Invasion of the Sovietyeto (DARKLANDS ONLY)

[Kauvara]

UNKNOWN LOCATION, HIGH ORBIT
KAUVARAN OBSERVATION SATELLITE OCULUS
09:58 HOURS (GMT)

Lieutenant Alec Hollandus was tightly bound in his spacesuit as he looked down at the Darklands from one of the orbiting Kauvaran satellites. It was a world beset by constant war, smoke visible from space, drenching it in darkness from time to time. Now, though, the light shown brightly. Hollandus was smiling as he looked down at Bonsa, Kauvara. It was his hometown. It had not known war in decades, since the War of Unification. As he sat contemplating, his radio burst to life. "Alec! Get in here!" He recognized the voice of the satellite's observation officer, Joseph Kurnio. "I'm picking up MAJOR movement!" Hollandus began moving back towards the airlock.

He stepped inside, the airlock closing behind him with a dull thud, then a hiss as the room pressurized. His bulky suit was being removed by robotic arms. Kurnio ran in. "Hurry up, man! You gotta see this!" he yelled.
"Calm down, Kurnio. World ain't going anywhere," Hollandus responded.
"No, it won't, but these armies will!"
"What?!?"
His suit was finally off, and he ran into the observation center with Kurnio.

Three other people sat gaping at the massive screen on the wall. Marcus Scipio, the satellite's electrician, was blinking, trying to make sure he wasn't seeing things. Maria Tulnovia, the solar engineer, was pacing back and forth, glancing at the map, swearing in Kauvaran, then resuming her pacing. Deceus Hruntsum, the Marine assigned as security, was giddy, wondering what was coming next.

"What the hell is going on?" Hollandus asked, running into the room with Kurnio.
"Look for yourself," replied Tulnovia, as she motioned at the screen.

Hollandus looked, looked away, then looked back, trying to make sure it was real.

To the south, several fleets of Kommandorian warships were heading northward, the R.K.S. Blood Ruby visible even from the thermosphere. In China, great plumes of black were heading towards the Sovietyetan border, as massive amounts of soldiers mobilized. Along the CDSPian border, the dust of thousands of tanks was being kicked up, speeding towards the DMZ, as Kauvaran and Prizyetsi forces evacuated civilians and were leaving the area. Finally, in the Sovietyeto, masses of forces were being rushed to the borders, ready to stop any attempts at invasion, including the Lenin's Line, which was easily seen from space. Central Asia and the Middle East were exploding with violence as the people began to rise up against the Sovietyetans.

"By the Fox..." Hollandus muttered. "Kurnio, get on the comms. Tell the boys on the ground what's happening..." Kurnio ran through one of the airlocks the the communications center.

"May the Fox help us all..." Hollandus breathed.

[Scocialist Provinces]

Tank-Seargent Halock peered into the bright summer sky, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand. He continued this, for he noticed a bright spec in the blue. He was deep in thought, staring into the sky. A rumbling noise gradually penetrated his thoughts, and they were eventually shattered by a sarcastic crack from his helmet's headpiece radio.

"Halock! Stop playing around!" His gunner, Richter, snapped at him.

Shaking his head, Hallock resumed to reality. He was the 'captain' of his T9-OR, whom had Dinner and a show painted in red on the side. Halock's torso was sticking out the latch on top of the tank, where he would sit when the enemy wasn't shooting at him. Looking around, Hallock admired the 49 other tanks in his regiment. all of them kicking up the dirt behind them, it was a sight he would have payed for. A BMD whizzed past his tank to the left, while a Hind passed over his left.

"This is Whisky Yankee Too, all armor are instructed to keep a run going until passing the DMZ. once this is achieved, you are to commence the fire mission. Over." The mission's overseer reported.

Fourteen different regiment commanders all reported that they were clear on the objective.

"Understood WYT! Over!" Halock's regiment commander replied. "You heard the man! Keep full throttle for the rest of the ride. Until then, don't stop!"

two warthogs and a MiG roared overtop, soaring through the clear sky.

"Welcome to the red zone, Good luck! Out."

There was a long pause on the radio. Halock examined the surrounding terrain, enjoying the few moments of calm before the storm. It was all flatlands, and Harven's peak could be seen from where hw sat. To the south, were forests, and infantry could be seen hopping into HMWEEs from a fire base.

"Hey, does anyone know what we're even doing?" Richter asked

"We're spearheading an attack on a large city. Don't know what it's called." Halock answered contently "We're to eliminate resistance on the outside of the city, so mortar, artillery, and the infantry invasion can be set up. You clear?"

"Yeah man, thanks." Richter cracked his knuckles and nodded.

(Camera pan so it's directly facing Halock's tank from above. Zoom out a fair distance, and it shows ten tanks. Zoom greatly, and reveal an army. Return to Alec Hollandus' view, looking at a screen displaying the DSP forces.)

[Scocialist Provinces]

OoC: now soviet, don't think that you're coming out of this with every spankin' city unscathed. Trust me, neither do I. I'll let you do a successful counter-attack if you take some realistiv casualties now.

iC: Halock was using a pair of binoculars, as the regiment came to a halt. They had just crossed the DMZ. Halock's tank sat on a ridge, overlooking a massive flatland, trenches everywhere, like a spider's web. Little dots that were old rusty tanks lined the web. On the far side of the valley, the city they were to take lay.

"Halock! Get in, Shut the hatch, and Laser Designate the targets for the warthogs!" Richter yelled over to Halock, whom was still sticking out the turret.

Doing just that, he dropped in, closed the hatch, and looked over at two small screens set in front of his seat. The one on top displayed a camera on the side of the tank's barrel, the other on the bottom was just static. His gloved hand turned a few dials, and the screen went to an image from a UAV. Using a joystick, he aimed for the artillery. Once the crosshairs lined up to the center, he flicked a switch.

Bleep

Halock stopped looking at the bottom screen, turned it off, then looked into the slightly larger screen on top. He would be using this screen for the rest of the attack. Even though the T-90's barrel obscured most of the view, Halock could clearly see the warthogs zoom overtop, deploying anti-flack measures every few seconds. Once getting to the target, their gatling guns reared up and sprayed bullets all over the targets.

"Good shot, War One. This is Whiskey Yankee Too, all armor, you are clear to proceed with the fire mission, over."

At those words, every single tank began to lurch forward. To the soviets, it must have looked like a plague of locusts. Full speed ahead, the dust cloud grew until it reached the sky. Hallock concentrated on his screen, he wasn't about to die while not paying attention.

