NationStates Jolt Archive

It was just past one o'clock in Tunala. The sun was shining brightly, the tropical islands of the area as beautiful as could be. Fish swam happily in the sea, many of them to be caught today by fishermen and fisherwomen, who came to Tunala to harvest the great waters of the island for a living. The islands were a paradise on earth, a string of twenty islands which were inhabited mostly by native Pacific peoples, though were a British colony until the Federation had been formed. Merchant vessels swam the peaceful waters of the islands, untouched by the forces of evil which harmed other vessels like themselves, such as pirates or enemy nations.

In the capital city of Tunala, Luam, the last stage of the War of Independence was at hand. Senator Johnson Williams was in the back seat of a small sedan, two men armed with Kalishnokovs in the front seats. He was badly beaten, barely able to see or hear. He had a huge migraine in his head, and had been shot in the kneecaps twice today, along with being tortured to the brink of absolute madness for the last two days. He was of British origin, the great-grandson of the man who had declared Tunala a British territory all those years ago, Walter Williams.

The two men in the front were of native ethnicity. They were from the Tunalan Independence Army, the rebel force which had been calling for an independent Tunalan state since the early 1950s, whenever the Federation of Athanes had been founded. The War was about to end with a single gunshot on live television.

Johnson looked out at the streets. Several citizens, dressed in Western clothing and of European ethnicity, were being executed by bullets by the rebel natives. Young and old were lined up in front of walls, their blood marking the walls, their bodies collapsed onto the concrete. It had all ended in flames.

Soon, Johnson was dragged out of the sedan. He attempted to stand, to face his end like a man, but he couldn't. He blacked out for a moment, and found himself being dragged into Greenmount Park, where a camera was rolling and three native men were standing.

He identified them immediately. The first one was Captain Paupe Guan, the leader of the independence movement. He had flowing black hair, native skin and a young, handsome face, though Johnson couldn't actually see his face, due to him wearing a balaclava. He was also donning a black jacket and camoflauged jeans. His eyes seem to say to Johnson 'you're dead! you're dead!'

Soon, Guan started speaking towards the camera.

"People of Tunala, you are free from disgusting European oppression today. Our great movement, our call for independence, led by the Independence Army, has been answered today. The man behind me, looking like the coward he is, is Johnson Williams, whose has dictated these islands. His great-grandfather started the dictatorship of the Europeans all those years ago, ending freedom on these beautiful isles. And today, that freedom has returned."

Guan lifted up his Desert Eagle, and reloaded it. He took the safety off it and walked up to Johnson. He placed the gun on Williams' head and let loose one bullet. Blood splattered everywhere, even onto the camera.

"People of Tunala, our freedom is back. All non-natives on the isles, a very small amount of the local populace, are being executed for daring to inhabit these glorious islands, which belong to the natives, not the Europeans. This transmission is open, so all nations, organisations and people of our great world may bask in the great glory of the creation of the Free Independent Republic of Tunala!"

http://forums.jolt.co.uk/customavatars/avatar1825695_3.gif

The Republic of Reijvajik
Vacones ç Reijk

While we congratulate you on achieving sovereignty, the Republic of Reijvajik is deeply troubled by the violent acts undertaken by the newly formed government in Tunala. As such, we would like to offer refugee status to any non-natives of Tunala who are facing execution.

Ignatius Riley-Smith
Representative for Foreign Affairs
Wysken

The United Island States of AHSCA would like to welcome you to the international stage and congratulate you on your new found independence and sovereignty. Not long ago we celebrated our 3rd Independence Day.

Official Response of the Fascist Federation of the Grand World Order

This rebellion against rightful authority is completely illegal and savage! The people of Athanes were perfectly fine beforehand, and now this rebellion has created a possible change in the policies of the nation towards something inefficient and counterproductive. The Order hereby condemns the violent overthrow of rightful government, and would like to inform "Tunala" that they will constantly be watched. Not a single government cent will be spent without us knowing. Possible further action is moderate to likely.

Ein Volk, ein Reich, ein Fuhrer.

((OOC: Is it fine if I send spies from the Directorate of Reconnaissance and Intelligence in?))

About two hours after the killing of Johnson Williams, the young Paupe Gaun returned to the world's screens to deliver messages to the several nations who had sent messages to the new Tunala. He was wearing much the same clothing, except a balaclava was unpresent, showing his handsome, young face and his black hair which covered his forehead and the back of his neck.

"People of the world, I am Captain Paupe Gaun, leader of the glorious revolution and the Independent Free Republic. The IFRT has recieved messages from several nations, whom I will respond to via camera for the time being."

"To Reijvajik, while we thank you for recognising our nation, but we would encourage not to except any disgusting imperialist European scum; they invaded our land and oppresed up, and we have taken back our birthright. We will not kill any European who is not in Tunala, obviously, while all currently in the country will be executed on site."

"To AHSCA, we thank you for recognising us as well and we wish to announce today will be our Independence Day. We hope for good relations with AHSCA."

"To the Grand World Order, we are...disappointed by your actions, and we advise you not to monitor our activites. The ruling government were oppresing imperialists, and we have finally overthrown them in our great islands."

((OOC: Sure.))

To: The Free for this moment islands of Tunala
From: The Empire-Republic Of Ralkovia

Pitiful terrorist are what you are. We are disgusted by this rebellion of violence. Should you have rebelled and exiled the government we would be congratulating you on your new found freedom however your act of mindless revenge has made us sick. At this moment we will be initiating an embargo against your nation.

(I would like to escalate this to a full invasion that is repelled by your forces. However that is up to you)

To: Tunala
From: Office of Foreign Relations, Takaram

While we usually support the foundation of a new nation, the events surrounding this one disturb the people of Takaram greatly. We seriously suggest that you cease this genocide of these people not native to your island, and make amends with the Federation of Athanes. We also demand that all individuals responsible for this genocide are held responsible. You will most certainly be watched closely by the international community.

Cynthia Rose, Chief Foreign Affairs Officer, Takaram

ooc: nice intro

"To all who are calling for an end of the Justified Killings, we will not end. Ending European oppression on our isles is of most importance, and this must be conducted violently, to free Tunala!"

The camera was turned off, most likely to be cleaned. Papue downed a bottle of water before speaking to one of his advisors. "Yes?"

"Sir, we have reports of an Athanic vessel in our waters-"

"Attack them."

* * *

The Duke class frigate Eden sailed through Tunala daringly, testing the willpower of the rebels and their makeshift navy. Before any further military action, the levels of extremism in the new 'government' of Tunala would have to be measured in such dangerous ways. That said, if attacked, the Eden would certainly destroy any Tunalan vessel. It was only on land the Tunalans could fight, really.

In the distance, a fellow Duke was out there. That was an enemy. The Eden stayped put, waiting for an attack. The other ship crawled towards them and launched two Boeing Harpoons at the Eden, rather amateurly. The Eden, led by a experinced captain, easily dodged the two missiles easily, and proceeded to fire eight Harpoons at the enemy vessel.

They didn't stand a chance. And that proved the Tunalans were very extreme. With that, the Eden pulled out silently out of Tunalan waters, soon joining a frigate patrol near Tunala.

Official Statement to the Federation of Athanes

A very small, very personal suggestion, good sir, is that we suggest the policy of executing individuals of European ethnicity end. Very few good things could come out of that, and while, it is unlikely the Shahdom will take any action either way, the world community might see this as a bit more of a provocation than you probably intend. My personal suggestion, deport them if you believe them a threat. Nations might perhaps be more inclined to support you if you did... not to suggest anything either way.

-Parthian Foreign Ministry

OOC: Can I play? Hope you don't mind the presumption of this post, just in a writing mood today. I'll change anything you don't like. Note Chimaea II is a forum puppet for Chimaea (http://www.nationstates.net/nation=chimaea).
---------

TO: Captain Paupe Guan
FROM: Phillip Achefield, Prime Minister and Minister for Foreign Affairs and Trade

Dear Captain Guan,

I write to you on behalf of the Commonwealth of Chimaea and her Ladyship, the Rt Hon. Tanya Bryce, Governor.

We are deeply concerned about the program of ethnic clensing that the Tunalan Independence Army has launched against Europeans in Tunala. We feel that this is not an appropriate way of righting any wrongs committed against you. A genocide remains genocide, despite the culpability or otherwise of the population group to which it is attempted.

Therefore we suggest that you allow a timeframe for the safe passage of European Tunalan people out of Tunala. The Commonwealth is willing to meet the costs of an evacuation and resettlement. We feel that it is the best way to rid Tunala of Europeans, if that is truly your wish and there is no other means of reconcilliation. If you decide to take up this offer, we are also interested in providing aid and support for the building of your new nation.

We must warn you, however, that the Commonwealth will not sit idly while ethnic clensing is taking place. As a precautionary measure, we have sent a Carrier Group to international waters close by in an observational capacity.

We are also freezing any private or public trade assets concerning Tunala for the duration of this emergency.

The eyes of the international community are on you, Captain Guan. We hope that you will act to end this violence and choose a path of peace and prosperity for your people.

Regards,

~Phillip Achefield
Prime Minister and Minister for Foreign Affairs and Trade,
Commonwealth of Chimaea

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

...and in a strongly-worded speech earlier today, Governor Bryce condemned the ethnic clensing in Tunala, saying that it is crucial for the Tunalan Independece Army to pursue a path of peace, security and prosperity for the Tunalan people. She stressed that the only true way of achieving justice is one of reconcilliation and likened the situation to the way post-Apartheid South Africa could have gone without dedicated peacemakers such as Nelson Mandella.

"The Tunalan people need to know that the international community is by their side in their struggle for independece," Governor Bryce said, "But that we are not going to tolerate a genocide for this cause."

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

Carrier Group Brisbane, international waters

Rear Admiral Sroda Kpesebaan leaned back in the cold, uncomfortable metal chair and muttered a curse as her back twinged. Captain Michael Jandro gave her a sympathetic look.

"They're designed to encourage standing, I think."

The Rear Admiral shrugged. "Well I'm designed for sitting. Sitrep?"

"Well... We're flying AWACS already and we've established an operational perimeter with the SC-42 Airhawks and subs. The latest orders from New Sydney hasn't changed the last lot--maintain alert, take a lot of happy snaps and be really obvious we're here."

"Can't get any more obvious than a Carrier Group." The Rear Admiral commented dryly.

"Quite so. Can I have your signoff to conduct some high-altitude recon flights over Tunala?" asked Captain Jandro, looking hopeful.

The Rear Admiral frowned. "I don't want our birds shot down by trigger-happy Federation forces. I take it we've notified them we're in the area?"

"As protocol demands, though they haven't replied yet."

"All right, Captain. Send the notification again and wait two hours for an answer. If they do not, then send the recon out anyway--intel at this stage is vital for any future operations. And New Sydney keeps demanding more information."

Captain Jandro saluted and left. Rear Admiral Kpesebaan drummed her fingers on the surface of the table, then turned back to her reports. This was going to be one of those ops.

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

TO: The Federation of Athanes
FROM: Carrier Group Brisbane

Request acknowledgement presense of Commonwealth Carrier Group Brisbane operating under an observational capacity in international waters outside Tunala. Brisbane is neutral towards Federation of Athanes.

