NationStates Jolt Archive

Provisional Regulatory Establishment
Damford

The last thing President James Eric Gatsfield could remember was his head slamming against the dashboard of a dirty black Mercedes E600.

Now, as he blearily opened his eyes, he realized he was no longer in the Mercedes, but on a military cot under a giant tarp. The tarp was suspended between two decrepit transport trucks, and, looking around, he realized that he shared the area with around a half-dozen other casualties. An intravenous needle was embedded in his arm, attached to what looked like a bag of nourishment. Standing over him was a medical officer (he presumed, or rather, hoped), and a familiar face, that of his bodyguard and childhood friend, George Valstrum. Confused for a moment, he peered up at Valstrum questioningly.

"Strum, where am I?" he asked.

Valstrum dipped to his haunches so as to be closer to the President. "We're at the PRE. This guy," he motioned to the doctor, "has been telling me about how you weren't going to wake up."

Gatsfield looked at the doctor, then back at Valstrum. "What in hell happened? Everything was going fine. Where are the diplomats? Where are Barnes and Wilson?" he asked, referring to the two Presidential Service bodyguards that had accompanied him in the Mercedes, "and pre-what? What's a PRE?"

Valstrum offered a thin-lipped grimace. "It's a long story, Jay. You ought to rest. We're trying to get you out of here, but we just can't get in contact... lay down, come on, Jay."

"No, no," said Gatsfield, shaking his head and pulling himself up on his elbows. "What's going on? What happened at the meeting?"

Valstrum sighed and pulled up an olive drab folding chair. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the medical officer. "Alright, well, I'll start from the beginning."

Polis
Capital of Damford
Damford
Two Weeks Prior

James Gatsfield, adorned in a chic silk suit and rimless spectacles, walked briskly up the steps to the Governmental Hall. In it waited several diplomats from important foreign nations, to whom Gatsfield wished to extend an offer of alliance. He was quite excited at the fact, and couldn't keep the dimples from his deeply tanned cheeks. Opening the door to the humongous, wood-paneled conference room, he announced, "Gentlemen! What an honor to see you all!" and proceeded to shake each man's hand and offer his most sincere wishes that the officer in question had received only the most respectful service during his stay in Damford.

After the aforementioned pleasantries, he took his place at the head of the long, intricately carved, ivory-detailed conference table. "I am exceptionally honored that each of you gentlemen is here today," he started. "This agreement will usher in a new era for each of our respective countries, turning a - no offense intended - ragtag group of international scoundrels," he paused and smiled, which was returned, "into far more powerful men. Each of us knows that this paper," he paused again, holding up an ornate piece of documentation, "is simply a formality. Our countries have already been tied close enough that the World Assembly doesn't know if we're all still sovereign or not. After today, however, our nations - and our militaries - will be exponentially stronger than they were before. Now, each of you has been provided a - if I do say so myself - quite nice Bic ballpoint pen. You can keep it if you wish. Simply sign your name above where it's printed, and-"

Gatsfield was interrupted by the deafening sound of a jet engine, almost momentarily followed by a massive explosion. The entire building was rocked, and the windows blew inwards, showering the diplomats with razor-sharp blades of glass. Gatsfield was thrown against the wall, and the negligible sounds of air conditioning were replaced by a high-pitched buzzing. In a fit of adrenaline, he picked himself off the floor and half-ran, half-tripped towards the door to the conference room, which had buckled inward. A fire was on one end of the hallway, so he made a run for the emergency exit stairwell.

By this point, his hearing had returned. The buzzing was replaced by the sounds of fire, screams, and more explosions. He went to pull open the emergency exit door to the street, only to have it thrown in his face. It smashed into his nose, and Gatsfield heard a cracking sound. His vision momentarily blinded by whiteness, he could only feel himself being dragged into a sedan waiting on the curb. He looked up and saw the face of his friend and bodyguard, George Valstrum.

"Strum..." he murmured weakly. Valstrum opened the door to the passenger seat - which was closest to the curb - and shoved Gatsfield in. Withdrawing a rather large, black pistol from his suit, he ordered the driver to floor the gas as he jumped in the back seat and rolled down the window.

Just as the Mercedes began to move, another bomb was dropped behind the Mercedes. The concussion wave threw the car forward onto its nose, and Gatsfield's already broken nose smashed into the dash...

Provisional Regulatory Establishment
Damford

"Oh, shit... I remember now," said Gatsfield. "What the fuck was all that about?"

"We still don't know," replied Valstrum. "I dragged you out of the car - what you get for not buckling your seatbelt, you bastard - and found another one. I got you to a medic and started picking up what members of government there were left."

"Right, well who made it?"

"Well, you, I, and Charlie," replied the bodyguard, referring to Charles C. Neigh, the Secretary of State.

"That's... it?" asked Gatsfield, in utter shock. "Who... who bombed us? Is there anything left? At all?"

Valstrum's gaze dipped, and he looked away.

"Strum," pressed Gatsfield, "you have to tell me."

"Nothing, except this. The PRE and approximately 100 miles around it in any direction. Everything else is glass."

"Glass? What do you mean-" started the President, suddenly making the connection. "They nuked us? They really nuked us?"

"Yeap," was the terse reply.

"Well... alright. Alright. What are we going to do now? What's this PRE you keep talking about?"

"Provisional Regulatory Establishment. I came up with the name. We've got maybe 12,000 people here in various states of dress, disease, and hunger. It's me, Charlie, and a few of the higher-ranking military that survived running the show."

Gatsfield sighed and swung his legs up over the cot. Removing the intravenous from his arm, he started out of the hospital tarp. "Right then. Am I still President?"

"That's the consensus, Jay, unless the bumps on your head made you crazy."

"I don't think I am. Send out some sort of open communication, if we've still got fucking radios. I don't expect there's internet. Use carrier pigeons if you have to."

"There's a satellite phone in one of the Infantry Fighting Vehicles," supplied Valstrum.

"Excellent. Send out a communication. Ask for help. Recount what you've told me, but leave out the parts concerning the treaty. Just talk about the bombings."

Valstrum walked over to the IFV - both sides were spray-painted fluorescent orange, reading 'COMMUNICATIONS' - and typed out an appropriately touching story, followed by this:

So, the Republic of Damford sincerely requests any and all help you may be able to afford
us. We are more than willing to open diplomatic ties to the world. Understandably,
we cannot offer you an embassy, but will do our best to provide the most comfortable
tents and cots in the PRE. Any assistance at all in cleaning up the radiation would be most
appreciated. Any food, water, prefabricated buildings, or medical supplies you can drop
would be also appreciated. We will not forget your kindness.

Please, help us.

Signed,

James Gatsfield
President
The Republic of Damford

Denteth had not been gone even 10 minutes before all the Ministers had immediately been summoned to their offices in the old city, it had been expected, Auria still ran the show when her son was away, and few dared dispute this, "You, Minister Beckett, I don’t know who Hugoro left in charge in his stead but keep Valcus on vacation whatever you do, it is of the highest priority,” Snapped the lady herself, her arms folded across her chest her expression made it clear that she would brook no disobedience, the vast chamber was well appointed, with many draperies and coloured tapestries, with many recesses in the floor, which within lay concealed personnel manning consoles, covered with subtle draperies obscuring them from casual glance, a vast set of monitors was artfully worked into a set of alcoves, and the ceiling itself with it’s vaunted arches and it’s carved fascia’s had several balconies and worked walkways, which concealed yet more people, all busy at work, the chamber was clearly a command center, even though it’s camouflage as a Lady’s ante chamber was exquisite

The Minister merely pursed his lips and replied with a simple, “It shall be as you wish Lady Supraster,” before the image blinked away, Auria smiled, a wild gleam in her eye as she padded over to a particularly artful arrangement of draperies, at the center of which lay a fountain, specially created to her own exacting specifications, to the point where it had taken many months to complete due to her almost obsessive quality control, the center was filled with crystal pure water, while the outer rim was a recess filled with a shimmering hologram, the entire world in a giant ring moving slowly around, displaying a myriad of events world wide as tracked by the Vigilant Zimtaren, colour coded to a variety of parameters, Auria stretched out a hand with long well manicured finger nails into the surface of the image and shifted her fingers in a subtle pattern, causing the image to spin to a certain point in the world, which had been flagged with a recent event of unknown nature, bordered with a striped border indicating the happening was still being analysed.

Auria’s eyes glimmered gently, the pale blue cornea’s diminishing as her eyes widened gently and spun round raising her hand in a gesture which all in the chamber knew, abruptly a Technicians was at her side as if there all along, “Phziaernaie, explain,” came the pronouncement, indicating the flashing Caligraphs highlighting the event upon the Hologram.

The Phziaernaie, the Technician Adept, tapped at a relay pad which he bore bringing up the event, briefly skimming it, ever aware of the immense presence to his side which was known to ill brook time wastage, before shifting to look the formidable woman in the face, and clearing his throat, “Lady Tolion, from what we can surmise, a nuclear incident has taken place, roughly two weeks ago, we had initially marked it as some sort of test gone wrong or accident, but twenty minutes ago a transmission was detected, indicating that something has gone awry, and a request for assistance,”

“Read it to me,” interrupted Auria sharply, her eyes narrowing subtly, as the Phziaernaie tapped a few times bringing up the message, “it translates as, ‘Our Sovereign Nation, asks for any assistance that can be rendered, we are willing to begin diplomatic ties with the world, however at present we cannot offer a presence here, but we can play host in a fashion, radiation is a chief worry and we request assistance in clearing it away, we lack many basic needs and would be greatly and thankfully received’ it looses some of it’s meaning, but then English is such an unrefined language Lady Tolion,”

“and the name of the sender and his nation?” Auria continued evidently waiting for this final piece, causing the young man to nod again and return, “One President James Gatsfield of the Republic of Damsford,” the young technician waited expectantly for the next commandment to be issued by the formidable mistress of this place.

He was to be disappointed as she drew herself up and moved away, her dress trailing along the floor, giving her the impression she floated opposed to walked, as she swiftly took her position in the center of the room, making a gesture that would be understood, causing one of the monitors to blink into life, revealing, at least, who Hugoro had left in his stead, without preamble Auria began, “Ambassador Tarval, you will take note and dispatch this to the National Entity called the Republic of Damsford, It is to say, I bear these words from Supraster Tolion, who leads in stead of Suprainister Denteth Tolion, her son, while he is away on vital matters of state, We the People of Novacom grieve for this dire turn of events in your nation, and to that end I have instructed my friends in the Military, in addition to friends in the other ministries of Novacom, to prepare an immediate relief effort and diplomatic mission to your nation, it shall arrive within,” Auria pauses for a moment as the same Phziaernaie whispered the looked for figure, “12 days to arrive by aircraft, this shall then be supplemented by a larger effort which shall arrive by sea with all due haste, you shall sign it upon my behalf, and you Minister Beckett shall see to the preparations in accordance with Vice Minister Parelnaya in Minister Izalien’s stead,” no sooner had the words been uttered then the monitors blinked out Auria smile deepened at this as she padded her way over to a shaded alcove allowing herself to rest, but for a moment as an aide hurried to tend to her needs.

“That Auria, she’s certainly abrupt,” sighed Ambassador Tiyojexius Tarval, sipping a cup of Zxhegheiz Tea, shaking his head gently at the occurrences, not only had he been evicted from his office in Novesia and taken to the old city, Kravirez, he had been greeted with the prospect of dealing with the legendary wife of former departed Suprainister Malo Tolion, though he had been reassured by the dragging having been done by another minister, insisting it was for his own good and ease that this was being done, the Supraster rarely frequented Novesia, the seat of Novacom’s Government, preferring instead the ancient capitol, Kravirez and it’s immense weight of history.

“Agreed, she’s no fool either, making sure Valcus stays on vacation, Agreed Minister Beckett, shaking his head gently at the thought, out of who he would rather contend with, Vaclus in mid rant, or Lady Auria, when he recalled the lady herself in a furor, standing tall, slender form concealed behind an ever fashionable attire, her pale golden hair falling around her face and past shoulders in artful style, her face bearing an expression of displeasure that did not mar her perfect features, as of yet unblemished by age, and it became painfully apparent over whom he would rather deal with, better Ambassador Valcus Torrodell, than Supraster Auria Tolion, the widowed Mother of the Suprainister.

“I’m not too sure on that point I personally don’t see how he’s forced on vacation is such an issue,” returned the Ambassador shrugging, he had never worked with the man before, but he had heard that Valcus always achieved a favorable result and had never failed in his task, but then, the expression upon Minister Beckett’s face implied otherwise, then again the Minister’s office here in Kraviriez was well appointed and had evidently been prepared to be comfortable and able to effectively communicate with the bulk of his ministry in Novesia, indeed, Minister Hugoro’s office, at which he present occupied in his stead, was equally as prepared, and hadn’t been nearly as an intimidating task as he had expected.

“Believe you’d understand if you knew, anyway, you’d better get your envoy ready, Srihacul Fityzen reported earlier that the relief efforts aerial component will be ready in about 5 hours,” returned Beckett emphatically, as he sipped his own brew, he appeared perfectly at home here, evidently a veteran of Auria’s regime that went on in her sons absence, his office was well appointed and made liberal use of the many draperies that seemed to be favored by the locals, and had creatively used them to in essence create many separate rooms in the once office.

“He’s already been briefed and should be at the assembly point by now,” replied smoothly, it had been a rather strange affair, to be in the minister’s shoes on such an affair, he’s been trained somewhat in what to do by the minister, who had evidently known what was in store had simply said that he should find all the needed tools within easy reach and help may be distant but attainable, he hadn’t of course realized the double meaning of the minister’s words, he idly reflected over his cup.

“That’s good to hear, usually of course Valcus does this, he’s the closest Minister Hugoro has to a deputy, good work,” The praise mollified Tiyojexius somewhat, as the whole experience thus far had been somewhat intimidating, Auria Tolion had been described at UNI, as a formidable figure, and a heroine of the Valjsgard conflict who had continued stoically on even after the sacrifice of her husband, the reality had been overwhelming, but it did match up with the descriptions of the lady as a woman of action.

