NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: A side thread to the Angels of Agony thread (the war between Gholgoth and Mediterranica). This will be semi-closed. Please do clear any posts/participation through Greston, Lamehk and I before putting in here. Thanks.


Task Force Viros
On approach to Corslack, Greston
03:47 AM, Imperial Central Time

Traitorous. Perfidious. Malefactors. The words ran through Arisâ’s mind as she contemplated the mission before her. These words defined why she was here after all and yet they were but mere words and by no means did they even begin to describe the tainted nations who had committed such a blatant betrayal of the Mediterranican Region, turning on neighbors and former friends without hesitation or remorse, all out of fear and cowardice or simple greed. Such sedition would not stand for long though, she would see to that personally.

Arisâ Levrin was one of the Empires most cunning and brilliant Admirals. She was young and less experienced than many of her equals but none had doubted her promotion to the rank which had occurred shortly after the Kraven Wars. When her commanding officer had been killed during the heavy fighting Arisâ had taken command of the battlegroup and with a heavily damaged ship, taken the fight back to the enemy sinking multiple Kraven vessels. This was a different kind of war though, a witch-hunt of sorts and the Admiral had been tasked with delivering the first of the retaliatory strikes that would soon sweep the region clean of invaders and decadents alike. This blow would fall upon the island colony of Corslack belonging to Greston. While such an insignificant scrap of land was of no real concern to the Infinite Empire, Imperial Forces had still been deployed in assistance of the Empires Protectorate and ally Lamehk, in their attempts to seize the territory which sat dangerously close to their homeland, and even now they closed in on their prey.

Like true hunters, the battlegroup slid through the night towards the island. Unlike the usual splendor of an Imperial fleet in war though, these ship had no lights showing and not noticeable activity, they merely glided forward slowly but steadily through the mild fog that filled the very early morning air over the ocean. On the bridge of the task forces command vessel the Karak class Battleship the IYS Iorlaas, Levrin sat impatiently in her command chair, not very at home with sneaking around in the dark with nothing to do but wait.

‘How are we looking?’, she asked her ships Captain quietly for the third time in the past hour. There was no reason to speak in any low tones but it seemed appropriate given the bridge was shrouded in darkness as the fleet was operating under minimal lighting and radio silence to avoid detection for as long as possible. The ground forces were scheduled to hit the shore at 4:30AM and the Admiral wanted the first sign of their presence here to be the raining of shells and missiles upon the enemy just before the landing.

The ships Captain moved up to stand beside her. ‘The transports are finalizing preparations and will be ready to depart as planned,’ he reported in a similarly hushed tone. ‘We now just await the signal from the Lamehkens to begin’.

‘Have we reached gun range yet?’ Arisâ detested having to grasp such simple information from others but until they were ready to reveal their presence it had been deemed appropriate to keep the ships Tacops system powered down. Although the system was the figurative eyes and ears of the vessel it used an array of high powered radars, sensors and satellite uplinks, to track and display everything in the combat zone and if turned on would have been the equivalent of just calling the Grestonians and advising them of the schedule and plans for the attack.

‘Not yet Admiral. We are still have a good twenty minutes before we’ll be in a position to coordinate an effective shore bombardment.’

‘Very well, As soon as we are then I want the fleet back to full operational status and our fighters in the air’.

‘Of course. I will advise you the moment we can commence.’

Overall the Imperial forces under Levrin's command were pitifully small compared to what could have been allocated but the target was not considered a real challenge or valuable enough commit more and so the single Naval Battlegroup and Army Legion comprising the task force would mainly provide heavy and specialist support to the main Lamehken assault.



2:30AM and I'm at work so please excuse any obvious mistakes. Over to you Lamehk

Sleek and low in the water that Lamehken landing craft edged ever closer to the Corslack coast. Leading his platoon Lt Katel gripped his assault rifle and looked at his watch, 4:25. He didn’t need to do this, as he always had a good sense of time and made it a personal priority to have his life run like clockwork, but it reassured him to know that his wits were still with him. It comforted him further as the first sounds of the combined lamehken and Yallakian armada started, as smaller pop’s in the distance followed by the louder explosions as the shells hit there mark along the western end of the north coast of Corslack, right on time.

