The Fires of War: An NS WW1 RP

by **Volmachtia** » Fri Jan 27, 2012 1:26 pm

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October 2nd, 1912, 9:38 A.M.
Gulf of Nerowa, Jasarie

The S.S. Hulm steamed through the pristine waters, kicking up spouts of sprinkling brine as its prow cut through and forward. Captain Otto Gensche eyed the gorgeous landscape, the skies partly clouded by puffy balls of cotton, the sun beaming down overhead. It was a lovely day. First Officer Herntz paced foward from behind him in the Hulm's bridge, snapping a salute. Gensche adjusted his sailor's uniform collar and turned around to face him, returning the gesture.
"At ease. We're a commercial ship, lad, not an Army barracks." He smirked. "No need to get excited."
Herntz smiled back and dropped the salute.
"Is everything going according to plan?"
"The cargo is set for the free port. Bananas, ostensibly, along with coal, then our special goodies underneath. Most of the crew isn't aware. The Segmentians aren't gonna know a thng."

Gensche nodded, pleased, then looked forward. The golden-sandy coasts of Jasarie laid beyond, close now, the vast docks of the port of Khorem awaiting them a few nautical miles away. An observer aircraft fizzled overhead, waved at them, while the Hulm's signal officer made the indications and symbols of a freight shipment. The observer saluted then pulled his craft back to port. It bore a jack of the Khorem port authority and the Segmentian Air Corps- a new unit, like most across the globe.

"Well, this is going quite nicely. Lovely day, too." Herntz said, beaming at the warm outside.
"It always does." Gensche agreed.
*THWAM!*
*CRASH!* An explosion ripped through the hull, shearing strips of metal and shrapnel and filling the compartment of the bridge with the projectiles. Herntz shouted and groaned, then fell while gripping a barb stuck in his chest. He crumpled and hit the ground, the messy slab punching through the other side of his body after it breached his sternum. Blood leaked from his mouth. Gensche slipped in the blood of Herntz and other killed crew in the bridge, falling face-flat in the muck. He spat it out and shouted.

"God, what the hell just happened?"
An officer wearing a black-and-white uniform, older than Gensche, stood warily as the Hulm rocked back and forth, shuddered by the strike. Cold grey eyes spoke of an unerring familiarity to this situation some time ago.
"Torpedo. We got hit by a sub."
"A sub? But this is verdammt commercial waters, why-"
*THWOOM!* The boiler exploded and it consumed the vessel, everything and every man onboard. It sunk. Fire lashed into the sky.

------

Volmachtian Imperial Palace, two hours later

Kaiser Rudolf VIII rubbed his temple while listening to the report. The gold-and-green dressed server, a tall and young man with a strong jaw and raven-black hair neatly combed, held the news freshly printed in white gloves.
"-and it was struck a second time, killing all remaining crew members and setting the ship ablaze. The fire struck its boiler and the coal depots, and it was destroyed moments later. 62 men died."
Rudolf looked up, as he had noticed he was staring at his feet, bending over on his throne.

"You know what this means." The steward said, then rolled it up and handed it to an elderly attendant. Rudolf stood and strode forward, and took the server by the shoulder.
"Lad, get me a telegraph. I have a message to send."

To: My blessed cousin, Queen Alexandra Lividivus of Segmentia
From: Cousin Rudolf of Volmachtia

Good tidings to you, and good will to your family. Are you well? Has your husband been pleasant?
But ignore the pleasantries. We have things to discuss. I fear that we have struck an unutterable deal with the devil earlier today.
The fall of the S.S. Hulm- I know you're aware- has incited a public outcry in Volmachtia. You know the tension. As do I.
Marching crowds outside call for action. A few even demand for war. We're slipping on the precipice.
So I must ask of you- send a delegation to Volmachtia, I will have them received and welcomed. We must try to defuse the situation.

Your loving cousin,
Rudolf

by **Segmentia** » Fri Jan 27, 2012 3:09 pm

October 2nd, 1912, 9:36 A.M.
Gulf of Nerowa, Jasarie

Captain James Thomas of the Segmentian Naval Submarine Shadow mumbled a curse to himself as he wiped the sweat off his forehead for what seemed like the millionth time that hour. That was life in the sub-fleet though. Cramped, sweaty, terrible food, and the possibility of death hanging in the air every second of every day. The upside was the Rum rations and the fact that the crew could smoke as many cigarettes as they wanted, something the surface navy sailors didn't have the luxury of. Lieutenant Teria was currently manning the periscope.

"Captain, got something. Looks like a freighter. Might be the one were supposed to be lookig out for." Teria said lazily. He had come down with a fever not two days ago and hadn't been able to get any real rest since. Thomas put out his cigarette and tapped Teria on the shoulder. The man stepped aside and Thomas took his spot. It was a freighter alright. Volmachtian by the looks of it. "Teria, hand me that paper from the Intel Corps. Lets see if this ship is on the list." Thomas said as he looked for a name. There it was, the S.S. Hulm.

Teria came back with a sheet of paper that had been delivered to Thomas before the Shadow had set out from the port. The Intel Corps had been working on figuring out who was supplying the Jasarie rebels with weapons, and how they were getting those weapons to the rebels. Apperantly their investigation pointed to several freighters, and a list of ship names had been issued to every ship stationed in Jasarie. Scanning the list quickly, Thomas saw that the S.S. Hulm was, in fact, listed under the 'sink on sight' list.

"The Volmachtians think they're so clever. RIght then, we'll see just how clever the buggers are when we slam two fish into their side. Teria, get a firing solution." Thomas ordered. Teria smiled. "Already got one, cap. Just need the order to fire." Teria replied excitedly. Thomas gave the junior officer a look. "Its things like that, Mr. Teria, that will see you rise though the ranks of Her Majesty's Navy. At your leisure, Mr. Teria." Thomas said.

Teria gave the orders to fire the first torpedo, and several seconds later the second as well. Thirty seconds later and the S.S. Hulm died in a spectacular explosion. A cheer rang out through the sub. Finally a patrol that wasn't endlessly boring. "Good work, lads. I think we'll have an extra ration of rum with dinner tonight." Thomas called out. Another cheer. No one could know that what they just did would lead to such a horrible chapter in world history.

------

Segmentian Royal Palace, several hours later.

Queen Alexandra Lividivus of the Segmentian Empire sat at her desk, positivly bored. Her finance minister had decided to go into extrem detail about how the economy was doing. She had lost intrest the moment he had said it was doing spectacular, and that a survey had discovered a massive deposit of oil Queensland. Now he was going into minute detail about the Home Country Provinces. She have the man credit, he took his job seriously. If only all of her ministers could have such dedication. A knock at the door provided a distraction. "Enter." She said. The door opened and in walked Sir Robert Quigly of the Segmentian Intelligence Corps. In his hand he had two pieces of paper. She could only guess as to what they were.

"Mr. Johnson, I do apperciate your efforts to bring me up to date with the Empires finances, and your dedication to your post. Unfortunantly, we must call this meeting to an end for the moment. Give your family my regards." Alexandra said as she stood to see the ageing finance minister out. He said his farewells and left for home. With him gone, Alexandra returned to her desk. A servent closed to door. She getured for Sir Quigly to take a seat. As he did, he handed her the two pieces of paper.

"One of a report from Port Khorem Garrison. The Volmachtian freighter, S.S. Hulm, was sunk by one of our submarines in the area. The Hulm was one of the ships smuggiling weapons to the Jasarie Rebels. The other paper is a telegram that Mr. Richard asked me to give you. He couldn't make it up the stairs." Sir Quigly told her. Alexandra sighed. "If that man doesn't take some time off for himself, I'll order the Guards to personally escort him to Port Worthington for a month. I don't think a day has gone by in my entire life he hasn't been preforming his duties." She said as she reached for an ornate letter opener.

She opened the telegram and read it quickly. "Its from Cousin Rudolf." She informed Sir Quigly. "Kaiser Rudolf, or your other relation that keeps asking for money to fuel his gambiling addictions?" Quigly asked. Alexandra didn't answer. Instead she closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair, putting the telegram on the desk.

"Kaiser Rudolf. Apperantly the Volmachtian public have responded as expected. Loudly and like savages, and good cousin Rudolf has asked for me to send a delegation to try and 'defuse the situation'." She said after a moment. She took a piece of paper and a pen from her desk and began writing a reply to her dear cousin.

To: My dear cousin, Kaiser Rudolf of Volmachtia.
From: Queen Alexandra Lividivus of Segmentia

Good tidings to you as well, dear cousin. I am fine, and my husband is like a child on New Years day ever since I decided to increase the number of Dreadnoughts in the Segmentian Navy.
You know how he gets. I won't bother asking how that harpy of a wife of yours is doing, I'm sure you understand.
As for the S.S. Hulm, I had reason to believe, and rather solid evidence to support, that it was smuggiling weapons to Jasarie Rebels. I'm sure you know nothing of that?
As for a delegation, I would not trust my own mother to deal with this situation in the appropriate manner, so I shall come to Volmachtia myself.
I shall see you in about a week.

Your loving cousin,
Alexandra

by **Volmachtia** » Fri Jan 27, 2012 8:21 pm

October 3rd, 1912, 5:16 A.M.
Jasarie Flats, 120km from Khorem

Lt. Oskar von Schulenberg hefted the bulky combat rifle and aimed down the sights. The Jasarene militia arrayed behind him- of the al-Hakuum tribe to be exact- did the same, three other German auxiliary "advisors" operating a light field gun. Oskar waved everyone to be quiet and wait. They sat amongst a knoll of hills in the middle of the otherwise empty deserts and terrain, ready to ambush the latest Segmentian search party. And there they were, riding horses down below, even a light armored car, a machine gun glittering in the sun.

They were here for a simple reason- help cause havoc in Segmentia's colonies, make Volmachtia's position as strong as possible. So they fought with savages fighting for a reason he couldn't remember for that very aim. He raised a hand to the field gunner. They waved back. They had the car in their sights.
"Fire!"
The field gun belched an explosion, sending a shell ripping down. The Segmentian cavalry nearly panicked, horses tottering uncomfortably from the sudden whirlwind of noise. The shell struck home. The armored car was set ablaze, wheels and metal fragments torn about. Oskar stood and made a clenched fist in front of the other men- the signal to charge. And so they did.

He hurled himself forward, followed by his small detachment- 8 Volmachtians and 120 Jasarenes, all equipped mostly with light arms, but all ready for the clash. A platoon of Segmentian infantry, startled by the surprise, took notice, lowered their bayonets, and aimed up the hill. The field gun saved them- moments before the bullet salvo, a second shell tore into them, killing a goodly half and tearing the rest away or sending them running. Oskar descended, firing wildly and with impeccable aim- more and more collapsed and crumpled dead. Some of the Jasarenes fell and died, a German wounded. The Segmentian cavalry began to descend on them- sabres and lances whipping into the natives, drawing gouts of rich red. Oskar threw himself to the ground, took aim at the cavalry sergeant, and fired. He collapsed off his horse.

------

Imperial Palace, Altenfeld, Volmachtia
October 3rd, 8:12 A.M.