"WYT, here. All armor you are not in range. Keep the charge going until I give you the mark! Over!"

For another fifteen seconds, Halock waited for the order to shoot. His driver had the pedal to the metal, and his crosshairs were trained on a sovietyeto tank, that didn't seem to know his tank couldn't hit the CDSPians.

"All armor, this is WYT, fire fire fire. Over."

BANG!
Clutch-ink!



Hallock had taken the first shot as the soviet tank he'd been aiming at lit up and exploded. Next thing he knew, the entire section blew up in DSP gunfire.

[The Sovietyeto]

Soldiers had to retaliate. They fought back fiercly. Tanks that were covered in a smokescreen were hard to see but not imposible, soon the soldiers were ready and throwing grenades at the tank treads.

Soorry for the short post...

[Scocialist Provinces]

Halock began to laugh as a grenade hit the side of his tank. "They're not even using RPGs! Are they even trying to stop us?" Halock yelled at his driver. A few unlucky tanks were immobilized, but only the ones that got directly under the treads. Pressing on, the DSP tanks were met by soviet tanks, whom were much less equiped. Halock fired a shell into one tank, causing it to flame up, then did the same to another. As he continued, his T90 was hit by an enemy shell. It scared him for a second, but it merely dented the hull.

Continuing, a friendly tank exploded and lit on fire. The crew scrambled out, all burning to death. "HOLY SH*T, 6-4 is down! I repeat, 6-4 is down!" Halock blurted into his radio. He then poked his driver to keep moving. Halock shot into the side of another soviet tank before he got a message:

"Sgt.Halock, come in. This is Whiskey Yankee Too, we need you to LD another target for war-one, over."

"Roger that, WYT, Laser designating target. What is the target, over?" Hallock asked into his radio.

"They're setting up an armored assault for your position, seargent. Better hurry! Over!"

Halock looked away from the top screen, turned the one on the bottom back on, and examined it. It was the view from the UAV again. There were large amounts of tanks moving towards the CDSPians, and Halock didn't like it. Tagging a tank in the middle, he turned the screen off and returned to the top one. The warthogs returned, their buzz louder than all the tanks in the area put together.

[Kommandoria]

Somewhere in Turkmenistan...

A Kommandorian officer and a platoon of about 25 SI soldiers parked several covered trucks in a town plaza. Several dozen Turkmen gathered around the convoy. Kommandoria had decided to supply these Central Asian rebels so that they may rise up against the Soviets. Obviously, they would only give the rebels low to moderate quality weapons. The platoon unloaded a large amount of crates and used crowbars to bust off the tops. The officer had his men pull a crate over to him, where most of the Turkmen had gathered. The Turkmen stared and murmured curiously. The officer's face was covered by a black scarf and sunglasses. He kicked the side of the crate and several AR-15s and AK-47s fell out, along with a stream of clinking bullets.

Officer: Where is the contact who requested a meeting?

A dark-skinned man with a turban emerged from the crowd and bowed. The officer did not return the bow, nor did he show even a slight emotion. The Turkman spoke with a thick accent.

Turkman: I em theh one who contacts you. I see you brought theh weapons.

Officer: Indeed. And you will fulfill your end of the deal?

Turkman: Yes yes. Let me sees theh weapons.

The Turkman stepped forward to grab a weapon but two Korporals stepped in front of him. One Korporal nudged the Turkman back with the butt of his rifle.

Officer: What assurance can you give me that you will not simply turn on us? How do we know that you will even fight the Soviets?

Turkman: Bah! None of your concern, Koh-mahn-doh-ree-an! Now give us theh weapons!

The Turkman shoved the Korporals away and tried to snatch an AK-47 but he heard the cocking of a gun behind his head. The Turkman stopped his reach, his hand mere centimeters away from the rifle.

Officer: Touch the gun, and I assure you, you will never touch anything again. Now turn around and do not test me. I am being generous as it is coming all this way to your hot, godforsaken land.

The Turkman turned around slowly and glared angrily at the officer. Though the officer's Desert Eagle was only inches from his face, the Turkman spat at the officer. The officer ripped the scarf and goggles from his face and whipped the Turkman across the jaw with the butt of the pistol. The Turkman fell to the ground and grabbed his face.

Officer: Ungrateful s'vas delah*! I should execute you right now in front of your pathetic countrymen! No one would care, just another dead Turk in the bloody sand! Now take your guns and so help me God if I ever see you again I will have you strapped to the front of a tank and ram it into the side of your home!

The crowd of Turkmen did not dare speak. They organized into a single-file line and silently received weapons from the soldiers. The Turkman leader did the same, though he stared at the ground as the line moved forward. The officer mumbled to himself.

Officer: Filthy scum...



* "s'vas delah" is a Kommandorian phrase meaning "foreign dog"

[The Sovietyeto]

DMZ border. Tanks simply hit te soviets, try weren't ready for this onslaught. Not yet. Luckily Moscow had a plan. Fall back. They were to fall back into the city. The DSP had developed mechanized warfare. They could drag them out of their armored shells. Civilians were also issued orders. Don't le the enemy capture anything. If there was farmland burn it, if there was a house, destroy it.

In Turkimenstan rebels were vein issued weapons from currently unkowm suppliers. Though they didnt seem to interested in shooting up the Soviets.

(Remember that I rectconed te telling the truth about the gas?)

In China te Soviets pushed for peace by offering India. In return they wanted something though.

[Scocialist Provinces]

The warthogs ripped the soviet armor to shreds. Hallock cheered as the soviets began to rout. He looked up and opened the hatch and popped his head out. The sun blinded Halock for a second, so he blocked it out for a second. The driver stopped the T9-0R as several rocket artillery trucks rolled past them. There was fire and smoke everywhere, as well es bodies. Hallock noticed a sovietyeto body lying next his tank. Another soviet lay half dead on the ground, gasping for air. A Bradley ran over his head, and Hallock laughrd.

"We won this one, man." Richter said as he opened to top hatch, popping out as well.

"Tell me about it." Halock joked.

The rocket artillery, Warthogs and bombers began to take turns laying waste to the city. It was yet another sight Halock would have payed to see. Pitch-black smog began to rise from the city. The CDSP wasn't here for recources, they were here for money. And revenge for the false accusation, but that's besides the point. Halock watched infantry unload from thier vehicles and run for the city. Their instructions? Kill all the civilians(Unless children) because they are all considered , burn the city, loot what they could, and raze the place.

"So where to next?" Richter asked, laughing.

"Stalingrad."