The landing craft bottomed out and the ramps dropped. As the tanks began to roll forward first, prepared to finish off any Corslak defences still intact, there was a brief rest bite in the onslaught of sound as the shore bombardment. Quickly prepping his men Katel sprang forward closely following the tank for maximum protection from enemy fire.

The plan was a simple one, following the bombardment at precisely 4:30 am the vast array of lamehken and Yallakian transports would storm the beach at four strategic locations along the coast. After neutralising any resistance the legions would proceed to secure key strategic locations, protect the arrival of further artillery support and troops as well as establish a field command before surging down to the eastern tip of Corslack.

Katel’s landing zone was the furthest west and thus the riskiest as it would take longer for reinforcements to reach them should any problems arise but it was for this reason that Katel was here. He enjoyed pushing himself to the very limit and had found challenges few and far between after the attack on the pirates. Now he was finally presented with a new chance to grow and shine.

OOC: Hey Greston, any chance of a map of Corslack showing the main cities and anything of note like big forests etc?

Task Force Viros
Assaulting Northern Corslack, Greston
04:29 AM, Imperial Central Time

‘Forty seconds till landing!!’ Zahariel’s voice distorted slightly as it crackled over the comm. network to his men. The comm. system allowed excellent communication even in the worst conditions and was the only way he could give orders to his men now. What had been the perfect silence of an early morning not long ago was now torrential noise and a combination of the thundering guns of the fleet behind him, the roaring engines of the transport craft and the explosions of bursting shell just ahead of them all but drowned out other noises or normal speech.

As expected, the opening stages of the invasion were progressing in perfect order with the plan, the Imperial military did not allow for anything less than optimal efficiency, but they had not yet encountered the enemy so nothing was guaranteed and the Taskforce was prepared for anything. In unison with the Lamehken navy the fleet had commenced a bombardment of the coast of Corslack at about a quarter past four while the landing craft ferried the ground forces to the shore but that was due to lift and Zahariel watched the last few seconds tick by in the corner of his helmets HUD. In an instant the shellfire ended and Zahariel could barely contain his anticipation of the coming fight. In most nations the General of an army never sees battle but it was the Imperial way that officers lead their men in battle and a General was no exception, so Zahariel was right there in the first wave to come ashore in Corslack. He and the 72nd Legion had not seen a lot of combat and this would be the perfect place to test their mettle and uphold the might of the Empire.

The next few moments were a blur as Zahariel swam in his own thoughts but the sharp scraping noise and the vibrations that shot through the transport craft brought him back to action.

‘Make ready’, he snapped, flicking the switch on his assault rifle from safety to automatic.

Just in front of Zahariel and his men, the Bloodhowler battle tank which had sat dormant for the rest of the trip roared to life like a beast stirred from its lair at the smell of a fresh kill. Though it felt longer to him the transport took only a mere couple of seconds before it ground to a halt on the sandy beach. They had landed on the far Western side of Corslack, not far from the first of the site chosen for one of the Lamehken landings, and their objective were to roll up the flank of any forces the Grestonians deployed to hold their dismally insignificant island. With a metallic whine the front ramp of the landing craft fell open and slammed down into the earth splashing water and wet sand out a considerable distance. With a final bellowing roar the Bloodhowler lurched forwarded, charging out of the vessel. Zahariel led his men out behind it, each armoured and armed with the best the Empire had and each one ready to serve the Infinite Empire to whatever end.

4:30 AM, Chesterfield Coast
Noumea, Corslak Island Chain

The first sound of the morning to be hurd was the sound of shells thundering upon the coast of Chesterfield on Nouemea. The first smell was burning sand, palm trees, and the bodies of any militia man who had not made it into their underground tunnels. The first sight was the patrols of tanks and infantry from the Infinite Empire storming the beach.

