NationStates Jolt Archive

East Petegrad High School

Zigana Saáry was simply a political sciences teacher. Of course, like any of them she was forced to teach the propaganda delivered by President-for-Life Odon Pete and his ‘Bureau of Education’ for the ‘greater good’ of the people.

Right now, it was simply a session of Saturday-school and so she was simply reading one of her few books that she kept in her desk at school. The kids of her class were working on homework while quietly talking with their best friends.

Zigana adjusted herself in the comfy leather chair in front of her desk and continued to read.


****

Five men were clad in heavy coats and the occasional scarf or hood as they moved down the entrance hall of the school with several of the Black Guard, Odon’s secret police, not too far behind them attempting to take pot-shots. The one at the lead, Ubul Sallay, looked around at the various doors. They all seemed empty so he wouldn’t have to worry about civilians being caught in the cross-fire of the fight.

It had all started two hours ago with a car-bomb set up by the Peoples’ Rebels in the industrial district of town and then a spree of shooting from the Monarchists in the governmental and a surge of barricades and checkpoints from The Council.

Ubul kicked in the door and heard several screams which were drowned out by gunfire as his four partners followed him in. Ubul looked around and swore silently to himself at the sight of the various students and the teacher. He regretted the decision but as a bullet buried itself in the doorway he realized he didn’t have time and raised his AK-74 out the door, opening up with a burst of 9MM rounds. They were generally non-lethal being as the secret police had taken cover in various doorways of the hall to return fire.

Then the young teacher came up, obviously scared.

“What’s happening; what is this?!” The young woman asked, yelling over the gunfire.

Ubul looked over at the young woman, barely lowering his rifle while he talked to her.

“Lady, can you shoot?!” He asked as more gunfire erupted.

“WHAT?! A little but I still have to know what...” The woman didn’t finish yet.

There was the sound of a dull thunk on the floor outside the door and one of the men reacted on instinct, slamming the thick wooden door shut. The sound of the grenade going off was only slightly dulled as shrapnel lodged in to the door, none managing to get through.

“Listen lady, you’re kids have to get out of here or else you’re all dead.” Ubul said.

With that, he pulled an old .44 from under his coat and held it out to the young woman by the barrel. She nervously grabbed the handle and then looked to the gun and back up to the man.

“Listen, you have six shots so tell me if you need more ammo, okay?” The man asked.

The teacher nodded, still nervous despite the new firearm.

“Okay lady, now get your students out the window and tell them to run then follow us. We’re part of the resistance and you’ve just been recruited.” The man said, suddenly terse.

The teacher could only nod.




----OOC----

Okay, this is sort of a step back in my nation’s history for anybody who wants to participate in. Specifically it’s a play of the ’40 Day War’ which can easily be done being as I’ve never gone in to real detail about the ordeal save for it’s duration and that Zigana was shot during the incident a couple of times. Before anybody joins, you need to know about the major powers involved in the ordeal.

Odon Pete
The President-for-Life of the former Soviet-block country. He controls the Black Guard secret police and the entire army at the very start of the ordeal. He’s pretty much power-drunk and unstable mentally so he can’t be really considered normal. He isn’t in touch with reality and isn’t afraid to unknowingly use this ability to help the morale of those serving under him...which occasionally works.

The Raging Bears
One of two rebel factions and the only one that wants a democracy; they are the smallest but also the most effective given. Several members of their group are traitors from the military along with a few members of the Black Guard. They are also one of the better equipped because of their military ties.

Monarchists
The second of the two, main rebel factions; they believe that a true monarchy is the only way to rule. They are the worse equipped out of the two but they are dedicated fanatically to their cause with little to no chance of surrender. They don’t have as many ex-soldiers within their ranks but they’re still dedicated to their cause.

The Council
More of a cult than a political group, these people are even more dedicated than the Monarchists to their cause. They believe that their entire society should be run by a group of prophets who claim their god, the Goddess of the Orange Rose, talks to them through an orange-painted stone carving of a rose. They’re pretty much crazy on a level akin to that of Odon Pete’s insanity.


Keep in mind, The Raging Bears will win but this is just a way to let people sort of craft my nations history along with me.

This is a mix between the standard style of roleplaying (general control of units) and character RPs but there isn’t a little character skeleton. Age, history, name, personality, and the like will al develop in-story. This RP takes place some time after the fall of the Soviet Union so be wary in technology usage of your nation.