(camera goes to a view directly behind the T90, zoom out horizantally, showing all the tanks moving forward in all their epicness)

[The Sovietyeto]

In Stalingrad things were better defended. Pill bixes and trenches lined the region and tanks had bags of San payed across them. The airfields that usually housed civilian airliners now gave their space to military fighters.

A few civilians and many soldiers were pooring concrete for anti tank baricades. A little bit further in the city longe range artillery were ready to strike. A commander stod atop a pile of sand bags ordering the men at his command.

"Are we on range?"
"Yes sir." replied another soldier.
"Then open fire, accuracy is everything. We're going to blow this tanks. And there planes can't help them this time. It'll be to close unless they want to cover us to."



In the seas Russian submersibles started their reactors and slid through the water to prey apon enemy navy ships. And, most importantly, the supply lines.

[Scocialist Provinces]

OoC: I haven't attacked yet... We don't fight every battle with tanks.

iC:
(In a dark room, camera pan until it goes to unknown person's point of view. This person is talking into a radio, with a 44' magnum on his desk)

"WYT, this is Lima-Wun-Six, come in, over."

"LWS, I hear you. Am I coming in? over?" a voice replied over the static-free radio

"Loud and clear, loud and clear. over."

"You've been instructed to follow through with operation blackout, over." The voice told the man in a stern tone.

"The EMP? The really big one, over?"

"Yes. Armand was reluctant to let it pass, but he knew it was the correct thing to do. We're going to bring that place to hell. out."

(A computer screen turned on, flashing transmission end)

[The Sovietyeto]

Sputnik 5

The Sputnik had intercepted some snatches of conversation. It was experimental, and poorly tuned. However it did focus in the DSP well enough to catch some words.

"The EMP, the really big on-"
"Yes, Armand was re-... to pass but- correct-.Hattiehat place to hell-"

It dind take long to move the data to Moscow, from Moscow Stanlingrad.

Stalingrad

Commander Abraham wasn't stupid, this data suggested an EMP strike. He was in a basement of some hotel with men working with portable tools.
"This basement should be enough cover, dunno about the rest of the stuff. The planes should be good though."

Soon he gave the order to move the important and unprotected stuff to a safe location. Soldiers that weren't in trenches or pillboxes hid in buildings. Though most of the artillery shells missed yet guessed they had chased at least some disruption and damage.

[Scocialist Provinces]

Sixteen unmarked, black as night planes, swept the clouds aside with un-natural(for a DSP bomber). Even with such speed, they were huge. Stuffed from top to bottom with explosives, they soared through the sky, almost no sound. Barely a flock of birds on the radar, not even the CDSP armor below could tell they were there. Nearly at the base of stalingrad, their bombay doors opened up. Almost over, bombs began to drop.

(Remember soviet, these babies are not of my make. They're not invincible, however.)

Huey and Hind helicopters buzzed through the air, like a swarm of bees. Their honey? Stalingrad. Each carrying as much troops and ammunition as they could handle. Below, were the tanks. T9-ORs, BMD Bachackas, Bradley APCs, you name it. At the very top, more Warthogs, MiGs, Su fighters, everything. This was the mere spearhead of the fire mission. Armor had swept most of the countryside.

Halock sat on the turret of his tank. Most drivers had already closed their hatches, but he was a rebel. He looked at the city, the soon-to-be-crater. He heard slamming noises in the distance. Halock suddenly froze in fear.

"Artillery!!!" An unknown voice shouted as Halock hopped through the hatch and closed at soon as he could. Dirt and fire spat up as a shell hit the ground barley a few feet in front of Halock's tank.

"Halt, halt, halt, Six Gamma Too, you lucky sons of b*tches, you are barely a few feet out of range. Out."

[The Sovietyeto]

The commander heard a familiar wine in the sky. Looking up he saw bombs, just barely visible.

"God help us... Get out, get out! Get the planes in the sky now!"
Planes whirred, but then there was a bang. A huge fireball erupted over the city. Stratnel flew down and struck buildings. The buildings fell crushing anything beneath them. Artillery, though mostly away from the blast radius, had been disrupted. Tanks had mostly escaped, men... Loves had been lost.

But a statue of Lenin stood erect like a lighthouse. Years of freedom in the motherland was their sender. Arbramham yelled, "For the motherland!"

As if nothing had happened guns blazed. Planes in the sky attacked helicopters, try fell out if the sky like flies. Still, there were more. But Stalingrad would be held. Tanks roared, loading shells near the enemy, sometime finding their mark. But at this range it was still difficult.

[Scocialist Provinces]

Halock cheered as stalingrad went ablaze as the bomb's explosions razed the city to the ground. The artillery bombardment stopped, and the 40 regiment tank charge whizzed into action. Soviet armor engaged the CDSP armor with surprising vigor, despite the fact there was not much to hope for at this point. Halock fired a shot into a soviet tank that got too close. Switching to the machine gun next to the barrel, he gunned down a squadron of infantry moving from cover to cover.

"This is WYT, we've got an G1 ballistic missle(Also known as the 'hothead', a napalm/plastic explosive missle that burns and explodes) heading towards Stalingrad. Danger close! All armor are suggested to halt halt halt. Out."

"Do we even get to tell him we're MUCH too close?!?" Richter looked around in fear, loading in a new shell.

"No, we don't. Driver! Put this baby in reverse, as fast as she'll go!" Halock ordered, putting on a game face.

The T9-0R immediately lurched backwards. Halock wasn't about to die on danger close. He still fired shots at the enemy, but often missed at this range. Turning the camera around so he could see around himself, Halock saw other tanks backing up, and the missle soaring straight at straight at stalingrad.


Somewhere in the underground city of Ember...

Newly promoted corporal Max Shore sat in a small, shady room with three other soldiers. They were not briefed on what they were to do, but all of their guesses were the same: They were the best of the best, and were there for some reason. A tall man in a pitch black tuxedo walked into the room, with a abnormally large suitcase. Slowly closing the door behind him, and walked before the four men.

"Welcome. Lut. Rosser, Sgt. Crain, Cpl. Minchau and Cpl. Shore. Welcome to operation Guillotine. My codename is Whiskey Yankee Too, overlord of this attack on the Sovietyeto." The mysterious person spoke.

"General Seth?" Liuftainant Rosser spoke, looking up from his book.

"Yes. But, that is not what I am here for. I am here to tell you what you're going to do." Seth informed

"So us four are going to do stuff to the soviets?" Minchau broke in.