~Rear Admiral Kpesebaan

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The Republic of Reijvajik
Vacones ç Reijk

We accept that there are some in your nation who may need to be brought to justice; but the murder of all Europeans without even so much as a fair trial being undertaken in in your nation is deeply disturbing. Killing all people of one ethnicity in your nation based solely on the fact that a few have committed crimes against humanity makes as much sense as killing all Christians because of white supremacy groups. We strongly urge you to rethink both your actions and our offer.

Ignatius Riley-Smith
Representative for Foreign Affairs
Wysken

((OOC: Parthians, its Tunala which is conducting genocide. The Federation of Athanes is a collection of ex-British/French colonies united by democracy and overdoses of liberalism.))

The camera was turned back on, as the sun shone brightly in Tunala, at three o'clock AST. The young Papue Guan was there, standing up wearing the clothing he wore for yesterday's execution, including the balaclava. He had a Dragunov sniper rifle in his hand, with his guards holding Kalishnokovs just behind him.

The guards were holding a European male, female and two children, most likely a young family. Papue looked at them and laughed, before turning back to the camera.

"Following international condemnation, Tunala will only execute those of European background in our country if they have committed any acts which have harmed Tunala or if anyone in their family has harmed Tunala. All other Europeans will be held in camps across the nation until a ship comes to evacute them from our country."

"Behind me is the brother of Johnson Williams and his family."

Papue stood up and aimed at the male with his Dragunov. Blood splattered everywhere, most of it over his children. His head was split, his eyeballs hanging out of his eye socket. Papue kicked one of the children, a girl, and forced her to eat her father's eyeball, before taking a breadkinfe from one of his guards and lodging it in her forehead. Blood went everywhere, the camera absolutely covered in it. Papue then produced a double-barreled shotgun and shot the boy twice. The boy's body had no limbs or head. Blood and guts were forming a small pool in the centre of bodies.

The wife was shot in the womb, because apparentely she was pregnent. Then the guards took her away, presumbaly to rape her.

The camera was turned off.

Ralkovia will not tolerate this act of disgusting violence. Ralkovia is immediately moving carrier armada's 3 and 4(100 ships in all) for the full invasion of tunala. You will taste our boots in a fortnight. Prepare to die.

Bloody Sincerity,

Theodore Rommel, Admiral of the Grand Fleet.

When General de Santuro entered her office, Lady Bryce was tapping her fingers against the large wooden desk she worked at. The beat was slow, measured, controlled.

Tap, tap, tap, tap...

The General's stomach turned to ice. He had seen that before. He stopped in front of her desk and ignoring the two leather armchairs intended for visitors, he stood crisply at attention and saluted, looking straight ahead. For the Commander in Chief of the Chimaean Armed Forces to salute in that way -- even to the person who was technically his superior -- was an unnerving sight.

Lady Bryce didn't seem to notice it. Without looking around, the General knew that behind him was the wall-screen and on it would be the broadcast he had seen earlier, playing silently, over and over. Chimaean television had shown a heavily edited, blacked out version--for once even they seemed to balk at providing viewers with an uncensored version of events.

"General." She said after a while, and the word was a demand as well as a prompt.

"My Lady--"

He was interrupted by the door opening once more and the Prime Minister, Phillip Achefield, entered. He was clutching a thick collection of documents and folders which he dumped unceremoniously onto Lady Bryce's desk and sank into a chair. He was pale and sweating slightly.

"I'm sorry for being late, Governor." He said after a moment.

Lady Bryce's expression softened for a moment. "It's all right. Talk to me."

"Yes, yes of course." He shuffled his documents and opened a folder. "Rear Admiral Kpesebaan is ready to evacuate the Europeans from Tunala. General...?"

"The amphibious hospital shop Serendipity has been readied and will be dispatched under escort immediately. She will maintain communications with the IFRT and coordinate the evacuation. We will have Chimaean marines on hand to provide escort on land but with reassurance that they're present to maintain security of the evacuation." The General licked his lips. "My Lady, with your permission--"

Lady Bryce held up a hand. "Phil, go on."

"There's mountaing pressure from several domestic human rights groups that we intervene immediately. There's been vigils and protests held in all major cities and this latest broadcast has turned public opinion firmly away from the IFRT."

"And what do you think, Phil?"

"I think we should bomb the living shit out of them, Tanya. But what would that achieve?"

Lady Bryce didn't say anything. General de Santuro cleared his throat. "My Lady, we have developed several contingency plans. Give the word."

She sighed, squeezing the bridge of her nose. "Commence the evacuation. Prime Minister, please summon my Cabinet. I have a feeling this is going to be complicated."

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

TO: Captain Papue Guan, IFRT
FROM: Carrier Group Brisbane

Captain Guan,

We are sending CS Serendipity, with escort, to take up your offer to evacuate European Tunalans from Tunala. We thank you for your restraint in this matter.

The CS Serendipity will have, in addition to its crew, 60 Commonwealth Marines tasked with providing immediate security to the evacuation operation on land. They will not operate under any other orders while on this mission and are present for the protection of Commonwealth personnel and those under our care. While the CS Serendipity is a non-offensive ship, she will be escorted by Commonwealth Navy Frigates CS Belsouth and CS Destiny. They will provide escort at sea.

We trust you will allow our ships to gain peaceful entry and carry out this evacuation quickly and safely.

We look forward to your guidance to the evacuation team.

~Rear Admiral Kpesebaan

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

Carrier Group Brisbane, international waters

Within seconds of the orders being given, three ships broke away from the Carrier Group formation and headed slowly towards Tunala.

Deep beneath them, a Chimaean submarine entered stealth mode and also followed at a distance.

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

TO: Federation of Athanes
FROM: Phillip Achefield, Prime Minister and Minister for Foreign Affairs and Trade

With regards to the events unfolding in Tunala, we encourage restraint in any response the Federation is considering. We feel that the humanitarian mission the Commonwealth Navy is planning -- with the permission of the IFRT -- takes precedence over any other action.

We invite the Federation to send a representative to New Sydney so that we may discuss further actions. After the evacuation, we will not prevent any stabilising moves the Federation may wish to make. For the time being, however, we have taken the precaution of moving another Carrier Group to join CG Brisbane.

Thank you and we look forward to further dialogue.

~Phillip Achefield
Prime Minister and Minister for Foreign Affairs and Trade,
Commonwealth of Chimaea

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

**URGENT AND CONFIDENTIAL**

TO: Admiral Rommel, Empire of Ralkovia
FROM: Lady Tanya Bryce, Governor of Chimaea

Dear Admiral,

We caution your nation against the use of military action in Tunala, understanding that the act broadcasted is of the most despicable variety. However, Tunala remains -- to whatever extent -- within the territorial area of the Federation of Athanes. We feel that whatever action needs to be taken, it must be with the Federation's approval or involvement.

We must also point out that the threat of military action may jeopardise the humanitarian evacuation of the remaining European population of Tunala, placing them -- and the Commonwealth Evacuation Team -- in danger. We urge restraint of all parties, at least while this evacuation is carried out.

Painfull as it is, the lives of many outweigh the deaths of a few.

Regards,

Lady Tanya Bryce
Governor of the Commonwealth of Chimaea

OOC: Mind if I send in a few special forces squads or something similar?

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Official Communique from the Council of Sovereigns

To: Paupe Gaun
From: Grand Duke Alexander Kavinkov II

I, and indeed all the people of Volzgrad, are appalled at these gross measures of ethnic cleansing currently going on in the former Athanes colonies. Not only was this rebellion unjustified, but this extermination campaign is nothing short of an international crime. Even the infamously strict Volzgradien Commissariat ensures the suspect is given a fair trial, while your people can only be compared to death squads! I assure you, on behalf of the families of all those you slaughtered, that you will be brought to pay for your most heinous crimes.

Signed,
Grand Duke Alexander Vasilovic Kavinkov II

((OOC: It's not a former Athanic colony, it's a former British colony. Anyway, sure, Volzgrad.))

Harry Falkland looked through the documents, occasionaly sipping a cup of hot tea. It was in late afternoon AST, and he was in the Office of the President. The events of two days ago had been confirmed. A terrorist group had assassinited everybody who would have been involved in the Winchester Administration, except him. They had thought he was already dead. It was a chilling thought to think that the only reason you could still kiss your wife and hug your children was because one man had made a mistake. Falkland downed the last of the tea.

It was shining brightly outside, as always. He was in the Hellenic, the headquarters of the Athanic government. It wasn't his home, the Latin Mansion took care of that. His children were at school now, his wife at work as a biologist. He had delivered his first Presidental Address earlier today, concerning everything from the search for the terrorists who had killed Winchester & Co to Tunala.

Tunala. It had gone to hell with yesterday's execution and today's bloody mini-massacre. The fighters were guerillas, and it would take many years to end their presence on the islands. Their troops had been slaughtered by them, about a battalion gone from the small Army. And now with news that Gregory Law, one of the Parliamentry Security, had ran off with a Battlehawkian agent...

Harry Falkland had his face in his palms.

He had wanted to enter diplomatic discussions with the Tunalans, maybe try to stop the massacre of the Europeans, using supplies from Athanes, military and civillan, as the incentive. With news that Ralkovia was advancing in their at full speed with all those goddamned vessels, peace would never come to Tunala. It would always be locked in combat, bloodshed, it would always be the Pacific's local hell.

It would be hard to convince the Ralkovians to come around to diplomacy. If he knew Ralkovia, they would probably create a Jewish dictatorship which claim to be a democracy in power. That would be the worst thing which could happen to Tunala.

He had to somehow find some way to stop Ralkovia.

* * *

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The Federation of Athanes
The Office of the President

Dear Your Majesty Empress Maria Raskov,

The Federation wishes to state that it is disappointed by the Empire's military action in Tunala, and we would disencourage Ralkovia from the use of her military in the breakaway islands of Tunala, which have, as you know, declared their independence. Athanes is attempting to enter discussions with the breakaway Tunalans regarding their state, and military action from any country would seriously hinder or prohibit such discussions taking place in the foreseeable future.

Military reaction to the horrors of the new Tunalan regime would prove fruitless. Very little support would be given to the invaders, resulting in Ralkovia having to fight a war against a hefty amount of guerrila soldiers, which would take years to end. The Federation would encourage Ralkovia to stop their fleets from entering Tunalan waters for the aforementioned reasons, and we will be placing several frigates in our waters bordering with Tunala in order to monitor the situation.

As you know, the self-proclaimed leader of Tunala, Captain Papue Guan, has stated that he has authorized to allow all those of European background in Tunala whom have not 'commited any crime against Tunala', which would be nearly all of the Europeean population. Any military action from Ralkovia may result in him withdrawing his offers of escape for the small European population, which would be a great defeat to humanity itself.

I request that you stop the Ralkovian fleet from entering Athanic or Tunalan waters. Thank you.

Signed,
H. Falkland
President of the Federation of Athanes.

* * *

On the same camera which had seen the death of the former senator of Tunala and his brother's family, Captain Papue Guan appeared again, in exactly the same clothing he had been wearing on the last broadcast and the broadcast before that.