OOC: This actually sounds like a lot of fun, and gives me a chance to RP the establishment of the first ties between Salzland and Ursava, which will later lead to co-operative military campaigns, deploying forces to your nation to shoot down UFOs, etc. :)

IC:

Capitol News Network Broadcast

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen, this is Evan Thompson reporting for Capitol News. Tonight's top story; Unrest in the former Soviet Republic of Ursava. For more on this story, we turn to correspondent Laura Bennings, reporting by telephone from the capitol of Ursava. Laura?"

"Good morning Evan. I'd like to remind our viewers that it is approximately 5 AM local time in Ursava, in the aftermath of a very intense evening. Gunfire and explosions were reported throughout the capitol last night, as several factions vying for control of the nation engaged each other in the streets. No word has been received as to casualties at this time, however armed police and Government paramilitary forces are out in force today, keeping everyone not in uniform off the streets. Foreign press personnel are especially being restricted in their movements, in what we can only guess is an attempt to keep the world community in an information blackout."

"We do know one thing however, the Salzland Embassy in Ursava has officially announced that all Salzland citizens are to depart the country within the next twenty four hours. Whatever information the Salzland Government, specifically President Terrance Robinson, seems privy to, they do not appear willing to share at this time. We're going to try and stay in our hotel for the duration of the unrest, along with other foreign correspondents, so that we can continue to provide media coverage as the ongoing situation in Ursava develops. Thank you, Evan."

"Thank you, Laura. Once again ladies and gentlemen, Laura Bennings, reporting live from Ursava, where it appears that at least some sort of armed engagement against the Government is taking place. When we return from this commercial break, I'll be speaking with former advisor to President Robinson, and PhD in International Relations with a focus on the Soviet Union, Doctor Ian Williams. For Capitol News, this is Evan Thompson."

****

"Well gentlemen, what's the story in Ursava?" Asked President Terrance Robinson to his gathered Cabinet. The media had been hounding his Administration for comments on the former Soviet nation, which he had done everything in his power to avoid releasing. The Salzland Intelligence Agency still had too many interests in the former Soviet Union to go around revealing all of its hard-won information to the world press. That was the sort of behavior that would get good agents killed, and valuable sources of information compromised or lost forever.

"They're coming unglued," announced Minister for Foreign Relations Jack Clark. "Without the Union propping up their Government, Ursava is collapsing around President Pete. If you ask me, it's only a question of who's going to depose him, and when. With their economy in the toilet and the military trying to put out too many fires at once, there's no alternative except collapse. And we need to have a hand in pushing Pete's regime over once and for all."

"There's no way we should get involved in this. If we start messing around with former Soviet Republics, then there's a real chance that we'll just push all of those countries back together in another mutual defense pact, and it'll end up being the bad old days all over again. The best thing we can do is sit back and let the Ursavans decide this themselves. Otherwise, we're going to lose a lot of people and equipment fighting someone else's war," answered Minister for Defense Paul Smith. "With elections only a couple of years away, we can't afford the body count we'd need to accept in order to decisively end this conflict. Not to mention the risk in alienating several very large, nuclear-armed, Soviet-friendly nations in the region."

"I've made up my mind," President Robinson said, once the Cabinet officials backing either side of the debate calmed down. "We need to help the Ursavans cast off President Pete, and close the book on their Soviet era of history. We need to find someone in this 'Raging Bears' outfit that we can work with, and try to co-ordinate our efforts at establishing a Democracy with them. That's my decision, and it's final. If we can't stand for our own national values in the face of any threat, no matter how large, then we're no better than the people we claimed to hold the moral high ground over. Fax my letter to our embassy in Ursava, and see if the Salzland Intelligence Agency's Chief of Station can get it into the right hands."

****

Encryption: Ultra-High (One-time cypher pad) (OOC: AKA Secret In-Character, because I don't have time to mess around with the fact that a nation's President wouldn't actually be speaking directly to an armed revolutionary group)


Message begins
To: The 'Raging Bears' of Ursava
From: Office of the President, Salzland

To whom it may concern,

Having received word of your struggles against the oppressive regime of your current President, it is my intention to notify you that the Government of Salzland is prepared to offer whatever aid it can to ensure that your forces are able to establish a Democracy in Ursava, and bring peace and stability to your nation once and for all. Please respond as quickly as possible to this communication with a list of what you require in order to establish this turnover of power in the quickest manner possible, and with the least bloodshed.

Signed,

Terrance Robinson
President of Salzland

OOC: Really great writing. Just thought I'd say so.