"Yeah. No more questions, I have a point to make. I'm going to have you go to Moscow, and set up this." Seth seriously ordered while opening up his suitcase, revealing a large round and blue device. It had a subtle glow, lighting up General Seth's face like a flashlight under the chin during ghost stories. "Its Blue Boy, the EMP that destroyed Unifiruem. You all know that story well, you were there. Don't worry, ground zero is safe, but outside the 25m radius, you'll never feel a nerve again. I have a large arsenal for you to mess around with, knock yourself out." Pressing another button, the wall behind them spun around, revealing a huge arsenal of weapons, from XM8s to M4s.


Seargent Crain


Corporal Shore


Liuftainant Rosser


Corporal Minchau

[Kommandoria]

At a secret underground bunker somewhere in Florida...

Several men in black trench coats sat in the dim light of the small room. The entrance to the bunker was tiny and naturally camoflauged. There was little to no chance of it being discovered any time soon. These were Deceivers. They were specially trained in...what else? The art of deception. They had learned every language spoken in the Darklands and were more than fluent. Where spies failed, the Deceivers succeeded. This would be a most grand scheme, one that would ignite this powder keg of a war. Communications equipment filled the room and a microphone sat in front of every occupant. Each Deceiver shuffled his or her script and cleared his or her throat. They were actors, and they played in the theater of war. They were just setting the stage. They all looked at their synchronized watches. It was time. A male Deceiver nodded at another who was sitting next to a ham radio. The operator also nodded and began tuning various dials. Then a Deceiver leaned to speak into his mike.

Male Deceiver: Hello? Is anyone there?! Please respond!

Kauvaran Air Traffic Control Tower: Yes, hello? Who is this?

Male Deceiver: This is Peacekeeper Column Seven! We were doing reconnaissance near the Sovietyeto border when they attacked us completely by surprise! We are under heavy fire from tanks and artillery coming from Stalingrad! This unprovoked assault must be met with swift retaliation!

Another male Deceiver yelled into his mike.

Male Deceiver: AGHHH By the Fox! My arm! AGHHH!!!

Male Deceiver: Please send air support ASAP! We are on the verge of being wiped--AGHHHH!

A female Deciever cried into her mike.

Female Deceiver: Noo! Please help us! N-AGHH!

Another Deceiver sitting by comms equipment pressed several buttons and flipped switches on a soundboard. The bursting of explosions and the spraying of gunfire poured into the mike.

Kauvaran Air Traffic Control Tower: Oh my--Hold on as long as you can!

Male Deceiver: Yes sir! Hold the li--NOO!

The Deceiver radio operator cut the transmission. The Kauvarans only heard static now.

Kauvaran Air Traffic Control Tower: Hello? Peacekeeper Column Seven? Damnit! Get me Command!

The Deceivers turned off their mikes and burst into laughter. High-fives and hugs were exchanged.

Male Deceiver: Oh nooo! By the Foxxx! Ha ha ha!

Female Deceiver: Ahh my arm! Ha ha! That was entertaining! Let's see how this plays out.

[The Sovietyeto]

Abraham saw they tanks as they suddenly closed themsds of from the battle untill they had retreated. It didnt make sense... Unless, they wanted to be out of range of something. It clicked in his mind and immediately looked upward. Seeing a mislle streaking it's way forward.

Then there was a vang and an explosion of fire. The missle had slammed into an unlucky Soviet fighter plane that was atemoting to engage a retreating helicopter. It burst into flames and tumbled westward untill it landed in the river near Stalingrad. They got lucky. Now they needed to proare for the next onslaught.

OOC: I'm going to have this siege last some time CDSP.

[Kauvara]

UNKNOWN LOCATION, HIGH ORBIT
KAUVARAN OBSERVATION SATELLITE OCULUS
14:54 HOURS (GMT)

"CODE BLACK! CODE BLACK!"

Alarms began blaring in the satellite. Hollandus pulled his way through the airlock into the observation center. Kurnio was practically yelling into his communication link to the KOSO. Scipio was beneath his console, attempting to boost his signal strength. "Scipio, what are you doing? We've been rated for inter-atmospheric communications several ti-" Hollandus was cut off as Tulnovia interjected. "Sir, a nuclear weapon was just launched off the coast of France. We can't tell who did it because it was from a sub, but we had brief visual as it entered orbit on its trajectory. However, it has been launched, and it's heading for a civilian population center. Specifically Port Chevallier. Military population: 3000 sailors. Civilian population: 23,000 innocent men, women, and children..." She paused.
"What is it, Lieutenant?" Hollandus asked.
"...Kauvaran population: 369 sailors of the 19th Supply Flotilla, Second Fleet, a...and... 857 scientists from the Kauvaran Department of Science and Technology..."
Hollandus blinked. "What...?" He blinked again. He remembered now. The ceremony. President Armand and Emperor Or'yan were together. They shook hands over the recent scientific agreements they had made between the two nations. Kauvaran science personnel were to help modernize some of the infrastructure in the country to better the quality of life for its citizens. And now they were going to burn in nuclear hellfire for it.

Hollandus walked over to the observation window. He stood, dumbfounded, as he watched the missile arc. "Sir, what do we do?" There was nothing they could do. "Commander Hollandus, I can raise Pt. Chevallier before the missile strikes!" They couldn't violate neutrality. "Sir!!!" Orders were orders. "ALEC!!!!!" The missile struck. A blinding flash, as Pt. Chevallier disappeared beneath the flame. Hollandus walked out of the room, saying not a word.

Tulnovia was crying, being held by Scipio who was on the verge of tears himself. Kurnio sat, a blank look frozen on his face, the communicator hanging next to him. Deceus just stood there, shaking his head. A gunshot rang out. The four darted up and ran into Hollandus's quarters. We was lying on his bed, the Hollandus Family Revolver in his hand, a bullet hole in the side of his head.


IKSF CELL SOVIETYETUM MOBILE COMMAND TRUCK
SOVIETYETAN-CDSPIAN DMZ, THE SOVIETYETO
23:56 HOURS

The dull thud of artillery boomed in the distance as flashes lit the dark horizon to the north near Stalingrad. Captain Marco Tychus was in the passenger's seat of the stolen Sovietyetan GAZ-3937 "Vodnik" as it made its way to where the transmission from Peacekeeper Column Seven originated. He was a tall man, his raven hair scraping the ceiling of the spacious truck. "What are we doing out here, Cap?" asked Lieutenant Yelena Federova. She was shorter than Tychus, but not by much. She was a beautiful Sovietyetan immigrant who came to Kauvara looking for a better life, enlisted in the IKN before being selected for this mission by the IKSF. "One of our peacekeeper units disappeared here. We need to find out what happened to 'em," Tychus replied.
"Any idea what we're looking for?" she asked.
"None. All we know is that they disappeared. If there's wreckage, then it'll be pretty damned simple. Otherwise, lieutenant, we've got our work cut out for us."
The truck moved ahead, trundling towards the last known location of Peacekeeper Column Seven.