“I thank you Minister Beckett, but I do wonder, whatever happened in that country, I mean Nuclear weapons don’t randomly detonate,” idly replied Tiyojexius as his mood deepened in thought at the implications, he had done his service in the military like all other Novans, and remembered the training, Nuclear Weapons had been included, even though the Novans did not utilize such wasteful devices, and their detonation was a rarity in peace time…

“Agreed, though the relief force won’t be going in unescorted, myself and the Itzerican managed to get authorization to send an escort force,” Beckett smiled, Itzerican Mutterama Sugan was quite the character, and an old friend of Izalien’s, he hadn’t had a chance much to get to know the man, but Izalien spoke very highly of him, and Beckett trusted Izalien, trusted her very much so.

He interrupted the conference in Automagfreek? Tiyojexius was aghast at the prospect, but then he had frequently dealt with the Havenic nations, and whenever the region as a whole, Gholgoth was mentioned, the Havenics had immediately made clear though their mannerisms that they greatly feared Automagfreek and their leader Damien Dreadfire, to dare to inttreupt the man’s event, Tiyojexius considered a rather lethal prospect, yet here was Minister Beckett having done so, so casually.

“Apparently it’s the pleasantries at the moment, it hasn’t went into full swing,” returned Beckett mildly, pouring himself some more tea and proffering Tiyojexius a refill as well, as the conversation took a more trivial turn, content that the important issues had been set in order, and that assistance would be rendered.

Elsewhere a fleet of Transport Craft had taken to the skies, surrounded by a hefty escort of Tokontu, and sped off into the blue yonder of the skies in the direction of the stricken nation, other nations would require weeks to pull together such an effort, it had taken the novans less than a day to prepare aid workers and supplies, for two separate transport methods and get them underway, and when they eventually arrived the situation could be fully assessed, and what would hopefully be end to the troubles of a nation.

Yanbania recieves the message a few days later.

"Sir, should we send help?" asks the Ministry of Foriegn Affairs.

"Giving makes friends. And right now Yanbania needs friends. ESPECIALLY friends with a military," replies the President of Yanbania.

"Alright sir, we'll send in a D.N.R. (Disaster and Nuclear Relief) regiment," says the minister.

"I'll come also, I want to know about this crazed thing called 'car bombing'," added the President.

"At your request sir," replied the minister.

After a few days of flying in supplies the President arrives to assess the situation.

"How's it going?" asks the President.

"Fine sir, we've decided to have you and the president of this country meet," a soldier replied.

"Good, good," the President said absentmindedly.

The nation of Yanbania was ready to help rebuild the nation. The question was, was the nation and its leaders ready to rebuild it.

President's Tent
Provisional Regulatory Establishment
Damford

Gatsfield was shivering from the cold. Night had fallen across the Provisional Regulatory Establishment, and with it arrived a brutal cold that settled over the encampment like a blanket. It penetrated the sackcloth that Gatsfield was attempting to use as a cover like a knife. He was about to reach over and grab another field jacket when he heard the tent flap push aside. Silhouetted against the moon was the panting figure of his friend and Secretary of Foreign Affairs, George Valstrum.

"Jay! Jay, wake the fuck up!" exclaimed Valstrum.

"I'm up, for Pete, I'm up. Like I can sleep in this cold anyway. What are you so excited about? Are we under attack again?" queried Gatsfield, sitting up on the cot and reaching for a combat knife on a nearby crate at this last idea.

"No, put that Godforsaken thing down. We got something! Come to Comm!"

Gatsfield bolted straight out of the sack and pulled on a pair of well-worn combat boots. Buttoning his fatigues, he followed Valstrum at a half-run. Coming upon the burned-out IFV, he climbed through the side armor and looked at the monitor screen. On it was the message from Supraster Tolion. Gatsfield smiled at the text. "Strum, somebody got the message. Somebody actually got the message!"

Valstrum smiled back. "Damn right. Maybe we're going to turn this country around. What should I say back?"

"Hmm..." Gatsfield thought for a moment. "Well, thank them, first off. But remember, Strum, we don't know anything about these folks. Supraster is an imposing title. Lady Supraster Auria Tolion sounds even more so. You have to understand, Strum, if these people want us as slaves or something... well, we just applied to send an ambassador to..." he looked up the country, "...The Altan Steppes. Remember that James fellow we chose to do security? Well, I gave him the Colt."

"You gave him the Colt? We only have twenty pistols in the entire encampment, Jay! And you gave him the best one!" bristled Valstrum.

"Well I'll be damned if I let your brother, our ambassador, go unprotected to a nation that I've never even heard of!"

Valstrum sighed. "Right, well there's not much we can do about it now. The point that I was trying to make was that we're defenseless here, Jay. This is a gamble."

Gatsfield nodded and started typing out a reply to the Lady. "Well, we have nothing to lose here."

Valstrum looked out across the expanse of debris that made up the shelters of the PRE. "Yeah. You're right," he replied, and stepped out of Comm for a walk.


To: Lady Supraster Auria Tolion
From: James Gatsfield

My dearest and most esteemed Lady,

I simply cannot express my gratitude, personally and on behalf of the Damfordian people. Language fails in its pitiful attempt to explain my feelings of joy that our message has reached the outside world. The phrase 'thank you' is not enough.

We eagerly await the arrival of your detachment. I have personally sent my Secretary of Foreign Affairs to spray-paint a suitable landing zone near the Provisional Regulatory Establishment. It will be colored fluorescent orange, with the English characters spelling 'NOVACOM' written across it.

I MUST CAUTION YOU TO NOT LAND VIA THE OCEAN. The areas along the coast have been severely affected by nuclear fallout. I implore you to either protect yourself appropriately or to airlift your detachment.

I must finally personally invite the commander of your effort to my tent for coffee. I know it sounds a bit... pedestrian... but coffee has been somewhat scarce. It's a delicacy, and we were saving it for any diplomats or visiting emissaries.

If the Lady has a few days to spare in Her schedule - I don't suppose she does - I would also like to extend to Her this invitation.

We will someday repay you in full for your kindness.

Thank you, again,

J. E. Gatsfield
James Eric Gatsfield
President
The Republic of Damford

Post-script: If it wouldn't be too much of a hassle, we could use a few more cans of fluorescent orange spray paint. We're down to our last four.

Mess Hall A-1
Provisional Regulatory Establishment
Damford

The chop-chop-chop of helicopters resonated through the olive drab covering of the mess hall, prompting President Gatsfield to drop his half-potato and run out of the tent, shading his eyes from the sun. Landing in the main square of the PRE was a large, rather clean helicopter. It immediately registered to Gatsfield that the helicopter was not his, nor that of any citizen of Damford. As it landed, a soldier hopped onto the dirt. Walking briskly toward Gatsfield, he asked to see the person in charge. Gatsfield replied that he was the president, and the soldier offered him a clipboard. "Please sign here, sir, and we can offload this stuff..."

Two Days Later
Yanbanian LZ
Provisional Regulatory Establishment
Damford

Gatsfield stood with a rather large smile on his face as he watched the Yanbanian President's helicopter. He had been informed yesterday that the man was coming, and had washed his fatigues in a nearby spring for the occasion. He saw the President say something to a uniformed soldier, and then deplane. Gatsfield approached with his hand extended to shake.

"Sir? My name is President James Gatsfield of the Republic of Damford. Can I offer you some coffee?"

Open Communication

To: Damford

Greetings,

At approximately 8:45 this morning one of our Communications Centers intercepted your message. It was immediately decoded and sent to government officials.

Lord Protector Dr. Jules Hodz was apprised of your predicament at noon and directed that the Akimonadi International Relief Agency as well as elements of the Akimonadi Defence Forces immediately begin relief operations.

Akimonadi International Relief Agency has begun collecting supplies to be shipped and/or airlifted. Along with this, approximately 100,000 volunteers will be flown in to assist in construction of shelters and the distribution of aid, as well as healthcare where necessary.

The Akimonadi Air Force's Strategic Airlift Command has detached 100 superheavy airlifters for immediate shipment of food, medicines, building supplies and anything else you require.

The Fourth and Fifth Fleets of the Akimonadi Navy will be immediately dispatched carrying supplies, as well as Special Response Squads to assist in decontamination operations. The fleets will also patrol around Damford as an additional service.

If there is anything you require, please inform us immediately.

Respectfully,
Akimonadi International Relief Agency
Damford Operations Command

"Stuff just keeps coming in," murmered Foreign Affairs Secretary Valstrum, who was manning the Comm Tank (as it had become known) while the President talked with diplomats. On the screen was the most recent communication, from Akimonad.

Valstrum typed out a reply.


To: (reroute) Akimonadi International Relief Agency
From: George Valstrum, SecFor

On behalf of the President and People of Damford, I offer my thanks for your offer. I have to say, I'm impressed by the international community's willingness to help.

I'm a bit concerned about these superheavy airlifters. We don't have a runway. We have a long stretch of field, but no runway, and certainly no fuel. Just as a suggestion, you could airlift things in with a copter, based out of an aircraft carrier. At least until we get some of that toxic crap cleaned up.

We don't have any buildings here, I'm sorry to say. We'll try to put up as many men as we can. The most luxurious accomodation is a large tent that we use for meals, and we're running out of food.

Thank you. You won't regret helping us.

In gratitude,

G. Valstrum
George Valstrum
Secretary of Foreign Affairs
The Republic of Damford

A Young man stood a respectful distance away, his expression one of cautious neutrality, as the Lady Tolion sampled a snifter of Oreltzius, many matters had required her acute attention since the early morn yet the formidable woman showed no sign of flagging, having dined upon a supremely pleasant meal of sautéed Veltarn Trout with a side of Fytizaiyelar she had decided to indulge in one final luxury before dealing with whatever other matter required her attention. Outside the drapery concealed alcove, if it could properly be called that given the scale of the chamber, an approaching figure could be seen, through the distortion of the descending material, it could be discerned that the individual was the Phziaernaie who had been assigned, De Facto, to the Supraster this day, he bore the same pad as before, and bore an expression of infinite patience as his pace slowed upon approach to a point a respectful distance away.

Auria embraced the pleasure of an additional sip of the heady liqueur before with a subtle gesture, motioned for the young man to approach, “What news do you bear Phziaernaie,” she sleekly enquired, by now used to the young man, and slightly more inclined to afford him some patience, yet he seemed to possess not the desire to displease her as he respectfully began, “Lady Supraster, we have a response to your earlier directive regarding the message from Damford, do you wish it to be recited?”

The lady herself swirled the snifter once before her sapphire eyes before lowering the container to rest upon her slim and angled knees, summing up the issue, drawing out the silence for a moment, before declaring, “by all means, recite for me this reply, and we shall see what else we may discern of their somewhat dire predicament,”

“Most Assuredly Lady Supraster, the message reads ‘Words cannot describe, the deep sense of gratitude on behalf of myself and my people, words escape me as to define our most ecstatic feelings of relief that our words were able to escape our borders, the words “thank you” do not do us justice. We await your people with great joy and our Foreign Secretary has effected preparations to ease their arrival, The message then goes on to describe more damage from the fallout Lady Tolion, apparently the coastal regions have been adversely affected, I again extend my gratitude to you, My lady and if you can find but a few days to spare in your schedule, I would wish to invite you to join you for Coffee, which mundane as it may seem, is now a great delicacy which we now reserve for visitors of significance.’ There are some other details, referring to lack of certain items and advice to the relief force commander, but that is it in translation,” finished the Phziaernaie, tapping a few times on the relay pad and double checking the message before raising his head once more to stand at the ready before the tireless lady.

“So inform our commanders of the hazards, and relay this message to the Ambassador, ‘Supraster Tolion who upon receipt of your message is greatly pleased by your message and has asked me to relay her words, I hope this message finds you well, for your situation sounds dire indeed, I have so informed Srihacul Eleanor Fityzen of the circumstances and advised her to proceed with all due caution, I regret to inform you however that I have delayed the second wave of relief as your message worries me as to what other necessities you may lack. Do not, however by dismayed by what appears to be of worry, I offer you the generosity of the Novan people and invite you to outline what is your most urgent needs so that your burden may be eased, upon receipt of this, I shall set in motion the second wave and order the commencement of rebuilding efforts should they be needed, for no sovereign nation should forever had to rest upon the crutch of another, and we shall extend to you the aid needed to stand proud once again. I must further regret that I myself am unable to accept your invitation, as my duty to guide the state while my son is indisposed, it is my sincerest hope however, that upon his return I shall be able to accept this invitation at a later date, I would offer an invitation to journey to Novacom and meet me here in my home at Kraviriez, but I can already predict your answer, for I myself would do the same in that position, and I can only hope that the suffering of your people can be lightened as soon as possible,’ relay it at once, and I noticed that bit about paint Phziaernaie, don’t think I didn’t notice, make sure it’s dealt with, carry out my directive’s Phziaernaie, your service thus far has been exemplary.” The dismissal was evident as she raised the snifter, regarding the emerald liquid within before sampling it once again.

“We’ve finished loading up the last of them, the Qitenvarkraniyal’s are set to go Vistakal,” a Mechnician in work gard called up, in the direction of a tall figure garbed in normal attire, of a dark granite grey, almost black with the typical red piping and heraldry of the military, above the staging area within the complex.

“Already? Your diligence is commendable, but will they link up with the airborne force before they arrive I wonder,” the Vistakal uttered thoughtfully, tapping away absent mindedly from atop the walkway above the launch platforms.

“Indeed they shall Vyatar, we weren’t able to send the main force on express launch, but this splinter force we can,” replied the Mechnician as he stepped back to finalize input’s on a nearby console as he continued to address the officer up on high.