The Infinite Empire had not learned it, for the Imperial Republic had kept it a close secret within the hallowed halls of the Grestonian Government, but what layed await for the Imperial Troops was the biggest militia in the Mediterranica. Shortly after the region fell out into war, the Imperial Republic had evacuated all native born Grestonians and the Grestonian military, any one who wished to stay was left. This order was given because Striker knew Corslak would be a prime target of the MU; giving Corslak it's sovereignty saved the Imperial Republic from, losing any assets in the area.

Lawrence Wembley was given the title of Consul and created his militia, comprised of any volunteer, every man 16-54, ex-Imperial Soldiers, and foreign tourists given guns. What the militia's project had been for the past month when they knew they were done was quite impressing. They created tunnels throughout the island, linking every military position and small town where a resistance could be given, and the only openings were to resistant places and positions big enough for five mean and a medium sized turret, dubbed the Tommy-Wembley Wholes by the Militia.

And on Chesterfield coast was at least and hundred Tommy-Wembley Wholes covered by wood and sand. Every militia man that had not gotten into a Tommy-Wembley Whole or into the tunnels was fried upon the coast or missing altogether.

As the Yallakian's moved up they seemed to have thought that all of the resistance was cleared. Once they had reached twenty-five yards into the coast, the TW wholes opened up.

And light seemed to shine off the coast - or off the guns of a frightened militia.

Legiones Imperatorius LXXII
Landing Zone Echo, Greston

Never in his life would Zahariel have expected that a naval bombardment could help his enemy, but here it had happened. The enemy had disguised their defensive positions well however the bombardment conducted prior to the landing by the allied fleet which sought to remove entanglements and mines from the beach had also wrought such widespread devastation to the landing zones that it made the Grestonian positions all but impossible to see until they began firing.

‘Cover!’ Zahariel shouted as he saw a hail of fire take down two of the men to his side, the concentrated gunfire proving enough to puncture their armour. ‘Stay behind the tanks and keep fire on those bunkers. And get me some flamers to the front’. He was pleased to see that his men didn’t need to be told such simple things though and that the dull grey-blue armoured soldiers of his Legion were already in full action, taking cover behind tanks and in blast craters, returning fire on the entrenched enemy with their armour-piercing depleted uranium bullets. A wave of pride washed over him as he saw the steadfast efficiency and discipline of his troops was not diminished in the slightest by this sudden setback.

Returning his focus to the battle Zahariel stooped low and followed the Bloodthirster as it ground forward undisturbed by the enemy fire. Great metallic pings sang out as streams of bullets bounced harmless off or shattered upon the vehicles heavy armour panels. As it rolled forward the turret slowly rotated the vehicles mighty cannon toward the nearest Grestonian emplacement just a few meters distance away and with an ear-splitting crack fired a shell at the muzzle flashes of the enemy guns. A huge eruption of fire and earth sprouted from the impact site and a part of the fortification collapsed. With a wave of his hand Zahariel signaled the squad moving up behind him and man with a flamer rushed forward and leaning his weapon out from behind the tank sent a gushing blast of searing fire out at the bunker. The flames danced and swirled over and through the position with their immolating touch and the sound of echoing screams replaced the chatter of gunfire from the bunker.

Zahariel quickly glanced around to gauge the overall situation as they kept moving forward. Across the beach he could see his men were all following their tanks and replicating their general’s tactics in dealing with the enemy. On the sand behind were a handful of scattered bodies – the sight angered him but he could take solace from the knowledge that the effective body armour they wore and their quick response to the threat had meant far less of his men had died than might otherwise have. Then he turned his gaze ahead and before them still lay dozens and dozens of enemy positions. ‘Keep moving up, we can’t let ourselves be pinned here’, he yelled. It’s going to be a long day.