"To Chimaea, we thank you for offering to evacute some of the innocents European illegally residing on these island and we would direct you to Loa Isle, where the majority of the Europeans are being held. They are currently ready to be evacuted, all fifteen thousand of them. Thank you, Governor Bryce, for your moderation and co-operation with Tunala."

"To Volzgrad, we are disappointed in you. That is all."

ooc: I really don't feel like dedicating an invasion force, but I will dedicate some destroyers

Six Arleigh Burke-class Destroyers and a Nimitz-class carrier, under the command of Commodore William Hunley, sailed toward Tunala. Their mission was not one of invasion, but one of support for the other nations who were launching invasions of their own.

One Invincible class aircraft carrier was sailing through the waves near Tunala. It was part of the Athanic Navy, patrolling the area near Tunala to monitor the situation in the isles. The captain of the vessel was a certain Harold Cloverfield, a captain of thirty-four. The vessel's radar picked up several unidentified vessels approaching Tunalan waters, a foreign vessel. Cloverfield grimaced.

"Ralkovian?" he asked the 'radar man'.

"Probably not. I would expect they would arrive in much larger fleets rather than like this, sir," responded the 'radar man'.

"We can hope that. Get me the radio."

After ten minutes of picking up the unidentified vessels actually from Takaram, Captain Harold Cloverfield of the ANS Blacksmith sent out a mesage via radio on all frequencies.

"Unidentifed vessel, unidentifed vessels, please identify yourself. This is the ANS Blacksmith. Over."

Hunley had been staring out the bridge, lost in thought, but was snapped back to reality when his radio man informed him of an incoming message.
Hunley picked up the radio. "This is Commodore William Hunley of the Takaram navy, onboard the TNS Victory."

"Takaram."

Cloverfield breathed. That was two invasion forces coming, at least according to his thought. The Ralkovians would be arriving soon, and the Athanic Navy would never stop them. It would all rely on what the Hellenic did in regards to Ralkovia.

Cloverfield looked at the radar again. There were seven Takaram vessels in Athanic waters now, one of them an aircraft carrier. Cloverfield grimaced. Tunala was completely surrounded by Athanes, meaning that any vessel which tried to enter Tunala would be going into Athanic waters with previous permission from Command. He grimaced.

He spared a moment to think before he replied. He decided that he would have to ask them what their plans were in Athanic or Tunalan waters.

"Commodore Hunley, Commodore Hunley, this is Captain Harold Cloverfield, and I request you what is your mission? Be aware that if you continue on course, you will be sailing in our nation's waters without permission. Over."

ooc: I never said I was in national waters. I just said I was heading toward them. I would have said something before I actually got there.

ic:
"Our plan is to offer you support in putting down this violent rebellion in Tunala. Over"

Cloverfield frowned. There were no orders from Command or the Hellenic to launch a Athanic invasion into Tunala. The Hellenic was just trying to open discussions with the damn rebels to try to evacute some more Europeans and maybe bring the extremist tone of the breakaway republic down a good bit. These foreign nations were just stirring it up with their fleets, slowly destroying any hope for a peaceful resolution to this conflict.

"Commodore Huntley, Commodore Huntley, be aware that the Athanic Armed Forces have recieved no orders as of now to launch an attack on the waters of the breakaway republic of Tunala. We are merely monitoring the situation with our current patrols around Tunalan waters and assuring any merchant vessels make it out safely. Over."

Hunley sighed. Looked like they were going to have to wait and see how the talks went.

"Alright Captain, we'll hang out in international waters until you do get an order to move in or this ends peacefully. Over"

Cloverfield smiled at the moderation of the Takaram Navy, but grimaced at the thought of what would happen if the Ralkovians didn't listen to Falkland in the Hellenic. Then this entire situation would spiral out of any form of control.

"Commodore Huntley, Commodore Huntley, we thank you for staying outside Athanic waters and remaining in international waters, though it is not expected our fleet will ever attack Tunala. We thank you once again. Over."

The fan overhead spun slowly, doing little to dissipate the sweltering sub-tropical heat. An old television set was on in the corner, tuned to the only channel the guerrillas were allowing to be broadcast: Their own.

Their own operation had been a short one, to get some business exec to his corporation's retreat safely, a job they'd performed with their usual effectiveness. That was, until they'd returned to their own hotel and watched the local magistrate get his gray matter slung all over the camera man. It had been followed by a raid on the resort they'd left their charge at when the contract had been terminated, and both men doubted the guy was still alive. Oh well, at least they'd been paid...

"Somehow I think this is going to fuck up our vacation plans, eh bro?"

The off-color comment came from one of the two risk management contractors that certain company had hired to protect their most valued executive. The man speaking was Patrick Mosley, former Navy SEAL and one of two employees of Integrated Risk Management International. The founder, Joshua Croft, was lying on the bed somewhere behind him, staring at the slowly spinning fan...

"Yeah, you'd think..."

The annoucement that all 'Europeans' were going to be executed had sparked some concern between the two of them. They'd been planning on taking a few days to enjoy the island nation, getting hammered in the local bars and hitting on the beautiful brown-skinned island girls. But no, some Che Guvera-wanna-be had to go and launch a 'revolucion' in the midst of their little island holiday. Neither man was especially happy with that fact, but there wasn't much they could do about it. IRMI or 'Ear-Mee' as they'd come to call it, was still in its infancy with only two mercs to whore out for protection work, namely Pat and Josh. They were working on getting a third guy to help with getting some high-class firepower, but he was in prison for a few more weeks and there were contracts to be handled in the meantime with whatever they had on hand. Both men were ex-SEALs, combat vets with extensive operational expeirence in the Middle East, namely Ramadi, Iraq.

For now, they each had a SIG P226 9x19mm semi-automatic handgun with them, a weapon both men were quite comfortable with, but other than a folding knife apiece, they didn't have anything in the way of firepower.

Pat scowled at the TV, slowly sliding a 9mm round into an empty SIG magazine...

"Fuckin' bastards... I look Irish enough that one of these chumps is going to take a shot at me, and don't even get me started on you, der Fuerer Croftenmeister..."

Josh, blond-haired and blue-eyed, looked like the poster boy for the Hitler Youth, albiet a little old at age twenty-nine. There would be no passing themselves off for anything but white guys, even if both were from Colorado and not some Eurotrash Hellhole...

"How are we looking on ammo?"

Croft hadn't shifted from his position on the bed, mulling over details and escape plans, whatever he could think of. This was a shitty situation to be in, but at least they had guns and were trained to use them. Those other poor bastards hadn't had that sort of advantage. This wasn't their fight, first of all. There would be no heroics this time around, unless the mother government wanted to throw some cash and a couple of assault rifles their way. A few squads of infantry with gunship support wouldn't be bad either, but the doubted he'd get anything better than what he was going to scav from whatever guerrilla scumbags they had to drop on the way out...

"Uh, not good man. Something like three mags each..."

They hadn't come looking for a fight, they hadn't even packed the shitty Level I vests Josh had bought off of the local Police Department back in Boulder. It was supposed to be a simple baby-sit operation, walk some suit asshole around for a bit, look like a couple of angry badasses, and then drop him off in the tender care of corporate security proper before shuffling off to down some brewskis and mac on the local broads. Shooting their way off of a hostile island nation hadn't been on the agenda. If it had been, it would have been way above chasing scantily-clad island poon-tang...

Someone pounded on the door...

"The fuck you want, asshole? I'm trying to sleep!"

The voice on the other side wasn't exactly friendly, nor did it speak very good English...

"By order of Captain Guan, Leader of Tunala, we're taking you to camp!"

"Fuck you! I ain't going no-where..."

By now, Pat was up and on his feet, slapping the half-full magazine into his SIG and dropping the slide as he moved to the door. Josh had gone to his feet quickly, slipping his SOG SEAL Pup knife from its belt sheath into a reverse grip in his right hand...

"We come in for you! Open door!"

Both men stayed silent, until the guerrillas kicked the door in, sending it slamming open in a shower of splinters. Pat swatted the first man's AK out of the way, grabbing him by the throat and hauling him inside a few feet before putting him on the floor and a knee into his neck. The muzzle of the SIG made quite the impression on the poor bastard, he had no idea what hit him.

He hadn't been alone, however. The second man through the door caught Josh's blade in the eye, before he kicked the third guy square in the groin before driving the small knife into his kidneys numerous times. Casting a quick glance around the hotel hallway, the blonde ex-SEAL dragged both corpses into the room and closed the door as best he could, leaving the leaking bodies just inside the doorjam.

Pat was just staring at their new houseguest, head cocked to one side like a fascinated canine...

"So you guys don't like Europeans, eh? Well my friend Mr. SIG here is from Switzerland and he's not fond of backwater genocidal island fucks like you. Guess the two of you have something in common, don't ya? Know what else? He's full of expensive 9mm hollow-points, and you're about to be. You two are practically brothers! Give 'im a kiss..."

Josh wiped his knife off on the bedsheets as Pat hammered the floorplate of the SIG's magazine across the man's face, caving in a few teeth...

"Now I got a few questions for you... You speak English?"

"Wha?"

"English motherfucker! Do you speak it?"

"What?"

"Say 'what' again!"

The man didn't respond this time, but Pat wasn't looking for much more than how many men with guns were downstairs waiting on them. Josh wasn't too concerned either. Now he had a slightly battered Yugoslavian AK-47 and five spare magazines. Pat would get the underfolding Spetznaz-version his new friend still had slung, whenever he felt inclined to take it. Disgusted, Patrick got to his feet before crushing their prisoner's larynx under a Merrill size twelve hiking boot. He snagged the AK a second later, along with the bandolier...

"Now the odds are a little more even..."

"Damn straight, now watch my ass while I load this last mag..."

Ejecting the half-full magazine as he sat down, Mosley quickly thumbed the last of the Speer Gold-Dot nine-mils into his mag before slapping it home again and decocking his sidearm, sliding it into his DeSantis holster on the right side. Now much better equipped to try and make a break for it, the long-time duo carefully cleared their way to the elevators...

((OOC:Tactical, best IC post ever. I would just edit it slightly to take out all references to real life (like one of the guys was Swiss) out of it. You can still keep the real life weapons, as I do.))

As the two foreign 'Europeans' dashed to the elevator, ten badly equipped guerilla soldiers were awaiting for them a the bottom of the elevator, firing at them with Kalishnokovs. They were wearing simple guerilla clothing, balaclavas, jackets, black jeans and leather boots, and had dual Desert Eagles tucked into their jeans.

As the two men noticed them, one of the soldiers, a tall man, threw a fragmentation grenade directly towards their feet, before returning to firing his Automatic Kalishnokov 1947 at them.

ooc i don't think i ever seen any one use the full name of the AK47 before

Ralkovia had been a firm believer in the strategy of snap the neck kill the body. Meaning destroy communication between the the leadership and the followers and watch the body die. That was why the opening attacks on the island were 3 B12 EMP bombs. The guerrilla's were backwards enough that they would have no protection against the pulses.
Next were the Growlers flying above the island jamming everything that remotely sounded like a conversation. Radio signals and telephone signals. Everything was completely and utterly fuzzy. It would also completely defeat the enemy SAM sites which would be vital for the next part.
This was a broken neck, it was recoverable but it would take a long time. Not that Ralkovia would allow it to heal. C-130's were scheduled to arrive soon. They would be dropping off the infamous death guard into Tunala to kill off the top leaders of the Tunalan rebellion while the ralkovian military would create necrosis in the body. With that the whole organism would collapse under the weight of the ralkovian boot. It was like the smackdown from hell.