"Yes, sir. It's been obvious for a long time to any serious observer that we've been helping rebels in their territory, and they in ours. Many of us have just taken it for granted. Not surprising, given the circumstances."
Admiral Hans Streicher walked backwards in front of the Kaiser as they retired to his war planning room. The had to make preparations- the inevitable was as its name suggested, inevitable. No need to be caught off guard to try and look like a nice guy. Rudolf found himself a seat at the far end of the table. Generals Wilhelm Schmitt and Ernst Guhlendorff followed, over a map of Patra. Markings of Army units dotted the landscape, little scribbles of ships denoting fleets.

"First and foremost, Admiral, how is our navy faring?"
"Oh, excellent, sir. The ships are in tip-top combat readiness and are being equipped as we speak. In fact, here's an inventory..."

"Good, good. That'll put up a decent fight with the Segmentian navy in a lengthened encounter, don't you think?" General Schmitt said.
"Dispense with the jabber, we have business to do. Generals, I need you to begin marshalling our reserves. I want the bulk of them placed against Premislyd, that's where the first hammer blow would fall, being Segmentia's primary continental ally."
Guhlendorff affirmed the command. "I'll set the XI, XIII and XV armies on the border immediately."
"And I want reserve units behind our lines and along the coasts in case Segmentia tries a landing."
Again a patter of affirmations. Kaiser Rudolf eyed the men arrayed in the room. "Done?"
"Done. Understood, mein Kaiser." the Admiral said, saluting and leaving. The Generals bowed and left, swarthy Guhlendorff taking his time getting out of his seat with all the weight on him.

The Kaiser rang for an attendant.
"Oh, and boy, please make preparations for an important guest in about six days. Chop chop."
The man nodded and ran off. Rudolf went to breakfast.

by **Yanitza** » Sat Jan 28, 2012 12:51 am

October 2nd, 1912, 10:am
Victory palace, Phillanesia, capital of Yanitza

‘’My liege, while your plans for military integration among the armed forces were ingenious……it understandably is taking it’s time.’’ Field marshal Victor Ruskous delivered to the Vatsar, who sat at a large round table looking at the latest headlines to glaze the state controlled press.The walls were adorned with photo’s and patriotic posters.
I
n truth it was not so good as Victor painted it. The Vatsar’s decision completely overhaul the military system of his old state, and combine it with the armies of the defeated were proving to be much more difficult than the Vatsar had hoped. Something that the Generals had unfortunately predicted.

‘’Is it organisational issues?’’ The Vatsar inquired quietly.

Victor licked his lips before answering.

‘’Well there is that. Then there is the creation of new regiments consisting of men from all over the nation. Many of the soldiers now being to to work together were enemies with their fellow unit members only three years prior. There is animosity in the air.’’

Kastoris sighed as he got up from his table and looked up on the wall to the large map of Ynaitza, with a flag hanging patriotically over the top of it.

‘’We Yanitzans have been disunited so long we have forgotten that we are all brothers.’’
Victor interjected quickly into the Vatsars speech

‘’It’s not just that. The population is tired of war. The Kovnograd war was fought for three years against foriegners on our soil, with our bretheren . the population was told it was to free our homeland. The war of Unification was fought amongst our brother states to bring about a united Yanitza, rather than squabbling kingdoms. Four years that went on for. Now what? A started by foriegners where we fight for some long lost cousin in a distant land? It won’t go down well’’

Kastoris said nothing as he digested the information that he had just been deleivered. He was staring out across the port city of Phillanesia, once the city of his allies, then his enemies and now his capita. In the space of twelve years. He was wavering. The genral decided to go for broke.

‘’Let’s reconsider this alliance in the coalition. No need to lose more blood over a conflict that does not require us. Our men, while veterans, are tired and poorly equipped. We need to recover and rest. At the rate things are going, war could blaze next month, next week, next day. Unification with the Diaspora population can wait.’’

Kastoris turned back towards his field general with a hardened look on his face. He sat down methodically and stared at the general.

‘’I’ll tell you what we need. A common foe to unite the population, regardless of region. That will forge a nation. When the Coalition wins this upcoming war, we will take our seat on the world stage.’’

by **Nordkrusen** » Sat Jan 28, 2012 2:45 pm

October 3rd, 1912, 5:15 P.M.
Königsberg, Nordkrusen

The afternoon of October 3rd was by all accounts no different from that of any other October day, Smoke rose from the dark buildings of Königsberg as citizens left their jobs for the day to head on home. The dark marble shape of the Stadtschloss stood against the dimming lights of the rest of the city. Inside its baroque facade, the Nordkrussian King sat at his desk, pondering the future of his realm as he looked through the windows at the foggy castle grounds...

1912, had thus far been no uneventful year, With the Segmentians and Volmachtians constantly at loggerheads with each other. Though it had never been quite as serious as this...He might not clearly see what the future might bring but, like the many bureaucrats and generals who looked up at him, he was determined to lead the kingdom to the glory it deserved. There were a hundred thousand different souls in the kingdom, all wishing to leave their own legacy in the building of their young empire.

In the July days of 1912, Nordkreussen had tried to set up an alliance with neighboring Premislyd... with remarkable success. Though the widening rift with between Segmentia and Volmachtia, which previously could be ignored...had now widened dramatically. Yet with sober national dignity in mind, Nordkreussen would stand with its allies come what may come...

by **Segmentia** » Sat Jan 28, 2012 5:59 pm

October 3rd, 1912, Segmentian Royal Palace

"Theres no doubt about it your Majesty. The Volmachtian Navy has no chance of beating our navy. Even our Home Fleet could sink that rag-tag collection of ships. Sure the Home Fleet and the Volmachtian Navy are evenly numbered, our naval technology is more advanced, most of our ships are newer, and our commanders have far more experiance then those of the Volmachtian Kriegsmarine." Admiral. Johnathan Hallsworth said confidently. That was true enough. The Segmentian navy was the best and largest in the world. But it had a lot of area to protect, and assembiling it all in one place just to sink one enemy navy would leave the rest of the far-flung Empire mostly unprotected and open to an unoppsed invasion.

"Of course this is all hypothetical, right?" Hallsworth asked after a moment. Alexandra looked at him for a moment. "I know Volmachtians, and I know my cousin. A war is unavoidable at this point. And when it does come, I want the Volmachtian Navy destroyed within the first two months, or blockaded in their bases. We can concentrate on their allies navies after that." She said. There were four other men in the room, all important to the Segmentian military, and the Empire. She had instructed them to draw up war-plans while she was away in the Volmachtia. Of course they still had a few days until she left, so she would be speaking with them again later on, escpecially the Minister of the Air Force, Sir William Underhill. He had been pestering her about several new ideas he wanted to implement to the young airforces.

------

October 3rd, 1912, 5:19 AM.
Jasarie Flats, 120km from Khorem

The ambush had caught the Segmentian patrol by surprise, to say the least. Normally the Jasarie Rebels didn't attack this far away from a settlement. Perhaps it was an indication that the patrol was close to a rebel base. Now that the cavalry was in close with the rebels, the rebels were falling quick enough. But that light field gun was still a problem. But the Segmentians had a few surprises of their own. A single two-seat biplane with a machine-gun. It might have seemed un-impressive, but planes were still a new weapon, that no one had any real experiance fighting, so they maintained an element of fear.

The aircraft was on its own patrol when the gunner had happened to spot an explosion, which unknown to them was the ground patrols armored-car. The aircraft flew over the battle-area, both the pilot and gunner taking in the scene below. They couldn't provide direct fire against the rebel infantry, but the field-gun was a nice open target.. The pilot brought the biplane around, slowing down slightly to give the gunner a better chance at aiming. Once the gunner had the field-gun in sight, he opened fire. The machine-gun chattered the familiar sound of a Segmentian machine-gun, the barrage of rounds hitting the gun crew and general area around them. The pilot made a few more rounds, until the machine-gun was out of ammo, before turning for home. They would dispatch reenfocements and more biplanes once they landed.

by **Aquitayne** » Sat Jan 28, 2012 7:11 pm

Stürenburg, Aquitayne

The rising sun glinted off the low clouds in the early morning, gleaming a bright orange glow onto the roofs and high buildings of Stüremburg. Führer Osserwold looked out of the Imperial Palace, hearing the bustling of motor cars and horses making their way around the city streets two stories below. The city was glamorous, many historic statues commemorating war heroes and national figures littered the parks and museums, bringing a sense of nationalist pride that rocked the nation to its core. Soldiers patrolled the streets giving the people a sense of security that was only found during Osserwold's administration, and the people loved him.

His conquest of the Frasian islands helped to support the large nationalistic movement, and he was not alone when he threw demands to the country who once inhabited them. He himself had lead the attacks on the island chain which rightfully belonged to Aquitayne, and the Aquitaynian navy saw a large increase in funding because of the expedition. Though it didn't fair to be as large as the Volmatchian or even the Segmentian navies, it was large enough to defend itself and keep the homeland secure. Tacticians knew that Segmentia, nor Volmatchia, could deploy their entire force without leaving their colonies open to immediate attack, but if the need came that would be Aquitayne's only chance of striking a blow into either nations colonized heartlands.

The Frasian islands were now home to over two million Aquitaynians, however the populace was treated with the same rights as those who had already belonged to Aquitayne before the Frasian war, but resentment between nationalities was still present. That was where the Aquitaynian navy most enjoyed patrolling, as it was easy to arrive at a destination quickly and with large numbers, but the homeland was also strongly protected by submerged mines and submarines.

The military and political tensions between Segmentia and Volmatchia were becoming increasingly hard to ignore, and should the world need to take sides, Osserwold would stand fast by his friend Kaiser Rudolf VIII. They shared many of the same ideas for their nations, and though family ties were strong between Volmatchia and Segmentia, Aquitayne didn't need such ties to remain peaceful and on excellent terms with the Volmatchian Reichstag. News of an attack on a shipment bound for Segmentia was heard with utter disgust throughout Aquitayne, and calls for sanctions against the government were stated. Not many were pleased.

The closest Segmentian colony to Aquitayne was Queensland, to the north; Norvenia had not yet openly signed a treaty with either Segmentia or Volmatchia, so it was difficult to decide where they would side if war did occur. Osserwold took advantage of the time of year to deploy Aquitaynian soldiers around the nation prepped for war; due to the yearly wargames that occurred during this time of year, it would not be seen as an act of mobilization rather than a routine military exercise. Osserwold did not want a war, but he would be prepared if it came.

The Aquitaynian military was three million men strong, much less then some counterparts in other nations, but each soldier was given a much more advanced and difficult basic training than most. Men endured all kinds of hell, and those who succeeded in completing it were the men who would be further trained in the art of war and that of killing the enemies of Aquitayne; whomever that may be.

Osserwold was still glancing out the window collecting his thoughts when he heard a knock on the door. "Come in," he said calmly. Turning his head he could see his top military adviser, Wilhelm Gregory III. "Ah, Wilhelm, please do come in." Osserwold motioned for Wilhelm to take a seat, which he did.

"It is a pleasure to see you in such good health, Führer. I trust you are feeling better after your cold?"