ORBAT:
My initial landing force is comprised of the following elements:

1st Battalion, 72nd Legion
- 6th Infantry Company, 2nd Regiment (200 men)
- 7th Infantry Company, 2nd Regiment (200 men)
- 4th Armoured Company, 2nd Regiment (14 Tanks)

1st Militia Defence Battalion
Chesterfield Coast, Noumea

If Tommy A. Ronson had any thoughts that his militia, armed with weapons that the Imperial Republic's Infantry Army (IRIA)didn't deem good enough to be taken during the exodus, would win a war against the best trained military in the world, he would be crazy. But he wasn't crazy as his defence relied upon the first three minutes, which had just commenced, for them to utilize their surprise. From there on, "Field Marshal" Tommy Ronson's militia was suppoused to win their war by guerilla war fare and pure luck.

The Tommy-Wembley holes were named after Consul Wembley, of course, as well as Field Marshal Tommy Ronson. The connecting tunnels and weapon holes were the body of Tommy's resistance as well as his will to survive. So one could assume that as an entire tunnel and two Tommy-Wembley holes collapsed, a part of "Field Marshal" Tommy Ronson's heart collapsed as well.

The news was broken to him by a Private ranked conscript. Ronson and Wembley had attempted to form a loose hierarchy of ranks from the conscript militia. With an exasperated tone and a smell of death (or just B.O.) the private yelled out, "Ronson! TW holes Alpha 1 and Dixon 2 are down!"

"What about the tunnels conecting them?" - asked "Field Marshal" Ronson, not surprised about such a loss but saddened none the less.

"They've went down too, General," the private called Ronson what he would've heard on a Call of Duty game, that was the most experience of war he had ever had.

The main problem on the beach were the tanks. A military storage depot about two miles away from the beach had been raided the day before; the depot was more or less untouched, by the time the Imperial Republic had called for the evacuation of its equipment the IRIA was already gone. Crates and crates of anti-tank grenades. The closest TW holes had some of those crates. The first row was told to conserve their small supply of ammo, but this resulted in their position literally being underneath the tanks. As they had not fired at all and had amazing camoflagea, the tanks had not noticed them and were firing shells while above three TW holes.

"Pass me the RKW grenades. If Wilson can stick his hand out and roll one out, we can blow the tracks off, incapacitate this mother fucker," once again, the soldier in the TW hole, David Crane, had got his training from the remote control of an X Box. And he treated the war like a game. But the grenades he passed downd and rolled out ended up leaving real life damage.

Sticking his hand out slowly he dropped the anti-tank grenade next to the tank's tracks he was under. Once he let go he dropped to the ground and covered his ears. The ear splitting explosion was heard and then he could hear the tracks falling apart, as well as a few more unplanned deaths.

Farther back on the beach, the conscipts could see a few explosions then the front row of TW holes finally opening fire. They were quickly raped and left as nothing more than then human bodies resembling swiss cheese. But it was enough of a distraction to get some of the flamethrower weilding Yallakians to divert their attention. This was quickly utilized and many shots were taken at the infantry, when aiming at flamethrower weilders they aimed at the flamethrower tanks. On two occasions it was a success and the tanks blew up in flames, liting the soldier and his covering crew up in flames.

Ronson and the men on the beach knew it would be a long day. It was poor strategy, old weapons, and grenades going up against battlehardened, years of training, great strategy, tanks, flamethrowers, and high technological weapons.

Legiones Imperatorius LXXII
Landing Zone Echo, Greston

The thunderous blast of the anti-tank grenade sent flames spewing out from beneath the tank causing Commander Bradhor and his squad to go diving for cover, or sprawling in the case of those who got caught in the shockwave of the explosion. The tank itself ground to a halt with the high pitched squealing and scraping of the metal tracks twisting and bending as they broke off from the wheel cogs. As Bradhor rose to his feet he was almost unbalanced again by another fiery blast to his left. Glancing over he saw that his flamer toting soldier had taken several hits to the fuel tank causing it to rupture and ignite. The man collapsed to the ground ablaze, his armour melting into him, shrieks of agony sounding even more disturbing due to the voices slight electronic distortion caused by the inbuilt comm. system. Quickly Bradhor fired a short burst at the man and he fell silent, his suffering at an end.