The guerillas were effectively destroyed by the Ralkovians. Their numbers hadn't been touched, but as Captain Papue Guan was on the telephone to one of his guerilla commanders, the line had suddenly been tossed into static. The phone lines had completely been destroyed, and the SAMs were proved useless.

With that, the guerillas gave the order for all guerilla soldiers, about 50,000 of them, to retire into the mountains of the isles, tall volcanic mountains, where camps were quickly built and messengers appointed, whom would carry messages to other TIA forces on other isles. If it weren't for the clothing and weaponry, Tunala was back in medieval times.

The guerillas awaited the Ralkovians, ready to fight for Tunala's eternal freedom.

At the moment the landing force consisted of about 1200 Feratzi(Jungle)Death guard. More would be coming soon enough but these were the forces that would be sent into the mountain jungles.[I assume these are mountains with plenty of jungle. If my assumption is wrong alert me so I can re-edit]

They would be the forces to combat the guerrilla's. Small in number they were trained for years in the art of guerrilla and counter guerrilla warfare. It was simple enough to follow the strategy of Daisybomb and burn but the death guard loved a challenge and would be deployed into the area.

Equipped with state-of-the-art thermal and night vision gear that worked wet, dry, humid, day, or night. Next was the all adaptable ghillie suit but perhaps what made the death guard so much more lethal was the addition of the all in one X-AR104 (executor) rifle. It was the death guards best friend with hundreds of customizing options it was practically a girlfriend. The rifle had several inner gears that allowed it to go from silent to loud. It could go from a single round to a triple shot to full burst and magazines could be clipped onto one another allowing the rifle to become a machine gun in an instant. Of course it was engineered for an urban enviroment but it was refitted for jungle fighting.

The next order of ralkovian business came in the form of hundreds of helicopters that began to drop off death guard and conventional soldiers to secure the detention camps of the Europeans. They would be evacuated immediately to the assistance ships mixed in with the actual warships.

1900 Hours, Somewhere over Tunala

Like a trio of silent shadows, the Volzgradien aircraft cruised through the dark skies of Tunala. The night was calm, and only a slight wind was blowing from the northeast. Below them, the Volzgradien pilots could see a handful of twinkling lights on the harsh Tunalan countryside. They would not be targeted from the air as most people would recommend against a force known to use guerrillas. Instead, the Volzgradien Antonov An-72s were only flying to drop their cargo. The planes had been painted as civilian airliners, but within each of their holds waited ten Volzgradien Sovereign Guardsmen, led by none other then the legendary Lech Kornilov himself. The Volzgradiens had been airborne for almost 6 hours now, and many were getting restless. The flight from Colinstok Airbase to Tunala was a long and tedious one, that was not doubted.

Sovereign Captain Lech Kornilov rubbed his hands together in a rhythmic motion as he cleaned his Type 38 Combat Rifle for the 15th time on the trip. While Tunala had a very warm climate, everything was cold when you were 18,000 feet in the air. While the aircraft's pressurized cabin kept the temperature fairly stable, it was still far from comfortable. The task of cleaning his weapon was made all the more uncomfortable by the large weight of his equipment. The Volzgradiens would be performing a HALO jump, and thus it was a necessity to carry all manner of heavy items ranging from his 80 pound survival case to the airtight jump helmet he was wearing now. Around him, Kornilov could sense a similar feeling of agitation from the other 9 members of his squad. Several were preparing their equipment like him, the squad's two heavy machine gunners were playing a game of cards, albeit rather clumsily, and his squad's other marksman was simply starring into space.

"What's going on Tormasov?" Kornilov inquired, nudging the man.

"Huh? Oh... I guess I'm just thinking." Tormasov replied rather nervously. Something was clearly on the man's mind.

"Like what? You've been acting... strange lately."

"It's because of Arglenia. I saw some... things there that I'd like to forget."

Kornilov remained silent. Tormasov had not been in his unit back during the annexation of Arglenia, so he truly had no idea what Tormasov had seen. Undoubtedly it had been something horrible if the thought still haunted his newly promoted squad marksman. He personally had viewed some rather unpleasant sites during his tour in Arglenia, but the price of war was nothing new to him. Arglenia had been at war for over 9 years, struggling with ethnic cleanings and nigh constant civil unrest. From his personal knowledge, Tormasov had been stationed at Baran, alongside the forces of the Unkerlantum Reich. The area, so he had been told, had been rendered into little more then a mass grave covered in rubble by the time it was fully cleared.

"Attention, HALO jump to proceed in an estimated 5 minutes. All personnel to exit positions." The intercom blared, snapping Kornilov from his reverie. All 30 of the Volzgradien troops, spread over the three aircraft, stood up in perfect timing and order. Wordlessly they scurried over to their positions as the inevitable jump began its final phases. Kornilov had only just reached his position when the aircraft's large rear ramp began to open. Almost immediately, Kornilov could hear and feel the whip of the wind as it passed. He checked his watch.

"3...2...1...GO! All units proceed with jump!" The intercom roared again, almost inaudible in the fierce slipstream. With a prayer on their lips, all 30 of the Volzgradien Sovereign Guardsmen jumped from their planes and descended to the dark, Tunalan countryside below.

The detention camps were inhabited only by frightened Europeans, having previously been abandoned by the guerillas for reasons unknown to them. Most of the European people came rushing out to greet the Death Guard, greeting them with a variety of phrases commonly found in Western Europe.

However, across the camp, the bodies of many lay. Some had died of starvation, mostly children, others via unspeakable acts. Their corpses rotted throughout the camps, with everything from influenza to Ebola having killed them. Biological warfare from the guerillas?

The Europeans could all be infected with Ebola Zaire Mayinga, a prospect no military force wished to face.

* * *

Below the Volzgradien troops was a small farm.

Whenever the Volzgradien troops started jumping, the family which owned the farm, a nuclear family, stared at the parachutes in wonder and fear, the farmer himself grabbing his shotgun as he walked out to greet the soldiers, his young children not far behind him.

"Hello? Who are you?" the farmer asked whenever he was close enough to the soldiers. "Are you hear to invade Tunala, by any chance?"

The detention camps were inhabited only by frightened Europeans, having previously been abandoned by the guerillas for reasons unknown to them. Most of the European people came rushing out to greet the Death Guard, greeting them with a variety of phrases commonly found in Western Europe.

However, across the camp, the bodies of many lay. Some had died of starvation, mostly children, others via unspeakable acts. Their corpses rotted throughout the camps, with everything from influenza to Ebola having killed them. Biological warfare from the guerillas?

The Europeans could all be infected with Ebola Zaire Mayinga, a prospect no military force wished to face.

* * *

Below the Volzgradien troops was a small farm.

Whenever the Volzgradien troops started jumping, the family which owned the farm, a nuclear family, stared at the parachutes in wonder and fear, the farmer himself grabbing his shotgun as he walked out to greet the soldiers, his young children not far behind him.

"Hello? Who are you?" the farmer asked whenever he was close enough to the soldiers. "Are you hear to invade Tunala, by any chance?"

The quick arrival of the native farmer surprised Kornilov as he hastily retrieved his equipment and stealthily un-slung his rifle. Around him, the other 29 Volzgradiens did the same as they prepared to move out. Having regained his composure, Kornilov faced the farmer and tried to look as imposing as possible.

"No, we are not invaders. We have come to kill the true oppressors of this land. You have no need to fear us." Kornilov replied. It was a very clever response, as it could be taken with both meanings depending on the person.

"Ah thank you. Those damn TIA soldiers will be destroyed by you all, defiantly!" he said lightly, before his children ran up to the soldiers, both of them about four to six.

"They play with toy soldiers too much," he smiled. "Those Tians, as we call them, tried to get me to join their crap. I scared them off with my shotgun."

He put the safety back on his gun.

( http://neoshinka.files.wordpress.com/2007/10/cosplay400.jpg <---Death guard sort of look like this but much more imposing.)

The Death Guard were never known to be liberators and they weren't here to free the people. If the people got close enough the death guard would use riot shockers(Tasers that can be set to shock, stun, paralyze[paralyze for life] or kill. In this case its set to shock which hurts like getting a paper cut but in the general region you get hit it.) to get the people away. It wasn't disease that made them use their weapons but merely they didn't like people. They had orders and they followed those orders to the word. Nothing less and certainly nothing more. In this case it was secure and evacuate the population.

The conventional soldiers shied away from the efforts as they didn't want to be contaminated. The Death guard could care less as their suit was self-contained at the moment. They got involved with the people shouting in various languages with a computerized program. People were given food, water, and special medicines and quickly sent onto helicopters that would land on ships. The ships sent to the Massapania Island(Island near the marshall islands. Its not a rl island.) where the people would be disenfected and made better and offered the option to return to Athanes or move to ralkovia to populate the sparcely populated island of Goandal. The latter of which was urged by the ralkovian medics. They were told the native inhabitants had long been removed from the island so that only an ethnical European/Ralkovian population remained.
(sorry for short post just very busy)

((OOC: Just out of interest, does Ralkovia have a cure for any form of Ebola? And the Death Guard look like something out of a science fiction film...))

The Europeans were disappointed by not being allowed to hug their liberators. The gone, they were all pleased to get food and water and medicine, though a few of the people with Ebola were secretly kept away from evacution by some of the populace, in order to avoid further spreading of the virus whom they thought had no cure, along with not being blamed for a potential outbreak in Ralkovia.

Whenever they reached Massapania Island, a small amount of people refused to be disinfected, but eventually gave in. Whenever asked, about one quarter of the populace opted at the chance to repopulate Goandal, while the other three quarters choose to be returned to Athanes.

(Death guard carry a scifi element to them. The type of equipment and weapons they use are the prototypes of today perfected. The super soldier versions are feasible only from the year 2015 and onward however I'm not using them at this moment. I would definitely like to use them but its up to you. They use a perfected exoskeleton model to make them basically human tanks in the fact that they take heavier damage without dying but thats about it. I do have a cure for ebola which is a bit futuristic but I can just change that to a chemical cure but my cure is reverse bacteriophage. Special bacteria eats virus])

((OOC: Ah. I wouldn't be comfortable with super soldiers, so no super Death Guards. And you can use the reverse bacteriophage if you wish. Expect the Athanic Government to be chasing after the cure soon enough..))

(Thats fine. I use those type of death guard only in super urban environments. Like invading New York, Tokyo, or London. Basically only in super cities.)

"Yes, of course," Kornilov responded, "but I recommend you and your family return to your home. This area is far from safe at the moment."