"Yes, yes. Much better, that doctor does wonders. Tell me Wilhelm, what brings you here? You're too strict of a man just to come visit me to check on my health."

Wilhelm scoffed. "I do care about you, mein Führer." They both laughed heartily and Osserwold pulled a crystal glass of whiskey from his dresser, pouring the drink into two cups. "Unfortunately that is not the nature of my visit," Wilhelm stated more seriously. Osserwold looked at him with a sarcastic face of surprise, as if he hadn't already known that. "I'm here to discuss the upcoming war between Segmentia and Volmatchia, and yes - there will be one."

"What inclines you to say that, Wilhelm? Surely you have to have some sort of proof?"

"The attack on the S.S Hulm was only the beginning. Fighting between Volmatchian and Segmentian troops are already taking place, they're just too small of combat to be making frontline news. Neither side wants to be the agitator in the war, however I fear that once one does become it, a war the world will never forget will occur."

"Wilhelm, you say this as if the world is ending. Men have seen wars before! It's nothing new. You're being too pessimistic."

"Pessimistic? With all due respect mein Führer, the nations with the two largest naval forces in the world are about to go head to head; the rest of the world will take their sides and take their most valuable fighting force and bring it to the table; new technological advances in warfare are going to make this conflict something out of the working of the 7 Horseman themselves."

Osserwold shifted in his seat. What Wilhelm was saying was true, but it wasn't something anyone wanted to believe. "So what do you suggest we do, Wilhelm?"

"Create the largest Air Force the world has ever seen."

"That won't have to be too large." Osserwold laughed, but soon realized the seriousness in Wilhelm's voice.

"We already have a superior ground force, if we combine that with a highly trained, highly motivated, and well equipped Air Force, Führer we would be unstoppable."

"How much would such a force cost?"

"It depends; we have some of the best aviators in the world here in Aquitayne, and a man by the name of Yuri Gargrin claims he has the ability to put a machine gun on a biplane; I personally am going to see whether his claims are true or not sometime this week. If they are, we will have a superior advantage in aerial combat."

"See to it that the aircraft are made, the personnel allocated to fly the aircraft, and the equipment necessary to make it the best Air Force in the world."

"Aye, mein Führer. It shall be done."

by **Burkia** » Sun Jan 29, 2012 9:30 am

3 October 1912
Makran, Capital City of Burkia

"Comrade Leader, are we not supporters of the Segmentians? We must support them in dealing with the Jasarie Rebels! I support the rights of all living beings, but a brutal war carried on by a minority of the Jasarie people will not solve anything! We must send support to crush the Rebels once and for all." The politician attempted to drone on about the rights of freedom loving people, but Joerg Mikov held up his hand.

"Comrade, between you and I, we are already planning an expedition. The 1st Calvary Brigade along with the 1st Marine Brigade are inbound to Jasarie; they will arrive in two days time. Obviously the recent sinking of a Volmachtian ship carrying supplies to the Rebels has effected us aswell, so we have dispatched the Molov, the Trot, and the Jakob to support our convoy. Our ships will remained docked in Jasarie for as long as needed. Now if there isn't anything else Comrade Lozc, then I must head to my military briefing."

The other man stood, shaking Mikov's hand then left; as Lozc walked out, Foreign Minister Diap, Marshal of the Armies Erwin Winsor and Admiral of the Seas Stoss walked in. After pouring coffee, Mikov got right to the point: "Comrades, do we have a war on our hands?"

The two of the men glanced at each other then looked down at their papers; "Comrade Leader, I believe we do. Reports show that Volmachtian troops are moving to all of her frontiers; these do not look like war games. I suggest we do the same." The Admiral and the Foreign Minister glanced at the Marshal in dismay as he spoke. "Comrade Leader, we must not be to hasty; the Volmachtians could possibly just be making a show of force: not intending to use force, but to deter others from moving against her. If anything I suggest that we send a few divisions to our frontiers just in case, but keep the rest of them exactly where they are. The Admiral nodded his head in agreement, while Marshal Winsor scowled. "Politicians should not dictate military policy. Comrade Leader, you must trust me."

Comrade Leader Joerg Mikov took a long drink of his coffee then sat it down. "I believe in Peace Comrades. Comrade Marshal Winsor, I trust your instincts but I do not want to agitate any aggression; you will pick no more than four divisions and two brigades to reinforce our border divisions." More discussion followed, but in the end Mikov won as usual.

To: Queen Alexandra Lividivus of Segmentia
From: Comrade Foreign Minister Rudolf Diap

Your Majesty,

In accordance with the treaty the Union of the Socialist States of Burkia signed with your government when joining the Segmentian Union, Comrade Supreme Leader Mikov has dispatched an Expeditionary Force to aid your troops in Jasarie; however, there are more pressing issues in dealing with Volmachtia: should war break out the USSB would require immediate military aid. My people are fighters but, with Volmachtia on our border and Aquitayne's unknown intentions, knowing what your plans are would be great solace to my government.

(signed)
Rudolf Diap

by **Glasgia** » Sun Jan 29, 2012 1:33 pm

John stood and glared furiously at the map. To any observer it would look like he was negotiating with the world, trying to make it change in one way or another.
"President?" President MacBethad. A name less familiar to most, but more significant.
"Yes?" John's head flicked upright. It caught his secretary by surprise, like an ambush in the night. The piercing eyes which were convienently placed upon John's head bored into the poor man.
"Th-the m-meeting sir... It's scheduled for an hours time."
"And?"
"Well, wouldn't you like to prepare?" The secretary began to gain more confidence, only to be shattered by the next words.
"I am preparing!" John's face became distorted with rage.
"Some make up? A nice coat? What do you think I am? A whore? And since when has it been a secretary's job to watch his boss! Get out" The poor secretary mumbled an apology before rushing out the romm.
"Suppose I better get going" John walked out the office, straight past the disgraced secretary and into his car. The driver took him 2 streets along the governmental district, to a towering structure.

To: Albrecht III von Hohenzollern

We would like to offer an economic and possibly even military alliance for the upcoming years. We believe this is currently a very precarious time and allies are going to become of use soon. Glasia and Nordkrusen are very close geographically, meaning transportation of goods will be easy. However, we will not draw out plans before you have given your consent. I hope you agree.

John MacBethad,
President of Glasgia

by **B777LR** » Sun Jan 29, 2012 1:42 pm

October 3, 1912, 15:00, Kolarium, Capital of Bandastan

Dark, eerie-looking clouds rolled in the skies above Kolarium, and raindrops started falling down. First there was one, then another, and another, until water was pouring from the heavens. President Morris Clad looked out the windows of his rather large room, his eyes showing uncertainty. He was normally a cheerful guy, but not that day. Bandastan was a peaceful nation, and had been for as long as anyone could remember. Now the sinking of the Hulm threatened to destroy that peace.

If the coalition was drawn into war against the Union, Bandastan would have to battle Segmentia and her Navy, considered to be one of the, if not the best in the entire world. Bandastan herself had a very well equipped Navy, but would it be enough? And if the currently neutral country of Norvenia joined the Union, Then Bandastan would be surrounded by enemies. Clad forced himself to relax. He walked up to his bed and decided to take a quick nap. He dreamed of utter destruction and innocent civilians being massacred by a familiar yet unrecognizable force in the streets of a unidentifiable city, and when he finally opened his eyes, he prayed that his dream would not become true...

by **Nordkrusen** » Mon Jan 30, 2012 3:12 pm

October 4th

Hofmannstrasse 18 "The Brick Castle" Headquarters of the Nordkrussian General Staff

General fieldmarshal Ferdinand zu Güstrow was a very troubled man, sitting at a cluttered but still very neatly organised desk he eyed through the aptly named "General Report on the Royal Armed Forces." The findings of this commission troubled the aged fieldmarshal greatly, though what had been found out was notthing more than the fact that most armies including thet Nordkrussian one had greatly overestimated the vastness of their shell supplies...

With the larger ammounts of artillery employed by armies today compared to fifty years ago, he and indeed the commission had been expected to find nothing more than a moderate increase in shell consumption...but what they found had been the tip of a veritable iceberg. No army had infact calculated the enormous ammounts of shell modern artillery tactics would consume, and indeed with the rate of fire that modern guns had the stockpiles would diminish even faster.

What they found out was that if war broke out in 1912, their shell stockpiles would be used up by summer 1913 if using modern tactics...this was a disaster, a catastrophy even!
Putting away the report, he began writing up a request for an urgent gathering of the "General war council"
writing furiously, he failed to notice that the dark blue afternoon sky outside his large office window had been replaced by omnious grey clouds coming with the evening darkness...

Royal Castle, Nordkreussen

Interrupted in his afternoon coffee by a series of rapid knocks, nodding to his wife queen Augusta he rose from his favourite chair, while wiping off some coffee that accidentally stuck to his moustasche. "Excuse me darling..."
Opening the door the king found his personal steward standing there carrying two brown envelopes, " Herr Zenker? i trust that this is something important?" making an apologetic frown Zenker turned over the two envelopes.

"Urgent messages your majesty, one from the honourable president of Glasgia and another from Feldmarshall von Güstrow..."

Code: Select all: Letter Sent on the morning of October 5th 1912 Sender: Albrecht III von Hohenzollern Reciever:John MacBethad It glads me that our esteemed neighbors to the north would reach out a hand in friendship, we respond in kind m friends...perhaps a preliminary meeting of sorts could be held in the near future? Eagerly awaiting your response, Albrecht

by **Norvenia** » Mon Jan 30, 2012 6:40 pm

October 3, 1912; 0300 hours; Bikati Islands

The jungle night was dank and fetid, and even with the sun down it was savagely hot and humid. Mosquitoes swarmed around the group of men as they made their quiet way down the jungle trail; here and there one could hear a muttered curse and the smack of flesh on sweaty flesh as a soldier swatted at the pests, swiftly followed by a hissed order for silence.

The lead soldier held up a hand, and the patrol halted. Another hand signal followed, and the men scattered, disappearing into the thick undergrowth.

A minute passed, and then another. Then there came the sound of other hushed voices, and a different group of men came into view from further up the trail. These were nearly naked, their bronze skin swirling with dark tattoos, muscle rippling. They carried heavy clubs spiked with razor-sharp coral and a few captured rifles. Their language was liquid and guttural, full of sibilants and rich vowel sounds. There were a lot of them, too; almost fifty, it seemed.

Pressed into the vine-covered bark of an ancient tree-trunk, Captain Edward Morgan watched, eyes wide in the close, humid darkness. He was twenty-two years old, and he had been fighting since he was sixteen years old. That was the great difference between the Norvenian military and the armies of other countries: Norvenian troops were hardened in endless brushfire wars against the Aborigines at home and natives abroad. There were a few greenhorns, but the vast majority of Norvenian soldiers became combat veterans within their first year of service. By the end of their fifth, they were tough as nails - if they survived.

Morgan stroked the walnut stock of his rifle, a standard bolt-action Norvenian M10. Ten rounds in the magazine - a higher clip capacity than in most other service rifles, intended for use in close-range jungle firefights. That gives me ten shots. Each of my men has the same. Twenty-five of us, fifty of them. And the advantage of surprise. He took a deep breath.