[Kommandoria]

Somewhere just outside of the Stalingrad conflict zone...

A team of about 15 Soviet soldiers was patrolling a scorched road. It was a cold, dark night. The only light for miles was the fires of a burning Stalingrad and the mid-air explosions of flak and aircraft. Just over a nearby hill, a five-man squad of the elite Kommandorian Krusaders had gathered and were preparing to ambush the unaware Soviets. They were just finishing modifying their weapons.

Krusader Kaptain: Silencers on.

The squad screwed their silencers onto the barrels of their 12.7 mm SMGs.

Kaptain: Laser sights on.

The squad attached their laser sights and adjusted them accordingly.

Kaptain: Load hollow-point rounds.

The squad ejected their standard magazines and loaded their deadly hollow-point bullets.

Kaptain: Alright boys, this is gonna be a quick, clean one. I want ONE prisoner. Preferably their commanding officer but any of em' will do. Waste the rest of em'.

Krusaders: Heil der Kyzar.

Kaptain: Heil der Kyzar. Lock n' load, let's go.

The team peeked over the hill and watched as the Soviets stopped for a quick break. Each Krusader picked their targets and...suddenly the night burst to life as gunfire shredded the Soviet soldiers. They dropped, two by two by two. Not a single round of return fire was seen from the Soviets. Finally, the Krusaders rose and slowly approached the Soviets. Most of the dead men had one round to the head and two in the chest. One Krusader nudged a body upright.

Krusader: Sir, found their CO. He's not looking too good though.

Kaptain: Find another soldier. It doesn't matter.

Finally, the squad followed a twin trails of blood over a nearby hill. Two Soviets had managed to quietly crawl ot of sight, at least temporarily. The squad surrounded them while the Kaptain stood a few yards away, contacting his superior over the radio.

Soviet: Plez, do not shoot meh. I love deh Koh-mahn-dohria. I no want to fight. Hayl deh Kysser, yes?

The Krusaders were not amused at his pathetic groveling. One Krusader looked over his shoulder and called out to the Kaptain, still on the radio.

Krusader: How many did you say we needed, sir?

Kaptain: Ugh. I said one!

Krusader: That's what I thought, sir, thank you.

The Krusader pulled out his USP 45. and pointed it at the Soviet's head.

Soviet: No no NO AGH--!

The Krusader emptied four rounds into the man. The other Soviet shuddered and covered his face in fear. The Kaptain returned and handed the radio to the Soviet, who could not have been more than 20 years old.

Kaptain: Tell me, boy. Do you want to live?

The soldier whimpered and nodded.

Kaptain: Take this radio, and order an artillery strike on coordinates five-five-seven-one-six-three.

Soviet: But...that's a Kauvaran humanitarian aid camp...

The Kaptain smacked the Soviet across the face with the back of his hand.

Kaptain: DID I ASK FOR YOUR INPUT FOREIGN SWINE?! Take the radio and DO AS I SAY!

The Soviet contacted the artillery in Stalingrad and, sure enough, artillery fire could be heard miles away.

Soviet: I did what you said! Please don't kill me, PLEASE!

The squad laughed loudly, much to the Soviet's confusion.

Kaptain: Oh I'll let you live alright. C'mon boys, we're done here.

The Krusaders began to walk off, abandoning the Soviet to his fate.

The howling of wolves could be heard in the distance...

[Kauvara]

SECTOR D-9, KAUVARAN HUMANITARIAN AID CAMP
DEMILITARIZED ZONE, SOVIETYETO
00:56 HOURS

The night was quiet as Lieutenant Anna Kileja of the 51st Heavy Infantry made her rounds. Refugees fleeing the violence were sleeping in haphazard tents. It was the most they could do. Every night, another convoy of civilians arrived. The next morning they would leave, bound for Prizyetsi ships. Kileja sighed. It was a sad sight.

And then everything changed.

An explosion rocked Sector G-7. Then A-4. Everywhere. Artillery began to fall like rain. Screams came from burning tents as civilians ran for their lives, finding any cover they could. Kileja grabbed a child in her arms and began sprinting towards the sector's emergency bunker. Loudspeakers burst to life.

"ALL PERSONNEL AND CIVILIANS, PROCEED TO YOUR DESIGNATED SHELTERS. ALL PERSONNEL AND CIVILIANS PROCEED TO YOUR-" *static*

People began running towards the concrete bunkers, panic in their eyes. Kileja reached the metal doors, ushering the child inside. "Mommy! Where's my mommy?!?" she cried out. Kileja pushed her inside. More civilians were running towards the door. A sergeant ran up to her.

"Lt. Kileja, ma'am! This shelter is full! We can't take anyone else!" he yelled. Time seemed to slow down around Kileja as she watched. Before her, a great crowd of civilians, destruction catching up. Behind her, a bunker filled to the brim with soldiers and civilians. She looked back to the sergeant. "Go to each soldier. Ask for volunteers. We're giving up our spots for these people," she ordered.
"Y...yes, ma'am..." he responded. He ran back inside, soon to be followed by every soldier inside. They assembled outside, ushering people in.
"Alright! They're inside! Seal the doors!" one of the soldiers yelled. Kileja activated a switch, the hydraulic doors slowly shutting, alarms blaring. The little girl looked at Kileja from inside. The doors closed before her, sealing with a loud his. An explosion brought her back to reality, feeling the heat as it impacted near her. Then another landed closer, bringing her into whatever reality lies beyond this one.


<><><><><><><>


UNKNOWN LOCATION
UNKNOWN REGION
01:12 HOURS

Gloves bearing the emblem of the Imperial Kauvaran Special Forces deftly moved across a keyboard.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
TO: KOSO
FROM: <REDACTED>
ENCRYPTION: VERY HIGH
SUBJECT: REPPERTUM

SOVIETYETII ERUPTES
POPULUS INFERNI - LEGIONES INFERNI
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


<><><><><><><>


KAUVARAN OFFICE OF STRATEGIC OPERATIONS
VULPES, KAUVARA
01:21 HOURS

Tech Sergeant Michael Cannus sprinted down the hall deep within the KOSO substratum. In his hands was clutched a report from the IKSF Command. Apparently, a Kauvaran camp had been attacked by a Sovietyetan artillery strike. He burst into the office of Colonel Richard Atno.