The inquisitive children had by now reached the rest of Kornilov's platoon, and he could see several of his Sovereigns desperately trying to shoo them away from the more sensitive equipment. The last thing Kornilov needed was one of the children accidentally pulling a grenade pin or stealing a weapon from one of his men. Thankfully, the farmer managed to convince the children to return home and soon the Tunalan family were marching off toward their hovel. With order restored, Kornilov and his men could now continue with their mission: the elimination of Captain Paupe Guan and his followers.

Within moments of the encounter's end, the Volzgradien Sovereigns had collected their gear and were now heading off into the dark jungles of Tunala.

((OOC: OK.))

One of the guerilla troops was patrolling through the jungle on the mountains of a Tunalan islands, stepping over the several obstacles Mother Nature presented him. He had his Kalishnokov in hand, the safety off. He wasn't wearing a balaclava, mainly because it was too bloody hot here to wear one.

His name was Hunlal Sarlapa. He was twenty-years-old and a member of the Tunalan Independence Army after his father forced him into joining the Tians when he was eighteen. He had assisted in taking control of the city of Luan, something he was strangely proud of.

He had a Desert Eagle in his pocket. He did believe in an independent Tunala, just through peaceful discussions rather than all out guerilla warfare. He had killed ten people during the War of the Independance, all of them Athanic marines. He wasn't proud of that.

Hunlal was a relative of Papue-

Suddenly, a rabid monkey jumped out at him and sinked his teeth into his neck. Hunlal screamed, but eventually shot the thing's brains out. That was a bit strange, but expected. He continued his patrol.

Little did he know he had Ebola Zaire Mayinga, which had entered Tunala via a merchant vessel from the African continent...

OOC: Eh. I think I obviously can't post fast enough due to time zones to keep up, you guys have obviously ignored my forces/actions and so on. I'll retire from this, have fun!

((OOC: I never ignored you, I was just awaiting for you to post about your ships arriving. Anyway, go if you wish.))

As the Volzgradien troops entered the dark jungles, full of disease and death, another young soldier was in the jungle, patrolling it with her Kalishnokov in hand. She went by the name of Lua, twenty-four years old and with long, black hair. Lua had spotted the corpse of Hunlal, one of her friends, a good bit back, but she had just changed course, knowing about the hundreds of foreign diseases in this jungle.

She was alert, and intelligent, unlike most of her comrades. She had two Desert Eagles tucked into her trousers, loaded with the safety on. The AK-47, however, had its safety off, ready to shoot anything Lua pleased.

In one of the tropical trees, Lua clearly saw a rabid monkey. Instantly, without thinking, she attached a silencer which had been in her pocket for a while to one of her Desert Eagles, took the safety off and fired three .357 Magnum bullets at the monkey. It fell out of the tree and onto the ground.

As Lua rebegan her patrol, she heard a branch break in the quiet jungle. She looked under her feet. There were no branches anywhere near her. Lua instantly started climbing up one of the trees to the top of it, and whenever she eventually got there, she waited, Kalishnokov in hand, ready for a one woman ambush on probably about twenty or so soldiers.

She wished she had a few fragmentation grenades. She wished.

( can i capture the girl)

((OOC: Of course. Whoever posts first (you or Volzgrad) can kill/capture her. If you torture her and it leaks out, expect a flying shitstorm from the Athanic Government!))

( Well im on my phone for the next few hours. However ill probably send you my post through a telegram through ns)

((OOC:Tactical, best IC post ever. I would just edit it slightly to take out all references to real life (like one of the guys was Swiss) out of it. You can still keep the real life weapons, as I do.))

As the two foreign 'Europeans' dashed to the elevator, ten badly equipped guerilla soldiers were awaiting for them a the bottom of the elevator, firing at them with Kalishnokovs. They were wearing simple guerilla clothing, balaclavas, jackets, black jeans and leather boots, and had dual Desert Eagles tucked into their jeans.

As the two men noticed them, one of the soldiers, a tall man, threw a fragmentation grenade directly towards their feet, before returning to firing his Automatic Kalishnokov 1947 at them.

OOC: First off, thanks a lot! I do try to make them as good as possible.

I would, but the pistol is Swiss (and a little German too, while we're at it but that's not the point), not the guy holding it, the same way AK's are of Russian design. Where the guys are from isn't an issue, I was simply stressing the point that they look like the guys you're after, and as such will have a much harder time getting out of the country alive.

That ok?

IC:

The soft thud of a weighted object on carpet and tapping against Josh's left foot caught his attention. It was a reflex action, and he nudged it sideways over the edge, under the railing and on a downward course to the lobby below as a barrage of automatic fire tore between them, nearly clipping Patrick as he ducked into a recessed hotel room doorway for some modicrum of protection.

Josh didn't have many options, the doorway wasn't big enough for both of them to shoot from and he wasn't about to vault the railing and follow the grenade downwards five floors to the unyielding marble below. Instead, he turned sharply on a heel as Pat blind-fired a burst around the corner to keep the bastards at the end of the hallway ducking, scattering them behind an assortment of expensive furniture and potted plants, none of which provided true cover. Scooting in behind Patrick, Josh took up a kneeling position and raked the objects the guerillas had hidden behind with some fire of his own, as Patrick took his time triggering bursts into each object he thought Josh had missed.

Both men were nearly deaf by this point from the excessive gunfire, so communication wasn't going to be much use. Luckily for both of them, the each knew the other well enough to know what he'd do in a given situation, and trusted him above all else to do just that.

Patrick went dry first, quickly performing a mag swap by flipping the paddle release with a fresh AK magazine and rocking it into place, slowing his rate of fire to allow Josh to swap mags a second later. They exchanged short bursts with a few who'd been lucky and hadn't been hit, until they were the last men standing, smoking assault rifles in hand taking turns swapping half-empty mags for full ones, throwing those they swapped to the back of the bandolier.

If these guerillas had been well-trained, they wouldn't have stood a chance. That, and they were lucky they hadn't been torn to shreds in the first place. The riddled corpses behind tables, high-backed chairs, potted shrubs, and expensive couches told them much. For one, these idiots didn't know the difference between 'cover' and 'concealment', the latter being next to useless if the enemy knew where you were, i.e. watched you dive behind it...

"I wouldn't call that one easy, but these guy flat-out suck at tactics... No matter how much you paid for that leather chair, it ain't gonna stop a seven-six-two..."

"Too true man, but they should have had us dead to rights, I mean ten-on-two are shitty odds..."

"More like five each, man. Remember Ramadi when we dropped twenty-six insurgent assholes from the same sniper hide in one night? Same situation, just different guns and different assholes..."

"Again Pat, I have to hand it to your astute use of the English language..."

"Fuck you Josh..."

"You shut your mouth when you're talking to me..."

"Now that makes no sense at all, plus it's uncalled for..."

The banter continued as the pair picked over the bodies for extra ammo, finding a few grenades in the process...

"Warsaw Pact all around, Patty... You'd think at least one of these assholes would have something that wasn't, oh I don't know, so fucking stereotypical..."

"True dat... Hey look! A grenade!"

Pat was triumphantly holding up an old Russian frag, the cast-iron casing showing slight signs of rust from lack of care and the island's humid climate. Happy he'd found something useful, he pocketed the device for later use, sure he'd need it later...

"Elevator?"

"Might as well..."

Josh wasn't quite sure how they'd managed to survive a fight with five-to-one odds, but he'd chalk it up as another instance where their luck hadn't totally run out. Pat punched the 'L' key and the elevator started to descend, both men taking up positons on either side of the door in case there were more surprises awaiting them...

((OOC: Ah. Forgive me for being so idiotic.))

On the landing, the guerilla version of a squad was awaiting the two armed Europeans. These guerillas were much like the ones upstairs, just armed with AK-74s rather than AK-47s in a strange twist. About half of them were on the right side of the elevator, the other half on the other side of the elevator the Europeans would arrive in, with a sniper fireteam hiding behind a desk, ready to fire their Dragunovs as soon as the duo came down.

All civillans had been executed by that same squad, actually out of boredom. The bodies of children and adults alike were scattered around the lobby, butchered to the point that nobody would recognise them.

OOC: No offense intended, mind you...

IC:

The ping of the elevator sounded as it reached the ground floor, allowing the doors to slowly roll open. A crafty bastard, Josh cast a quick glance around the corner, before Pat flung that grenade of his out between the doors as they began to close once more, Josh seeing the odds were definitely stacked against them this time had punched the top floor button.

The old Russian frag had been cooked, a risky move on Pat's part, but there wouldn't be more than a second for someone to evade the thing, never mind throwing it back. He'd flung it with enough force to travel a decent distance, the little metal object thudding behind the reception desk where the snipers were trying to hide out of sheer luck...

"Knew that thing would be good for something..."

"Yeah... Dude we're really out-gunned now. I think I spotted a sniper team, as well as the usual assortment of olive-drab trigger-jobs with the usual Russian fare..."

"AK's?"

"How'd you know?"

"Well those commie pricks made them by the millions, shit you can get one in Sierra Leone for the price of a chicken..."

"And they're upwards of five grand back in the states for the registered full-automatic ones. Ain't that a bitch..."

The elevator pinged again at the top floor, taking it had been a stupid idea in the first place. The stairs were a much more attractive option, allowing them access to the service areas of the hotel, including the service entrance on the ground floor. In the case of IRMI's only two employees, it served them better as an exit, to a back alleyway behind the hotel itself...

"OK, maybe from here we can evade them to the docks or something. The airport's going to be shut down and neither of us can fly a plane..."

"So there won't be any 'Get to da choppa' this time around?"

"Don't even start that bullshit, Pat..."

Mosley just laughed, then went back to checking corners for hostile forces. Shooting your way out of something was never a good idea, bullets had a way of ending your life before you were ready, and there weren't any respawns in the real world. The best Josh could hope for now if he was mortally wounded would be that Pat would be a gentleman and put a bullet in his head instead of leaving him alive for the guerillas. Neither man wanted it to come to that, however, and both were more than happy to do the sneak-and-peek dance for the rest of their fundamentally flawed tropical island 'getaway'...

The fragmentation grenade had completely destroyed the desk, destroying the left leg of one of the snipers and giving that same one a large wood chunk in the eye. The other sniper was, somehow, merely just stunned, and was soon back up again.

After a brief discussion between the guerillas, two of them would make a break for it towards the door, while the remaining guerillas started running up the stairs to whenever they noticed an open door which went straight to a back alley. They all went in there, the remaining sniper included.

They were remarkably quiet, the guerrilas, finding the urban enviroments much more accustomed to stealth than the jungle. As the Europeans walked together, the silent sniper walked towards a rubbish bin and took cover behind it, the darkness shading him.

With his Dragunov, he got the sights on one of the Europeans. He pulled with all his force on the trigger, it heading straight towards one of their heads. After the bullet was fired, the men with the Kalishnokovs jumped out and started firing blindly in the direction of the Europeans, the docks probably being on high alert by now.

((OOC: In case anybody asks any questions, this bit of guerrilas versus Europeans is being done in fluid time, before the guerillas were called back to the jungles and mountains.))