Then Morgan swung around the side of his tree, rifle leveled. He settled the sights over the nearest of the warriors, barely ten yards away.

Morgan fired, and all hell broke loose.

The man pitched over backward as the sound of the gunshot shattered the jungle night, his chest blown open as the powerful .306 calibre round tore through him. Immediately, the trail was engulfed in a roar as the rest of the Norvenian platoon opened up, and the band of Bikati warriors was ripped apart, men collapsing dead and dying. They fired back with their few rifles, but in the dark, they couldn't see their assailants. Morgan frantically worked the bolt and fired again, then again, then again. The surviving warriors bravely charged into the hail of gunfire, swinging their clubs and screaming warcries. Morgan shot one man down from six feet away, then ducked to the side as another massively muscled warrior struck at his head. The blow struck the stiff brim of Morgan's "lemon-squeezer" campaign hat - standard-issue for all Norvenian soldiers - and sent the headgear flying. With a roar, the Norvenian drove his bayonet into the man's gut. There was a momentary resistance as the long blade sliced through muscle, and then it tore through the intestines and out the back. The man gave a harsh intake of breath, and Morgan was struck again by the obscene intimacy of killing; no man was ever closer to another than in the act of taking his enemy's life. He drew out his bayonet, and stabbed again. The blade went into the man's throat and grated against bone, the rifle jerking in Morgan's hands. There was a spray of blood, and the warrior collapsed to the ground.

The shooting had fallen away, and when Morgan looked up, the only men left standing were Norvenians, distinctive in their khaki fatigues, large packs - each man carried fifty pounds on the march - and broad-brimmed campaign hats. The jungle trail was covered in the mangled bodies of the Bikati warriors, their wounds already infested by mosquitoes, grubs, and flies. Morgan felt very tired.

"Well," he said quietly, "that's one band that won't be burning our mission churches any time soon." He wiped his bayonet off on the bark of a nearby tree. In the dark, the faces of his comrades, men whom he'd known for years, were startling in their anonymity. We might as well all be ghosts, Morgan reflected, looking at the heaped bodies of the dead. Or demons.

But they weren't. They were only soldiers, among the toughest and most battle-hardened fighters in the modern world. Once again, Morgan looked around at his platoon. He picked up his campaign hat and settled it on his head. "Let's go home."

October 3, 1912; 1000 hours; Chancellor House, Astor of Stone, Commonwealth of Norvenia

"We are the elephant in the room," solemnly announced General David Curtis. "Anyone who wants to go to war is going to have to deal with us, but no one wants to."

The assessment was only too true. Norvenia's scattered colonies, second only to Segmentia in their extent, were of immense strategic importance. Continuing, Curtis went to a large world map positioned on one wall.

"See here," he explained. "The minute Yanitza becomes involved in the conflict that's brewing - and make no mistake, it is brewing - they will have to attack Anuta and Norvenian Poroporo in order to secure their shoreline from attack. The same goes for Bandastan with regard to Bikati and Rangitama. Rangitama, in particular, is vulnerable. It straddles the shipping lines between Jasarie, a Union colony, and the Coalition colonies of Zeelundt and Holschtein. Any large-scale war, if fought in the colonies, would be bound to involve an invasion of Rangitama. It's a strategic inevitability."

Henry David Llewellyn, the Chancellor of Norvenia, nodded slowly. "I see," he murmured. "So you're telling me that neutrality is not an option."

Curtis hesitated. "Well, sir, I'm saying that it's not viable in the long term, no. Sooner or later, we will be attacked, and we will then be forced to pick a side. We might get through the first few months unscathed, but once the Union and the Coalition understand that they are in for a long and bloody war, the strategic value of our colonies will matter a great deal more to them than our notional neutrality. They will attack, and we will have to fight back if we want to keep our empire."

Llewellyn processed this. He closed his eyes wearily. "And we must be ready."

"That would be my reccomendation, yes, sir."

The Chancellor nodded several times. "All right, General." He turned to the rest of his Cabinet. "Mr. Samuels, I want the economy put on war footing as of today. Factories producing armaments will be subsidized. Use your discretion as to amount, but know that I want to have the capacity to supply and transport six million men by two months from now. Understood?"

The wizened finance secretary nodded. "That will be costly, Chancellor."

"We don't cut corners on providing for Norvenia's survival. You have a blank check." Llewellyn turned back to Curtis. "General, what is the state of our military?"

Curtis turned back to the map. "Of the nine hundred thousand Norvenian Regulars, most are already garrsionned in our colonies, fighting brushfire wars with the natives. All of the Native Regulars - roughly five hundred thousand - are similarly engaged. That gives us just under 1.4 million active soldiers in the colonies. And I would pit our Regulars against any infantry in the world. They're tougher and more experienced than the soldiery of virtually any other nation."

"What about the Reserves?"

"We have well over four million men in the Norvenian Reserves. Those are currently going about their daily lives here in Norvenia. But the vast majority of them fought in the Aborigine Wars and train every weekend. They're soldiers by profession, farmers by accident. They'll hold their own against most nations' regular infantry."

Llewellyn nodded. "So man for man, we have an advantage."

The general nodded. "In almost every way, yes. But we don't have the artillery or the logistics to support a long overseas campaign."

"War production can correct that," Llewellyn said. "What about the Navy?"

"It's sufficient," Curtis replied. "We won't be winning any battles with the Segmentian Navy any time soon, but we can slow them down enough to let a ground force get through - and once the Norvenian Regulars make landfall, even with minimal supplies, the enemy will have a hell of a fight on their hands. And we can defend our colonies against garden-variety amateur imperialists with fairly strong fleets; we're about at the level of Glasgia, for instance, or Bandastan, and with war production our navy will soon outnumber theirs."

"And the Air Corps?"

"Small, but it's already proven its use in the colonies. Natives run like hell when they see the airplanes, and they greatly increase our capacity for tactical reconnaisance."

The chancellor nodded slowly once again. He glanced up at Curtis, his lined face weary. "Can we win?" he asked seriously.

"Against either the Coalition or the Union, we can't win alone. One on one, we can probably defeat any single nation except Volmachtia and Segmentia, and either of those we can probably fight to a standstill - Volmachtia at sea and Segmentia on land. But I fear that the era of one-on-one wars is rapidly coming to an end. In the end, we'll be forced to take a side, and that decision will be based not on the relative merits of the contenders, but upon who first dares the invasion of our colonies."

"So there's nothing to do now but wait," Llewellyn mused. He stood and went to the window, looking out across the tranquil waters of Lake Astor, shimmering silver under a clear blue sky. "So be it. We will be ready."

by **Volmachtia** » Mon Jan 30, 2012 9:03 pm

October 4th, 1912, 5:34 A.M.
123km from Khorem, Jasarie
Volmachtian-Resistance camp

Oskar von Schulenberg banded the limp arm of the whimpering gunner. The field gun was strafed to hell and gone by a Seg aeroplane- the damned things were a new weapon of war he didn't like over his shoulder. One of its crew was dead. The other two wounded. The one he was fixing up was fine, just some gashes and a clipped leg, but the other had gouges torn in his right arm and thigh. He wrapped the rest of the cloth around the leg, tying the leftover in a knot to hold the rest in place. He rose.

Sgt. Johaan van der Krouse watched, put down the wooden soup bowl he sucked fresh stew out of, and started to press on towards his commanding officer. He snapped a sharp salute, then wiped the grimy brown sweat from his forehead and adjusted the dark grey cap he wore. The heat of the sun was intense even at this hour.
"Lieutenant."
"Sergeant."
"What do we do next? The rebels were torn up last engagement. One damn fight and thirty desert. Fucking cowards."
"Damned if I know how to stop 'em. They're here on their own accord, sergeant, they're not Army grunts."
Krouse snorted. "No shit they're not."
Oskar smirked and regarded him with an understanding look. "I know it's harsh out here. But we volunteered for this. Besides, if we don't try and stop Segmentia's expansionism, they'll corner Volmachtia, break the Coalition and become rulers of the globe."
The sergeant shuddered. "A woman ruling the planet. God help us."
Oskar laughed, then slapped him on the shoulder. The patched-up gunner made a weak attempt to stand- he called for some help, and a few Jasarene attendants paced over quickly to help him to a tent where he could rest.

"So, sir, how did we do last raid?"
Oskar pondered. "I'd guess maybe 50 Segs and that car broken. Then 30 of the militia were killed, plus our field gun was largely rendered inoperable. Two of us killed, too."
"And what do we do next?"
"We can't ambush another convoy like that. We'd be chewed to pieces and gobbled up. No. Let's start back small again. Raiding farms."
"Ah, yes, taking a few chickens from their coop and shooting some lazy old farmer will really incite terror in Segmentia."
"Oh, shut your face, you jerk." Oskar said, playfully punching him in the shoulder. "But we start tomorrow."

------

Keistrel Harbor
October 4th, 1912, 7:28 A.M.

The gargantuan blasts of sound belching from the 1st Fleet's smokestacks as they began their lumbering out of port echoed through the city. Keistel was Volmachtia's most massive seaport, and held by far the most vessels both commercial and military. The 1st Fleet, or the so-called Grand Fleet, contained 12 battleships including one so-called Super battleship. 30,000 tons and with dozens of heavy guns- the thing was a floating citadel. They'd try to sortie out before the Segmentians tried to block them in, give Volmachtia breathing space and protect the coasts from landing parties.

Admiral Erich Gutenberg paced calmly through the morning sun, marking distantly the marching bands playing Unter dem Doppeladler and then some strictly naval tunes, and the endless thump-thump of sailors loading onto their vessels. Nearly all of them were full- it was about time to get going. The Kaiser didn't wait an eternity.

He hurried to his own flagship, the battleship Hammerhand. The super-battleship Schalentiere would be too obvious of a target, plus all the cannons made communications supplies harder to stuff in. On top of that he just felt more comfortable in the Hammerhand. It had been his for ten years, since he first became a captain. Now leader of the 1st Fleet, he was responsible for dozens of vessels, not just battleships. The Segmentians may have numbers and technology, but he had refined his tactics and strategic adaptations to near-perfection. He'd wring as much as he could out of each ship, each battlegroup, each gun, each crewman. Hell, if they got lucky, they might even destroy a goodly portion of the Union navy.

But enough with hypotheses. Time to move out. The ramp was drawn up behind him and fit into its socket with a comforting *clank* *thud*, then screws inserted with light drills to keep it in there. The Hammerhand's main klaxon blared loudly as it began to depart, little torpedo boats, submarines, destroyers, frigates, cruisers, and battleships- all overshadowed by the terrifying Schalentiere- as they followed the flagship. Captain Friedrich Goeben, who had taken over the Hammerhand when Gutenberg became an admiral, stood with him as they looked out of Keistrel Harbor into the inviting, open sea.
"War is coming." Erich said.
Friedrich responded esoterically."To imagine anything else would be foolish."
He turned. "If I may ask, Admiral, how to you expect us to do?"
Erich faced him, and shrugged. "Damned if I know. I'd just prefer not to die."

by **Yanitza** » Tue Jan 31, 2012 2:39 am

October 4, 1912, 7;32 am
The village of Selaukais, Arnuta

‘’Awaken! Fellow members of the Yanitzan race! Throw off your chains of foreign oppression and help the Motherland defeat these Imperialistic Dogs!’’

