start a preemptive strike.
It started on a simple sunny day. The crops were sprouting their first bits of fruit, and the season for mothers to give birth was upon the small town. Nothing out of the ordinary, besides the occasional rumble of overheard jet aircraft. While they never flew directly over the town, they did patrol off the coast of it. Every so often, perhaps every half of a day, the scouts would make a pass, then disappear into the clouds. It did not bother the townspeople, they were used to such noises, not even worse than the thunder of storms that frequented the area.
What did bother the townspeople, some weeks after the jets started to make their passes, was the constant stream of construction teams that started to fill the town. They had never had too many people enter their town, usually a wondering nomad, or a small peaceful tribe looking for a night of shelter before moving along their path. But this was different, vastly different. First hundreds, then thousands of men in uniform poured into the town. At first, they were asking politely for shelter, or to live with a family for a few weeks, as was the custom. But soon, they became too numerous. Soon, entire families, and clans were evicted from their homes. Public social areas were made deserted by vast machines with giant dishes that pointed towards the sky. Within a day, next to these dishes were erect small machine guns that pointed towards the sky, then another day passed, and large trucks hauled in massive boxes that also aimed towards the sky.
They were all but forced from their town. But they could not even settle outside their town. Already, the few thousand construction men, that had started to carry around small arms with them were razing the small hills and shrubbery around the town. Giant machines paved the land, making the slightest bump on the surface flat. Behind them, large rollers pressed the loose dirt and rock into a hard road surface. Next to these massive roads construction had started on big hollow buildings. Either half circles, or rectangles, they were made of all sizes. Their town had been surrounded by miles of runway and hangers.
On the bangs of the town, trucks with rolling backs started to haul in thick grey concrete. Massive wood pillars were being slammed into the ground, beneath the water by ships specifically made for the purpose it seemed. Just beyond them, larger ships, although not by much, were anchored off the shore. They did nothing but sit there, but beyond them, ships of all sizes patrolled the waters, supported by the occasional helicopter flying around the groups of ships.
It would seem the people of Is-Ayath would have to move north out of the peninsula.