As the Volzgradien troops entered the dark jungles, full of disease and death, another young soldier was in the jungle, patrolling it with her Kalishnokov in hand. She went by the name of Lua, twenty-four years old and with long, black hair. Lua had spotted the corpse of Hunlal, one of her friends, a good bit back, but she had just changed course, knowing about the hundreds of foreign diseases in this jungle.

She was alert, and intelligent, unlike most of her comrades. She had two Desert Eagles tucked into her trousers, loaded with the safety on. The AK-47, however, had its safety off, ready to shoot anything Lua pleased.

In one of the tropical trees, Lua clearly saw a rabid monkey. Instantly, without thinking, she attached a silencer which had been in her pocket for a while to one of her Desert Eagles, took the safety off and fired three .357 Magnum bullets at the monkey. It fell out of the tree and onto the ground.

As Lua rebegan her patrol, she heard a branch break in the quiet jungle. She looked under her feet. There were no branches anywhere near her. Lua instantly started climbing up one of the trees to the top of it, and whenever she eventually got there, she waited, Kalishnokov in hand, ready for a one woman ambush on probably about twenty or so soldiers.

She wished she had a few fragmentation grenades. She wished.


Twenty or so soldiers was a moderate guess off of the Blood Brothers. A Blood Brothers consisted of about 4 death guard. These 4 death guards belonged to a special squadron known as Legion XIII. Legion XIII was a group of 100,000 death guard. It was code named NATAS and each of its Companies(20,000 Death guard) was given a name of an archdemon. From their it worked down until you arrived at a formation of blood brothers. She was unfortunate to get stuck with the Azzazzel Brothers(Wrath, Pain, Lust and Deception) They were probably the smartest group and had been using their new thermal equipment rather than relying on plain eye sight. That was probably why she had been spotted so quickly. It was then that they simply followed her waiting for her to lead them to her headquarters. Of course that was the plan before Wrath stepped on a branch and created noise. It had alerted her and now the death guard were left with the option to capture or kill her. Pain, the leader of the group, decided in favor of capturing her and that was why she was still living.

It was also why the death guard slowly unzipped a small canister of kolokol(Paralyzing agent that takes effect in less than 3 seconds and has a six hour effectiveness) and through it under her. The canister immediately began to spray the gas however a small release kept it from making to much noise.

If she didn't fall victim to the canister the death guard would just use a flashbang and capture her however they didn't want to raise to much noise.

The Volzgradien Sovereigns had been in the jungle for almost 2 hours now, and already it was starting to become unbearable. Before at dusk, the looming jungle had merely been an impediment on their journey. Now that midnight was approaching rapidly, the thick jungle had become a personal hell for all of the troops within. Despite the sheer size of the Tunalan jungle, the massive tree trunks and thick overhanging canopy made claustrophobia common and plunged the lower areas into nigh total darkness. Not only that, but many of the Volzgradiens had never been in a tropical area before. While all of them had trained heavily for just such a mission, only one man, Sovereign Guardsman Ricardo Garcia, who was a Rynibarian Colonial; had actually had any true experience in a climate similar to Tunala. Almost all of the Sovereigns regulated to this operation originated from Volzgrad's northern areas of Tannenberg and Krasnev Provinces.

"Fuck this heat, I'd trade anything for something cold." Sovereign Captain Kornilov cursed as he stepped over yet another massive tree root. He and his men had been hiking for God knows how long and all were already facing difficulties. While all of them were equipped with standard khaki and dark green "Tropics Colonial Uniform," the heat and moisture was near unbearable. All of the Sovereigns had brought plenty of clean, cold water; but at the rate they were sweating they would have to re-supply in less then a week. The clear disadvantage of their over packing was soon made clear as the full weight of their gear descended upon them.

Kornilov stopped suddenly in mid-stride, his eyes affixed on an area up ahead. At first, he thought his mind was playing tricks on him, but after a few moments that thought clearly faded away. He had seen something or someone up ahead. From what he had managed to make out earlier, it was large and black, and it moved very swiftly from the looks of it. Kornilov lowered himself to the ground slowly and keyed his comms-bead.

"Get down, T-goggles on, prepare for contact." He hissed quietly as he slowly lowered his thermal goggles from his helmet. All of the Sovereigns carried them, as befitting of an elite special forces unit.

"Movement, 3 O'clock!" Kornilov's comms-bead squealed suddenly, forcing him to stop suddenly again. In a single moment, all 30 of the Volzgradiens' weapons were aimed at the mentioned position. Nothing moved for a moment then another.

Like a vengeful wraith, a black-armoured foreign soldier clambered out of the woods his weapon raised. It took Kornilov only a moment to recognize him as a member of the Rakovian Death Guard. He had heard only stories about them, mostly from his old friend Yuri who had seen them fight in the Blackhelm Confederacy's Badlands, but each tale he heard only mentioned their brutality and fighting prowess.

"Freeze! Hold your ground and lower your weapon!" Kornilov shouted as the Ralkovian advanced heedlessly onward. His Type 38 was aimed at the Death Guard, but he hoped this encounter didn't degenerate into violence.

(They would be wearing camoflage at this moment. The black is for urban combat. Darker green camo painted on would be the correct camoflage. Though that is not here nor there. Its a good post and does well to the death guard name.)

Behind them came several clicks, a host of death guard, probably 10 in all, had already found the rear of Volzgradian troops however it was the fact that an inboard computer on a commanders head identified the troops as volzgradian. He quickly raised his hand and the death guard immediately drew their rifles into a ready position.(aimed at the shin of the target. With a triple burst on. The gun raises high enough due to recoil to get a shot to the shin, leg artery, and chest should the target decide to attack.)

The commander identified by a small emblem on the top of his helmet put his rifle on his back and began to fool around with a piece of equipment on his wrist. It was then that a voice in the language the vast majority of the volzgradian spoke was heard. It was electronic but it held a stern and angery voice to it like one would expect from a death guard.

"You are of the Volzgradian people. Correct?
If I am correct then we can meet up at our base camp. This place is not good to stay in for long," the commander spoke leaving no time to answer back until he finished. As if to emphasize his point a death guard shot into the forest somewhere far off. The response was a scream of some rebel.[he could be wounded, killed, calling for help, or just scared. So its not G-dmodding]

Another death guard, his dark facial armor covered in blood immediately appeared out of a foxhole a few yards away. He had been covered with a thatched roof that blended into the environment perfectly. The death guard was rather large and carried a heavy machine gun as if it was a pistol. He simply got up out of it as another death guards still in the hole threw three native bodies up. Flies immediately swarmed in to eat away at corpses whose bodies had been carved up with a large breaking knife[machete but with small knotches and hooks that can pull skin and break bone.]

The Death Guards dragged the bodies to a small clearing in the jungle floor only a few yards away from the foxhole and practically only 5 yards away from the Volzgradians. Through the middle of the back a small opening had been cut. It was their that the death guard who had thrown the body took out C4 and a claymore and stuffed it into the hole in the body. They then put a small detonation wire and forced it through the corpse and into the rectum where the death guard tied it to a small sensor. He then used a wire to hang them upside down from the tree's above. The corpses arms waved around as if they were enjoying a rollercoaster ride rather than being used as human booby traps.

All the while the man with a machine gun kept watch over his hatchmate. While he trusted his squadron to watch his back he kept his machine gun ready to spray the volzgradien all the while observing the forest for movement. Several times he hefted the large machine gun at a rustling in the bushes at which he took a silencer pistol and emptied a single round into the bush. He alway hit something as a death guard from somewhere would pull out a dead boar or another type of animal. The Death Guard seemed to be able to distinguish animals from people especially each other as a bush that looked to be the perfect place for a rebel to hide in would be ignored by the other death guard.

Despite how quiet the jungle was the volgradien's had been in the center of about 50 death guard. A large number to see congregating together.

The Death Guard's silence in the jungle and just how damn many there were around the Sovereigns shocked Kornilov. He had not heard a thing from behind him until only a few moments ago when the Ralkovians revealed themselves. Even more surprising was by all accounts the Death Guards should have been quite loud if not deafening with them clanking about in heavy armour. Kornilov was both impressed and frightened by their abilities, and their recent, grizzly display of booby trapping only corroborated Yuri's accounts of the Ralkovians. Wordlessly, Kornilov lowered his rifle and approached who he believed was the Death Guards' commander.

"Sounds like a good plan. My name is Sovereign Captain Lech Kornilov by the way, 3rd Sovereigns Guards Regiment." Kornilov replied, laughing inwardly at his attempt to make small talk with people who by all accounts were little more then justified serial murderers. This fact however was of little worry to Kornilov, who had done several less then legal things in the eyes of the WA. The first thing that came to mind being his work as the leader of a Death Squad in southern Arglenia; which saw the brutal executions of almost 300 suspected Arglenian Muslim guerrillas.

With the encounter nearing its conclusions, the Volzgradien Sovereigns left their fighting positions and decided to, in the words of Sovereign Garcia, "Tag along" with the Ralkovians.

The death guard mumbled something in ralkovian to another who simply nodded and with his hand he told them to follow. Not looking behind him he continued wordlessly through an unseen path. The journey was about half an hour away and during that entire time he only looked back to point out booby traps. Pretty soon they were in a large outcropping. It looked to be manmade as tree's were stacked up as to provide cover. Several trenches including a large manmade pit pocketed the cleared Earth. From the Earthen works of the headquarters several death guard watched hidden in foxholes.

He pointed down the large pit where several pieces of 188mm guns were being built. This pit opened into several smaller mortar pits but these pits were not inhabited by the death guard but by mere humans although they wore full head covering gas masks. They didn't speak but made enough noise to show that they were working rather hard. They ignored the foreigners and simply dug, repaired, cut, and welded things together. They were also the firing crew for the artillery.

Finally he pointed to a ladder in which the words written on a sign above the ladder saying,"Baryack/HQ/Raydoi Comjucations." The man only pointed and walked in the opposite direction.

The next officer to greet them was without the menacing look of a death guard. She wore the tight body encompassing armor of a female Vielleta and her face was as beautiful as a model, although what was surprising about that was she had no helmet on. It seemed that every ralkovian liked to hide their face but this woman smiled at the volzgradien. She began to speak something that sounded like Belvz Dialect(Ralkovian/Volzgradien mix. It is prominent in the Belvz district of ralkovia. Where a large amount of the Volzgradien immigrantrs reside. I assume this is okay since we have embassies however if you have extremely tight emmigration laws I'll edit)

It came out to be like,"Greetings my name is 'Sarah' Debora Gellano." Despite the violence in the area and being surrounded by death guard she was overly happy. She bore no weapons but she had the insignia of a Third-Level Vice Command.(Brigadier General of the Death Guard)

OOC: The language thing sounds fine. As a side note, to clear up any random confusion "Lech" is pronounced as "Les."

"A pleasure to meet you Commander Gellano. I am Sovereign Captain Lech Kornilov, 3rd Sovereign Guards Regiment. I must admit I am rather surprised to see a large Ralkovian military presence here in Tunala, let alone a full firebase." Kornilov replied, saluting the Ralkovian woman.