Yelled a short, but very fiery man. He was standing upon the Outskirts of the Village, atop of a recently cut down tree . Many of the Villages, intrigued by him and his small group came to look out in curiosity. The group of five men surrounding him were dressed in an average working mans clothes, but armed with outdated rifles.

The short man raised his fist against the Norvenian flag that fluttered atop of the main governmental building in the village.

‘’We must fight the Foreigners! The unification of all the Yanitzan peoples is undeniable! It has already started on the Motherland, and now all that remains is for the last of the Diaspora to be brought back into the fold.’’

He stopped, panting from the effort and looked around at the assembled crowd to see what his delivery had brought them. Many of the villages shuffled about nervously and looked around.He grimaced as he saw their reluctance, For far to long have they been separated from the mainlands embrace.

For the villagers, like many Anutians, The Pan Yanitzan ideal that had erupted in the last half of the century was bringing out difficult, mixed emotions. It could not be denied that the Romantic notion could not have tugged at the heartstrings of the people. To be unified with their cousins across the sea was a proud thought, rather than living under Colonial rule of Norvinia, a subjagated people.

However, for many their was the desire to remain distinct, To them they saw that the fact that a brutal four year war had to be fought to bring the warring states under one rule in the mainland, this showed that Yanitzans showed that not meant to be together. While they lived under a Colonial administration, and were still poor and second class, It was much better then what the average living conditions of the a Yanitzan peasant was. Their was no Autocratic Vatsar, bandits were few and far, and Political instability and terrorism was little on the island.

Then of course was the constant fear of the Army, many knew about the brutality that the Norvenians were able to show to rebellious subjects, the destruction caused. Perhaps it was better to aspire for dominion status later in life?

It was for this reason the villagers quietly wandered off back to the village, some offering the speaker food and water out of politeness. He declined all with a sigh and looked upon the village with sadness. For him, he was finding it hard to light the spark needed to set the island in an uproar of Nationalism. But he would persevere. It was his mission. The destiny of his people. With an nod, he and his few loyal followers who had seen his truth, disapeared into the forest.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

October 4, 1912, 11:15 am
Near Chuzdentrupolis, The Vatsardom of Yanitza

The assembled men around the table looked very uncomfortable. Dressed in the attire that one would expect to find in a progressive state like Segmentia or Volmachtia, they stood out as wealthy men the army. Many of them were unhappy about how the events of the world were shaping these days. Another war was the least they wanted to deal with now.

Field marshal Victor Ruskous entered the tent and gave a polite nod to the group of men, and laid the group of rolled up papers on the table in front of him.

‘’Gentlemen’’ he begun ‘’we all know why we’re here. War seems to be on our doorstep, yet again so we need to begin to get the preliminary plans for this scenario underway so we will not be caught off guard.’’

A young man sporting a moustache by the name of Ionnis Mintarious immediately broke in.

‘’Why war? We have already had our fill. We should just back out and concentrate our resources in building a stable country.’’

‘’Because. Our dear Vatsar deems so’’ he replied through closed teeth. No one said a thing.
‘’Anyway’’ he continued rolling out a large map. ‘’In the event of war, our main concern and Priority is Segmentia. Segementia rules the waves. The only way that our navy has a hope of standing toe to toe with them is it is engaged in our southern water amongst the thousand and one islands. Other than that we are screwed at sea.’’

Everyone in the tent gave a nod in agreement.

‘’That is why our navy will be grounded for much of the war. Perhaps later on if the Segementains take a beating we may be able to deploy. This leads a problem for Akrionesia’’ he said pointing to the isolated island at the far corner of the map.

‘’Fortunately, it already has a large garrison, and the mostly Isolated islanders can be whipped up into a xenophobic frenzy with a good propaganda campaign.’’

This brought about a serious of chuckles. Victor let this go before continuing. ‘’It is doubtful an attack will be launched on the island anyway. It is isolated and holds little strategic value. Our main war will be fought, predictably, in the north. We hope to take, or at least hamper, the Segementian presence in Queensland. We don’t want an invasion on our borders. With the Segementians fighting across the globe, it will make our job easier. As for thoughts of sending an expeditionary force to Patra, it is still in doubt as the chances of us succesfully shipping men over are slim’’

Then Victor was silent, as if turning something over in his mind. He dismissed the guards inside the tent and pulled the flaps closed. He then faced the Hierarchy with a very serious look upon his face.

‘’What I am about to say now, remains strictly confidential. It is still purely theory, and may not happen.’’

He let a minute pass before unfolding a map detailing an invasion of the island of Anuta. This brought a series of gasps, then angry murmurs, then calls for an explanation. Victor raised his hands for silence.

‘’It is just a theory. I will do my best to try and prevent it. But the Vatsar thinks it should be worth our time to plan for an invasion of the island, should the war go well for us or quickly. Not a word about it.’’

From then on talk turned to hammering our the details of what a campaign in the north will require, supplies, units and the sort. All purely theory of course.

by **Glasgia** » Tue Jan 31, 2012 9:37 am

Nordkrusen wrote:October 4th

Hofmannstrasse 18 "The Brick Castle" Headquarters of the Nordkrussian General Staff

General fieldmarshal Ferdinand zu Güstrow was a very troubled man, sitting at a cluttered but still very neatly organised desk he eyed through the aptly named "General Report on the Royal Armed Forces." The findings of this commission troubled the aged fieldmarshal greatly, though what had been found out was notthing more than the fact that most armies including thet Nordkrussian one had greatly overestimated the vastness of their shell supplies...

With the larger ammounts of artillery employed by armies today compared to fifty years ago, he and indeed the commission had been expected to find nothing more than a moderate increase in shell consumption...but what they found had been the tip of a veritable iceberg. No army had infact calculated the enormous ammounts of shell modern artillery tactics would consume, and indeed with the rate of fire that modern guns had the stockpiles would diminish even faster.

What they found out was that if war broke out in 1912, their shell stockpiles would be used up by summer 1913 if using modern tactics...this was a disaster, a catastrophy even!
Putting away the report, he began writing up a request for an urgent gathering of the "General war council"
writing furiously, he failed to notice that the dark blue afternoon sky outside his large office window had been replaced by omnious grey clouds coming with the evening darkness...

Royal Castle, Nordkreussen

Interrupted in his afternoon coffee by a series of rapid knocks, nodding to his wife queen Augusta he rose from his favourite chair, while wiping off some coffee that accidentally stuck to his moustasche. "Excuse me darling..."
Opening the door the king found his personal steward standing there carrying two brown envelopes, " Herr Zenker? i trust that this is something important?" making an apologetic frown Zenker turned over the two envelopes.

"Urgent messages your majesty, one from the honourable president of Glasgia and another from Feldmarshall von Güstrow..."

Code: Select all
Letter Sent on the morning of October 5th 1912 Sender: Albrecht III von Hohenzollern Reciever:John MacBethad It glads me that our esteemed neighbors to the north would reach out a hand in friendship, we respond in kind m friends...perhaps a preliminary meeting of sorts could be held in the near future? Eagerly awaiting your response, Albrecht

To: Albrecht III von Hohenzollern

Thank you for replying so quickly.

We were hoping to hold a meeting as well, but we have no settled place. However Caledoni is a fine Glaswegian city and I stronglyreccomend it. The choice, neighbour, is yours though.

John MacBethad,
President of Glasgia

John relaxed. He'd finished the letter quickly and he'd cleverly managed to set up a small bit of intimidation. Though Nordkrusen was a larger nation, Glasgia's navy was possibly only 2nd to Segmentia's and Caledoni harboured most of the Glaswegian navy. There was also a large army base. If he could give the impression every city was like this, John might be able to make Albrecht side with Glasgia simply for protection. However, the main impression he wanted to give was a friendl neighbour, looking for protection itself. The military alliance would hopefully come with an economic pact and he'd have put Glasgia in a strong position to deal with the threat of Premislyd and Segmentia.

by **Segmentia** » Tue Jan 31, 2012 10:47 am

Burkia wrote:
To: Queen Alexandra Lividivus of Segmentia
From: Comrade Foreign Minister Rudolf Diap

Your Majesty,

In accordance with the treaty the Union of the Socialist States of Burkia signed with your government when joining the Segmentian Union, Comrade Supreme Leader Mikov has dispatched an Expeditionary Force to aid your troops in Jasarie; however, there are more pressing issues in dealing with Volmachtia: should war break out the USSB would require immediate military aid. My people are fighters but, with Volmachtia on our border and Aquitayne's unknown intentions, knowing what your plans are would be great solace to my government.

(signed)
Rudolf Diap

Queen Alexandra was about to depart for the Segmentian cruiser that would take her to Volmachtia for the meeting with the kaiser when the telegram was handed to her. It was true, Burkia would be one of the first nations to come under attack by the Coaliton, being on the border with Volmachtia. And it would be the smart thing to make sure it didn't fall. The more fronts the Coalition had to send forces to, the more spread out they would be.

To: Foreign Minister Rudolf Diap
From: Queen Alexandra Lividivus.

Minister Diap,

First let me thank you for your support in suppresing the Jasarie rebels, though I believe it would be prudent to keep all of your troops at home. I will not turn away help from our allies though. As for the military assistance you say you will require, this has already occured to my military commanders, and they have decided to deploy several divisions of the Segmentian Army to your nation, preferably before any hosilities start. I shall await the approval of your government before giving the order to deploy these divisions, though the longer they are in you nation, the more they will know the terrain, and the better the defensive actions will be.

With the telegram sent, Alexandra departed for the naval yard, where the SRNS Victory was waiting for her. It was a Battlecruiser, the first ship of a new class of ship that had all the newest naval techonology. There were already fourteen Victory-class battlecruisers' planned to be built, not including the Victory. Four were already being constructed. At the dock, two platoons of the Segmentian Royal Guard were also waiting for her. The SRG was perhaps the best fighting force in the world, with a history stretching back to the first years of Segmentia. She trusted her cousin not to try anything, but she didn't trust the Volmachtian citizens not to try anything foolish. The situation was worse enough without an attempted assassination.

Of course Alexandra expected the war to happen regardless of what happened in this meeting. She had already ordered the Ministry of the Navy to come up with a plan to cripple the Volmachtian navy, not after a war broke out, but as an act that would start one. She didn't much care who fired the first shots of the war, only who won. And she planned on winning. Half an hour later, the Victory set off on its way to Volmachtia. In the coming months, it would do so again, but not in the same manner.

------

Queensland-Yanitza border

"If they do try to advance across the border, we'll be able to cut them down. As you can see, sir, nothing but wide-open plains. A perfect place to bombard them to pieces. There is some hilly terrain to the west, but a good amount of defenses are stationed there. And not to mention, they won't be able to advance with too many troops, or else we'll be able to invade them with troops from Theresia, so they have to defend against that." The offcier explained to General Sir Marcus Moore, the commander of all Segmentian forces in Queensland, rougly 250,000 troops.