“And what of the Tokontu’s, last I heard the software upgrade for such a launch was not yet finished.” Stated the Vistakal, whose attention was firmly fixed on the nearest Tokontu on the launch rack, which shifted it’s variable geometry wings slightly, regarding how the contraptions were far better than that which they had replaced, the original Tokon with it’s insane AI had annoyed intently many in the Military, for these automated fighters were far more sanely programmed, and were far more capable of competing with the more “conventional” if such a phrase could be used by a Novan, aircraft of the neighboring nations and of their distant ally, the Doomani, who themselves were as unconventional in their own ways…

The upgrade came through not two hours ago, they’ll be rapid launch-able as well,” came the call from below, as the Mechnician continued his work, finalizing flight routes and ensuring the proper modules had been loaded into the Tokontu for long distance escort, although no trouble was expected, and none would dare attack a relief effort, let alone a Novan one, especially while in Gothic territory, caution was always the order of the day, and meticulous planning was a hallmark of the Novans.

Excellent, your diligence shall be duly noted, proceed at your own pace Mechnician,” Returned the Vistakal, over the top of his relay pad, tapping away the check list, the command had filtered through the chain that further supplies were needed, of a more unusual nature, as to what that unusual nature had entailed had not been relayed to him personally, though that could be anything, especially considering even the Novans themselves acknowledged their norms were not the norms of outsiders.

“Launch commencing in one Krtyizak,” echoed the fading voice of the Mechnician as he retreated away from the launch racks and in the direction of an elevation pad up to the overhead walkways. As the countdown began in the melodious tones of the AI IXION, and the craft arrayed below thrummed into life, as the munitions tenders which minutes earlier had loaded the cannon and missile modules into the Tokontu receded to the ceiling of the area.

Finally the countdown reached it’s conclusion and the craft rocketed out of the Staging area and into the night skies, at break neck speed, granted they had lost a 7 day head start over the intial wave, but at the speed they would be going it wouldn’t take much, as already the small force had raced into the distance, even the Tokontu in their crimson coloration were no longer clearly visible, the Vistakal smiled at a job well done, as he reviewed, finally what he had been searching for, and looked somewhat off put at the urgent and unusual additional supplies had Fluorescent orange Paint as one of it’s components…

So, the Republic of Damford sincerely requests any and all help you may be able to afford
us. We are more than willing to open diplomatic ties to the world. Understandably,
we cannot offer you an embassy, but will do our best to provide the most comfortable
tents and cots in the PRE. Any assistance at all in cleaning up the radiation would be most
appreciated. Any food, water, prefabricated buildings, or medical supplies you can drop
would be also appreciated. We will not forget your kindness.

Please, help us.

Signed,

James Gatsfield
President
The Republic of Damford

The message came over into the radar station as the operator's were about to be changed. The operator looked at the message, de-crypted it and then translated it into Lynion Language.

"Sir, we got a distress call from a place called Damford..."

"I've heard it was nuked," replied Vamp. "I want you to send a relpy to them directly from the Vamperial Order stating we can send them supplies, buildings that can be used and a battalion of Vamperial Guardians to make sure the operation goes well," finished Vamp.

"Yes sire..." replied the operator.

"For everyone's sake, I'm not the Grand King yet!!" snapped Vamp as he left the room.

The operator turned to the others as he started on the telegram back to Damford.


TO: Damford Government
FROM: Vamperial Kingdom of Lynion, Vamperial Grand Headmaster Vamp

We have interceppted your transmission and we're sad to hear about the current state of your country. We wish to put forward a package that will be able to aid you. We don't expect you to pay us back on the spot nor in the next year or two. In fact, don't pay us back.

We'll be sending medical supplies, food, water, corps that can be used, fuel for heat and several other things. We're also sending several buildings that can withstand radiation of a nuclear weapon. However, we would like to send a battalion of Elite Assassins and Vamperial Guardians to make sure all supplies are being sent to where they're meant to go. I'm sure you can understand this.

OOC: I was going to type out a reply on my iPod, but I don't think that its limited word processing capabilities would do the replies justice. I'm going to hit the sack for the evening... but rest assured that I will get back to everyone tomorrow.

And, on a personal note, I'd like to thank everyone for so far supporting my first RP :) I've found NS very welcoming, and look forward to the development of Damford and its relations with everyone. I haven't had this much fun writing in quite a while.

I'm a bit concerned about these superheavy airlifters. We don't have a runway. We have a long stretch of field, but no runway, and certainly no fuel. Just as a suggestion, you could airlift things in with a copter, based out of an aircraft carrier. At least until we get some of that toxic crap cleaned up.

In that case, we will use STOL tactical airlifters until one of our Special Response Squads specialising in fast runway construction can arrive with the necessary heavy machinery.

Our tactical airlifters should be well-equipped for a landing strip of dirt.

We don't have any buildings here, I'm sorry to say. We'll try to put up as many men as we can. The most luxurious accomodation is a large tent that we use for meals, and we're running out of food.

Our men will provide shelter for themselves, either with their own tents or by lodging in our naval ships during rest periods.

As for extra food, a fast sealift ship filled with, among other things, troop rations, water bottles and rice, has been redirected to your nation, as well as the hospital ship Comfort, which will also serve as a temporary lodging facility.

Respectfully,
Akimonadi International Relief Agency

[OOC: I'll get to RPing the actual relief tomorrow or so.]

OOC: And I've recently realized I'm on moderated status, which annoyingly delays posting. Apologies.

OOC: You only need five more posts. How you get them is up to you.

Jolt used to have a spam board for such things...

OOC: I'd like to thank everyone for being so supportive of my first RP. I've found the NS community very welcoming so far, and I don't want to get warned/banned/etc. for spam, so I'll bite the bullet and try to keep posting until I get 10. Again, thank you all for the warm welcome.

I was attempting to type out a reply on my iPod last night, whilst at Starbucks, but its limited word processing capabilites didn't do what I wanted to say justice.

With that out of the way...

IC:

Destroyed Bradley IFV, Now used for Communications ("Comm Tank")
Provisional Regulatory Establishment ("Pre")
Damford

Foreign Affairs Secretary Valstrum peered over the brand-new Yanbanian computer monitor. Outside could be heard the noises of saws, hammers, and engines - an actual communications building was going up about forty feet away. Fiddling with the controls for a second, he suddenly exclaimed, "Ha! I got the email up again. You thought I didn't understand this computer crap." He looked accusingly at President James Gatsfield, who was watching over his shoulder.

"I'm very proud of you," said the President, patronizingly, "is there anything new?"

"Yeah," said Valstrum, "Three new ones. I'll let you get to them while I take shipment of that orange fluorescent spray paint."

"You're excited about that, aren't you?"

"Oh, quite."

Supraster Tolion who upon receipt of your message is greatly pleased by your message and has asked me to relay her words, I hope this message finds you well, for your situation sounds dire indeed, I have so informed Srihacul Eleanor Fityzen of the circumstances and advised her to proceed with all due caution, I regret to inform you however that I have delayed the second wave of relief as your message worries me as to what other necessities you may lack. Do not, however by dismayed by what appears to be of worry, I offer you the generosity of the Novan people and invite you to outline what is your most urgent needs so that your burden may be eased, upon receipt of this, I shall set in motion the second wave and order the commencement of rebuilding efforts should they be needed, for no sovereign nation should forever had to rest upon the crutch of another, and we shall extend to you the aid needed to stand proud once again. I must further regret that I myself am unable to accept your invitation, as my duty to guide the state while my son is indisposed, it is my sincerest hope however, that upon his return I shall be able to accept this invitation at a later date, I would offer an invitation to journey to Novacom and meet me here in my home at Kraviriez, but I can already predict your answer, for I myself would do the same in that position, and I can only hope that the suffering of your people can be lightened as soon as possible,’

Reply

To: Her Most Esteemed Supraster Tolion
From: James Gatsfield

I hope this letter finds you in prosperity and happiness. Thank you for the clarification of scheduling - everything in Damford is a bit haphazard at the moment. Myself and the Secretary of Foreign Affairs are attempting to keep some sense of order and organization, but you can imagine what a task that is at the moment. The good news is that we are most certainly moving in a positive direction, with your assistance playing no small part.

While it is unfortunate that we will be unable to meet in the near future, I hold the hope that one day in the future, Damford will be stable enough that I will be able to visit friends and allies in the name of diplomacy.

On that note, we would be honored to have a Novan diplomatic contingent as a permanent fixture in our nation. I hope that this endeavor will result in our countries becoming friends and allies for years to come. Again, we will not forget your help. It is Damfordian custom that we leave no debt unpaid, and this is no different. One day in the future, we will be there for your aid.

As for the additional supplies, the most pressing issue (shelter) has been reasonably dealt with for the time being. The Provisional Regulatory Establishment (all of the citizens simply call it 'Pre' now. I'm assuming that's what we will end up naming this city) has sprung up several stories, and the Yanbanians have been assisting us in laying pipes for sewage.

We are still in dire need of food, medical supplies, and a dedicated power source. We're very lucky that everyone arrived when they did - the car battery we were using to power our sattelite phone was about to die.

In friendship and gratitude,

J. E. Gatsfield
James Eric Gatsfield
President
The Republic of Damford


TO: Damford Government
FROM: Vamperial Kingdom of Lynion, Vamperial Grand Headmaster Vamp

We have interceppted your transmission and we're sad to hear about the current state of your country. We wish to put forward a package that will be able to aid you. We don't expect you to pay us back on the spot nor in the next year or two. In fact, don't pay us back.

We'll be sending medical supplies, food, water, corps that can be used, fuel for heat and several other things. We're also sending several buildings that can withstand radiation of a nuclear weapon. However, we would like to send a battalion of Elite Assassins and Vamperial Guardians to make sure all supplies are being sent to where they're meant to go. I'm sure you can understand this.


Gatsfield looked suspiciously at this last message. "Vamperial... Vamp... right, it sounds like they're a bunch of vampires," he thought to himself. "Hell, that can't be. Must be a cultural thing, vampires are just stories."

Reply

To: Vamperial Kingdom of Lynion, Vamperial Grand Headmaster Vamp
From: James Gatsfield

The nation of Damford is exceptionally grateful for His Excellency, the Grand Headmaster's dedication of supplies and funds to our plight. Damford, once back on its feet, will repay your kindness in all due time. Realize that this is not out of a lack of appreciation, but a cultural tradition in our country.

On a personal note, I would be more than happy to meet with you or any emissary that you choose to send to our country, so we may discuss matters that you feel might not be appropriate for open communication, or simply about diplomacy and relations. Our door is always open.

On a far more personal note, I would consider it a favor if you didn't dispatch a unit of Elite Assassins. As you can imagine, our military intelligence resources consist of what are effectively a multitude of young men running around the city and taking notes. I am personally unaware of what an Elite Assassin is, but it sounds a bit... dire. As President, you understand, I am still responsible for the protection of my citizens.

J. E. Gatsfield
James Eric Gatsfield
President
The Republic of Damford


[quote="Akimonad"]In that case, we will use STOL tactical airlifters until one of our Special Response Squads specialising in fast runway construction can arrive with the necessary heavy machinery.

Our tactical airlifters should be well-equipped for a landing strip of dirt.

Our men will provide shelter for themselves, either with their own tents or by lodging in our naval ships during rest periods.

As for extra food, a fast sealift ship filled with, among other things, troop rations, water bottles and rice, has been redirected to your nation, as well as the hospital ship Comfort, which will also serve as a temporary lodging facility.

Respectfully,
Akimonadi International Relief Agency[/quote="Akimonad"]

Reply

To: Akimonadi International Relief Agency
From: James Gatsfield

I'm exceptionally regretful that your soldiers have been subjected to such sub-standard lodging. As I write this, a number of residential housing units are being constructed. Rest assured that the first rooms available will be used to house the relief effort.

Additionally, I would like to meet with the commander(s) of the Special Response Squads you detailed earlier. Decontamination is one of our prime concerns, and I would like to be kept abreast of the situation. Once we have cleared a safe path to the ocean (which, from a map we've found, seems to be around 145 miles due east), we will truly be able to get this operation underway.

Additionally, I would like to extend to any diplomat you choose to send, or - schedule permitting - the Lord Protector himself, a personal invitation to my quarters in the Provisional Regulatory Establishment (the citizens have taken to calling it 'Pre') for coffee and dialogue.

In gratitude,

J. E. Gatsfield
James Eric Gatsfield
President
The Republic of Damford

OOC: Everyone, I'm very sorry about this moderated thing. I have a post replying to everyone saved in Notepad right now. I tried posting it, but none of my posts have been approved since yesterday. There seems to be words that are filtered. Like I have been posting about the inflation of a certain piece of anatomy.

OOC: And here is my post in its entirety.

___________

OOC: I'd like to thank everyone for being so supportive of my first RP. I've found the NS community very welcoming so far, and I don't want to get warned/banned/etc. for spam, so I'll bite the bullet and try to keep posting until I get 10. Again, thank you all for the warm welcome.

I was attempting to type out a reply on my iPod last night, whilst at Starbucks, but its limited word processing capabilites didn't do what I wanted to say justice.

Additionally, is there still IRC? irc.esper.net seems to not work. (I've been going through stickies)

With that out of the way...

IC:

Destroyed Bradley IFV, Now used for Communications ("Comm Tank")
Provisional Regulatory Establishment ("Pre")
Damford

Foreign Affairs Secretary Valstrum peered over the brand-new Yanbanian computer monitor. Outside could be heard the noises of saws, hammers, and engines - an actual communications building was going up about forty feet away. Fiddling with the controls for a second, he suddenly exclaimed, "Ha! I got the email up again. You thought I didn't understand this computer crap." He looked accusingly at President James Gatsfield, who was watching over his shoulder.

"I'm very proud of you," said the President, patronizingly, "is there anything new?"

"Yeah," said Valstrum, "Three new ones. I'll let you get to them while I take shipment of that orange fluorescent spray paint."

"You're excited about that, aren't you?"

"Oh, quite."