OOC: Ursava, do you think maybe I could launch a military offensive against your current government, along with sending military advisors and weapons to the Raging Bears? I'm somewhat bored lately, and the Stok civil war is much too large for my tastes. If you allow it, my character would probably be the general in charge of the operation, though I'm not quite sure how he would tie in with your character and others--I could choose a random lieutenant if that would be better.

If you approve, I'll IC post tomorrow, otherwise I'll just leave this be. Nice writing, by the way.

OOC: Nice writing referring to mine or Salzlands? I've never been told I had good writing skills...which is sad as it's my primary language. Also Leistung, just work out something to make whatever character you want work and I'll be fine with it.


IC:

From a non-descript subway loading-station a hastily written letter was handed to a young messenger for The Raging Bears who stuffed it under his coat and then went to the war-torn streets above. He had been told of a group of various foreign reporters in a hotel several blocks away and he sprinted through the many cold, emotionless back-alleys of Petegrad until he reached a side-door to the correct address and burst through with fresh snow falling off his shoulders. He bolted up the stairs where he found an open door where he came in to see a reporting crew.

He looked around at the few foreigners and spoke in Russian, praying they understood the language as he pulled the note out and frantically pointed to it, his voice still misting lightly as he spoke.

"Возьмите письмо, пожалуйста, это важно!" He said, franticaly pointing to the note with his free hand, revealing the large .357 revolver his father had entrusted to him. Whether they reacted to the gun or not, he didn't care, as long as they read the letter.

In poorly written English (a well-known language) it read:


To: The Nations of the Free World.
From: The Raging Bears.

We need guns, ammo, food, people, vehicles, and many more. We have little supplies and few peoples. We need help against Pete. We are in need of medicane. Please aid.



OOC: The rough translation is: "Take the letter, please, it's important!" Also, I went all-out with the poorly written letter.

OOC: I saw well written Ursava, and good concept, maybe I will join later but i wanna see it fold out if thats ok with u

OOC: Fine by me.

To: The "Raging Bears" of Ursava
From: The Falkasian Government

The People's Republic of Falkasia would like to officially offer it's support in your fight against the tyranical government current oppressing your coutnry and people. As of such, we are willing to offer whatever equipment and support you desire from the Falkasian military and our catalog at the Universal Defense Storefront (Link provided below). Currently, we will be mobilizing the 39th Strike Squadron to provide air support and air-strikes where ever it may be needed. Also along these lines, we will also be airdropping secure, short-wave radios for use in communicating between local cells and with the 39th.

Sincerely and with best regards,
Prime Minister Roman Kazyenko

OOC: Nice writing by the way! I'm usually far too tired to write as good as you have!

OOC: I too am heading off to bed, but am definitely looking forward to this RP now. Until later, пока, товарищ!

OOC: Gute Nacht. Wir sehen uns morgen!

OOC: Good night to both of you. Falkasia, you're not will probably be answered by the note given to the news team (which can be Salzland's if he wants).

To: The "Raging Bears" of Ursava
From: The Ustian Administration

We have heard of your stuggle for freedom & democracy in Ursava. We, as a nation, know first hand how hard it can be to achieve this with a dictator in power. We are willing to give you any aid you need, from money, guns - even men. You should know that you can rely on us in your time of need.

* * *

Prime Minister Nickson sat in his office in The House Of Knights as he finished writing the telegram to the "Raging Bears" of Ursava. It had been a peaceful few years in Ustio, with no wars for some time. There was a knock at the office door.

"Come in" he called

A man in a deep blue uniform and a white officers hat entered the office. He saluted as he entered the room.

"Ah, Colonel Cartwright" he addressed the man "Please, take a seat. I guess you know why I have called you here?"

"The troubles in Ursava - you want the Royal Marines to go there?" answered the Colonel

"I want you to be prepared to go there" Nickson corrected him "Have your men ready by 0800 tomorrow morning. If the Raging Bears request help, you're to go in"

"Very well Prime Minister" replied Cartwright as he stood up

"Hold on Colonel - it's a deniable operation if you go in. If you're caught, you're on your own"

Cartwright didn't look impressed by this news, but said nothing of it.

"I understand sir" he walked to the door and opened it

"Cartwright" said Nickson. Cartwright turned back to him

"Godspeed, Colonel" he said

Cartwright merely nodded, and left the room. Nickson slumped back into his chair, swiveled around so he was facing the window overlooking the city, and stared out of it, thoughts praying on his mind.