As he had be instructed by the Ministry of the Army, he was evaluating his position against possible attack. He had already told them he didn'y have enough men, and they said that would changed soon enough, something about a surge of patriotic volunteers about to sign up. A clear indication that a war was coming. The Segmentian force were spread a bit thin, but the reserve forces were being called up.

But the overall condition of the Segmentian military was not his concern, Queensland was. And he would do his best to hold it with what he had, and hoped that h would be given more troops. He nodded and returned to the car, so he could continue is inspection of the border.

by **B777LR** » Tue Jan 31, 2012 11:23 am

A seagull called above the waves as a fleet steamed through the salty sea in the early morning hours of October 4. The fleet was the Bandan Navy's 5th Fleet, and at its head was Bandastan's largest ship, the Indomitable. Commissioned only months ago, it was one of the most advanced dreadnoughts in the world. The fleet was conducting war-games as a show of force against the Segmentians, although it did nothing to change the fact that the Segmentians were far superior. The sun had started to come out of hiding, releasing a storm of light everywhere.

The Indomitable's Captain, James Pressman, was at his quarters, writing in his log:

Captain's Log, October 4, 1912, 6:00

We have arrived in International Waters to the west of Bandastan as planned. We are preparing to begin test-firing our weapons. I fear that war is just on the horizon, although my first officer says I'm simply over-reacting. The sunrise today is simply magnificent, and I just wish that it could last longer...

Just then, First Officer Gary Miles burst into the room, panting hard, staggering. He then steadied himself and calmed himself down, then said: "Captain, there's an unidentified group of vessels approaching us at high speed!" At that moment, Captain and First Officer ran to the bridge, preparing to meet the obstacle looming ahead.

When they arrived at the bridge, the Navigational Officer came up to the Captain. "False alarm sir, those ships were friendly." Pressman sat down and sighed. The next time, they could be in far worse trouble...

by **Burkia** » Tue Jan 31, 2012 7:21 pm

4 October 1912
Makran, Capital City of Burkia

"The divisions need to be stationed here and here. This will give us optimal defense when the Volmachtians launch their attack. We need to utilize a non-static defense: lots of trenches, with reserve trenches and lots of fast firing, light artillery to back up those main trenches." Marshal Winsor pointed to different areas on the map. An exasperated sigh slipped out of the man next to him, "Marshal. May I remind you that it's quite possible that war will not develop." The argument had been going on since the day before. The President, Joerg Mikov, vainly attempted to hide his smile as he tapped his Cigar against the ashtray. Here are two men many years older than I, arguing like children. He thought to himself. Mikov took a drag of his cigar and held up his hand. "Gentlemen, the decision has been made. My order was given an-"

A sharp knock interrupted the distinguished gentleman. "Enter, please." In rushed a young lieutenant who saluted the President then handed a piece of paper to Foreign Minister Diap. "Response to your telegram Sir." The young man saluted again then rushed out, closing the door behind him.

"Well? What does it say Rudolf?" Now it was the Marshal's turn to struggle to hide his grin. Diap's eyes narrowed at Marshal Winsor before clearing his throat and reading aloud, "The Queen appreciates our decision to send troops to Jasarie Island and seeks your approval to deploy several divisions to our nation, preferably before hostil-"

"Comrade Leader, you must approve this decision!" Marshal Winsor interjected, "The Segmentians are a noble people, and our troops would be lucky to serve next to such distinct warriors!"

"Comrade Leader, we cannot allow so many foreign troops! The Volmachtians would think this an act of aggression! We must avoid war at all costs." Foreign Minister Diap shouted. The two men began arguing with each other, voices escalating. Mikov grew agitated, and held up his hand for silence; the shouting men ignored him, and began pointing at each other and throwing around wild hand gestures.

"Gentlemen.." The men kept shouting at each other. "Gentlemen.." Marshal Winsor was now red in the face, with Diap turning shades of purple. "Gentlem-"

Suddenly the doors were kicked open and a security squad rushed in, revolvers drawn. "Sir, we heard shouting! Is everything alright?!" When the door was kicked open, Diap immediately dropped to the floor while Marshal Winsor had his own service weapon drawn and aimed closest security team member. President Mikov (who was beginning to turn a shade of light red himself) stood up and all eyes turned to him except Winsor's, who kept his eyes down the iron sight of his weapon.

"Everyone put your weapons away. Security Team, I find your promptness heartening but there is only a heated discussion happening here. You may return to your stations, thank you." The security team holster their weapons, saluted, and left. Marshal Winsor returned his own service weapon to it's home, then turn back to President Mikov.

"You two gentlemen should be ashamed of yourselves. You two are older than me; that being said, you should be acting like men and not children. Diap, send a reply to the Queen: Tell her that I accept her proposal and will meet the lead elements at the Port of Menaz myself. We'll need all the help we can get. There will be a Ticker tape parade for them. Now both of you get out of my office."

To: Queen Alexandra Lividivus of Segmentia
From: Comrade Foreign Minister Rudolf Diap

Your Majesty,

Take heart in knowning that our troops will land at Jasarie soon. After much discussion between Comrade President Mikov, myself and other top advisors, he has decided to ask that you send a limited number of divisions to Burkia. Comrade Mikov still holds the hope that war will be averted through diplomacy, a view shared with many of his foreign affairs advisers including myself. The hope is that the Volmachtians will not strike us; seeing so many foreign troops enter Burkia will surely provoke them.

(signed)
Rudolf Diap

Comrade Foreign Minister Diap stubbed out his cigarette and sent the telegram himself. "War must be avoided.." He murmured to himself as he left the Communications room.

by **Norvenia** » Wed Feb 01, 2012 2:23 pm

October 5, 1912; 1400 hours; Port Grayson, Bikati Islands

"You're a killjoy, cap."

Edward Morgan glanced up at the speaker, who stood sillhoutted in the doorway against the fierce tropical sunlight outside the cool, damp refuge of Morgan's semi-underground quarters. He smiled. "Is that so, corporal?"

"Aye, sir, sure and it is," replied Corporal George Evans with conviction. "Me and the boys, we're playing in the surf. We've got some good cider, dark and dry, chilled all the way from the Astor Basin, and some native girls as hot as the drink is cool. You don't know what you're missing out on, sir." Evans stepped into room; he wore only his uniform trousers, dark with seawater, and his chest's pale skin, typically Norvenian, was already red and peeling.

"Look's like I'm missing out on a bad case of the burns, Georgie," Morgan observed mildly.

"Nothing good comes without a little pain," the other man replied. "What're you doing, anyway, that's so important?"

Morgan leaned back in his chair and fluorished a battered brown leather book. "Writing. I keep a journal. Figure that if I catch a bullet one of these days, I'd like my parents to know how I Iived the last six years of my life."

Evans mulled this over. "Hm. Not my style, cap, but to each his own, I suppose. Enjoy your writing." He gave a casual salute and turned to go, then paused in the doorway. "Oh, before I forget: the colonel wanted to see you. Not sure what about." With that, Evans exited.

With a sigh, Morgan stood. The colonel. Perfect. He made his careful way to the regimental headquarters, a larger underground chamber not unlike Morgan's own quarters. There, he found the place a-bustle; furniture was being boxed and packed, maps rolled up, crates of instruments wheeled out. Shouldering through the confusion, Morgan finally managed to locate Colonel Rhys, a short, stocky man with grey-blond whiskers and a perpetually red face.

"Morgan!" cried Rhys, beckoning. "Morgan, me lad! I wanted to speak to you."

"So I heard from Corporal Evans, sir. Colonel, what is this? Are we redeploying?"

"Aye, that we are. To Anuta, no less. There've been some kooky pan-Yanitzan agitators stirring up trouble, and given the fact that their dear motherland seems to be getting rather uppity in the wake of its unification, High Command decided that a few more regiments of Regulars wouldn't be amiss. Ye follow?"

"Yes, sir." Morgan's face was troubled. Another jungle, another war. Except that in Anuta, we'll be new; we won't know the ground like we do here. "When do we move out?"

"Tomorrow." Rhys's face was grim. "That's why all these preparations are being made in a hurry. Let your men know, but don't stop them from enjoying their last day in port. They've earned it."

Morgan nodded, mind whirling. "Yes, sir." He paused. "Sir...with all the preparations for war, do you think that this is going to be just another jungle conflict? Or are we looking at a full-out war with Yanitza?"

The colonel shook his head. "I don't know, captain. But I know this much. We're the Norvenian Regulars, the best damned infantry in the world. And whatever happens, we'll be ready."

Morgan nodded again. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." He saluted, turned, and left.

Back in his bungalow, with the happy shouts of his men echoing dimly from outside, Morgan turned back to his journal and finished the entry.

5 October, 1912

We have been back in camp for almost a day now. The night fight out in the jungle fades in my memory, but for the most vivid details: the way the man looked in my eyes when I ran him through, the feeling of my rifle vibrating in my hands as the bayonet grated against bone, like a saw trembling as it hits a stud, metal hidden in the wood. Soon, I know, this too will fade. I have killed many men. We all have. I wonder sometimes if we kill too many.

All signs point to a larger war. All around the world, armies are mobilizing, fleets setting out. Do they understand the killing power of modern weapons? In the woods two nights ago, twenty-five of us killed fifty warriors in ninety seconds. That was without artillery, or machine guns, or aeroplanes. Who would send their families into a war that could last for years, conscious of the possible scale of the carnage? And if such a war is coming, who can hope to survive?

How many will die in the days to come? Who will be left when it is all over? Perhaps the end times are here at last; our world certainly matches Yeates' description:

"Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity...
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?"

October 5, 1912; 2330 hours; near Fastness, Commonwealth of Norvenia

It was the knocking that woke Daniel Griffith in the middle of the night. It wasn't loud, but it was insistent, a low rapping at the farmhouse door. In Griffith's twilight half-sleep, it resembled a woodpecker. Tap, tap, tap...

As he slowly came awake, Griffith discerned the true source of the noise. He moved slowly away from Mary, his wife, and slipped out of bed. The wood floor of the farmhouse, boards roughly cut by Griffith's own hands, was cold beneath his bare feet. Mary shifted slightly in bed, and mumbled in her sleep. Griffith gently pulled the covers back over her, bent and kissed the downy hair on the side of her head. The breathing of his children was soft on the other side of the room, near the fireplace.

Tap, tap, tap.

"All right, all right," Griffith muttered. He took his M10 service rifle down from the wall and worked the bolt, ratcheting a round into the chamber. You can never be too careful. Dan Griffith had lost his father and his fiancee - the first one, before Mary - in the 1892 Great Revolt. He knew to be wary of knocking in the middle of the night; it could all too easily be the Aborigines. It was the price of living on the frontier. And there are still some of the little red bastards around here. I've seen 'em, skulking in the pine forest.

So Griffith went slowly to the door, rifle raised, and peered through the peephole. He saw a head, but it was blond, and too tall to be an Aborigine. With a sigh of relief, the farmer lowered his rifle and opened the door. "Lew! You gave me a scare. I thought you were a red."