Supraster Tolion who upon receipt of your message is greatly pleased by your message and has asked me to relay her words, I hope this message finds you well, for your situation sounds dire indeed, I have so informed Srihacul Eleanor Fityzen of the circumstances and advised her to proceed with all due caution, I regret to inform you however that I have delayed the second wave of relief as your message worries me as to what other necessities you may lack. Do not, however by dismayed by what appears to be of worry, I offer you the generosity of the Novan people and invite you to outline what is your most urgent needs so that your burden may be eased, upon receipt of this, I shall set in motion the second wave and order the commencement of rebuilding efforts should they be needed, for no sovereign nation should forever had to rest upon the crutch of another, and we shall extend to you the aid needed to stand proud once again. I must further regret that I myself am unable to accept your invitation, as my duty to guide the state while my son is indisposed, it is my sincerest hope however, that upon his return I shall be able to accept this invitation at a later date, I would offer an invitation to journey to Novacom and meet me here in my home at Kraviriez, but I can already predict your answer, for I myself would do the same in that position, and I can only hope that the suffering of your people can be lightened as soon as possible,’

Reply

To: Her Most Esteemed Supraster Tolion
From: James Gatsfield

I hope this letter finds you in prosperity and happiness. Thank you for the clarification of scheduling - everything in Damford is a bit haphazard at the moment. Myself and the Secretary of Foreign Affairs are attempting to keep some sense of order and organization, but you can imagine what a task that is at the moment. The good news is that we are most certainly moving in a positive direction, with your assistance playing no small part.

While it is unfortunate that we will be unable to meet in the near future, I hold the hope that one day in the future, Damford will be stable enough that I will be able to visit friends and allies in the name of diplomacy.

On that note, we would be honored to have a Novan diplomatic contingent as a permanent fixture in our nation. I hope that this endeavor will result in our countries becoming friends and allies for years to come. Again, we will not forget your help. It is Damfordian custom that we leave no debt unpaid, and this is no different. One day in the future, we will be there for your aid.

As for the additional supplies, the most pressing issue (shelter) has been reasonably dealt with for the time being. The Provisional Regulatory Establishment (all of the citizens simply call it 'Pre' now. I'm assuming that's what we will end up naming this city) has sprung up several stories, and the Yanbanians have been assisting us in laying pipes for sewage.

We are still in dire need of food, medical supplies, and a dedicated power source. We're very lucky that everyone arrived when they did - the car battery we were using to power our sattelite phone was about to die.

In friendship and gratitude,

J. E. Gatsfield
James Eric Gatsfield
President
The Republic of Damford


TO: Damford Government
FROM: Vamperial Kingdom of Lynion, Vamperial Grand Headmaster Vamp

We have interceppted your transmission and we're sad to hear about the current state of your country. We wish to put forward a package that will be able to aid you. We don't expect you to pay us back on the spot nor in the next year or two. In fact, don't pay us back.

We'll be sending medical supplies, food, water, corps that can be used, fuel for heat and several other things. We're also sending several buildings that can withstand radiation of a nuclear weapon. However, we would like to send a battalion of Elite Assassins and Vamperial Guardians to make sure all supplies are being sent to where they're meant to go. I'm sure you can understand this.


Gatsfield looked suspiciously at this last message. "Vamperial... Vamp... right, it sounds like they're a bunch of vampires," he thought to himself. "Hell, that can't be. Must be a cultural thing, vampires are just stories."

Reply

To: Vamperial Kingdom of Lynion, Vamperial Grand Headmaster Vamp
From: James Gatsfield

The nation of Damford is exceptionally grateful for His Excellency, the Grand Headmaster's dedication of supplies and funds to our plight. Damford, once back on its feet, will repay your kindness in all due time. Realize that this is not out of a lack of appreciation, but a cultural tradition in our country.

On a personal note, I would be more than happy to meet with you or any emissary that you choose to send to our country, so we may discuss matters that you feel might not be appropriate for open communication, or simply about diplomacy and relations. Our door is always open.

On a far more personal note, I would consider it a favor if you didn't dispatch a unit of Elite Assassins. As you can imagine, our military intelligence resources consist of what are effectively a multitude of young men running around the city and taking notes. I am personally unaware of what an Elite Assassin is, but it sounds a bit... dire. As President, you understand, I am still responsible for the protection of my citizens.

J. E. Gatsfield
James Eric Gatsfield
President
The Republic of Damford


In that case, we will use STOL tactical airlifters until one of our Special Response Squads specialising in fast runway construction can arrive with the necessary heavy machinery.

Our tactical airlifters should be well-equipped for a landing strip of dirt.

Our men will provide shelter for themselves, either with their own tents or by lodging in our naval ships during rest periods.

As for extra food, a fast sealift ship filled with, among other things, troop rations, water bottles and rice, has been redirected to your nation, as well as the hospital ship Comfort, which will also serve as a temporary lodging facility.

Respectfully,
Akimonadi International Relief Agency

Reply

To: Akimonadi International Relief Agency
From: James Gatsfield

I'm exceptionally regretful that your soldiers have been subjected to such sub-standard lodging. As I write this, a number of residential housing units are being constructed. Rest assured that the first rooms available will be used to house the relief effort.

Additionally, I would like to meet with the commander(s) of the Special Response Squads you detailed earlier. Decontamination is one of our prime concerns, and I would like to be kept abreast of the situation. Once we have cleared a safe path to the ocean (which, from a map we've found, seems to be around 145 miles due east), we will truly be able to get this operation underway.

If I may, please consider extended to any diplomat you choose to send, or - schedule permitting - the Lord Protector himself, a personal invitation to my quarters in the Provisional Regulatory Establishment (the citizens have taken to calling it 'Pre') for coffee and dialogue.

In gratitude,

J. E. Gatsfield
James Eric Gatsfield
President
The Republic of Damford

The Novans had touched down not 5 minutes ago; their Qitenvarkraniyal’s having landed directly, using their VTOL Capacity to safely land in the rough conditions, upon landing the Novans had immediately disgorged, and set to work. They favored long trench coat like Tunic’s, cut away at the front with no apparent fastening’s, a dark granite grey colouration accented with one of 4 colour combinations, each seemingly from the Novan flag, many wore strange headwear, and appeared to operate unusual styles of standard equipment, their language was strange and hypnotic.

One figure stood out among them, in Uniform Cap, with porcelain features, and her fair blonde hair tied back behind her, spurting out from a hidden binding, nestling out from behind her head, with a clear authorities stance and air about her as she called out orders in English and Novan alternatively, the unloading seemed to be moving at a vastly accelerated pace, and giant sections of pregab buildings were moved out and immediately lifted into the air by the Strange aircraft the Novans favored, of crimson hue with Talon like landing gear, that was yet also able to clutch at the segments, perhaps through magnetism or some other method, their wings shifted, and the front of the craft had a distinctly avian feel, an observer would perhaps be able to gather that they were called Tokontu, and the name was evidently not the only unorthodox part about the Novans, everything they appeared to posses, down to their very dress was unusual, defined by an alien culture’s norms and customs, yet here they were aiding complete strangers in their direst hour of need.

“Continue offloading the supplies, Mechnician Valenzorium, get that Tesla Generator set up, Saratovial Prentarzaql, as soon as your staging area is assembled begin working your way through the people and give them their physicals, collect Census data as well, The Supraster was unable to relay to me as to whether the Damfordite records were intact or not,” her words were clipped and to the point, this was evidently the Srihacul Eleanor Fityzen mentioned by Auria, she was a capable woman, putting it mildly, as she strode through her fellows calling out her directives while checking off details with long talon like crimson finger nails on a Relay Pad, an aide, a young Vaistarkon was in tow making his own notes and conversing intently into a headpiece, the entirety of the Novan host although having been trapped upon their transports for nigh two weeks did not appear to flag after the exhaustive journey and had set about the relief effort with an almost fanatical zeal.

“I want the survey results as soon as possible, Mechnician Valenzorium, I expect before agricultural viability and geological results as soon as possible, the Tokontu assigned to that task should be delivering results soon, I want the expedient version at your earliest convenience,” uttered Eleanor as she stopped occasionally outside each transport, pointing in directions requiring attention, the bold lady appeared to balance the entire effort upon her shoulders and did not shirk such a burden, the undisputed leader of the effort, none dared argue, and neither did any appear inclined to, for This one threw herself whole heartedly into the effort, for all efforts were co-ordinated, no detail was neglected as she continued her rounds.

“Sarkienzar Tykanyzien, establish your distribution center with all due haste, we need to ensure malnutrition does not set in, you’ll need to co-ordinate with the Saratovial, Prentarzaql is over there, they appear to be nearly done. She further continued as she nearly completed full circuit to the original landing point, the circuit had taken but scant minutes, the Srihacul having literally strode off the transport before it had even touched upon the ground and began issuing orders, and although she was evidently of military origin, she was an adept administrator and manager of people, raising a hand once more pointing at a well protected container that had been impressed upon her before departure, to be unloaded, she tapped away at her relay pad, continuing her task while awaiting a formal greeting, for after all it would be remiss, for her not to greet in person whatever envoy was sent, but it would be a dereliction of duty to be idle until duty called for a change of course

What was clear evidently, that this was yet another formidable Novan woman whose diligence and determination was fast appearing to be a cultural hallmark of the Novans, which indeed it was, as Novans of all uniform colour threw themselves into their work, building upon the groundwork lain by those whose geographical position allowed them to reach this victimized nation far more rapidly, yet the ones before could not match the sheer meticulousness of the Novan’s efforts as in less than an hour a burgeoning compound began to expand with basic accommodation being assembled, while Several Artisans could be seen openly discussing designs over more permanent measures and conversing with a shimmering hologram.

Another day, Another Problem, it seemed, or at least it did to that most Formidable Woman, her expression clearly indicated she would brook no defiance as the image of a now humbled Sarkienzar, an administrator from one of the ministries, faded from view, Auria raised her head almost imperceptibly as she awaited the inevitable briefing from the ever faithful and diligent Phziaernaie, “Lady Tolion, we have a response from the Damfordites, Shall I recite it?” enquired the young man as the formidable mistress lowered herself into a nearby recessed recliner and proceeded to fix her intent gaze upon him.

A Regal nod was her only reply as she began to sip upon a gently simmering cup of tea, contained which had only recently been poured by another assistant sensing Auria’s need for refreshment, “Greetings dear friend, I hope you receive this letter in success of state, I must state my gratitude for the elaboration upon the time scale, matters within our nation, are regrettably ill ordered at present, and despite our best efforts organization skates just beyond our present capacities. I am however supremely grateful for your kind assistance, which has allowed us to move forward to some minor semblance of assurance. I hope upon further stabilization of the situation here in Damford to accept your most gracious invitation, we shall never forget your kindness, and as is custom, we shall endeavor to repay these gifts, Within I enclose a list of what the Pre’s requirements are, My thanks and gratitude,’ Lady Tolion, your generosity is touching, but perhaps may I suggest you rest, you may only contribute so much in such a short time,” pressed the young man, evidently worried for this unstoppable Lady’s health, yet one mere glance silenced any further suggestion with her hands folded within her regal lap.
Auria nodded sagely summing up the words of the young President, he was a stoic character indeed, he shared many a Novan virtue, as did his people apparently, swirling her tea within her mug as she cast her glance back over to the fountain, noticing for once, that there seemed to be little else to concern her for the moment, as she beckoned the Phziaernaie closer, “Scribe for me young one, 'The Supraster is deeply touched by your words and is delighted to command me to relay her reply to you, ‘I am pleased you understand, and I must commend you on your level headed approach to your dire situation, Many before you have been caught out by the typical Novan approach to issues such as this, for in such dire straits surely the last thing anyone would want is excessive procrastination veiling inaction, truth is the only relief to such pain. I must also impart to you this kind gift, upon the initial wave I entrusted a team of our finest Artisans, who shall upon the location of a suitable sight, begin construction of a new city for your people, this shall be but one of many gifts we would give, for as admirable and as beloved your current site it, it shall eventually prove to be unable to support you when we have managed to guide you out of such dire straits, for noble a settlement as Pre shall be, it shall have been borne out of the most direst of necessity, and in many cases as a result not be fit for purpose. It is my hope that the survey teams are able to find a suitable site, for further thought of your plight indeed has worried me that much of your proud homeland may be forever ruined and unable to support your people long term, I must hope and endeavor that such a case is not the reality. I relay also with Srihacul Eleanor the groundwork for such a permanent presence, and hope that soon, I shall be able to greet you in person, and commend you for your tireless work to restore your people,’ convey this to the Ambassador for transmission, and take for yourself, the afternoon to rest and relax, there has been too much to do as of late for us all, and we must maintain our diligence when it is needed.” Auria, without a further word, rose and paced off to a quieted corner within the chamber, and was concealed behind a set of draperies…

Alex Lehman hadn't intended to lead an interesting life. But under the circumstances, he didn't mind all too much.

Many of those who lead lives like his come to regret it. They seek normality. They want to get a job in the corporate sector and get married and have two point four two kids and a decent car in the garage of their suburban house and a dog who's always there to greet you when you come home. Alex Lehman had tried normality. But he got bored.

He had picked up an awful lot during his life. He could change a few minor aspects of his appearance and become unrecognizeable. He could play several musical instruments. He could kill a man with just about anything. He could sprint. He could dance. These are skills that are quite useful to those in a particular occupational sector, so it was no surprise to him when he was contacted and assigned missions. (He didn't know exactly who contacted him, but he assumed they were quite influential, as they had rendered him assistance in numerous far-flung countries around the globe.) There were also certain skills he lacked. He couldn't read. He couldn't mix drinks. He neither knew nor cared much for the natural sciences. He also had a rather unnerving habit of breaking off conversations in the middle and staring into space.

His employers didn't seem to mind that, however. They always paid him quite well. He was reflecting on this as he contemplated the bill handed him by an impassive waiter.

"And how are you going to pay for that?"

He failed to react. His legs stiffened somewhat (he should have foreseen it, taking a table in the shadows) as he took a moment to guess at the identity of the voice. It was a whisper, but probably female, and a smoker; that was all he could make out at present.

"Well, you got a twenty I could borrow?" he asked, in an almost inaudible voice.