"Sir!" he yelled. "The Soviets have just launched an attack on the 51st Heavy Infantry! Worse, they killed thousands of civilians with their indiscriminate bombings!"
Atno froze. "Give me that report. The emperor himself has to hear about this..."

Cannus handed Atno the folder, then walked out, gasping for air. Atno scanned the report, then forwarded it to KOSO Command upstairs:

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
TO: 5-Star General James McCloud, Head of the IKAC, Member of the KOSOC
FROM: Colonel Richard Atno, Operational Commander of ObsDivSov
ENCRYPTION: VERY HIGH
SUBJECT: Attack and Loss of 51st Heavy Infantry
ATTACHMENT(S): 1

General McCloud,

It has come to our attention that the Soviets just launched an artillery attack on one of our units. They were guarding a civilian evacuation point. What they hoped to gain from this, we have no idea. Attached are casualty figures.

Civilian casualties: 12,871
Kauvaran casualties: 9,619
Infrastructure lost: One civilian evacuation transit camp

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<><><><><><><>


WAR COUNCIL ROOM, KOSOC
VULPES, KAUVARA
01:59 HOURS

General McCloud was waiting for the emperor to arrive. He had to brief him on what had occurred. An Honor Guardsman entered the room. "Attention! Make way for Emperor Aleksandr Or'yan, Chosen of the Fox, Protector of the Kit, Guardian of Kauvara!"

McCloud straightened out, saluting as Emperor Or'yan walked in, accompanied by General William Tyzden, head of the Imperial Kauvaran Ground Forces, and Gaius Kauvus, the man who had been at Or'yan's side since he was a child during the War of Unification. "Gentlemen, please sit down," he said. The group sat around a table.

"Gentlemen," Or'yan began, "we are in a tricky situation. Our people are rising up, demanding we take action and enter the war. They see this as a heinous act, one that must have retribution." McCloud noticed something about the emperor he never had before. Or'yan was young; only in his 30s. But he looked decades older. His clothing seemed less vibrant. The scarlet red of his cape seemed dull. His gold and silver ciurass seemed not to shine like it should. Something was weighing heavily on him.

"I would recommend against a full-scale infantry deployment, my lord. We cannot logistically continue with Architector 17 while paying for such a massive undertaking," Tyzden interjected. "That said, we could enter and pledge air support. The Sovietyetans recently declared their citizens non-combatants. The CDSP will need our precision, highly-advanced air force in order to fight efficiently in the packed cities."

"I concur, my lord," McCloud said. "I suggest we mobilize the IKAC immediately, and offer its support to the CDSPian war effort. The people are demanding we do something, and quickly. Coupled with the recent nuclear attack that murdered our sailors and scientists... We must act now."

Or'yan rubbed his temples, looking to Kauvus. "What do you think, old friend?"
"Something is wrong," the old war hero said. "But we are a democracy. If the people say 'jump,' we ask 'how high.' I agree with McCloud. Deploy the IKAC."
"Very well, Gaius. McCloud, you are hereby authorized to support the CDSP with any air support you deem necessary."
"Very well, my emperor," McCloud responded. "The Angels of the Fox will watch over them."
The group dispersed.


<><><><><><><>


SKIES OVER VULPES
VULPES, KAUVARA
02:03 HOURS

A silver and red helicopter bearing Emperor Or'yan and Gaius Kauvus soared towards the Imperial Palace. Or'yan looked out the window at the city below. A few lights remained on as the nighthawks of Vulpes went about their lives. They knew peace. Only the adults could remember growing up during the War of Unification. But Vulpes emerged victorious, united Kauvara under one banner, thanks to then-Imperator Gaius Kauvus and Or'yan, who was only a child at the time. The helicopter landed on the roof of the Palace, and Or'yan stepped out.

"I'm off to my office, Gaius. Have a good night. May the Fox keep you, friend," Or'yan said.
"And you as well, little Aleks," Kauvus responded.

Or'yan entered his office, sitting at his desk. He typed out a transmission:

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
TO: The desk of Armand Korielenko, President of the CDSP
FROM: Aleksandr Or'yan, Emperor of Kauvara
ENCRYPTION: None
SUBJECT: Pledge of Support
ATTACHMENT(S): 1

President Korielenko,

The Soviets just launched an unprovoked attack upon our people. We have taken heavy casualties, and many civilians have died (see the attached report). We hereby pledge our support to the CDSP in your war. Our famed Air Force is at your disposal. The Angels of the Fox will fly over you, Armand. Good luck.

-Or'yan

Civilian casualties: 12,871
Kauvaran casualties: 9,619
Infrastructure lost: One civilian evacuation transit camp

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


OOC: Anybody fighting against the Sovietyetans: from now on, feel free to RP my Air Force doing strikes for you! We'll use your airfields! Our Squadrons use 4-5 planes each, and we are sending the following:

0001st Honor Squadron (4 KF-12 "Foxguard" Multiroles)
2562nd Ground Attack Squadron (4 KB-6 Ground Attack Craft)
2563rd Ground Attack Squadron (4 KB-6 Ground Attack Craft)
2568th Ground Attack Squadron (4 KB-6 Ground Attack Craft)
5718th Multirole Squadron (4 KF-11 "Foxclaw" Multiroles)
5718th Multirole Squadron (4 KF-11 "Foxclaw" Multiroles)
5719th Multirole Squadron (4 KF-11 "Foxclaw" Multiroles)
5720th Multirole Squadron (4 KF-11 "Foxclaw" Multiroles)
5721st Multirole Squadron (4 KF-11 "Foxclaw" Multiroles)
7842nd Heavy Attack Squadron (4 KHG-4 "Heavyhitter" heavy gunships)
7843rd Heavy Attack Squadron (4 KHG-4 "Heavyhitter" heavy gunships)
9155th Strategic Transport Wing (4 KHT-4 "Heavylifter" strategic transports)
9687th Logistical Support Wing (4 KHD-4 "Heavydisruptor" electronic warfare planes)

Here's some info:
-KF-11s are advanced F-22s
-KF-12s are far beyond anything the real world has ever seen
-KB-6s are advanced A-10s
-KHG-4s are advanced AC-130s
-KHT-4s are much larger variants of the JC-130
-KHD-4s are advanced E-3 Sentries

[Scocialist Provinces]

Max Shore sat with his new squadmates, feeling the faint rumble of the plane. There was almost no sound coming from the engine, even from inside the aircraft. Max cradled his M4 carbine. It was a difficult weapon, but shore liked it for it's simplicity. It had a silencer, a holographic sight, and foregrip. Shore also had a SMAW hoisted on his back, a couple of AT mines and his remote controlled robot.