‘Move up and kill these fuckers,’ he cried out with a snarl. Without hesitating he ran forward toward the now silent tank and ducking underneath the vehicle he swung his assault rifle up and emptied the remainder of his clip into the defenders. A grin of satisfaction spread across his face as he saw a least one of the enemy collapse in a red mist as the spray of bullets shredded his torso. The remainder of his squad followed moments later adding additional fire at the bunker. As he reloaded Bradhor noticed the sole surviving defender fleeing into the darkness at the back of the bunker. He tossed in a flare and with a loud fizzing noise the flare ignited and bathed the position with green light. There at the back was an entrance that ran deeper into the beach. Tunnels!

With a hand signal he ordered his men to seal up the entrance and then scrambled out from beneath the tank and switched his comm. over to speak directly to Zahariel. ‘General, these damn holes seem to be connected by tunnels, we need to make sure we close them all off before we move up further or we could end up with these bastards behind us as well.’

There was a slight pause before the General replied. ‘Hold that bunker open, Commander. The rest of the regiment is landing behind us as we speak. I’ve directed the 8th Company to your position, they’ll take over topside. I want you to take your men into the tunnel system and tear the heart out of this defence.’

‘Consider it done, Sir’. Switching the comm. back to the regiment’s general channel Bradhor moved back to the tunnel entrance where his men were just finishing wiring a charge to the tunnel roof. ‘Get that charge off there and form up’, he called, ‘we’re going in.’

As his men complied the Commander turned his focus back down the beach where he was greeted by the sight of the other half of the 2nd Regiment, his regiment, advancing up towards the forward Imperial positions. More tanks led the advance, their treads grinding ditches in the sand and their turrets lobbing heavy shells into the enemy emplacements further up the beach.

‘Ready to move on your order, Sir’, said a soldier from behind. Bradhor turned around at the voice and sure enough his men were all ready, crouching low behind the damaged tank, flashlights and bayonets fixed to their rifles. Of the fifty men in his section, seven were dead and four had been wounded and ordered to seek cover at the back, leaving the commander with thirty-nine soldiers to follow him. The other three sections of the company would keep moving forward with the reinforcements and enter the tunnel network through other entrances.

‘Advance on me,’ cried the Imperial Commander. ‘Courage and Honour!’

‘Courage and Honour!’ his men bellowed in reply, and with that the Emperors Angels of Death stormed into the tunnel system.

ORBAT:
The full 2nd Regiment is now deployed to the Landing Zone

1st Battalion, 72nd Legion
* 6th - 10th Infantry Companies, 2nd Regiment (1000 men)
* 4th – 6th Armoured Companies, 2nd Regiment (42 Tanks)

OOC: Due to a lack of time on Grestons behalf, I haven’t written this brief conclusion to this RP so that the events around which it is a part may continue (with his permission of course). Forgive the simple nature of the post but I didn’t wish to take too many liberties and only included the bits to emphasize the point of the RP.

Legiones Imperatorius LXXII
Landing Zone Echo, Greston

The tunnels were dark having only a light every couple of meters which served only to bring the long stretches of blackness to a dull gloom. This mattered little to the soldiers of the Empire, they could and would fight in any conditions against any foe if the Emperor commanded it.

With the night vision mode activated on their helmet displays Commander Bradhor and his men moved quickly through the tunnels, but even here the Grestonian’s resisted, they were underequipped and at a disadvantage in the dark but still they fought on. Even successfully at some points, using there knowledge of the tunnel systems to mount ambushes and junctions and bends, but slowly section by section the First Company claimed the tunnel network.

Overhead there was no pause in the fighting either and the ferocity of the combat did not ebb in the slightest. But as in the tunnels, the Grestonians were underequipped to hold back the armoured might of an Imperial Legion and as time continued to pass more and more of the Legion was landed on the beach. And so, with the damage toll higher than ever expected and many hours behind schedule the wounded Seventy-Second Legion managed to take the beach.