"Borrow? Don't bother with that," the voice said, and Lehman felt rather than saw someone slide into the seat next to his. He didn't turn to look at her. "We have a job for you."

"Rather cliché way of announcing it, don't you think?" he said. "I mean, the hooded stranger turning up in the dark shadows is a definite giveaway. Haven't you people ever heard of telephones?" He shifted slightly so that he was turned further towards her.

She looked at him. "This is important," she said. "You're to go to Damford. At once. As a diplomat."

"A diplomat? Are you serious?"

"Never more so. They've been nuked. Some kind of war going on. It's essentially anarchy."

The submarine that was Lehman's bowels descended towards crush depth .... "Oh."

"You're to keep an eye out for Karatsai."

.... and folded into a crumpled shape of useless metal. "... They've never done anything on that scale..."

"Oh, they almost certainly weren't behind the nuclear attack. Not their style. But the situation is very worrying. It's one in which they thrive the best. And since you've encountered them before, you're probably the best one to send."

"I expect the situation on the ground is confused, resources are scarce, and hidden rivalries are just waiting to be unveiled," Lehman said glumly.

"You'll be paid well."

"If I survive."

"Karatsai may not be there yet."

"And there could be freshwater in the sea." Lehman closed his eyes for a moment and reopened them. The woman wasn't wearing a hood or a hat; the indistinctness of her features was simply because they were not remarkable enough to stir the memory if seen again. "Apart from keeping an eye out for suspicious posters, what will I be doing there?"

"Diplomatic things. Making ties, coordinating resource shipments, building power plants, ... that sort of thing. Everything will become clear," she added. "We're leaving this afternoon."

"I haven't accepted yet," Lehman said, looking up sharply.

Her eyes narrowed. "Remember Agent Delacroix? And George? And Lydia?"

Lehman stared at her for a long moment as memory sought out buried paths and the ancient pain once again flooded his mind. "I'm coming," he said, and she laid a twenty on the table and they went out.


The plane was small but efficient. Lehman glanced for the third time at the sheaf of official documents it seemed all diplomats were required to bring with them. He didn't recognize the coat of arms, and he didn't really understand most of the text, but by making out a few key words he got the general idea of a few paragraphs. There was food in the plane; there were portable stoves and supplies for basic living; there was medicine and bandages and standard first-aid care. There were even prefabricated solar arrays, to establish new power sources, although Lehman was dimly aware that much of this was to be carried in a second plane. As for the diplomats, there were five of them including him.

One was the girl who'd met him in the restaurant. In proper light and official dress, she looked almost beautiful. Almost, but not quite, because behind the façade was something made of ice and steel. Next to her sat a man he'd encountered before. He'd also assigned Lehman to missions in the past (jesus, was everyone here in Intelligence?) and always managed to look as though he was mentally several aeons away, especially when he was highly alert. The other two were both men and Lehman didn't recognize them; one was middle-aged and silver-haired, with a carefully blank expression, and the other had glasses and false teeth. As for Lehman himself -- he'd looked like a hobo before putting on his new official uniform, and now he looked like a hobo that had been thoroughly bathed and dressed properly. Something about him always managed to convey an air of people who slept in doorways and had long detailed conversations with empty air, no matter what he looked like or how he spoke.

"Just so I don't embarrass myself," he said to the woman, "but what country am I representing, exactly?"

"Can't you r--" she started. "Oh. Royal Imperium of Siev."

"Ah," he said.

He's been to Siev. He remembered it well, although he'd much rather have forgotten most of the events that occurred while he was there. He had nearly managed to forget all about Avalon Island. But then this mission brought him back.

The two planes roared through the blue sky, cutting white streaks in it as they crossed the vast expanse of empty ocean.

Imagine I sent you a detailed government message saying hi and offering to send relief and diplomats and stuff. I've never had much patience for that kind of thing.

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

Marian Zefiro also hadn't intended to live an interesting life.

But from an early age he'd found that certain emotions didn't seem to cross the threshold of his consciousness, emotions like guilt and compassion. At first he'd thought it was normal, but perhaps during his first ever night in prison he'd realized that other people didn't view laws just as helpful guidelines. That's when Karatsai had found him.

They'd freed him from prison. They'd given him a new life. He'd learned what they were about, and he'd embraced it. Sometimes he got specific instructions -- go here, set up posters here, blow up that building. But more often, like most Karatsaim, he was left on his own with only the basic purpose of the organization in his mind. His only instruction this time had been to go to Damford.

It was still dark out when Zefiro awoke. He was among the refugees, camped in tents and sometimes not even that, who had escaped or survived the attacks. Somewhere out there people were working to establish infrastructure and government. He wouldn't disturb them just yet, as there was no point in blowing up a power plant when they'd just started building it when you had a pretty good chance of blowing it up when they were almost done. Small stuff first.

As he strode purposefully forth onto a jeep track some distance from the PRE, he spied a soldier coming the other way. The soldier smiled, nodded, and came straight towards him, perhaps to question.

Zefiro smiled, nodded, and killed the soldier with a swift upward thrust of a concealed knife. There was almost no blood.

He threw the knife aside (he was wearing gloves) and walked on, his stride almost undisturbed, as behind him the soldier slowly folded up and crumpled to the ground.

Karatsai is neither good nor evil. It's diametrically opposed to both.

http://i88.photobucket.com/albums/k185/kmankevin1987/TheflagofNorsefire.png
Official Jimzrawayin Communique

To:James Gatsfield, President of The Republic of Damford
From:Ruler Charles Kain of Jimzraway
Re:Support

Mr. Gatsfield,
Jimzraway has only just received news of the recent crisis in your nation, and is deeply appalled by the use of nuclear weapons against a peaceful nation. Because of this, we are willing to offer a considerable amount of support for your nation, in the following ways.

5 billion Universal Standard Dollars(USD), without expectation of repayment
600,000 Cases of Bottled, Jimzrawayin Spring Water
1 million crates of dry, non-perishable food items
25 Un-armed MH-60K Black Hawk helicopters, for use of transport of supplies and personnel.
3,000 Armed Troops to help keep peace, as well as the re-establishment of your towns, city's, etc;
300 pre-fabricated steel hanger/storage type buildings, for use of indoor shelter, storage, etc;

The money would be transferred to an account of your choosing, the water, food, troops, and buildings, dropped in by heavy air-cruisers, and the Black Hawks flown in, escorted by 10 MI-24 Hind D Attack Helicopters, to leave the area once the Black Hawks touch down safely.

We ask only in return, that in the future, trade be open between our two nations, and perhaps a militaristic alliance, once your forces are reformed.
Please let us know if you would like to accept our offer,
Charles Kain, Ruler of Jimzraway

From the Office of the Lord Protector
To: Hon. J. E. Gatsfield

Greetings,

Brigadier General Harvey Whitworth will be directed to contact yourself for diplomatic discussion. He is presently commander of our operations in Damford and will be the most appropriate person to speak to.

Furthermore, the Special Response Squad's lieutenant colonel (who at this time has not been officially determined) will be ordered to report regularly on decontamination progress.

On another topic, the fourth and fifth fleets should be on station off the coast by late tonight.

Respectfully,
Dr. Jules Hodz,
Lord Protector

*****
C-197A "Courier" Airlifter, Codenamed "Runway Courier"

Special Response Squad Alpha was about to arrive. Currently they were relaxing in the small airlifter, if it could be called relaxing, given the uncomfortable seats and cargo that surrounded them.

Most of it was immediate supplies: tents, shovels and other equipment for the squad; medicines for the PRE; and rations for both. There were also a few Jeeps, some comms equipment and several crates of NBC suits.

It would be a lie to say that the squad members weren't nervous, nor were the pilots, as they were landing a fully-loaded tactical airlift on a few thousand feet of somewhat-level dirt. With any luck, though, and the robust design of their plane, they would make it down alright.

After that it would be the Squad's job to construct a much larger and smoother temporary runway for the superheavy airlifters that would begin flying in supplies and manpower.

"Alright, men, we're on final approach. Hold on back there." the pilot said through the intercom.

The turboprop engines throttled back and the flaps deployed fully.

The plane touched the ground, bounced off the runway a little, then touched down again.

The pilot hit the brakes hard and gunned the throttle to full reverse, slowing the plane gradually. The airlifter came to a halt about 50 feet short of what appeared to be the end of the makeshift runway.

The large rear cargo ramp opened and the squad members began unloading cargo.

The Supraster is deeply touched by your words and is delighted to command me to relay her reply to you, ‘I am pleased you understand, and I must commend you on your level headed approach to your dire situation, Many before you have been caught out by the typical Novan approach to issues such as this, for in such dire straits surely the last thing anyone would want is excessive procrastination veiling inaction, truth is the only relief to such pain. I must also impart to you this kind gift, upon the initial wave I entrusted a team of our finest Artisans, who shall upon the location of a suitable sight, begin construction of a new city for your people, this shall be but one of many gifts we would give, for as admirable and as beloved your current site it, it shall eventually prove to be unable to support you when we have managed to guide you out of such dire straits, for noble a settlement as Pre shall be, it shall have been borne out of the most direst of necessity, and in many cases as a result not be fit for purpose. It is my hope that the survey teams are able to find a suitable site, for further thought of your plight indeed has worried me that much of your proud homeland may be forever ruined and unable to support your people long term, I must hope and endeavor that such a case is not the reality. I relay also with Srihacul Eleanor the groundwork for such a permanent presence, and hope that soon, I shall be able to greet you in person, and commend you for your tireless work to restore your people,’

George Valstrum Communications Initiative Building
Pre
Damford

"These Novan people certainly are polite," mused Secretary of Foreign Affairs Valstrum, to a nearby aide. Much had changed over the past few days. For one, he had a young man under his command who brought him things that he needed - not unlike a secretary - but whom insisted on being called an aide. His name was Frederick.

"Yes, sir," replied Frederick.

Valstrum stood in front of a very nice touchscreen monitor, on the fourth floor of the new George Valstrum Communications Initiative Building. The name had not been his idea, but rather that of President Gatsfield. Gatsfield surmised that since Valstrum had manned the email day and night for the first several weeks of Pre's existence, he should have the new place named after him. Valstrum, at first, had protested, saying that he didn't need such accolades. Obviously, though, he had acquiesced.

"Rick," mumbled Valstrum, staring intently at the monitor, and making the motions to bring up a keyboard, "bring me some coffee, and the most recent census reports. And where's Jay?"

"The President is on his way to a meeting with the Novan commander, sir," replied Frederick over his shoulder, already moving to collect his boss's requests.

Valstrum shuddered at this. There was something about the Novans that had made the hair on his neck stand up on end. It might be their businesslike atmosphere, or their strange helicopter-like craft, or (what seemed to him) their piercing eyes. It seemed so contradictory that a nation that seemed so cold was contributing so incredibly to his beloved Damford's recovery. But, they seemed to have an endless supply of the ever-useful orange florescent spray paint - how bad could they be?

He printed out the transmission from Novacom and sent it along with a foot courier to catch up with Gatsfield before he met the commander.

Novan Landing Zone
Pre
Damford

President James Gatsfield looked at the latest emails on his PDA - another of the new toys that had come with the relief effort. This one was especially useful. It allowed him to communicate with the Comm Initiative without having to send couriers back and forth. Valstrum still didn't trust the system, and insisted on sending the messages via hard copy.

He called up the newest messages. One was from Valstrum regarding the census. Another was from the Royal Imperium of Siev, a new country on his growing list of benefactors, pledging aid. He typed out a thank you. He really did appreciate everything that the international community had showered upon Damford - he was beginning to worry that his responses had become too germane to convey his true gratitude. Nevertheless, they had a set of diplomats coming, to whom he directed to meet at Residence Hall A-4. He was fast running out of scheduling time to meet with all the diplomats individually, and had decided to meet with them all at once.

Another message was from Jimzraway. He made a mental note to contact some local artists to design a seal (they had one, he surmised Damford ought to as well). He pulled up the 'Compose' menu and typed out a reply.



ENCRYPTION DATA
I-PDA SOFTWARE v12.13.4b
Connecting. . . . . . . .
Connected! (4244 ms)

From: J.E.Gatsfield (mailto: jgatsfield@pre.gov.dford)
To: Ruler Charles Kain of Jimzraway (reroute)

Dearest Ruler,

The nation of Damford is grateful beyond words for the aid you have pledged us. The helicopters are of most dire importance, as Pre is getting larger by the day, and we do not yet have a Department of Cartography with which to map it. Getting across the city is becoming less of a chore and more of an operation.

Your kind thoughts and support will not be forgotten.

Sincerely,

James Gatsfield

___

Sending. . . .
Sent! (2201 ms)
Breaking down encryption. . . . . . .
Clear! (7720 ms)

Gatsfield felt good today. He had enjoyed the most thorough sleep he'd been able to partake in since the beginning of this whole endeavor, courtesy of a new bed in the Presidential Residence. The name Presidential Residence was a bit of a misnomer - it was simply an apartment (albeit a tad larger than the other ones) in a prefab Residence Hall. Gatsfield believed a huge palace, especially at this point in the Reconstruction period, would present the wrong image to his people.

Gatsfield, with his soft yet angular face, and deeply tanned skin, looked relaxed in his white khaki pants and crimson shirt. On the shirt was printed the faded crest of the Oxley School of Government (his graduate school alma mater) crossed with two long, slender oars. He had been a rower before his foray into politics. It still showed in his rock-solid, chiseled thighs, and his long, slender arms which nonetheless remained powerful. His chest pressed out against the shirt, and the sunlight glinted off his slight, rimless sunglasses.

Striding past several Novan soldiers in trenchcoats - he wondered why they weren't dying of the heat, it must have been eighty-four degrees today - he spotted the only figure out of the bunch that seemed to be wearing a fancy hat. If there was anything he had learned from the military, it was that the highest ranking officer tended to wear the fanciest cap. He told his lone bodyguard to wait behind for a bit, and he approached the woman. Flashing his best 'Gatsfield-for-president' smile, he extended his hand.