Kornilov, while he would never admit it, was rather impressed at the Ralkovians control of the situation. The fact that they had already constructed a fairly complex base camp in the fierce Tunalan jungles was alone quite impressive. The Ralkovian defenses were well planned and laid that much was also clear. Anyone trying to attack would have to clamber through booby trapped jungle before having to try to storm heavily defended trenches under small arms and heavy artillery fire; a truly daunting challenge to all but the most insanely brave and well equipped foe. However, this did not mean that the Ralkovian defense was perfect. Kornilov, like all other Volzgradien soldiers, had been trained since their earliest conscription how to dig highly complex and nigh impenetrable trenches and defensive works, as trench and siege warfare was a Volzgradien primary doctrine.

"If I may, Commander Gellano, I would like to provide some constructive criticism of your defensive works. While the fact that you have made a firebase in the middle of a jungle is impressive, I do feel you could make some minor improvements. Foremost, I highly recommend you interconnect your defensive emplacements. Foxholes are fine in the short term, but a connected network of deep trenches will vastly improve your survivability and reduce the risk of an enemy patrol raiding the artillery emplacements. I also suggest you use the logs you have cut to form the earliest layers of defensive pillboxes, or use them to camouflage the exposed top of the trenches." Kornilov suggested, taking mental notes as he continued, "Also, I would be more then happy to provide weapons with which to equip the defensive emplacements. I currently have 3 HKMP-77 GPHMGs (http://z4.invisionfree.com/NSDraftroom/index.php?showtopic=5995) and 2 light mortars; all of them are dismantled but my troops can assemble them very quickly. On the same topic, I would like to request a sector of trenchline to act as the billeting for my troops. My Sovereigns would also be more then happy to aid in the construction if you are interested in our offer."

"Actually at this moment we are waiting for several large burrowing and digging machines. Below us is a mountain and while we have made due with spades and shovels we have hit some rather large rocks. Of course your suggestions are truly appreciated. We have also had enough time to bring some ammenities of home. If you men need anything the kitchen staff will be prepared to serve food and you can stay in the barracks or contact your officers. We have a secure line to the capital."

Close by a yell was heard somewhere beyond a door with a white sign that had the words "KEEP OUT" scrawled in red ink. She continued to smile as the door opened up and two death guard carrying a half alive man. They dragged the body and threw it into a large cut in the earth.

The death guard spat at the pit. The man had killed a European man and raped his children. So the native had been skinned alive and salt poured on his open skin. From the (the cut is a pit) cut unearthly screams echoed. The man shouted for mercy for the pain to end but the pit had served as a breeding ground for the death guard favorite. The pincer maggot. The pincer maggot was an interesting species. It burrowed itself in the muscle of its host and actually created a special chemical that stimulated the pain response of the brain. The maggot also ate away at the muscle and organs in a slow excrutiating death that could last for days. The maggot matured into a wingless bug that also liked to eat flesh.

It was true the death guard were brutal, they would kill children but raping an innocent child was absolutely forbidden. The death guard personally loved to kill pedophiles. So the natives death by the pincer maggot was seen as an eternal vengeance and rather minor. Even Gellano didn't think it harsh or ungainly.

The sudden torture/execution of the Tunalan man surprised Kornilov for about a moment before his attention returned to the task at hand. While Kornilov had never considered himself a torturer, he had seen it performed and indeed had even aided in such acts many times in his military career. He was an infamously cold man, and even the most brutal acts had relatively little effect upon him. While Kornilov had not yet heard the reasons behind the Tunalan's death, he was sure his crimes must have been truly horrific to warrant such an execution from the Death Guard. He turned back to Gellano and handed her a hastily scrawled note.

"Here, the frequency for our comms equipment is 107.3, our secondary is 88.6," Kornilov said as he gathered up his equipment, "Again, I thank you Commander Gellano. My men and I will be preparing our billets if you want to find us."

"We have barracks in the northern inner wall. They are not occupied at the moment as the death guard that were stationed their have been reassigned to the city to help facilitate the removal of the Europeans. It has room for 60 men and the latrine is only a few yards from the entrance," she said. Suddenly the sound of some helicopters could be heard roaring above. The Death guards began to speak and chatter as word went round that THE vice commander was here.(basically like a first sergeant but he is the officer version and is the right hand man of the grand commander)

She immediately walked over to her quarters and after a loud click she walked out of the room with a helmet. She spoke to the volzgradien and told them that they could head to the quarters.

(The vice commander is famous and is a death guard accredited with over 4000 kills.)

Kornilov saluted as Gellano strode out of the room. Overall, he was impressed with the Ralkovians commander. She clearly had an understanding of how to combat these rebels, and her ability to construct a firebase so quickly and efficiently was astounding. Of course, she was quite the looker to and even Kornilov had to admit to himself that Gellano was quite attractive for the commander of what was essentially a death squad. With Gellano now gone, Kornilov un-slung his rifle, put his black helmet back on his head, and walked calmly out of the command center. Outside, the remaining 29 Volzgradiens were waiting patiently, though this hardy meant they had their guard down.

"Alright, form up and head out to the northern inner wall. We've got a barracks and trench all to ourselves so make it count." Kornilov shouted as he marched toward the billets, pointing his rifle for extra emphasis. Wordlessly, the Sovereigns got to their feet and clambered off to their assigned area. None complained. All of them had grown to detest the jungle and the thought of returning to a nice, familiar trench was relieving.

Kornilov had, naturally, arrived first and he was already quite enthralled in choosing the locations of the platoon's three HKPM-77s. The two mortars would be assembled kept in the bunker until needed, as they unnecessarily wasted manpower for a weapon that might not even be necessary. After a few minutes thought, Kornilov assigned the Sovereign's six machine gunners to set up their weapons in three different dugouts, all roughly 20 meters apart. Another 15 Sovereigns were ordered to stay in the trenches to act as sentries and guards, with the remaining 9 retiring to their billets for some much appreciated rest.

Finally a cheer went up as several V-22's arrived and death guard marched out. The base was also being given large digging machinery including a bulldozer and a crane. Not to mention a large diamond studden drill bit. The drill would be used to cut through the mountain but what really made the death guard cheer was the vehicle with 3 giant chainsaws. It would cut through the jungle like a machine gun through men.

(Volzgrad we can set something up between the two commanders. I'm beginning to have the death guard become more human than killing machine. So we can talk about this through telegram or through instant messenger if you have one)

(Volzgrad we can set something up between the two commanders. I'm beginning to have the death guard become more human than killing machine. So we can talk about this through telegram or through instant messenger if you have one)

OOC: Sounds good. Feel free to TG me.

(Well you need to radio your people and Sarah will be in the radio room while all the death guard are talking to the vice commander.)

Kornilov sighed deeply and reclined further on the edge of his uncomfortable wooden chair. It had been almost 6 hours since he and his troops had landed, but he was already exhausted. He had spent almost the entire first part of the mission trekking through what could only be called hell in jungle form. Now, Kornilov had used up all the remainder of his spare time arranging the schedule for sentry duties and ensuring each one of his men had all the necessitys for the remainder of the operation. He had only been in the barrack bunker for less then half an hour when the never ceasing itch of duty returned to him. Despite his body's protests for some rest, he slowly rose from his chair, retrieved his equipment, and scurried up the concrete stairs to the surface. Kornilov carelessly pushed open the bunker's heavy blast door and exited into the eerily dark trench network that had been assigned to him and his men. They had made several improvements, most notably reinforcing the machine gun dugouts with logs, extra sandbags, and earthwork reinforcements. The trench walls and floor had also been fully boarded with the local wood, which thankfully enough was surprisingly easy to hew and bend into position.

Kornilov calmly walked down the trench, his rifle and revolver hanging loosely from his shoulder and belt respectively. Despite the unlikeliness of an enemy artillery strike, Kornilov still wore his heavy siege helmet on his head proudly; the silver wolf's head insignia dulled down with loose soil. He patted each Volzgradien soldier he passed on the helmet to ensure that they weren't dozing off and so that they knew their CO was out of post. Several saluted or greeted him with off-handed remarks, others simply continued staring into the dark depths of the surrounding foliage; completely engrossed in their duty. Regardless, Kornilov was pleased with his Sovereigns' dedication, and he always had been.

He quickly crossed the last traverse and Kornilov soon was clambering down another set of concrete steps into the radio room. He hastily typed in the correct password in the door's keypad and pushed the heavy, steel blastdoor out of the way. Kornilov entered silently and put his Type 38 down against the nearest wall. To his surprise, he saw the Ralkovian Commander Gellano still working at one of the room's large wooden desks.

"I'm surprised to see you up this late, Commander," Kornilov commented as he approached her casually, "From the looks of it you Ralkovians don't seem to get much rest."

Her helmet was on the counter to her left. Several documents laid scattered across the 'tables.' She turned her head, her hair which had been in a bun to fit into the helmet was let down. It wasn't silky or smooth from the amount of work and the humidity of the jungle but it fit her well enough.

"Well I could say the same thing about you," she grinned. Her cheeks had lit up in response to the man's voice. Of course she would have responded the same way to anybody. The entire room was ghostly, not a soul in sight, the radio was also dead on all channels. The rebels had been quiet so the death guard had a chance to enjoy themselves.

"Its also probably the jetlag. One bad thing about being a death guard is you have to adjust to rapid changes in time. Four days ago I was in Ralkovia, three days ago in a plane in the pacific. And now I'm here," she said. A call of important information filtered through the radio. She quickly wrote it down before responding back in code.

"So Captain Kornilov...why are you up so late?"

Kornilov returned the smile earnestly and pulled up a seat from one of the nearby tables. He calmly turned it around to face the table were Gellano was seated and promptly sat down himself. With practiced ease he removed his heavy helmet and set it down next to the Commander's. It was nice to have someone to talk to after a long day of trekking through a jungle at night, and Gellano seemed very friendly for a woman he just met.

"Same as you I suppose," Kornilov replied, wiping perspiration from his forehead with a handkerchief, "The work never ends huh?" Kornilov had not been this relaxed and casual for as long as he could remember. Despite the unbearable heat of Tunala and the fierce guerrilla attacks, he felt happy and elated.

"No, it never seems to end," she smiled back. "So Cpt. tell me a little bit more about yourself." Her eyes seemed bright, brighter than the red eye pieces that glowed on her helmet. Of course she would always ask him to hold on for a few seconds when the radio picked up chatter. Her response to it was simply to write down information and tell the leader of the group what to do next before turning back to the captain and listening to what he said.

"Not much to say I'm afraid," Kornilov responded with his usual modesty, "I grew up in small village north of St. Adriansburg. Small, scenic town if I remember correctly. My grandfather and father used to take me on hunting trips in the mountains, which is where I learned to shoot. That is until the Communists got all riled up; a group of Red bandits attacked my home. They burned almost all of the village, killed a lot of people I'm afraid. My family and I managed to escape during the night and we were rescued by a passing patrol of Volzgradien militiamen." He paused as Gellano received another radio communication.

"They eventually drove the bastard reds out, but there wasn't much of my village left. Those left, my family included, moved south to St. Adriansburg. I got drafted a few years later when I turned 17. If memory serves, I earned my first medal, the Barons' Order, during the East Pacific Campaign of 1992. After that I basically moved between garrisons, spending a little time here and there. I got sent to pacify Arglenia a few months back, it's where I got this." Kornilov pointed at a large, gleaming medal emblazoned with a crowned shield marked with a cross.