What surprised Laura Bennings of Salzland's Capitol News Network wasn't the fact that a strange man with a gun, babbling incoherently, had burst into a hotel wing housing several foreign media correspondents. It had happened to her before while on assignment in Kuwait back in 1990. Besides, dealing with... interesting people had been part of the job description.

What had surprised her was their local translator's reaction to the man, and his note. Since the letter was in Engligh, although poorly written, the news crew had little trouble understanding who this man was and what he wanted. Immediately after the messanger entered however, their translator had pulled him off to a side room and began an argument that could be clearly heard through two closed doors and a wall. Both men were bellowing back and forth at each other in Russian, which unfortunately none of the members of this hastily-assembled correspondent team spoke well enough to understand why they were fighting. As suddenly as the argument began, however, it ended as both men re-emerged. The messanger clearly looked the worse for wear.

"You must turn the letter over to me, immediately," their translator announced in a thin Russian accent, a frown on his face. "The Ursavan Government has placed your security in my hands. Should the contents of this propaganda letter be released to the world, your lives would be placed in imminent danger, as would mine for failing my duties."

"Whoa, wait a minute," Tim Gaines, pulling double duty as Laura's Producer and sound man, replied. "Our lives in danger? For what? We're here to report the news, and this is certainly news."

"Da, you are here to report news," the translator replied. "It is my job to decide what news is. This," he said, pointing to the letter held by Laura, "Is not news. Small group of disgruntled workers are attempting to make, eh, Big Story, for foreign press. Make name for themselves, become famous, like holding up big sign at sporting event. The Ursavan Government must deal with one hundred letters a day like this."

"What about him?" Laura asked, pointing to their messanger.

"He is trespassing on Ursavan state property. I will detain him until constables arrive to take him into custody. He is no threat to you," the Translator replied, as realization dawned on Laura. The Translator hadn't noticed the messanger's gun.

"I see. Have you contacted the constables yet?" Laura asked, noticing that the messanger's right hand was beginning to slowly shift towards his gun, a rather large revolver.

"Nyet, no, not yet. Why?" the Translator asked, as the messanger pulled his revolver. "What is this? Before the Translator could react, Tim tackled him to the ground and hit him in the head with a heavy lamp that he picked up from an end table. The Translator lay on the ground, unconcious, as Tim stood.

"Do you understand me?" he asked the messanger, who slowly lowered his revolver. "We need to leave here, now. Can you take us to your friends?"

"Da," he replied slowly, as if unsure of what to do. Tim turned to Laura and the Capitol News cameraman that had been assigned to them.

"Grab everything we need to transmit from the field, and someone take the satellite phone," he said. "We need to get out of here, right now."

http://img75.imageshack.us/img75/4035/sealey8.gif

Official Communiqué
Republic of Leistung

To: The Raging Bears of Ursava
From: Ministry of Defense
Subj: Liberation

We have received your plea for aid and will reciprocate in kind. Rather than allowing more of your people to die at the hands of a madman fighting for their freedom, we shall act. Please, forward in whatever way you can the this message to all your supporters and oppressed peoples of your nation.

Stay the course. Fight on, and sleep soundly with the knowledge that the time of your liberation is near. Before we commit troops to the region, we must admit that our knowledge of the region and of Pete's troop strength is lacking, and so the duties of intelligence gathering will fall to your organization. Please respond to this message at the earliest possible time with details of troop movements and WMD capabilities of the current regime. The 2nd and 4th battlefleets are being diverted now, to arrive within the month.

Sincerely,
http://img373.imageshack.us/img373/3471/signatureum6.png
Jan Tirpitz
Minister of Defense for the Republic of Leistung

OOC: Nice job with the situation Salzland.


The messenger looked up at the man and the crew as they gathered their supplies and then thumbed to the door. He spat on the face of the unconscious translator and then proceeded to lead the reporting crew down the stairs, drawing his revolver as he did so. He turned the corner to the door he had come out and proceeded to lead them through the same back-alleys he had taken not too long ago to deliver the message. He pulled up his hood as his breath came out in a mist due to the encroaching Ursavian winter and he led them until they reached the subway station entrance.

With a wave of his hand they descended and came out on a loading platform where they were greeted with several guns cocking. The man raised his hands and spoke out to several shadows of the poorly lit station.

"Расслабьтесь, они являются дружественными и хотят помочь нам." The man said. Rougly translated, he had told them to relax because the news crew was there to help.

Then a single man emerged from the shadows dressed somewhat like the messenger with an AK-47 hanging by it's combat-strap around his neck with the gleaming bayonet attached to it.