"Srihacul Eleanor Fityzen, I presume?" he said in his best English. "My name is President James Gatsfield. If you've got a moment, I'd like to inform you of a meeting at your earliest convenience. I realize you have a multitude of things to take care of here - I'm trying to get a meeting together at Residence Hall A-4 of all the commanders of their respective forces."

Suddenly, a huge aircraft roared overhead, not 250 feet from the ground. Several Tokontu had to swoop low to the ground to avoid it - it made a rough landing near the end of the long grass strip that had 'RUNWAY' painted in florescent orange. On the tail of the aircraft was emblazoned the Akimonadi flag. Gatsfield remembered it from the last communication. With a sigh of relief, he turned momentarily to his bodyguard.

"Liston, grab a Jeep and see if those fellows need any help," he called over his shoulder.

"Sir, I've been ordered by Foreign Affairs Sec-" started the guard, before he was cut off by Gatsfield.

"Yes, yes, Strum worries about me, he doesn't think it's safe out here, do you know what the Yarbanians did yesterday, ad nauseum. You are far more useful over there than over here. Tell..." he checked his PDA, "...the Brigadier General - his name is Whitworth - to meet me at Residence Hall A-4 at his earliest convenience. Go."

The guard turned on his heel and ran over to the nearest Jeep, climbed in, and began giving orders to the crew.

"I'm quite sorry about that, Srihacul, but things are a bit hectic."

OOC: I think I got everything... sorry, I'm in a bit of a rush at the moment.

three Antonov An-225's, escorted by a small wing of fighters, flying at an altitude of 20,000ft enter Damford airspace with no prior notice given. A short wave radio clicks on as the pilot sends a broad-band transmission to the last frequency received.

** This is A-103 en-route. We are non-hostile and are passing through foreign airspace due to low fuel. I repeat, We are only passing through due to low fuel.**

The pilot signals to his co-pilot, who goes back to the cargo hold. Inside are thousands of pounds of grate filled with food compressed into MRE condition, along with medical supplies.

* Attention AL-102 prepare for drop. 100 miles until target drop location. Over *
*Roger A-Group check all cargo and prepare for drop. Over*
*This is escort group 3 to AL-102, fuel low. We have to turn back. over*
*roger that. A-103 will be flying solo. See you are the return trip home. Over*
*Big Bird to ground hog.. big bird to ground hog deployment will start in 10minutes over.*
*ground hog to Big bird.. roger. Radio silence please over*
*roger that. over and out*

As the 3 cargo planes near the drop zone the crew checks the supplies.
500,000lbs of MRE
300,000lbs purified water
400,000lbs of medical supplies
50,000lbs of civilian clothing

"Right, Jeff prepare for drop. On my mark, unlatch the crates in the cargo bay and the then start deployment sequence for the top-side crates."

"Thats a lot of shit to be dropping un-announced, I think the General has lost it. Why the hell should we drop all this? Its basically all of our reserves for christ-sake! "

"Just shut up and follow orders. 10 seconds till drop."
9..
8..
7..
6..

The city's buildings come into view as tiny specs in the horizon ahead of the 3 plane group.

5..
4..
3..
2..
1..
*DROP THE PAYLOADS!*

Hundreds of grates drop from the cargo holds of the 3 planes. One after the other crate after crate leaves the cargo hold, lessing the weight of the plane with each drop.

"Right, cargo hold clear. Uh question.. Why do the grates not have the chuits deployed? Wont they.."

"Well lets see.. they are giant red targets with them deployed. They will deploy when they reach 5000ft. Right.. time for the roof drop."

The planes turn around, dropping down to 14000ft.

"Right, on my mark, we are going to be dropping these ones outside of the other drop zone to prevent and destruction of cargo. ready?"
5
4
3
2
1
"Release!"

As the last of the cargo leaves the planes the grew breaths a sign of relieve as now they can return home.

**This is Big Bird to ground hog.. santa has delivered the gifts to the little children. Rudolf and Blitzen are good. Returning to the North Pole. Over"
*Roger that Big bird refuel en-route. Over and out*

As the grates touch down near the city limits the parachutes ignite into flames.
A single grate is differnt then the rest, It is about half the size of the rest and is painted red and black. Inside are some radio's, and a single satalite phone with a note attached.

" Dear Damford leader,

The enclosed supplies were sent in good will. We have risked much to get your country these supplies, and we hope that you get them intact. The enclosed phone is locked, and will only allow the user to dial out a single number, my number."

No signature or anything else included that could trace back the sender.

[ooc XD first RP post/responce on the forums, hope its good.. might not be the best ><}

Northern City Checkpoint
Pre
Damford

Daniel Halstien cradled a large sketchpad in the crook of his arm. He had always been a nationalistic type, even before the bombings - sending his children to the Military Academy (his family was dead), flying the Damfordine flag outside his porch (his porch was glassed), and making it a point of buying Damfordine products, even if there was a cheaper foreign alternative (there were no longer Damfordine products). So, naturally, when a man came around to his cardboard-and-corrugated-tin hovel in Pre, right before the Novan arrival, to ask him to serve, Daniel jumped at the chance.

He was now an intelligence operative in the Damfordine Intelligence Initiative (a laughable collection of Daniel and four young men, reporting to George Valstrum). His job was to run around with a sketch pad and record anything of interest. He had been issued a radio, but told only to use it in the most dire of emergencies, and to never discuss sensitive information over it. Daniel wondered aloud to Valstrum what, exactly, sensitive information was, and why he couldn't divulge it over the radio. Valstrum replied that he would know what sensitive information was, and that the radio was Novan; Valstrum would not be surprised if all communications within Pre were being monitored.

Daniel finished talking to the checkpoint's commander: a man in his early twenties with a scar across his face, a surly demeanor, and a pistol. As he was just about to turn from the gate, a massive crate landed on a burned out car not twenty feet from the city's edge. A chorus of curses, in English and Damfordine, came from the direction. The checkpoint commander drew his pistol and ran out towards the crate.

It was a bad decision. Daniel screamed a warning, but another crate came down upon the commander's head. Well, he was a bit of an ass anyways, thought Daniel as he ran to clear people from the streets. Thankfully, all the other crates landed farther away from the city than the first two.

Well, this was certainly the time to call for an emergency. Daniel reached under his black Adidas track jacket for his radio, but before he could, a rather large truck made a turn around a hovel behind him. Spinning its wheels in the mud, it moved sluggishly through the checkpoint. Turning, Daniel saw at least six more of the same model move out into the drop zone. Daniel walked over to the lead truck, and stuck out his hand to the most official-looking soldier in the bunch.

"Daniel Halstein - DII," he said.

"Aye aye, what?" asked the man, cautiously shaking Daniel's hand.

"Damfordine Intelligence Initiative," was the elaboration.

"Right. Valstrum told me to look out for you. We saw the plane heading over this way, and decided to pick up whatever they were dropping before they started hoarding it," said the commander, cocking his head towards several emaciated citizens, who were creeping slowly towards one of the crates. "Getrag!" he barked, at one of the soldiers. "Crack open a crate and distribute some food to these people. ONE HALF-POUND PER PERSON. Don't let them take more than their fair share."

"Sir!" was the reply, and a crowbar was produced, cracking open the first crate.

Suddenly, a scream was heard from behind one of the trucks. Daniel sprinted around it, to find a parachute on fire and a nine-year-old holding his hand and crying. Shit, thought Daniel. A medical officer pushed Daniel out of the way, as the commander yelled for everyone to clear the spaces around the parachutes.

Daniel's eye caught the red-and-black striped crate, near the end of the supply run. He walked up to it and pried it open. Reading the note, he decided now was the time to consult his radio.

"Comm, this is Halstien, can you read?" Daniel spoke into the mike.

"Halstien, this is Valstrum. Copy."

"Valstrum, Halstien reports suspicious crate drop - contains satellite phone with note for President. Reads... Daniel related the note.

"Halstien, this is Valstrum. President Gatsfield is in a meeting of the utmost importance to national recovery. You are now an authorized representative of the Republic of Damford. Don't screw it up. Over and out."

Daniel sighed and broke the connection. Picking up the phone, he waited for the connection to go through. On the fourth ring, it picked up.

"Hello, this is Daniel Halstien, Damfordine Intelligence Initiative. Unfortunately, due to the scrambled state of affairs around here, I'm the only one available to contact you..."

Alex Lehman blinked in the sunlight as he followed the distant-looking man and the woman from the restaurant down the stairs onto the tarmac. There was a lot of activity already. Three or four planes were already in the vicinity, all foreign (he didn't recognise most of the insignia, hence it was probably foreign), and all unloading various cargo. Requests for assistance always seemed to be met quite generously, especially when made by small nations who could be supplied without making much of a dent in the national coffers. He stared at the chaos for a moment, eyes seeking out hidden watchers idly -- not as though anyone would bother with that kind of thing -- and reflected. A man could get lost in here easily, he thought. Especially if he wanted to.

Then he returned to reality as the distant-eyed man was speaking to an attaché obviously sent to meet them. "-- Foreign Secretary James Thurwell; and these are my senior aides, Miss Andrea Marks and," there was only a moment's hesitation, "Mr. William Glaser." Glaser né Lehman shook the hand proffered, without surprise; he rarely ever used his real name when on missions. "Delighted," he said.

The two men behind him were not introduced. Lehman got the general idea that one of them was a secretary of some kind, and the other's function involved an ability to quietly and effortlessly break people's arms.

It was only a few minutes of travel (with Thurwell keeping up continual conversation with the Damfordine diplomat) before they reached the large structure which was evidently Residence Hall A-4. Lehman regarded it with interest for a moment, noting the windows and the shadows along the sides, the height, the slope of the roof. Then he abruptly turned his head to face over his shoulder.

Someone was watching them; someone who was very good at camouflage. It was only an instinct, but Lehman was already starting to feel that something was on the verge of going dreadfully wrong.

The group entered, and sat where they were conducted to sit (along with a variety of other diplomats that had already arrived). Introductions were cursory. Then silence fell again as they settled in to await their host.

OOC: I'm just going to have Valstrum run the meeting so far - to expedite the situation. Gatsfield will join with Novacom's (and, hopefully, Akimonad's) people soon.

IC:

Residence Hall A-4
Northern Sector
Pre
Damford

Secretary of Foreign Affairs George Valstrum strode briskly down the hallway. It was painted a dull off-white. The walls were made of a wimpy material that seemed to be some sort of laminated paper. In tow were Frederick (the aide) and Nico (the guard). He instructed Nico to wait outside the conference room, and Frederick to shut the hell up whist he was inside. Taking a sheaf of papers from his briefcase, he opened the door and walked in.

He was immediately greeted by a large, sweeping view of Pre. Residence Hall A-4 was the only building in the establishment that was seven stories - all the others were only four or less. The conference room was on the top floor. A large whiteboard was on one end of the room, a flat-panel monitor on the other. The table was made of faux wood, painted white. A little under a dozen people were in the room. All looked to be of the standard diplomatic type - either bright-eyed and competent, or stoic and businesslike - except for one. He had a different look about him... one that Valstrum had only seen in the military. They locked eyes momentarily, and Valstrum looked away. Odd.

"Ladies and gentlemen, on the behalf of the President, welcome to Pre!" started Valstrum. "I hope your stay so far has been enjoyable, and if you have any questions or concerns, please let me or a member of my staff know. We will attend to it personally. It seems that... ah, the delegation from Siev. If you'd direct your attention to the windows here," gestured Valstrum, "you can see that Pre has grown exponentially in just the last week. There are hardly any bodies in the streets anymore, and from initial reports, the radiation is receding towards the mountains. Soon, we'll have a direct line to the ocean. And it seems that population has been either growing exponentially, or we just had a poor count to start with - we have over 1.62 million people in Pre.

"Christ, I'm sorry. I just sort of jumped into that. Is there anything you all would like to address or query me on?"

Northern City Checkpoint
Pre
Damford

"Hello, this is Daniel Halstien, Damfordine Intelligence Initiative. Unfortunately, due to the scrambled state of affairs around here, I'm the only one available to contact you..."

{ooc Laughed at the crates falling on people and the kid XD im so mean.. LOL}

A man sits in a conference room with a few advisers discussing the current situation with the Damford shippents cost, and possiable repercussions due to them when a red and black phone suddenly rings. The advisors and the man look at one another. Then on the 4th ring the red and black phone is picked up.

A garbled transmission is heard..

"Hello, ... is Daniel Halstien, Damfordine Intelligence .... due to the scrambled state of ... around here, I'm the only one ... you..."

An advisor looks at the apparent leader while the transmission is heard.
Well, they seem to have gotten the shipment, whats your next move General?

The 28 year old General gives a slight smirk, and starts to send a response.

"Hello Daniel. This is General of the country of Legion 7. You are to keep this information on a need to know only. We have just sent you a large shipment which im sure you are enjoying at this moment. We would like to help your country more by sending troops to keep the peace or if need be defend what area you have left. We know you have been bombed and the radiation is what tipped us off. You will find in the medical supplies radiation pills that will help with radiation poising. These are still in the testing phase but they show good promise."

Another smirk crosses the General's face.

"If you would like some support we have 100,000 troops at the ready to go abroad, all we need is a proper landing zone for them to land in. A naval landing is not an option. That is all for now, the signal... hacked Jordian sat.. out of range... next opening... 2300hours. Beware.. Novan.. *static*"

DAMN THING! Right, how long till next window is open?

10 hours sir. And will be open for 5 hours.

Then we wait.

How long till we can send A-103 back out?

16 hours at the earliest sir. Seems some of the crates didnt unload correctly so we have some repairs that need to be done.

And any word of that downed fighter?

No word sir. Dont worry, the planes didnt carry our insignias, so nothing can be traced back.

Well, lets hope the guy survived, maybe we will hear from him. Well, I think this meeting is over, lets get a white tiger burger.