Slowly brushing his hand across the M4, Max looked up again to see Corporal Minchau admiring his own Snipervaska rifle. Minchau vigorously cleaned the lens on the 7x zoom. Rosser cradled the XM8 LMG variation gently in his arms, deeply re-reading the ending of the 'Art of War' Crain sat next to the HK416 he'd picked up earlier as he smoked.

Max checked his watch, whom indicated that 14 minutes were left in their long trip across the skies. Getting up, he peered at the vehicle they were using once they get out of the plane. It looked like a buggy with a heavy machine gun stuck just behind the driver's seat. It was camouflaged, and a tarp covered the hood. Continuing his walk, Max wandered towards the cockpit. The pilot had a Kavarian flag stitched to his shoulder. The engineer and co-pilot both had the same mark.

"So, how will we get out? Is there a runway outside of Moscow or something?" Shore asked, arms crossed.

"This ship can hover for short amounts of time. We'll find a clearing, and move overtop. From there, you guys'll drive out the back and continue the mission. You've got another arsenal of heavy weapons in the transport you'll be using, from mortar to UAVs. You clear?" The Engineer answered.

"Yes, very. Thanks, though." Max finished, running back to the others. "Guys! Let's get ready."

"He's right. We don't have much time left, so get your asses up, and help us out." Rosser ordered as he put down the book. Rosser was assigned as the commander of the three others.

"Very well then, off to work." Crain sat up, motioning for Minchau to do the same.

The four whisked the tarp off the buggy, revealing a lot of extra weapons, including the EMP. Loading the MG, charging the energy grenades, checking the fuel, etc. Shore stood there for a moment, admiring their work. The EMP caught his eye with it's glow. It was twice as big as a basket ball, with a control pad onthe side. They all stepped in, ready for the mission. Shore was the driver, Minchau the gunner, Rosser in the passenger seat and Crain sitting down, his feed dangling out the back.

They waited some time, the entire cargo bay went a deathly black. Three seconds later, long, slick lights along the room turned red, reminding Max of tron. After waiting for what seemed like forever, the plane slowed to a hover, the lights turned green, and the back slowly opened.

"Step on it!" Rosser yelled at Max.

The buggy lurched forward, and sped out the back. Falling two meters, it shook the four of them. Racing forward, dodging trees, they rolled up to a dirt road. Max felt the wind in his face, watching the road in front of him. He rolled up to a ridge overlooking Moscow from a distance and stopped.

"Welcome to the red zone, boys."




Stalingrad...

The skies erupted in flame as both Soviet and CDSP aircraft spun out of control. Halock breathed in for a moment as craft everywhere dropped from the sky. A helicopter crashed just in front of him, so he had to drive the tank around. The armored charge itself had reached the foot of the city, where they fired shells into target buildings. Infantry unloaded from different vehicles like before, and rocket artillery was rolled up.

"All units, Whiskey-Yankee-Too here, this just in. The Soviets have de-commissioned all civilians. Do not engage unless engaged."

"Aww... I was starting to have fun... One more shot at civilians, commander?" Richter asked, eager to shoot something.

"No. I'm not going to be responsible for something like that. Driver, move up." Halock sternly ordered.

The tank rumbled along to the first building of stalingrad, a tollbooth with a sniper inside. The shell decimated the 9-foot structure, and the dungarov-wielding soldier practically disintegrated.




Chevallier(Paris), France...

Samuel Wechkoff sat on a ridge. His AK-47M slung over his shoulder as he walked down the subway, bustling with people. Samuel thought about where he would go for lunch, vive la france or the starbucks down the street from the subway entrance. Samuel's gasmask made himself look menacing, and he loved it. Sitting on a bench, he darted his head around while a deafening boom ripped through the air and rumbled the ground.

Infact, the rumble was so large, it knocked Samuel from his seat. Falling face-first into the floor, the only reason he didn't break his nose was the bullet-proof gasmask he wore. People were panicking, but that didn't stop him from making it out of the subway. When he emerged to street level, the colapsed buildings obscured the view above. As he ran, bodies and rubble littered the streets. Samuel mad it to a park, where in the sky was a giant, unnatural cloud.

"Those bastard soviets!"

[The Sovietyeto]

Things in Stalingrad fell apart quickly. Tanks roared across line simply ignoring amything and destroying military men. Both civilians and the military fell back. Most men were ordering people to go to Moscow for their saftey. They had to fall back again...

(Sorry for the short post, I'm not feeling to well.)

[Scocialist Provinces]

Max Shore drove along the soft, moist fall soil. He turned a right, and they were going downhill. The engine of his buggy was very quiet. It felt like the plane they were on earlier. Swerving left and right on a twisted trail, Max concentrated on not crashing. This mission wasn't about to end on a flat note. Arriving at a straight path through a forest, Max talked into his headpiece.

"Archangel, come in. We've found a good spot to hide the buggy up ahead, got any suggestions, over?"

A familiar and warming voice greeted him "Roger that, Lizard. Move a little further in to the center, there's no-one in the forest. I suggest you proceed to the north, there's a farm you boys can cross without passing the highway. From there, you can continue into moscow, where I can brief you later, understood? Over."

"Dunn? Uh, understood, but Dunn, is that you, over?" Shore asked, as Minchau rolled his eyes.

"Took you long enough, SPboy. Alright, you may want to stop here, there's a river in front of you." Dunn sarcastically informed.

"Wait uh, what-- AGH!" Max stammered as he shoved is foot into the brake. The buggy swerved a little, and stopped just before a rock face overlooking a small river.

"May as well prepare here." Crain suggested whilst jumping off the back and putting out his cigarette.

"Good idea. We'll take turns carrying the EMP. We'll do it by tallest to smallest." Ross ordered. "I'll start, then Crain, Shore, Minchau, then back to me, and so forth. Got it?" He barked, pointing at everyone one by one.

"Sir yes sir!" All three straightened up and saluted before preparing to go.