Command Post Echo, Corslack, Greston
05:29 PM, Imperial Central Time

The tent flap of the Command Post whipped around in the ocean breeze that gushed along the charred and ruined sandbanks of the beach. From what he could tell most of the surviving defenders had fled from the beach via more tunnels and collapsed them behind as they withdrew to the nearest town. This was fine with Zahariel for it allowed him the chance to consolidate his position, reorganize his forces and have the wounded evacuated to the fleet. They would be back into action soon enough as they forced there way inland.

Removing his helmet, the General took in a breath of fresh air and then exited the Command Post. Not everyone had escaped though and a half a dozen prisoners now knelt in a row before him. He studied each one carefully for a moment, observing their twitchy behavior, their poor conditioning and the fact that none of them would make eye contact with him instead choosing to stare at the sand or his boots. The realization that came to him from his observations was astounding given the battle they had just fought but was without a doubt true.

‘These aren’t soldiers’, he stated, trudging over to where Commander Bradhor stood sentinel over the prisoners he had dragged out from the tunnel network below, ‘They’re just peasants’.

‘Yes, Sir, I believe so. What shall I do with them?’

‘Send them to the fleet. I guess they can stay in the brig until this is finished’. With a shrug, Zahariel started back towards his tent. ‘I need to speak to Command’.

Corridor to the High Council Chambers, Arrandin, Yallak
Several days later…

As always shadows danced across the marble floor of the Council Chambers corridor within the Imperial Palace. The only light came from the fire filled bowls that sat on pedestals in large alcoves evenly spaced down the length of the hallway, bathing the passage in a dim and flickering glow. Between the alcoves stood the Councils demonic guardians, immense obsidian statues that dwarfed even the largest of Imperial soldiers in height and size. Each of the beast grasped almost man-sized battleaxes before their winged bodies and had splendorous fist sized rubies for eyes.

It was in this hallowed hall that General Caracas, High Lord of the City of Navarath stopped the Emperor on his way to the Council Chambers while both had been on there way to a Council meeting.

‘Forgive me, My Lord,’ said the General solemnly, ‘but I must ask if you have fully considered the implication of this decision?’

Both men stopped and turned to face one another before one of the fires. ‘Are you questioning my judgment, Caracas?’ replied the Emperor, not in a harsh way.

‘No’, Caracas retorted, hurt by even the suggestion of such treason, ‘I have had no pause to question you in all the years I have served in the Army and this Council, but if we do this there will be no telling the repercussions.’

‘The Empire and its future must come first, you know this. Is this so different to when we offered a place in the Empire to Xirnium?’

‘We were not discarding an alliance then. Nor entering a defacto arrangement with a group of nations labeled as perhaps the biggest collection of murderous tyrants the world has ever seen.’

The Emperor sighed, and motioned to Caracas that they should continue, and as they did he spoke again. ‘No, I have thought at length on this and still believe it is the right choice. The people of Greston have shown a strength, valor and worth to rival any other. We will make peace with them and soon enough they will join with the Empire on the path to greatness.’

Chesterfield Coast, Noumea, Greston
Two days later, Dawn

The city was in ruins. Tommy Ronson surveyed the damage from the partially collapsed second story of an apartment block. More than half the city had been taken over the previous few days as the Yallakians full force attempted to dislodge his militia. The militia had fought hard, was still fighting hard but they were suffering under the pressure. The Imperial forces were efficient and relentless, and if he and his men were not fighting in the street then they were covering from aerial bombings.

Today he was sure would be the final push and that he would die defending his homeland, yet as the morning grew brighter there was nothing but silence, for the first time in days; pure silence. So strange was the occurrence that he risked climbing the crumbling stairs up into the dangerously unstable sections of the upper floors so that he could have a better view of the city. What he saw was nothing short of amazing…a dream. The Imperial army was heading back to the beach.