"Следуйте за мной тогда, они будут безопасны." The AK-47 weilding man said, thumbing down one of the tunnels.

The messenger nodded and the man led them down the tunnel for what must have been at least half a mile until they reached a maintenance tunnel entrance that they tucked in to. Then they went through the darkened and wet tunnels until they came to a three-way and took a left and then came to another three-way where they went right and came out in a small room crammed with poor-quality radios, weapons, people, and T.Vs abroad.

As they came out, a man in an Ursavian Black Guard jacket came walking up to the news crew and spoke in Russian-tinged English.

"Welcome to Ursava my friends, I hope your stay hasn't been too rough." The man, Ubul Sallay said as he held out a hand to shake.

Meanwhile, at a nearby desk another more general message was being sent out on an old, WWII-era morse-code machine being as that was the best thing they had capable of reaching any other nation such as Ustio and Leistung due to distance.

To all nations [stop]

Aid accepted [stop]

In need of men, weapons, food, and radios [stop]

Please send in troops [stop]

Locate subway stations for the Raging Bears [complete stop]

"Sir!"

Nickson was rudely interrupted by a shout from his Communitations Officer. He swivelled around in his chair

"We found a signal" said the man, waving a piece of paper "The Raging Bears used Morse Code to get a signal through - it's a good job we kept those jobs, otherwise they'd have never got through" the man handed the paper to Nickson, who read it

"Okay, send them a positive reply" Nickson said after a moments reading

"Yes, sir" said the man, who saluted and left the room. Nickson picked up the receiver of the phone on his desk and dialed a number. After a moment, Cartwright answered.

"Colonel, you have a green light. Convene in Ursavian Subway Stations to meet with the Raging Bears - remember, it's deniable - go in civie clothes and no large weaponry"

* * *

Cartwright put down the phone. He turned to a group of men, all wearing differing clothes.

"Yes, we're going in" he said to them "Get your kit, we're on the next flight to Ursava"

OOC: Their kit is rations and medikits, and plastic pistols that won't set off metal detectors.

OOC: Very nice kit for the mission. Keep in mind, they'll probably be wearing coats and such considering winter is coming in Ursava.

5:58 AM, BMS Storm
Several hundred nautical miles from Ursava

"It's a beautiful thing, isn't it Gustav? The spray of the sea, the rocking of the waves," the man said in a serene voice, his eyes closed.

"I prefer more stability on my journeys, Erich. I can't take this constant waiting either--how do you navy-types do this year-round?" the other replied, clutching the siderail on the massive ship for support.

"Love, Gustav," he responded, opening his eyes to the rising sun. "What is the status of your ground forces, General?" He changed topics quickly, avoiding the age-old Navy-Army argument that was sure to come soon with so many marines on board his ships.

"Bored, Admiral. We set out quite some time ago, in case the sea spray's made you delusional and you've forgotten," he said, sneering. "Command says we should be arriving within strike distance very soon, hours rather than days, so hopefully we'll be able to remedy that. What's our plan of action?"

"The standard. They have no idea we're coming, you know, so landing should be a simple enough affair. Once ashore, we go straight for the cities--our sources inside say that the populace should be extremely sympathetic to our cause and we can stir up the most national support from those areas," Erich said, rubbing the salt out of his eyes. "A massive assault should be sufficient to destabilize the current regime, and the benefits psychological-wise from a missile and air strike from our carriers will pave the way."

"Sounds...sound," Gustav replied, appearing deep in thought. "My forces attack down the major roads and causeways while your's support from the sea and air. Standard shock and awe. But what if resistance is heavier than we expect?"

"We're Leistungi, Gustav. We fight the fight no matter the costs, and we free those people from tyranny. That's our duty, and we do it to the best of our ability."

"You're been practicing that, haven't you?" Gustav asked, smirking.

"How'd it sound?"


7:13 AM, BMS Swiftsure
Seven hundred kilometers from Ursava

A booming voice came over the communications system on the Hauptstadt (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13917790&postcount=30)Class aircraft carrier, jarring the pilots and maintenance crews. "Attention crew of the BMS Swiftsure, we have a green-light on Operation Thunderclap. Prepare to launch sortie one and stand by for further orders. Repeat, planes one to sixteen to launch."

The roar of plane engines could be heard on the other carriers even from the substantial distance they were placed from each other. The sky was quickly filled with dark little spots, forming into V's and roaring full-speed towards the mainland, precision-guided munitions under their wings.