Northern Checkpoint
Pre
Damford

Daniel closed the receiver with a slight click. He withdrew his radio from his pocket, and was about to speak into it, when he remembered Valstrum's warning about the Novans monitoring communications. He wrote down exactly what he had heard and said on the sketchpad, and proceeded to make the trip across Pre. Arriving at the Valstrum Communications Initiative, he showed his laminated plastic joke of an identification to the poorly dressed and equipped joke of a guard. Daniel took the elevator up to the fourth floor, and, finding his commander, relayed the details of the phone conversation. Valstrum stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"Dan, how many troops did they say they were willing to send?" queried Valstrum.

"A hundred thousand, sir. For comparison, that's still shy of what the Novans have here, not to mention the Siev and the Akimonadi. Sir, I must urge you t consider what I thought I heard the man say. Beware Novan."

"I would be lying, Dan, if I said I completely trusted Novacom. However, as far as I'm concerned, they've shown a hell of a lot more willingness to help than these folks. And, if intelligence is to be believed," Valstrum looked pointedly at Daniel, "there has not been a single incident of violence involving the Novans. Say what you like, but they've been pretty damn respectful of us."

Valstrum now turned to the aurally abused Frederick, not but four feet away. "RICK!" he bellowed. "Get the General in here. I want to speak with him. And send a truck to get that red and black crate. Have that phone hooked up on here. I want to answer it when it rings."

Frederick winced, inserted a single digit into his ear, and made a motion as so remove a gob of earwax. Spinning on his heel, he scampered off to do his commander's bidding.

OOC: I just did that whole post on my iPod... Sorry if I missed anything.

“Interesting, most interesting, yes, continue as planned, we’ll need to move quickly, the sooner we can identify sites to plant crops the better, it is essential that we ensure we can restore self sufficiency to these people, they’ve been through enough,” muttered Eleanor as her eyes addressed the relay pad in front of her, as she strode through the Novan compound that was beginning to grow outwards beside the runway, the Novans had began erecting the structures shortly after landing, however they had prioritised a maintenance area for their Tokontu before switching priority over to refugee housing and medical facilities, which a considerable number had already been made operational and a myriad of vaccinations had already begun to be distributed.

“Surely you can’t be serious Srihacul, these people have barely escaped destruction with the clothes on their backs,” asked the Vaistarkon accompanying Eleanor his face in expression of confused askance, because after all, the Novans were still offloading supplies from the Naval force which had anchored not 2 hours ago a safe distance away from the coast, and to be discussing long term plans such as farmland, seemed overtly optimistic at present.

“I am perfectly serious Vaistarkon,” pausing for a moment drawing herself up to her considerable height, the Novans were in general taller than most, but Eleanor was marginally taller than the rest, enough to be visible, “No one, and I mean NO one, enjoys being helpless, we shall enable these people to stand on their own two feet with all due haste, must I further reinforce the point?” as they exited the main building she rose her hand up with a flourish, indicating the Pre across the way, spinning again she began making her way to the main staging area with the man in tow, intent on getting further reports.

“No Srihacul, I acquiesce to you on this matter, I shall so set things in motion,” returned the Vaistarkon inclining his head, before stepping back, performing that unusual Novan salute and spinning on his heal, the lower part of his tunic spinning with movement as he marched off at brisk pace, but then given the rest of the Novans it wasn’t unusual, as he returned to the main building tapping away on his own relay pad, which every Novan seemed to bear as they relayed orders to and from as overhead yet more Tokontu arrived on the scene lowering supplies into a recently completed warehouse, in which several Novans were sorting the cargo for distribution, at first there had been severe rationing, but severe rationing had been better than starvation, but as the supply chain was properly established rations had increased to pleasant levels.

Eleanor continued to hold such court over the rest of the Novan effort, which by now had began to make inroads in basic lacks from which the Damfordite’s suffered and it was by the Novan’s Iron will and determination would put paid to it soon enough. The Srihacul had since reached the staging area and was being briefed on a more dire state of affairs that had unfoleded recently, it was then that President Gatfield had arrived.

Ah, yes, President Gatfield, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” greeted Eleanor sleekly, pausing for a moment to respectfully salute, other Novans within the direct surround, with but a spare moment turned to salute in their strange fashion as well, but most politely and respectfully inclined their heads before throwing themselves into their work with even more renewed Zeal, many of them bearing far stranger and “sillier” headwear, it was however fortunate that Eleanor was more astute than most and had realized whom the Damfordite leader had sought and took a step forward before the Akimondai nearly collided with the Tokontu.

“Phitqrei’tzechstqz Tokiriya-niya Tleljokononi-Trikerakal Vferatcheq Oiktayneranai Tyiekqay,” called out the Srihacul in a loud carrying voice in the direction ot the Tokontu, who immediately increased their thrust considerably levelling out, and approached the Srihacul and issued forth a short phrase of the same language before depositing their containers nearby raising up and accelerating away in the direction of the fleet, while in eerie synchrony another set of Tokontu appeared out of seeming nowhere to take the containers in the direction of the Medical staging area, while other Tokontu continued to unload a steady stream of supplies that were being airlifted from the Novan fleet at anchor a safe distance from the coast, “I must apologise for that, President, but it would appear that we hadn’t accounted for the radiation levels at the epicentre of the blast, those Tokontu were entasked with gathering samples. The intense radiation was able to overwhelm even their shielding and temporarily decay their sensor nodes performance, this would normally have been resolved by now, however such circumstances are hardly the norm,” idly stated Eleanor as she tapped away at her pad while the Damfordite leader ordered his man to go investigate.

Lovitzens, Tonyelz and Karetzeiane, accompany him,” called Eleanor to a pair of Novan guards nearby, “There is also another more urgent matter I must discuss with you, something of grave yet unfortunate importance,” Eleanor lowered her voice as she raised a hand in an unusual gesture, and in response, an image sprang from a nearby console, displaying a crumpled body, one identifiably Damfordite, “During the survey’s earlier today the Tokontu noted some sort of confrontation, by the time my guards arrived it appeared to be over, we this is what they found,” pausing for a moment, a dour expression flicked across her face as she continued on, “I regret to inform you that there appears to be a professional killer on the loose within the Pre, upon inspection by a Saratovial, indicates that there was only one blow, and it was done with the unfortunate victim being unaware,” concluded the Novan, with a somewhat more subdued tone

“It is to this end that I would like to begin training some of your citizens to act as a guard, such occurrences are rarely random, from what I have seen of other cultures, such individuals are usually the harbingers of a larger force, though what possible reasons they would have for attacking the Pre is beyond me, we have the body in cold storage, and it would be appreciated if you had any records we could use to identify him, as if he has any surviving family, it would be better they had closure.” Continued Eleanor as she regarded a Novan transport that was coming over the ridge, evaluating that and the charts on the nearby monitors, many of which indicating a distinct stabilization in the supply situation, but of course, gathering that from the Novan Caligraphs would have been impossible for an outsider to gather.

“I have so forwarded this information and a request for immediate dispatch of specialists,” a somewhat pleased smile graced her features as she pressed on, “and I am pleased to report that that transport, that has just landed over there, should be the Black Skull Enforcers I have been promised.” She smirked as the transport touched down before continuing “No, there is no need to brief them, no, Black Skull Enforcers are somewhat unique, their authority may even supersede my own should the situation warrant it, they shall flush out this demented individual,” she closed her eyes nodding at the somewhat shocked expression of the President, confirming the unusual situation.

The Novans who padded from the transport seemed to command immediate respect from the Novans offloading from surrounding transports, who seemed to increase further their already fierce diligence, their features appeared indistinct, and their uniforms of an altogether darker shade, even the red accents seemed to be of a darker crimson, and the blue highlights, more akin to a deep Navy, they seemed to drift in the direction of the pair and seemed to be there within no time where they paused, as the foremost among them respectfully greeted the pair, before heading in the direction of an ancillary structure the Novans had constructed, the leader held back for a second, placing his right hand upon the srihacul’s left shoulder, before audibly mentioning, “The Supraster is pleased with your progress thus far Srihacul, continue,” he nodded once at the President, departing with the formal farewell of Oxley, which he could not possibly have know, yet somehow had.

“Yes, President Gatfield, they are somewhat unorthodox, even by our standards, and before I accompany you to this meeting, I have something for you, that was entrusted to me personally by the Supraster,” she proffered a well carved stone casement, with many numerous glyphs carved all over, all forming into a picture depicting a gallant soldier standing forth before a dragon, with a village in the background, the Novan Dragon coiled around upon itself, with many scything talons slender of form, yet dangerous of aspect.

Within it was a handwritten note,

‘President Gatfield, I impart this gift to you, 3 bottles of 2716 BC Vintage, (in the universal dating system) Wuwoma, it is a fine spirit produced from the Crystal Vine Driventqyays on the Steppes of Karltivaymentias, I present, 1 bottle for your personal use, 1 bottle for whichever use you deem fit and the final bottle for the celebration that shall be surely had when your people’s future has been secured, which I shall personally attend,
Signed
Supraster Auria Tolion'

The Bottles themselves were an art form, blown into the surface was a great many scenes, many from ancient Novan history and mythology, while at the top they were fastened with a stopper adorned with four figures, their faces shrouded and bearing swords planted upon the ground, within was a rich emerald liquid swirling with cerulean, ochre and crimson elements within one another, an unusual creation as is, but the circumstances seemed even more so, yet it seemed normal coming from the Novans, lain beneath the bottles and above were a set of glasses, as much a work of art as they were functional, it seemed a trait of the Novan to combine form and function seamlessly to neither’s detriment.

“I am ready to accompany you to this meeting, I hope, you will not mind if I set a contigent of guards around the hall, given the present situation, I would be remiss if I did not advise such a course of action,” as she stepped forth aside the President, a quartet of Novan guards, came into formation around the pair, as she awaited upon the president’s next move.

OOC: Has anyone either OOCly or ICly claimed responsibility for the nuclear bombs?

OOC: I left it purposely ambiguous - wanted it to appear as though another of the warring states had done it.

Gone all day tomorrow, working on essay all night tonight, will post Wednesday. Terribly sorry for the delay. :/

Landing Strip,
PRE, Damford

The squad had finished unloading the cargo and was now breaking it down into smaller packages to fit in the jeeps.

"We should have brought a truck along." the loadmaster said, a bit frustrated.

"That's on the next flight." the pilot replied. "In the meantime, the team needs to lengthen the runway just a little. Then some of our bigger planes can come in with equipment to pave a permanent runway."

Meanwhile, someone from the PRE, probably a Damfordian, had driven over in a jeep and was talking to some of the squad.

He asked them if the Brigadier General was available.

"Eh, guv, 'e's not 'ere yet," the commander of the squad told the man, "but 'is choppa should be touchin' down any minute nae."

On cue, a V-22 Osprey flew over the landing strip and circled, transitioning to vertical mode. It landed vertically next to the airlifter.

A man in a typical BDU and a single star on his collar stepped out of the Osprey.

"'ere 'e is nae." the commander said, motioning. The general walked over and shook the Damfordian man's hand.

"Good day, I'm Brigadier General Harvey Whitworth and I'm in charge of our operations here."

Fourth and Fifth Combined Fleets,
20 miles from Damfordian shores

The large Union-class fleet carrier eclipsed its escorts with its looming shadow. Moving at a speed of 20 knots, the combined fleet was composed of quite a few aircraft carriers, even more supply and logistical ships, some sparse escorting cruisers, destroyers and frigates and the hospital ship Comfort.

The Rear Admiral stood up and looked out one of the many windows on the bridge of the Union-class carrier.

"Right. Is there a port around here?" he asked aloud. "Or shall we have to make our own?"

"We don't have detailed maps of this area... I'll see what satellites can find. In the meantime, we should contact our people on the ground at the PRE and see if they can find out." the XO replied.

"In that case, get on the horn and ask."

Akimonadi Landing Zone
Pre
Damford

Other than shielding his eyes from the dirt kicked up, Liston made no move when the Osprey landed. Nodding a casual 'thank-you' to the Akinonadi cargomaster, he approached the General and shook hands. "Brigadier General, my name is Liston. I am the President's personal bodyguard. I'm afraid that the President is previously engaged with the Novans. We did not expect your arrival at this time," he said. Liston made a mental note of how the General's eyebrow raised a fraction of an inch when he mentioned the Novans. I ought to include that in a report, he mused. Then again, he wasn't going to file a report. Things were different since the bombing - especially Intelligence, where he has once worked.

"I am to accompany you to a meeting of President Gatsfield's calling," Listin informed Whitworth. "Several key commanders and diplomats are already there. It's just down the street, here."

Liston spun and walked down the dust between the buildings - it didn't deserve to be called a street. He didn't bother to notice whether or not Whitwirth brought a protection detail. As far as he was concerned, the General was not his charge. Secretary of State George Valstrum would have vehemetly disputed this idea.

The bodyguard led Whitworth down the street, answering occasional questions about quality of life, the attacks, and the area. All Liston knew was that there was no ocean access, and nobody knew who was behind the attacks.

Reaching the Residence Hall, Liaton dropped off the General to be greeted by Valstrum, and then ran out to find the President.

Novan Landing Zone
Pre
Damford

Gatsfield was momentarily set back from the sheer volume and intensity of the Srhacul's information. However, he quickly gained his composure and straightened his back. "Well, yes, those certainly are important issues," he would begin. He didn't think the Novan heard him. Regardless, he appreciated the alcohol immensely, and ordered poor Liston - who had just found his charge - to store it in the safest place in the Communications building.

"I'm most concerned about the radiation," Gatsfield said to the woman. If it can affect machines as such, I shudder to think of what it would do to a human being. Surely you have some sort of plan in place or at least an idea."

They came to the door of the Residence Hall, and Gatsfield opened it like a gentleman.

OOC: Soooo tired... 2am... sleepy time

The Brigadier General's phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and flipped it open, reading a message from the Rear Admiral.

"Mr., ah... you. Is there an operable port available for use? Our fleet is apparently on station and would like to begin operations," he asked Liston. "By the way, I don't remember your name. Rather, er, embarrassing."