The other man, who was, like Griffith, in his late thirties, glanced at the rifle in Griffith's hands. "You're going to need that, Dan," he said quietly. "The Chancellor's called the Reserves to high alert. All of them. We've got to be ready to ship out on twenty-four hours' notice."

"Ship out?" Griffith was momentarily bewildered. The Reserves were tough as nails, more professional than most nation's regulars, but they had gotten that way by fighting Aborigines at home, not through overseas campaigns. "Ship out where?" Then the reality dawned on him. "This is about that foreign shit, isn't it? Between Volmachtia and Segmentia. Are we going to war?"

Lewis shook his head. "I don't know, Dan. I hope not. But I know we need to be ready." He paused. "Tell your family. Once we leave, there's no telling when we'll be back." He didn't add "if we'll be back," but it hung in the air unspoken. Both men had seen battle. They knew the situation.

"All right." Griffith nodded slowly, looking at the rifle in his hand. "All right, Lew. Thanks for coming by."

The other man nodded. "Of course. I'll see you in the morning."

"In the morning," Griffith replied, and slowly closed the door. He turned to go back to bed, and met Mary's eyes. She was sitting upright, blankets pulled up to her neck. Her eyes were wide and frightened.

"You heard?" Griffith asked quietly.

"Everything." Mary stood and walked over to him. She wrapped her arms around his thick chest and buried her head in his shoulder. Her tears were wet on the side of Griffith's neck. "Come back to me," she whispered.

Griffith tried to speak, but nothing came out. Instead, he gathered his wife close and held her for a long time. Outside, darkness descended on the little cabin deep in the woods.

by **Aquitayne** » Wed Feb 01, 2012 3:42 pm

Stüremburg, Aquitayne

Osserwold pounded his fist on the table. "Segmentia is sending troops to Burkia; Burkia is mobilizing; Norvenia is sending troops to god-knows-where and what are we doing?!" Though the intentions of Norvenia weren't known as well as anyone would have liked, Aquitayne was drawing the short end of the stick. Though the yearly wargames concealed the small mobilization of Aquitaynian personnel, everyone else in the world was not doing the same; rather each was gearing up for a full mobilization, something Aquitayne could not conceal even if they would have liked to. Segmentian soldiers to the south of Aquitayne and Volmatchia posed a huge strategic problem. If they were allowed to land, Burkia (in the event war did in fact break out) would be almost impenetrable.

The tip of the Aquitaynian spear would be the machine gun mounted on the sleek, agile and fast P-22 Lightning. If war were to occur, aerospace dominance would be crucial for the conquering of Burkia. Even with help from Volmatchia, they'd be engaged too heavily against Segmentia - a possible reason for Segmentian troops to be landing in Burkia - to aid exponentially in the assaults. So it would be left to the military minds in Aquitayne to eliminate the immediate threat, and to do so would involve large amounts of cavalry - and many, many planes.

"Führer, I propose a full mobilization of Aquitaynian forces. If we do so, we'll be much more prepared the moment war breaks out." Wilhelm interjected Osserwold's thoughts after his show of anger and frustration, attempting to shed light on the dim situation.

"If we mobilize, Wilhelm, we will also be instigating a war! What if Segmentia and Volmatchia come to terms and our troops are aiming their barrels over the border? What then?"

"We go back to standard military readiness. It is better to have and not need than need and not have, sir. I don't believe any nation wants war to occur, but each is making the precautions to be prepared if it does."

Osserwold shook his head. He didn't want Aquitayne to be an instigator in this, nor did he want to be ill prepared; if Segmentia was planning something, though, they would need Burkia - and that's what frightened him. Segmentia could easily be using Burkia as a staging ground to launch attacks into Aquitayne and or Volmatchia, and if they didn't act quickly, it could be too little too late. "What kind of terrain makes up the border with Burkia?" He looked at his geographical adviser for his answer.

"Führer, the border with Burkia is extremely beneficial for any type of troop movements. The east and southeast areas are hilly but clear of most trees, and the western areas are heavily wooded. This can be used to try and feign attack from the east while we take advantage of the woods to attack Burkia from the west."

Ossurwold shook his head approvingly. "And what of the Segmentian divisions making their way to Burkia, Wilhelm?" He turned his attention to his top military adviser, hoping he'd have an answer.

"Well, Führer, it's hard to say. We know that several Divisions have been deployed, but our definition of division is much larger than most. However, the presence of Segmentian troops in Burkia at all presents a strong problem for us, as they might be planning a pre-war strike against us. My professional recommendation is to - persuade - Burkia into disallowing Segmentian troops in their country."

Ossurwold unknowingly let a small grin spread across his face. He wasn't satanic, and he wasn't a warmongerer - but the way Wilhelm said it just induced a smile. "And how would you have us do that, Wilhelm?"

"We issue an Ultimatum, Führer. We tell Burkia that if they allow Segmentian troops into the country it will be seen as an act of war; we have every right to say so as well. However, before that ultimatum is issued - perhaps by two hours time - I suggest we deploy an Army Group to the southern border. Not in immediate invasion position, but close enough to repel attack - and far away not to make them think we'll be the first to strike. Perhaps fifty miles inland?"

"That sounds excellent," Ossurwold nodded approvingly, "see to it that the troops are mobilized. I want to be prepared. If it's war they want, we won't be the ones deciding if they get it."

Stüremburg, Aquitayne
Jack & Brown Aerospace Technologies

"I do really very believe you are going to be astoundingly excited about this almost perhaps as much as I am!" Jack Hammond, the co-founder of Jack & Brown Aerospace Technologies was giddy with overwhelming excitement over the prospect of landing an extremely large contract with the Reichstag. His associate, Timothy Brown, was standing by their invention at the other end of the room. Jack escorted Wilhelm into the large warehouse where their headquarters were located. It was a large building, but extremely unkept. It seemed neither of them really cared for it too much.

"The only thing I care about right now, Jack, is if the damned thing works." Wilhelm walked over to where Timothy was standing, shaking his hand when he arrived. Tim had a strong grip, Wilhelm always admired that in handshakes, you could tell a lot about a man from one.

"I assure you, General, it works." Timothy smiled as he motioned for Wilhelm to stand behind the display. What Jack referred to as the display was an engine equipped with propellers sitting atop a strong looking wooden table. The engine was encased in the frame of the P-22 Lightning's front end, and atop it was dual 7.22 millimeter machine guns. They were pointed at a picture of another aircraft at a side angle, to gauge the full power that this invention wielded.

"As you can see here, General, we have the exact engine that is used on the P-22 Lightning - and the most effective caliber machine gun to be used on the frame. Now, we've created something we call the 'Interrupter Gear'. Without getting into technical mumbo-jumbo I know you don't want to listen to, it allows us to shoot the machine gun rapidly without hitting any of the propellers."

Wilhelm looked at him approvingly, but his eyes still had large amounts of skepticism tucked away behind the retina. He wanted to believe it, but he also couldn't until he saw it. "Prove it, then." He said assertively.

Timothy nodded his head and smiled, realizing that there was a strong chance they would get the contract. If they did, it would be their big break - everyone would know Jack & Brown Aerospace Technologies! Oh, how wonderful would that be? Snapping himself back to reality, he could see that Jack was already at the propeller ready to spin it up. Tim turned the engine on and Jack spun the propeller, and all three men watched it kick to life and turn quicker than a man could blink.

Timothy now had to yell to speak to Wilhelm, the engine roared throughout the warehouse. "Now! I'm going to shoot the machine guns!" Tim pointed to the twin guns for visual confirmation, and Wilhelm gave him a thumbs-up. Tim smiled and turned, pulling the trigger and watching the Vickers machine guns roar into action, spewing 450 rounds down range after a minute of firing.

The firing continued for about two more minutes before they ran out of ammunition. Timothy quickly turned the engine off, the warehouse now smelling distinctly of gasoline and gun powder. Timothy waited for a short time for them to regain their ability to hear properly, and then continued with the sales pitch. "As you can see, sir, the machine guns fire exceptionally and completely destroyed the target we were firing at - and accurately too. If you want to see and make sure that not a single bullet even bounced off the propeller, take a look for yourself."

Wilhelm walked over to the now immobile propellers, looking them over in search for any cracks or hols that would indicate bullet penetration, but there were none. Wilhelm nodded his head approvingly, and turned back to Jack. "How much do you gentleman want for the design?"

by **Volmachtia** » Wed Feb 01, 2012 4:48 pm

Vormuir Harbor
October 9th, 1912, 10:42 A.M.

Kaiser Rudolf VIII and his retinue observed the Segmentian battlecruiser steam into the sprawing ports of Vormuir, Volmachtia's greatest industrial city and hinge of its titanic railway network. Wearing a sharp Imperial uniform, a curt officer's cap and black gloves and boots, the Kaiser did his utmost to portray a public image of miltant preparedness. The people were oozing energy and desire to go to war, and if it was indeed unavoidable, he had no reason to deny then what they sought.

The SRNS Victory loomed just ahead as large cables began to seal it onto the massive piers of Vormuir's seaborne infrastructure. Aeroplanes buzzed overhead, cautious for any trickery that couldn't be seen from ground level, and small armies of reporters stood in clusters to the sides of the main road reserved for the party to depart. Angry chanting crowds roaring, "Tod den Mörder! Justiz, die ungerecht!" Death to the Murderer, Justice to the Unjust!. Public displeasure over the summit was profound. In a unique turn of events, most wanted to turn out in masses to kill. It was another step in an unsettling chain of events across the globe.

The Victory's loading dock fell open, and Queen Alexandra of Segmentia, Rudolf's beloved cousin and good friend, followed by elements of the Segmentian Royal Guard, exited from the vessel and stamped onward with a high-spirited purpose. He scrutinized her manner from a distance. It did not seem warm. Neither did his, anyhow. Both understood the inevitable. The Kaiserwachte, or Kaiser's Watch, bodyguard troops tensed as the Segmentian delegation approached. Making a silent gesture to calm, he stepped forward and greeted Alexandra with an open hand.
"Good morning, dear cousin. I pray you've had a good trip?"

------

October 9th, 1912
11:58 A.M., Fort Franz, southwestern Volmachtia

The cavalry's hooves tapped on the stony ground of the Ulsterland flats. They marched and paraded in massed formations, moving downwards by the thousands to the border of Burkia to make camp and dig in. Reports from aero-observers had confirmed that they had dug into a trench network to prevent an immediate assault from overwhelming them. Very well. Burkia did not have Volmachtia's overwhelming firepower in artillery, if they wanted an attrition war, Volmachtia would grind them into dust.

Colonel Ernst Beck stepped in formation with the rest of his regiment trailing behind him, just before the regimental colors, himself having foregone horses due to his own distaste for the animals. His own suspicion incensed that they'd be useless against fortifications, only on wide-open fronts would be applicable. Fortunately the Chief of Staff for the XV Army had his common sense, so intended them to be more of a mobile reserve of mounted infantry than anything.