A convoy of forty Thalberg (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13937231&postcount=70)Class ships steamed slowly and steadily towards the coast, ready to launch the first waves of troops via helicopter insertion and amphibious landers. Each one held in its belly a full compliment of 32 Lariat 1A1L "Long Arm's" and 560 troops, fully-equipped in winter gear (OOC: apparently winter's coming?) and battle-hardened from the Waldenburger invasion and previous peacekeeping operations. Their mission was simple--overthrow the government, liberate the people, kill anyone who stood in their way.

8:14 PM, Somewhere over Ursava

As the sound of engines hummed in the distance, the sky over Ursava slowly darkened into a single, unrelenting blackout. High above flew an armada of Falkasian C-5 Galaxy aircraft, each laiden with ton upon ton of important cargo destined for the local rebels. Also onboard were three teams of crack Special Forces soldiers, each ready to be paradropped to offer assistance to the rebels. The fact that they were in Ursava was completely unknown to all but a few high-ranking Falkasian generals.

As they approached their destination, the planes descended in a well choreographed wave, slowly extending their rear loading ramps as they went. Faint pin-pricks of light began to illuminate the sky. As parachutes filled the air, each one seemed compete for space as they gently drifted towards the ground. It was all very chaotic, and yet also very orderly at the same time.

With a thousand thuds, the crates impacted the ground; in parks, on rooftops, in landfills, in the middle of streets, and even crashing through glass skylights. No precautions had been taken to control where the crates landed, although each package had been equipped with GPS Trackers to allow anybody with the right equipment and frequency to find them. It would now be up to the local resistance to locate the crates and the supplies within them for their use.

((OOC: My god-damn computer crashed and I had to retype this thing over. It was much better the first time. How'd I do, speed-typing?))

OOC: Better than I could do Falkasia.




Odon Pete scowled in the deep, earth-covered bunker as he heard the radio reports and watched the T.V. Several news stations had just plain-out stopped broadcasting to either join the rebels or because they were afraid the rebels would kill them. He looked down at the map which had just recently been updated with reports of the air-dropping units coming in from the coast-line. While he scowled inwardly, he looked down at the map; specifically the items representing the 22nd and the 23rd armored divisions and the 19th artillery division.

The tanks were starting to move towards the city with their infantry support close behind them and the artillery at the base of the nearby mountain-range that halfway-encircled Petegrad. They were firing, not particular of whoy they hit or what they leveled. They simply wanted to kill the rebels and paratroopers who were coming after his glorious rule.



Rebels went ot the streets at first in small groups to search for the crates but soon stuck to just finding the ones inside the buildings while the artillery began raining down and the firing of approaching T-72s, approximately five hundred in all with infantry support and the aformentioned artillery cover.

In a small cafe with the western wall blown away at the surface level, a group of rebels crouched below the four and a half feet of cement and stone that rested below the surface level. Zigana Saáry was among this group, now clad in a dark green winter cloak with a hood of a slightly lighter color pulled above her head. She clenched the AK-47 tightly as the rumbling of the artillery could be heard landing outside in the streets and on the other buildings around their own cover.

"They're getting closer!" One of the men yelled over the explosions.

"Hold until they stop shooting the artillery and go on the streets!" Another yelled back.

Zigana looked at the large anti-tank system they had found in the now open crate across the room and felt grateful that it had contained so much ammo and grenades. She had been told she had around five seconds after she released the 'hammer' before it exploded and that she should 'cook' it by counting anywhere from two to four seconds depending on range. That's what the members of the group had told her and some of them still wore parts of military uniforms so she was willing to believe them.

"Look." One of the men said, pointing up casually as he crouched near Zigana.

Zigana looked up, seeing all the paratroopers.

"Can you believe so many people want to help us?" Zigana asked, brushing strands of light brown hair from in front of her face.

"It's amazing, all the lies Odon told us about how no nations cared for us save for Russia." The man responded, readjusting his grip on his rifle.

Zigana nodded her agreement and waited along with other rebels hidden in other, various buildings throught the city where they would help the paratroopers get underground and in rebel hiding spots to fight back...and needless to say thank them in any way that they could manage given the conditions of the city.

The Royal Marines headed out of the Ursavian Airport. They were glad of their coats, each of which bore a Wolf biting a thunderbolt on the shoulder, because it was cold day. As soon as they were out of the airport, they headed down towards nearby Subway Stations in an attempt to find the Raging Bears.

Cartwright stepped into the station. They were spread out along the platform, some standing alone, some talking. He checked the pistol was still in it's holster inside his coat, checked around him, then continued to stand waiting.