They all slowly walked the long path, Rosser carrying the surprisingly light EMP. They passed through large fields, full of wheat and open road. At one point, they had to hide in the tall grass as a civilian truck rolled by. With Archangel giving them instructions, the four navigated their way to the edge of their prize: Moscow. They went through an opening in a chainlink fence, and found themselves in a newly constructed part of town, where some buildings were still wooden frames. Rosser pressed his finger into the button on his headpiece, and spoke.

"Archangel, requesting air strike on junkyard. It'll serve as a distraction. Clear the streets of the public, minimal casualties. Over." Rosser commanded.

"Alright, you have two minutes before strike. Over." Dunn pressed a few buttons, and a holographic image of a few FK-11s flying around. She then looked back at the IR screen of the squadron of four.



They wandered the alleys within Moscow, searching every corner for people that could have spotted them. Passing out of the new part of town, the squad found themselves in the slums. It reeked of sewage and animal. A group of people making jokes around a barrel fire had to be avoided, thanks to Dunn spotting the fire on the IR camera. It had been two minutes now, and a large cone of fire lit up the sky in the distance. It was followed by a rumble, and sirens.

"Thank the north star! Haha!" Max clapped and cheered as they ran up to a ledge viewing the industrial district. Further in, was the Kremlin. An idea forced his way it's way into Max's head. "Dunn. You know what they did to your scientists? Let's do that to their politicians and generals. Requesting air strike on the Kremlin! Over."

"Not a bad idea at all. Strike in fifty seconds, over." Dunn chuckled.



They bolted towards their destination, the roof of a public school. Racing along alleys, weaving around apartments, and laughing at the fleeing and hiding civilians. Another loud boom could be heard off in the distance. They found the school they were looking for, and found a few soldiers guarding the entrance to the elementairy school.

"They're not going anywhere." Dunn told them "Shoot em'. Start a firefight, over."

"Understood Archangel, over." Rosser reported before mowing both of them down.

The group proceed to the front doors, that simply clicked open. Rushing in, a teacher attacked them with a dissection knife, but was quickly cut down in hand-to-hand combat with Crain. Passing through the hallways, they stumbled across a locked door.

"Shore. Kick it down." Rosser ordered.



"Roger that." Max raised his foot and punted the door a couple feet, scaring away the janitor. Climbing the stairs to the top and opening the unlocked door to the roof, Shore began setting up the EMP. It was what he was assigned to this mission for, his immense knowledge of explosives, vehicles and robots. After about a minute of fiddling around with it, Max stood up and felt the breeze through his hair. The EMP began to glow a darker but deeper blue, then lit up like a strobe. Everything went silent. The chaos on the streets, the sirens, the police on loudspeakers, all went silent. Then, after what seemed like all eternity, the heavens went blue, all visible from the one schoolroof. It was gargantuan, and then every piece of conductable metal bigger than a human either lit on fire, melted or exploded. Every other piece of metal overheated, and electronics sparked, started then went out. At the powerplants, it was complete Armageddon. Shrapnel, fire and everything else flew all over

"Coooooooool... Now to get out..."

[The Sovietyeto]

The powergrid at Moscow was built to withstand surges. This was beyond that. Surges blew up electronics, anything plugged in, blenders, lightbulbs, laptops, anything in a twenty five kilometer zone. Outside the zone was a five kilometer zone. All the unfortunate souls their died. The waves from the EMP overide the normal electronic pulses and killed them. Brain cells fried and their hearts stopped.

In Moscow and the 25 kilometer zone it seed worse. In powerplants things broke. Things exploded sending metal shard into wall. Sometimes even the workers innocently toiling to ensure the power was normal.

In the dam near Moscow placed into an artificial river the power surged. The dam, holding back million of liters of water, simply exploded. Flooding all of Moscow. Things continued to explode. Some gasoline must have erupted and gotten shocked for small fires began to start.

Needless to say, everyone in a thirty kilometer circle died.


In Stalingrad the men were to fall back agian. The Russian strategy was to creat a wall eventually so enemy units couldn't push through. They retreated to the nearby city of Kamyshin. Suprisingly the DSP only seemed to pushing from a small point instead of all along the borders. To cut of enemy supplies they would push through to Stalingrad from Mikhaylovka. And a countercharge from Smolensk to Minsk.

[Isolated China]

To: SovietYeto
From: The People's Proud Republic of China
We have heard of the Massacre of Moscow (Official Chinese name for it.) and are appalled that the DSP hath resorted to such measures. We, however, have not turned a blind eye to the nuclear capability that you unleashed on French ports. As we do not want to see a fellow Asian friend fall to the pits of Capitalism, and Western Imperialism, you will have China's official support in the war. There will be no turning back now, until the DSP hath seen the light. Supplies and Troops shall begin crossing the borders. May the Power of the Dragon be with you, as these Imperialist scum are pushed to the depths of hell, and their soldiers die in pools of blood.

Beijing Meeting Hall, China
"We have to take action now! We can't allow such actions to go like that!" The Ambassador to the UNFC, China's protectorates alliance, slammed his hand on the table. "But what will this war lead to? This could provoke the Nordlanda Pact, which would be fatal." The Indian Sultan then began stroking his beard. "And what if they launched an invasion? Shall we go into the Himalayas, with only the Ghoorkas defending us?" The Xihuan President spoke cautiously, as if he was being watched. Thats when the Premier, now 50, opened the door. "I am delighted to inform you all that I have sent a letter personally to the Soviets, and I will soon make a speech to the nation. The UNFC will defeat the DSP. The Nordlanda Pact will surely not involve themselves, as Kauvara will not assault China without risking diplomatic relations, and Chinese friendship. The Kingdom of Buckingham Charles 2nd is beginning to open up to Diplomatic Relations, and the rest know of what the Chinese People are capable of. I assure you all, there will be no threat to us." Xiang then looked around. The delegates of the protectorates looked shocked, but acknowledged they had no choice. "Everyone who is with me, speak." "We agree." They all said at once. "Good," and with that, left.

OOC: Sorry in a rush. Just figured out I may have to leave in a little.

[The Sovietyeto]

The Soviets faced very little force on the way to Minsk, at least so far. Now they stood on the gates of the country. If they took it other areas would be a ripe plum ready for Russia. Though the soldiers were disheartened by te loss at Moscow the marched. Hopefully the advance would increase morale.

In Scandinavia Norway and Swweden formed a huge natural pincer ready to strike. As te advance to the east continued soldiers loaded into boats to take Denmark. A similar operation was in the Balck sea.

Word about aid from China was good as well. They would be using the railways to move quickly to support the Soviets. However, it would be needed greatly. The bombing at Moscow left few military planners of great reputation. The Soviet Union needed all it could muster.