Ernst surveyed the landscape. Rolling, calm, green hills, verdant pasture. Bits of weathered rock stuck out, evidence of ancient geologic activity long since concluded. Their road was paved stone, stretching at over 40 meters wide, and going on for hundreds of kilometers in both directions, intersecting countless others in the process. He looked into the sky. Calm, light clouds, sun beaming down. He adjusted his field-gray cap and tightened his grip on the butt of his Jaeger bolt-action rifle. The marching columns kept pushing on. And far-off in the distance, near the border, trenches. Their own, fortunately. Dugouts for artillery and airstrips for aeroplanes. The Burkians would be smashed by an overwhelming crash of firepower. Probably.

------

Imperial Foreign Ministry
October 9th, 1912, 12:32 P.M.

TO: Office of Fuhrer Osserwold of Aquitayne
FROM: Foreign Ministry of Volmachtia

Both of us are well aware, now, of the impending clash of wills between Volmachtia and Segmentia. Burkia and Premislyd, friends of Segmentia, will be drawn onto the side of the Segmentians. In honoring previous agreements and your membership of the Coalition mutual military pact, we hereby petition you to formally recognize our alliance in this coming conflict and to begin combining commands and offensive operations. With luck, Segmentia and its cronies will be crushed and we may hoard the spoils at the negotiating table. Good day to you and your people. We look forward to marching to victory and glory together.

Signed,
Rudiger von der Gotze, Volmachtian Foreign Minister

by **Segmentia** » Wed Feb 01, 2012 5:30 pm

Vormuir Harbor
October 9th, 1912

"As good as can be expected in such time." Alexandra replied to her cousin Rudolf. Taking a glance around, she noticed the angry crowds, seemingly just waiting to charge at her. "I see the rabble has made its way out." She commented. "Now then, lets retire to a more civilized setting and do our best to sort this mess out." Of course, she knew nothing would come of this little meeting, just acusations and threats. And thats why she and her military advisers had already formulated a plan that would be the first, or one of the first, actions of the war. Back in the many Segmentian naval ports, the Home Fleet and several battlegroups were being prepared. Thei mission would to sail to the Volmachtian naval bases and launch a surprise attack, hopefully one that would cripple the Volmachtian navy, or at the very least damage it enough to make it what one of the admirals had said 'a toothless tiger'. A toothless tiger still had claws though.

And else where in the Empire, the garrisons were being mobilized, recruitment was up, and the vast majority of the industry had been refocused to produce war-material. Volmachtia and Aquitayne were the primary threats, ground-wise anyway. Their colonies, however, would not be too terribly hard to take over, after being cut off from their home nations of reenforcements and major resupply by the Segmentian Navy. And of course Segmentia proper didn't have to worry about land borders with other nations. One of the benefits of being an island nation.

The war was coming. It was a race to see who would start it.

by **Burkia** » Sat Feb 04, 2012 9:50 am

9 October 1912
Makran, Capital City of Burkia

"Comrade President, we need to answer Aquitayne. The Fascists are banging on our door." Foreign Minister Diap sat in front of President Mikov, who was rubbing his tired eyes. "Rudolf, I do not want to publicly embarrass ourselves; as you know Fascism is the natural enemy to Socialism. Unfortunately, they are almost double our size. Send them a message: tell them we will instruct the Segmentians to keep their troops only if they withdraw their forces two hundred kilometers from our border." Diap nodded his head and took notes.

"Now tell me about Jasarie Rudolf."

9 October 1912
Jasarie, Colony of Segmentia

Colonel Byrd spat on the ground, looking at the Company he was visiting; the Commanding Officer of the Marine Regiment sent to Jasarie often visited front line troops. These have got to be the roughest, toughest Marines that I've served with Byrd thought to himself as the scruffy Marines came to attention. "Stand at ease men; you boys are fighting the good fight, a fight that needs to be done. For as soon as we finish here, we'll be heading to deal with those Volmachtian so-and-so's. And we'll put them in their place, right boys?" The Colonel was met with a roar of approval. "Keep it up men!"

To: James Osserwold
From: Foreign Minister Rudolf Diap

Herr Osserwold,

I concur that rising tensions are threatening the stability of our continent; however, one sovereign nation cannot dictate the will of another. It is completely reasonable to assume that Burkia and Segmentia are planning an assault; however, it is completely false. Burkia will renounce her Alliance with Segmentia just as soon as Aquitayne renounces her alliance with Volmachtia. We will order Segmentian forces out of Burkia and move Burkian forces two hundred kilometers away from your border if you would comply with the same request: move your forces two hundred kilometers away from our shared border.

Workers of the World, Unite!
(signed)
Rudolf Diap

by **Aquitayne** » Sat Feb 04, 2012 1:29 pm

Stüremburg, Aquitayne

"200 kilometers? Are they insane?" Osserwold was furious. He knew it was a ploy; a thin wire that would snap if too much pressure was placed on one end. If Ossurwold wanted Segmentia to stay off the continent, he needed to back down. Two hundred kilometers was too vast a distance, it was as if Burkia wanted to invade for their own gains - this would not be allowed. Though the Burkians promised to keep a two hundred kilometer distance as well, Ossurwold didn't believe it. Just as Aquitayne was not prepared to give the distance, he doubted Burkia was any more wavering to do so. Aquitayne would not move back the two hundred kilometers, but they would also not enforce their demands upon Burkia; it was as though each negated the other. Instead, they would wage a homeland war. All roads into and going from Aquitayne to Burkia were shut down, small armed patrols manned the gatehouses.

Ossurwold immediately issued an Imperial decree detaining all Burkian citizens living in Aquitayne, or first and second descendants of Burkian ethnicity. These people would be sent north, far north, to the small and remote town of Chegdomn. This was where traitors to the Empire were sent to live out the rest of their days; it was cold, rainy, and many died due to the weather. They were not forced to do work, only to sit and do nothing - sitting in the cold for the rest of their lives.

Because of the new decree, thousands of people were being shipped to the facility. The buildings were now overcrowded, the people were underfed, and though they were permitted to keep their clothing - many still died from the cold. Ossurwold had no remorse, though. It was his way of waging a war against Burkia that not even they would know about. No one would. This would prevent spying operations and allow Aquitayne to prevent making the first true military move.

At the 60 kilometer line inland of Aquitayne, a series of defenses were being constructed. Large 150, 200, and 250mm artillery cannons were being placed 66 kilometers behind the front lines to ensure death to the Burkians if they decided to invade. The Wilhelm Plan called for a fake retreat if the Burkians did invade; three decoy divisions would be sent within the 60 kilometer range the second Burkians moved across the border, taunting them and 'retreating', leading the Burkians to the heavily defended trench system; in the end, ultimately killing all invaders.

From the west would come the 8th, 11th, and 14th Cavalry Divisions, to launch a counter assault into Burkia if they did attack. These cavalry divisions would be assisted by the 1st, 3rd, 7th, and 9th Infantry Divisions, along with the 4th, 7th and 9th Air Wings. The defensive perimeters being constructed were manned by the 1st and 2nd Army Groups - approximately 300,000 men - the most combat experienced soldiers in Aquitayne.

The Aquitaynian Navy was also sending 200,000 troops to the Frasia islands to ensure colonial stability in the event of war, and to ensure that they would be able to hold their ground in the event of a Segmentian assault. Naval dominance in the Frasia island chain was crucial to ensure rapid retaliation to Segmentia's Queensland province if they chose to attack, and it was crucial to keep the Homeland free from aerial and naval attack. Aquitayne was preparing for the worst by sending the best; and with hundreds of P-22 Lightning aeroplanes being retrofitted with the interrupter gear and the machine gun, Ossurwold had no doubt in his mind that supremacy in the skies would be theirs.

To: Volmatchia | From: The Fascist Empire of Aquitayne | Subject: Alliance

Kaiser,

I assure you that Aquitayne will stand by you in this time of crisis. Our word is our highest honor, and it will not be trifled with. Burkia is proving to be a large problem in our endeavors, and - with new technology available - we will be sending the designs for a device called the Interrupter Gear to your government under extremely heavy guard. This technology allows us to place machine guns on airplanes. Yes! It is quite extraordinary, and this will allow us to gain the upper hand against our foes.

Aquitayne will not back down, and we look forward to fighting alongside your great nation in this war. May victory bestow us honor greatness! Heil Volmatchia and Heil Aquitayne!

James Ossurwold

by **Volmachtia** » Sun Feb 05, 2012 4:27 pm

October 9th, 1912, 11:24 A.M.
Vormuir Harbor

"Indeed it has. The call for war in response to the Hulm attack has struck a chord amongst the populace. They are restless and frustrated, fed up with the arms race and cold war." He sighed, and looked around the harbor. Indeed, many were enraged. Policemen tried to keep the bulging crowds howling anti-Segmentian and astoundingly racist slogans back. Most of the Hulm's crew had come from Vormuir. Families without fathers and mothers without sons were the most scornful type. A few rotten apples and cobblestones fell into the ring held by police between the mob and the monarchs, prompting a harsh series of cracking billy sticks.

"Well, this is becoming increasingly uncomfortable. I'll arrange transport to a quiet location- the local Governor's office should work, and it's only a few kilometers away." He waved to an attendant to ring for a series of automobiles. The Segmentian guards tensed, some of them sensing danger to their Queen. The Kaiser winked at them. They reminded him so much of protective boyfriends, refusing to let their beloved out of their sight. "And get transport for some of the guards, too. Just so their commander can feel at ease." The rumbling of approaching automobiles sounded off in the distance, cutting through the raging crowds. A large one, long and with plenty of space, approached first. The Kaiser gestured to it.
"After you."

------

October 9th, 1912, 5:30 P.M.
Volmachtia-Burkia border, Volmachtian 11th Siege Division command tent

Colonel Ernst Beck chatted with Major General Braun. The discussion was most urgent.
"A preemptive strike would guarantee war." the general said.
Beck snorted. "As if anyone would think otherwise."
"But why, then? Why make it certain?" Braun spoke, sounding increasingly exasperated.
"It is certain, sir. There's no avoiding it now. You're a respectable old officer, but off the record sir, you hold too strongly to peace. When the time for war comes, you can't stand back and wish you weren't there. You have to go forth and fight."
Braun shook his head. "I fought for years during the Rogabe uprisings in Armagor. I don't wish it on any other man."
"Neither do I. But it's going to happen, sir, we can't resist it."
"Maybe. Maybe." Braun reclined back into his chair, took the bottle of scotch and poured some. He offered a glass to Beck, who declined politely, then continued.

"Volmachtia is unmatched in siege warfare. We will overcome them."
"But in how long? Years? Can we survive that much war?"
"A nation like ours has never been destroyed by war before, only reduced. We will persist."
"At what cost?"
"The lives of Segmentians and Burkians in their millions."
"And of our own."
Beck smirked. "Of course."
"But if I do as you suggest and offer a preemptive strike to Field Marshal von Kalbou, I might be sacked."
"Position, position. Rank, rank. It's secondary to what you're trying to accomplish."
"Or what you are." Braun scoffed.

Beck cocked his head. "But do you agree with me?"
"What?"
"Do you agree that it would work?"
"It might. But it might also drag everything down with it."
"It's just a suggestion." Beck said. "I'll leave you to it, sir." The colonel saluted and made his way back to his regiment.

The Fires of War: An NS WW1 RP

The Fires of War: An NS WW1 RP

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