Liston heard the General as soon as his hand touched the doorknob. He stopped, and slowly turned around. On his face was a somber look of resignation, as if the General had reminded him of a particularly sad chapter of his life.

"Liston is the name. I'm not with Intelligence, and I should certainly not advise you on matters such as this, but in the interest of the safety of your men, I will. According to popular conviction, you are currently in the only area of Damford that is not irradiated. I would highly suggest," Liston lowered his face slightly, looking out of the tops of his eyes, "that you not land on the beaches. I'm sure the sand has all turned to glass anyway."

Liston opened the door and rushed out into the hallway, to which he was only to return several minutes later with three bottles of priceless liquor.

Secretary of State George Valstrum opened the door from the conference room, and, seeing Whitworth, ushered him in and invited him to take a seat. "General, it's a pleasure to meet you. I trust your stay thus far has been as comfortable as possible?"

"Ah, yes, it has been, though I've only been here for, er, twenty minutes. Excuse me a sec."

Whitworth typed a reply into his phone and sent it off towards the fleet.

"Good, good. Our fleet should be landing soon. Hopefully we'll have things in full swing by nightfall."

Combined Fleet, 15 km off Crescent Isle

"Do we have a satellite uplink?" the Rear Admiral asked.

"Yes, sir. Images are downloading now."

On the largest monitor in the CIC, an image appeared, showing a satellite view of Damford. The fleet's current position was marked with a purple arrowhead. The PRE was marked with an X.

"Gee, something bad happened. I can tell that trees have been disintegrated in some places." the XO remarked.

"Never mind that, Captain, we need to find a spot to land. There are apparently no serviceable ports here."

"Right, sorry, sir. Umm... Ah. We're here, in front of this crescent-shaped island that appears to be man-made. I would suggest that we go around and thread through between the island and that peninsula. We'd then be in the bay and we could land on that peninsula southeast of the PRE."

"Sounds good to me. Ready the temporary piers. Also, get a helicopter and inflatable boat and a team of SEALs and have them check out the manmade island. Tell them to inspect it and report back by tomorrow."

The fleet turned south to prepare to go through the channel. On the logistics and landing ships, final preparations were being made and cargo was being loaded. Marines were gathering up NBC suits in preparation for landing. On the decks of the aircraft carriers, fighters and strike aircraft were gradually replaced by cargo and utility helicopters.

One helicopter lifted off the deck of the Union-class, an inflatable boat filled with SEALs in NBC suits following behind. It sped off towards the unknown, apparently man-made island.

Landing Strip

The jeeps, now fully loaded, and in some cases, overloaded, with cargo, drove towards the housing areas where they stopped to unload their provisions.

Squadmembers unloaded several crates of MRE rations as well as toiletries and other essential supplies.

Queen Sumiko Kotomaro made her way through the streets of Kravirez. She was nervous for the first reason of this being her first diplomatic mission to a foreign nation. The second was the stunning beauty of the city. It was like walking through every Kungshaoist Temple in Tersanctus. She looked at the great obelisk in the center of the Plaza with armored boys perhaps dancing with swords. She couldn’t really tell, so much of this nation’s history and culture was literally carved into itself. Kravirez itself she marveled was an astonishing 37,000 years old.

Escorted with a few of the local Novan Military Guard, she smiled as she saw her own Templar Guard walking in step with them and looking a bit more rigid then normal. She was grateful for the escort, as she wouldn’t know her way around this city anyway, though she suspected the Novans were very meticulous peoples.

She made her way towards the ‘Tyatizkqyar Tanzinyenar’ or The ‘Eye of Eternity’ her aide told her, the location of the Head of State in Novacom. She was to meet with a certain Auria Tolion, the Supraster of the Country, the mother to the Suprainister.

Her small entourage of Five; One Queen, One Aide, and Three Kungshaoist Templar Guard approached the gates of the Eye of Eternity, and the Red and black ornate dress of the Novan Military Guards gave them their salute. Elbow out level with the shoulder hand palm down level with the heart head raised and tilted up slightly, so that the side of their hands were perpendicular with the chest.

She and her Guard returned the salute with the Drako-Sanctan Salute of a slightly bowed head with the right fist over the heart.

The two national groupings returned to their former posture, and the Novan Military Guard opened the gates, and the Queen walked through.

. When she finally came face to face with the Surpaster, she was filled with the sense of a no-nonsense woman, quite beautiful, and sternly regal. She was the first to speak.

“Sumiko Kotomari. Queen of Tersanctus, diplomat of the Executor. Welcome to Novacom.” She stated eloquently, as though the words were being played on an instrument.

“I am Lady Auria Tolion. Supraster of Novacom. I thank you for gracing our land with your presence. It is high time that our nations meet.”

“Indeed it is, Lady Auria.” Sumiko replied with a smile and natural tone.

After the niceties and formalities had been attended to, the two women sat at a table together, in a secluded room that was quite tall with draperies almost equal in length to the ceiling, it was quite impressive and imposing in the same breath. Sumiko sipped on a delicious tea that she had never tasted before.

“Lady Supraster, I thank you for an open welcome, but I must admit that I am a bit new to this diplomacy bit, and I beg your forgiveness should I inadvertently offend your customs in any way. However I am a bit confused as to your request for a personal meeting.”

“Your Grace, Tersanctus has recently awoken from its long slumber.”

“It has, Lady Auria.”

“And it has reawoken to the inviting arms of the lands of Gholgoth.”

“Indeed, Lady Auria.”

“There has been much in the way of sacrifice, turmoil, betrayal and war that Tersanctus has been gracefully spared from.”

“My Lady? Respectfully I must ask you…”

“Now, while Tersanctus is one of the oldest members of Gholgoth, its contributions to the whole have been….not as much, as the others.”

“My Lady! Tersanctus’ loyalties and contributions are not in question!”

“Indeed they are not! Which is why when I ask you to assist me on a small matter, I know that you would not refuse. There is a small nation, known as Damford that has recently suffered a crippling Nuclear attack, they are alone in a sea of sharks of the world. Now should any of us have suffered such a travesty, the others support would be immediate, and their retribution to our mutual enemies swift and severe.”

“What I propose is that Tersanctus aids Novacom in a bit of International Aid. Assist with transporting refugees, supply some peacekeepers, raw material. Nothing it can’t handle.” She said with a very serious yet inarguable look.

Sumiko’s gaze indicated that she knew something; there was that bit of land that her Father had a retreat on….

“Lady Auria, I think I can do a bit more then that…” she said with a slight smile.



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

The Helicopter roared through the sky. It's markings were that of the Tersanctan Military Diplomatic Corps. The message had been received and processed through the extremely efficient governmental channels, passing over various ships, large refugee encampments, and members of different militaries, the helicopter approached a suitable landing field nearr the PRE building designated as A-4 Residence Hall.

Exiting the Helicopter, a Woman in Black Trisagion Military Dress, with marking denoting a Lieutenant in the Imperial Trisagion Army, Diplomatic Corps, and two ITA Soldiers in Black BDU's in full battle detail accompanied her, walking with a particular grace, she was dark of marking, perhaps of Carribean-Drakonian descent. A common feature amongst the peoples of the Sister Nations.

The trio approached a local refugee questioning where a local government official could be found. He pointed out a man who was the President himself. They then approached him.

"President Gatsfield? I am Lieutenant Wolde Jill, a special envoy sent on behalf of the Tersanctan Government, may we have a moment of your time?" she spoke with a thick Jamaican accent.

Agreeing, he entered with them to Residence Hall A-4, the closest thing they had to a capitol building at the moment.

"What happened was an absolute tragedy. No nation should be made to have suffered as yours has. Now, the fact of the matter is, nuclear radiation takes 250,000 years dissipate, not even modern technology has the capability of reducing it to a significantly less period of time in human lifespan standards." she said with some difficulty on pronouncing some words.

"Damford as we know it, is gone. The time to embrace change is come. The Tersanctan Government, is in possession of some lands, islands to be more specific, that would be capable of housing the millions of refugees you 'ave." she said with a break in her accent slipping through more then normal.

http://gis.esri.com/library/userconf/proc95/to250/p24702.gif

She pulled out a map of the Island. "Now, what you are seeing here is approximately 256,000 square kilometers, all undeveloped land, with no more than a dozen retreats for Wealthy Tersanctans, the Government has purchased any and all land from them already."

"This is not rugged, barren land, your people will not be made to endure more then they have. We would like to begin transporting Refugees there as soon as possible, and begin setting them up in actual housing, 'Old Tersanctus Island' would become the focal point for international aid. In a short time, you would be a re-established nation, in safe, protected territory. Tersanctus will provide a modest naval defense force, and during the transport, peacekeepers. We are also willing to cooperate with other nations to assist you with the rebuilding of your infrastructure."

OOC: This is totally and completely my fault, Aki, but those maps are probably for use 20 NS years in the future. The current location of my country is purposely ambiguous.

The picture of the island that Terse just put up is actually Crescent Island from the topo map. Crescent Island, and indeed, the whole of those maps are on Gholgoth, to which I will relocate in the following post. Tersanctus basically just offered, in the above post, a place in Gholgoth.

So, in reality, you're about 15km off the shores of Gholgoth. We've talked to everyone on IRC and they have no problems with you being there for humanitarian reasons - provided that's what it stays as.

Sorry about the mix-up. My fault completely.

IC:

Outside Residence Hall A-4
Pre
Damford

Gatsfield rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He hadn't shaved in many days, and there was a significant growth of stubble that seemed to accentuate his features. "Well," he began, "that's certainly a hell of an offer. And, as you can see," he gestured out the window, calling attention to the barren, dusty wasteland that Damford had become, "we aren't exactly in the middle of the most arable land on the planet. It would be especially difficult to restart our society here."

While he was saying this, an aide had ran upstairs to get Secretary of Foreign Affairs George Valstrum. Apologizing profusely to the gathered guests, he scrambled down the staircase towards the auxiliary room that was playing host to the Novans, the Tersanctans, and Gatsfield. He opened the door and walked in, briefly greeting the foreigners.

"Right, so what's going on here, Jay? This gentleman," he motioned his head towards the aide, "told me that a matter of utmost importance required my attention."

"Strum," said Gatsfield, "this lovely woman is from Tersanctus. She has just offered us an island, around 250,000 kilometers square, off the coast of Gholgoth with which to rebuild our nation."

Valstrum was visibly shocked. News of the exploits of Gothic nations had filtered down even to his pitiable intelligence services. They, and Haven, were easily the two biggest regional superpowers in the world. The difference was that Gholgoth didn't have an open-door policy - you had to prove your worth. He motioned for Jay to join him outside in the hallway for a minute, and the politely excused themselves.

"Jay, you've known me since high school. You know that I am the more level-headed of the two of us. But I'm advising you here to take this opportunity now. We have the chance to do something that even much larger and more advanced nations are unable to do. If we move to Gholgoth, we are essentially assuring our country's future. My opinion is to take this opportunity while it's still on the table."

Gatsfield nodded slowly. "You know, you didn't have to convince me. I was going to take the deal."

Valstrum laughed. "But I know you wanted to hear from me first."

Gatsfield cracked a small smile. "Occasionally, I value your opinion," he said, opening the door. He spoke to the guests gathered inside.

"Gentleman and lady, I have conferred with my Secretary of Foreign Affairs," he said, "and have decided to accept your offer with much gratitude."

He offered his hand to the Lieutenant. "Let's get the hell out of here."

Crescent Island / Old Tersanctus Island
Damford
Gholgoth

President Gatsfield leaned back in his leather armchair, and swung around from his desk to face the window. The New Government Building was on a cliff overlooking the sea, and his office had an absolutely stunning view of the waves crashing into the rocks below. The windows ran from floor to ceiling, brightly illuminating the office. On one wall of the room was a liquor cabinet, containing three unopened bottles of the Novan Wuwoma, along with several other types of alcohol. The carpet was thick and rich, and the desk was hand-carved from a single piece of mahogany. Yes, Damford had certainly come a ways from the PRE.

Gatsfield was interrupted from his reverie by a voice over the intercom. "Mr. President, the nation of Tersanctus is on line one," came the disembodied voice.

"Hello? This is President Gatsfield speaking." came the voice from the other end of the line.

"President Gatsfield, this is Executor Shijin Kotomari. How does your new national land greet you? Excellent, excellent. Listen I have some good news for you. I don't know if you are aware of this or not, but my nation is currently involved in a military modernization program."

"That means to you that, the ships that have been comprising the Tersanctan Naval Defense for Damford will soon be phased out your control, along with a few extra from our older fleets. Expect an official visit from me within the year, as I will be attending the official ceremony myself. Not at all, its been a pleasure as well!"


“Tersanctan Naval Defense of Crescent Island. Ships Registry.”

4 Supercarriers

4 Carrier Air Wings

4 Destroyer Squadrons consisting of Four Destroyers per squadron

8 Guided Missile Cruisers

12 Guided Missile Destroyers

8 Attack Submarines

4 combined ammunition, oiler and supply ship (AOE/AOR)


Four Fleets consisting of:

1 Supercarrier

1 Carrier Air Wing

I Destroyer Squadron with Four Destroyers

2 Guided Missile Cruisers

4 Guided Missile Destroyers

2 Attack Submarines

1 Combined ammunition, oiler and supply ship (AOE/AOR)

Special Note, Fleets do not consist of Amphibious Assault Groups,(AAG).


“Ships on patrol on west, north, east, and south coasts. Awaiting construction of Port[s] and military base to support Tersanctan Peacekeeper forces. Estimate: one year to completion.”

“Current deployed Peacekeeper Forces: 12,000 Imperial Trisagion Army Soldiers, 350 Officers.

30 Assault Divisions of 150 Staff, including 5 Officers. 4,500 Personnel.

10 Mechanized Divisions of 500 Staff including 5 Officers. 5000 Personnel.

2 Divisions of Contruction Corps of 1000 Staff including 10 officers. 2000 Personnel

1 Division of Medical Corps of 500 Staff, including 50 Officers. 500 Personnel.”