OOC: I changed the name of my Colonel to Cartwright rather than Borinoff. Borinoff would be involved in something else.

OOC: Thanks. By the way, is it winter with actually snow in the city?

Fifteen parachutes approached the ground, from each a single silhouette was suspended. As the parachute slowly drifted towards the ground, each figure began tobrace themselves frot he roguh ladning ahead. bracing itself for the rough landing only seconds away. No sooner had the soldiers hit the ground, than they had already begun to unstrap their parachutes and gather together their gear. Each man knew that it would be only be a matter of time before loyalist patrols came looking for the crates, leaving a small window for them to mobilize before they were discovered. The group leader, easily distinguishable but the ease at which he had dismounted his chute and got his gear, quickly drew a radio from his belt and spoke into it.

"Alpha Team, checking in. Status report; Bravo and Charlie."

Upon finishing his transmission, he released the talk button and waited for a response. As he did so, the soldiers behind him had already begun to collect and organize their gear.

He waited for a few seconds with no reply. His heart began to sink. Perhaps the other teams hadn't faired so well, he thought. Suddenly, the radio crackled to life.
"This is Bravo, reporting in."

The leader pressed the talk button and spoke into the radio once more.
"Good to hear from you Bravo. Proceed to your objective and rendezvous with this local rebels. You are not clear to fire unless fired upon. We don't want to injure anybody we don't have too. Dimitri out."

"Roger that Alpha, and best of luck!"

Dimitri was satisfied, and quickly replaced the radio back onto his belt. Much to his surprise, it crackled to life again. The transmission was barely audible, frequently degrading into static halfway through sentences. The voice sounded incredibly distressed, and if Dimitri heard correctly, there was gunfire in the background.

"This is Charlie....*static*.... We're under heav..*Gunfire*... We need he...*Static. We were blown of course somehow, and landed in a farm on the outskirts of...*gunfire followed by a faint explosion*...... engaged by a loyalist scouting...*static and dies*"

Dimitri shook his radio, trying to make it work. No matter how hard or vigorious he shook, he was continually rewarded with static. At length, he finally gave up, replacing the radio back onto his belt. He knew that Charlie was incredibly well-trained, able to worm their way out of almost any situation. He had confidence in them, even though a little voice in the back of his head said otherwise.

He signalled over his men, who by this time had completely ransacked the supply crate dropped with them. Each soldier was clad in typical winter camouflague and was equipped with an AK-74, numerous hand grenades, medical kits, rations, ammunition, and whatever else a soldier would carry, all courtesy of the dropped supply crate. On top of all that, the commandos also carried extra uniforms and BDUs for the rebels or whoever would need them.

"Alright men, time to move out. Keep a low profile, and mae sure you think before you shoot. There are a lot of shadows out there, and we don't want to be wasting ammo shooting at them. I want to know the moment you see movement so we can be prepared. Now, are we good?"

The group of soldiers nodded their heads simultaneously, al lready and prepared for wahtever was in store for them.

"Alright then, let's move."

======

The group slowly filed out of the empty lot they had parachuted into, assuming a column formation as they gradually advanced through the city.

As Cartwright and his men stood on the loading platform, the Raging Bears guarding it moved silently in the darkness of all the stands and other places on the platform until they were in a good position.

Then the intentionally loud movement of their rifles could be heard from the shadows of the power-cut station.

"Солидаризируйтесь Вас." A voice said, demanding they identify themselves.

10:29 AM, Leistungi Naval Formation
3.1 Kilometers from the beaches

With the rising sun at their backs, the landing crafts, ranging from small 30-person boats all the way to the largest LCU-1600’s, full to the brim with 400 men a piece, took off. The roar of the powerful engines catapulted the vessels towards the beaches, cutting through the freezing water like razor blades.

On the lead craft, an LCVP with only 38 men on board, Private Heinrich Kohl stood, waiting. He gripped his assault rifle tightly, eyes darting from side to side. His Lieutenant stood in front of him, closest to the ramp, taking a swig from the canteen at his side. He tossed the metal jug overboard when he was finished, drawing his pistol and turning towards his men.

“Listen up, boys! We’re hitting the beach in THIRTY SECONDS,” he yelled, flashing a number three on his left hand. “Regroup on the shelf at 1100 hours, and remember, stick together and protect your countrymen!” His voice was gradually beginning to fade as the pounding of the waves intensified. He turned back towards the ramp, and the captain of the tiny vessel took over the countdown.