"It is my latest decoration, the Sovereign's Medallion, awarded for excellent service in the Volzgradien Sovereign Guards," Kornilov explained, "I'm sorry, but I got a little carried away. How's life been for you?"

She smiled but this time it was a glimmer. Her life had been a usual one of the death guard, tragic. However for this man she would tell him just a bit,"I was drafted into the death guard program at age 3. From there I spent my entire childhood learning how to command and kill. I've fought in 8 major conflicts, this will be my 9th and first as a Third Level Vice Commander."

Her stomach began to grumble, she had forgotten breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Now her stomach was angry. She blushed for a moment as she got ready to translate another code. A death guard walked in, it was her replacement for the night. The death guard nodded as she got up.

"Here would you like to get something to eat with me?" she said as she pointed to a small passage way that hadn't been there before. Apparently she had taken the advise of the captain and had another tunnel dug. This time it led straight to the mess hall which was more like a mess hole.

"Sure, I'm rather hungry myself. It's surprising how much the jungle can drain you." Kornilov replied with a smile. Gellano's story was rather depressing, even compared to Kornilov's less then stellar childhood. He was surprised the woman was still sane after so much time fighting. Then again, he reminded himself that measures to prevent psychological cracking would have most certainly been enacted during their lifelong training.

Kornilov rose from his chair and pushed the heavy seat under the table he and Gellano had been sitting at. He turned and offered his hand in the most gentlemanly way possible to Gellano.

She took his hand and allowed him to help her up. She smiled widely as she held his hand.
"Oh what a gentleman," she laughed slightly. She was different from any of the death guard. She had emotions and unlike the other death guard she would talk and could talk with outsiders. It might be the fact that she always handled stress well or the fact that she liked to be social but she didn't break down ever. She was a high officer and that gave her the privilege of the almighty cutsy along with her friend, the captain. Not a single death guard grumbled as everyone moved back a space to make room.

Kornilov smiled and let out a light chuckle as he helped Gellano up from her seat.

"My pleasure, Lady Gellano." He answered. As with all Volzgradien officers, he had been educated in both the ways of warfare and the ball room. Many considered it pointless semantics, but it had clear advantages as Kornilov was amply demonstrating. Indeed, Kornilov could recall his old professor's motto "All Volzgradien Officers are gentlemen and all Volzgradien gentlemen are officers."

The other perk to being of high rank was the fact that she could get the better food, the one not grilled in the jungle or foraged from the jungle. The food was delicious enough. She picked a spot in the officers lounge, which wasn't really a lounge but a large room near the enlisted. It had the protection of being entrenched and a small tv sat on the opposite side of the room. It was quiet as not a single officer was in the room. It was too late to do anything.

"Hmm...rather quiet isn't it." Kornilov commented as he and Gellano entered the officers' "lounge." He noticed a small TV set at the end of the room and approached it.

"Does this thing work?" He asked, tapping the television's top cover.

"Yes it should work. We just need to fool around with the attenna's," she said walking over to help him.

"Here I'll help you," she said ducking down under him and trying to reposition the attenna's.

"Yes it should work. We just need to fool around with the attenna's," she said walking over to help him.

"Here I'll help you," she said ducking down under him and trying to reposition the attenna's.

"Okay..." Kornilov said as he began to fiddle with the antennas located on the top of the television set. At first only static appeared on the small screen, but the image soon began to clear up to something intelligible.

"It isn't perfect, but it will do." He announced, while still trying to clear up the signal.

She smiled at the captain and looked at the tv which began to play propaganda. The channel currently on was one of the Empress speaking of the ability of the death guard. The Empress was beautiful and in a pose of a mother she looked absolutely magnificent. She had an air of authority that seemed like she could order the death guard to do anything.

The third level vice commander looked down in reverence to the woman speaking. After a few moments she raised her eyes but her hand quickly moved in front as if to shield her eyes to block out an image to bright to see. After a few more moments the broadcast ended and she resumed her wide grin.

"You can change it to channel 40-60 they are the only channels that aren't propaganda," she said throwing him the remote. She looked at the fuzz before she spoke again.

"If none of the TV shows are to your liking. We can go back to the officer's barracks and watch infinite movies. Its a perk of being a death guard. Fight for the Empire and get all the free movies you want," she said her grin getting just a bit wider.

"A movie sounds fine. What's the selection?" Kavinkov queried as he quickly flipped through the non-propaganda channels. He had made sure to show similar obeisance when the Ralkovian Empress had appeared on the small screen during her broadcast. Volzgrad was also a highly authoritarian nation, and not showing proper respect to a Sovereign (military or otherwise) was a grave mistake. Though from the looks of it the Volzgradiens were not nearly as fanatically devoted to their monarchs as the Ralkovians.

She nodded,"Well the officer quarters are actually not in here. This is the officer's mess hall."

"Here follow me, we can eat in the officer's lounge," She said looking at her hamburger which actually looked quite delicious despite coming from a mess hall.

With a press of a button Kornilov shut off the TV and rose from his seat once again. He calmly walked over to the Mess Hall's main table and quickly snatched up a plump red apple from a nearby basket. He had already eaten in the billets, so all he needed was a small snack.

"Well, ladies first." Kornilov said to Gellano as he took a small bite from the fruit.

She smiled as she led him to the officers lounge. It was with a sweet laugh that she bounced on the couch in front of the monitor. It was only after about half an hour later that she was asleep on his shoulder.

For the first time since he had been assigned to Arglenia, Kornilov was truly happy. The movie had finished a few minutes before and the credits had just begun to roll when he took a look at Gellano. She had fallen asleep a few minutes earlier and she was now fully down on his shoulder. Gellano made almost no noise when she slept, undoubtedly a useful skill when in the field. The only way he could tell she was resting was that her eyes had fully shut and the rising of her chest had become much slower. Kornilov felt her right cheek with his hand. Her pale skin was cool to the touch, and surprisingly smooth and soft. Gellano's tight bun of brown hair shone in the pale artificial light of the single overhanging lamp.

Kornilov shut off the monitor and turned his attention back to Gellano. He leaned in slightly, and then a bit more, until his lips touched Gellano's and he kissed. It was a risky move, but he could truly feel affection toward her.

Training, cold hard training kicked in as she was woken by the kiss. Her instincts took over as she grabbed his chest and brought him down to the floor. Her left hand went to pull her pistol out from its holster. That was before her brain took over and instead she realized that she was on top of the man.
She quickly blushed at what she had done and looked down to realize she was still on top of him. Her blush grew wider as she got off and apologized. She feared the man would never talk to her again and she really liked him. That was why she moved in and kissed him it was a simple peck on her lips but it had been her first show of affection to any man. She let him kiss her and for a few moments she smiled as she fell to the couch and allowed the passion to continue. Her heart trembled, something that had never happened. She had faced death squarely hundreds of times and she never felt fear. However this was different, she didn't know what it was.
His lips felt so good on hers. She had never known why death guard were not allowed to love one another in more than a brother and sisterly fashion. It was now that she felt like she had to question her orders.

Kornilov kissed her softly, but his show of affection to her grew in intensity with every passing moment. His hands moved down and carefully caressed the slim, tight form of her body. He was about to unzip her uniform when he stopped. Kornilov continued to kiss Gellano passionately but he soon began to retreat. He finally gave her one last kiss on her wet lips before standing once more. Kornilov looked crestfallen as he took a few steps away and took a seat from a nearby table.

"I'm sorry," Kornilov whispered, "but I cannot continue. We're soldiers, trained killing machines. As much as both of us would like to, it is impossible for us to be together. Especially in a public lounge a few meters below the ground. Please understand, I love you like I have loved no one else; but we just cannot continue." He continued as he fumbled with the strap on his helmet.

"Maybe sometime after the war, we could meet again. Peacefully, with no one else to disturb us."

She gave a fake smile,"I would like that. I really would."

She put her helmet back on as she lost her human qualities once more. The mask voided any love she felt as she turned back to work. Her break time had been over for almost half an hour and tardiness was not part of the death guard way.

"Another time, perhaps if I do not find myself dead in service to the Empire," she said with a sad tone. He was right, doing what she wanted to do was an immediate death sentence. She cursed herself for being stupid, she had fallen in love with a foreigner while THE vice commander was in the base.

"A Death guard and a foreignor. Something is so unreal about that," she whispered mostly to herself.

(She has her own private quarters just so you know)

The fragmentation grenade had completely destroyed the desk, destroying the left leg of one of the snipers and giving that same one a large wood chunk in the eye. The other sniper was, somehow, merely just stunned, and was soon back up again.

After a brief discussion between the guerillas, two of them would make a break for it towards the door, while the remaining guerillas started running up the stairs to whenever they noticed an open door which went straight to a back alley. They all went in there, the remaining sniper included.

They were remarkably quiet, the guerrilas, finding the urban enviroments much more accustomed to stealth than the jungle. As the Europeans walked together, the silent sniper walked towards a rubbish bin and took cover behind it, the darkness shading him.

With his Dragunov, he got the sights on one of the Europeans. He pulled with all his force on the trigger, it heading straight towards one of their heads. After the bullet was fired, the men with the Kalishnokovs jumped out and started firing blindly in the direction of the Europeans, the docks probably being on high alert by now.

((OOC: In case anybody asks any questions, this bit of guerrilas versus Europeans is being done in fluid time, before the guerillas were called back to the jungles and mountains.))

Josh and Pat had been quietly discussing what each thought was the best route to the airfield, or at the very least the docks. Both men, skilled and expeirenced as they were, had no idea some asshole with a Russian Reaper was dialed in on Josh's head...

"You know bro, I think we outta..."

The former sniper looked to the left, turning his body as he did so. At about that moment the sniper's 7.62x54R cracked past his head, the hefty round drawing a furrow across his cheek. Blind luck seemed to be on their side again...

"Holy fuck! Snipers! Really bad snipers!"

Josh threw himself to one side, landing with most of his body in an alleyway as more gunfire screamed towards them. Pat caught a ricochet off a garbage bin in the shoulder, the bullet retaining enough energy to break the skin and give him a harsh shove in Josh's direction, but other than that he was fine...

"Fuck! I'm hit! God-damned cocksuckers..."

Angered that he'd been 'shot' Pat stuck the muzzle of his borrowed AK around the alley corner and sprayed an entire magazine back at his attackers, while Josh pawed at his cheek, amazed his head hadn't exploded...

"Pat! Chill man, we gotta go! How bad is it?"

The Irish-ish ex-SEAL dumped his empty AK mag as he got to his feet, quickly rocking a new one into place. That put him at three spares including his half-empty one from before, where Josh still had four including his partial.

His reload completed, Pat grouped at his leaking shoulder, inspecting it for an entry wound as he moved. One could imagine his surprise when his hand only came back bloody, but not to the degree that a gunshot wound was likely to make it...

"Must have been a stray, man. Just tore the skin..."

"That was too fuckin' close. Time to hoof it..."

They both left their attackers shooting back at their former position as they ran, both men bleeding and rather angry, but happy to be alive...