“TEN SECONDS!”

“FIVE SECONDS!”

The hull of the ship ground to a halt suddenly on the sand, the ramp falling to the ground with a dull thud. The men hustled off the deck of the landing craft, sprinting towards a rock formation with heads pointed down and rifles slug on their backs. It was very likely that the Ursavan government had detected the fleet offshore, and the highest precautions were being taken to ensure that no men were lost in the initial landing. Short-range radar had detected no major troop formations inland, though, and commanders were optimistic.

Kohl reached the rocks, panting lightly. He glanced back towards the waterline as the larger transports unloaded their cargoes; tanks and massive amounts of troop poured forth onto the beaches, eyes peeled for enemy snipers or formations coming over the horizon. His Lieutenant breathed a sigh of relief.

“I guess Intel was right—no initial resistance whatsoever,” he commented, leaning against one of the larger rocks. Kohl laughed nervously.

“Maybe they’ll just give up altogether, now that so many foreign militaries have pledged support,” Kohl said, a little hopeful.

“Not a chance in hell,” the Lieutenant responded, eyebrows angled together. “I’ve seen this situation a thousand times before—these dictators don’t give up power so easily, and unless I’m mistaken we’re the only country that’s pledged full-scale military support.”

Two hours later

The men of IX Corps (OOC: about 62,000 men, but only 22,000 on the beaches currently) formed up into their standard kill-groups, advancing rapidly down the main highway. They had only encountered minor resistance to this point, but they had only been traveling for an hour and smoke was already visible in the distance, the booms from tank cannons and small arms fire already permeating the air.


OOC: I just added a small part at the end here to signify that I’ll be joining the fight very soon. Feel free to engage my forces whenever you want.
OOC2: Also, I'm under the assumption that since this is several years ago, this is essentially happening in a completely different II dimension? i.e., we're free to use our forces elsewhere because this is more of a "wow look at what happened back then" story, right?

OOC: Reserved post all finished.

As Cartwright and his men stood on the loading platform, the Raging Bears guarding it moved silently in the darkness of all the stands and other places on the platform until they were in a good position.

Then the intentionally loud movement of their rifles could be heard from the shadows of the power-cut station.

"Солидаризируйтесь Вас." A voice said, demanding they identify themselves.

Without turning as the voice drifted over to him, Cartwright responded

"Cartwright, королевские морские пехотинцы"

He then turned to where the voice came from

"Я верю вы надеется меня?"

The sounds of movement could be heard as six men wearing light winter clothing and carrying AK-47s walked up slowly to the group, guns lowered, and the straps taught with the weight.

"Good evening gentlemen...welcome to Ursava." The man said, obvious sarcasm in his voice.


******


The T-72s split in to their respective groups with one taking to the city as the artillery stopped it's bombardment and the other tanks moved on to the highway in order to block entrance to the capita. Approximatelly thirteen or so T-72s watched as the Leistung(ian?) troops approached their position. Meanwhile, the artillery guns stopped shelling the city and took aim at the advancing infantrymen, firing off airburst round to rain shrapnel down from above on their heads.



OOC: Yes, Leistung, this is a "Back Then" type if RP.

OOC: I'm going to leave my reporter team hanging for a little bit, simply because I don't have the time for a long post for them right now.

IC:

A pair of Salzland Defense Force F-15 fighters screamed past the cockpit of Captain Tyler Robbins' C-130 Hercules, providing part of a large combat air patrol aimed at clearing the skies for Salzland's troop transports. The C-130 was part of a contingent lifting the 5th Air-Mobile Infantry Division into Ursava, to support the rebellion against the nation's formerly Soviet-backed dictator. Other units were mobilizing, to provide heavy Armored and Mechanized Infantry support, but Salzland needed boots on the ground, and it needed them there now. The 5th was the only unit in range that could bring enough force to bear to not be immediately overrun, so they got the call to go in.

The plan was for the lead elements of the 5th to parachute into a medium-sized airport in one of the minor Ursavian cities, far enough away from the capitol that the military forces loyal to the dictator would not be able to respond in force for some time. The first wave would secure the airport, allowing heavier equipment and reinforcements to land directly. Intel said that the airport's security was supposed to be light, which meant that every man in the division expected to jump into a firestorm instead.

Hopefully, the fact that a flight of F-117A Nighthawk stealth fighters would be striking command and control centers at the same time the jump occurred would be enough of a distraction for the men of the 5th. It would have to be. They would be over the drop zone momentarily.