Cerdo ret Endqop, the literal English translation being 'Sea of Gangrene', being named so by the ancients for it's mysteriously black waters, lay off the shores of New Rotororanda, a part of Rotororanda under occupation of the New Pazanian Rotororandan Reconstruction Administration since 2006. In the early hours of the morning, these normally tame, silent waters were disturbed by two cutters charging forwards at an immense speed, the white foam being a stark contrast to the black waters. These were Welch-class Homeland Defense Cutters, and they had received a distress signal while on a routine patrol near Southern Rotororanda, the country being a haven for pirates, terrorists, and smugglers of all types, this was nothing out of the ordinary. However, the signal was not being dispatched from a merchant vessel that wandered too far into pirate territory, but was rather coming a rather surprising source: the N.P.N.S.S. Fearsome , a small Firestorm-class frigate that was on routine patrol as well. The cutters were under command of Captain Edwin Michaels, a no-nonsense veteran of the Territorial Waters Protection Force for over twenty years.
"Do we have a read on the exact location of the Fearsome at this point?" he asked, having just been woken up and briefed on the situation.
"Not yet, sir. We don't have the AWACS support from the Nautical Service yet. Apparently they have a major naval exercise in the vicinity of Xerntevis at 0700 hours and they need them all well rested for it." replied Night Officer Alexander O' Malley, who was in control of the ship during night hours.
"This is a serious military matter. The Nautical Service can't devote some resources, not even one AWAC in order to find a ship that could potentially be in danger?"
"I've been on the phone with Admiral Orangehill in Xerntevis, Vice Admiral Streinchimer in Takhai, Vice Admiral Lobegon in Point Venice, and even High Admiral Tyushimi in Kidlantis City. Most of them are disgruntled at being woken up at such an early hour, and have threatened to have their lobbyists have funding cut from the T.W.P.F. if they're woken up again. In essence, the Nautical Service is not treating this as a serious matter, and only Lobegon has found an available AWAC."
"What's its ETA?"
"Two hours."
"What about ours?"
"Fifteen minutes."
"They could only find one AWAC in what is basically greater than half of the country? What the hell are they doing out there, battling five Inyurstan fleets?"
"As I stated before, some sort of exercise. I would presume it's a major one. I don't follow the Nautical Service. Arrogant over-the-top pricks."
"That's the spirit, Night Officer. Do we know of any sonar buoys, submarines near our location?"
"No, Captain. All we have for the location of the vessel is the distress signal location, and the tracking implant, which went offline about five minutes after the distress call."
"Was the vessel moving at all during the period online?"
"No, we believe that if the vessel was being attacked by pirates, they would attempt to fight them off."
"Anyone in the T.W.P.F. knows that's a horrible idea."
"Which is why they joined the Nautical Service."
"Oh well, I suppose all we can do right now is ready our boarding teams and prepare to board the vessel."
At that point, as if on cue, a man came rushing down into the command center.
"We've spotted gun smoke!" he said, struggling to breath from all the running and shouting he had evidently been doing.
At once the Captain swept out of the command center. Sure enough, in the sky there were telltale signs of a naval gun being discharged. The Captain also noticed a trace of thicker black smoke in the sky, which he concluded must be coming from a ship that was hit during the now evident battle. Sure enough, even in the dim dawn light, one could make out the outline of a military ship, along with several smaller boats. There was a great commotion which followed this among the suddenly nervous crew.
"ATTENTION!" Michaels shouted, trying to regain some semblance of control over his crew. The entire crew on the first deck snapped to attention almost immediately.
"All boarding personnel will immediately ready themselves and prepare to board all ships, all helicopter personnel will begin liftoff procedures immediately, and all medical staff will prepare themselves to tend to all injured people. Is that clear?" he said, speaking into a microphone so the other ship could hear the message.
This was met with an immediate response in the form of a 'sir, yes, sir' from both crews, and both crews started moving immediately. Through the course of around eight minutes, both crews prepared to the maximum extent. After the eight minutes concluded, both crews were ready, and the full extent of the situation becams clear. There were multiple small pirate vessels surrounding the Fearsome, and it appeared as if there were bullet holes in the frigate, and one of the pirate freighters had a hole blown open in the side of it, which was where the ammunition had exploded. After another few minutes, the boarding personnel were finally able to board, with a helicopter circling above as quietly as a helicopter could, trying to make the noise seem as natural as possible. Once aboard the ship using gangplanks, the boarding crew moved quietly towards a door that led to lower decks. Once inside the vessel, the crew was greeted to an eerie sight of an empty corridor with dimmed lights.
"People just don't disappear from a ship like this." remarked Sergeant Oemba, who was leading her squadron.
The only sound on the entire ship was the sound of their own boots reverberating through the deserted hallways. The squadron's M41A2 TAFIR carbines remained fixed at the various doors in front of them. Then, from the part of the corridor that twisted into a smaller hallway, a loud noise that appeared to be the sound of footsteps was heard by the squadron. The squadron covered on the right wall of the main corridor. Oemba, at the head of the formation, waved her hand forward to signal that there were no hostiles in the hallway. Private Linus Axelsson was the first to head into the hallway, and stumbled backwards and fell on his back.
"Oh my God! Oh my God!" the Private shrieked in an extremely high-pitched voice. He continued to whimper pathetically while the other members of the boarding squadron emerged from behind their cover in an attempt to see what Private Axelsson has saw which made him collapse. A similar gruesome sight was bestowed upon their eyes. Hanging from the ceiling, there was a dead Pazanian seaman, his body beaten and shot multiple times in the chest. Two of the soldiers tried to comfort Axelsson, two other soldiers guarded the door at the end of the hallway to ensure that no pirates came in after Axelsson's fit. The other five soldiers stood around in shock, trying in vain to comprehend what they had just saw. Oemba was barking out information to Captain Michaels on her radio in a subdued manner. After she had updated him on their situation, she ordered all of the squadron members into a small circle in order to draw them back together.
"Michaels wants us to try and search the other rooms to gauge what happened and the extent of the casualties. He wants us back on the first deck in order to try and storm the control tower. Apparently the other squadron is in a firefight right now as they tried to search the tower." Axelsson, who had since recovered from his shock, peeked into the inside of the nearby sailor residency room, ensuring that it was clean. He moved into the room, and saw something he had seen immediately before this current moment. There were four dead sailors, however, one of them was holding an M5 Cobra pistol, and apparently shot one of the invaders before he was able to spread his killing. Oemba walked up to the dead invader and examined his body.
"Definitely appears to be Rotororandan..." she said, trying to prove that the invaders were indeed Rotororandan pirates.
"The choice of clothing would also indicate that he is indeed a pirate. said Private Joshua Parham, taking note of his seemingly rag-like clothing, which displayed a stark contrast to several thick gold chains around his neck.
"He also has an insignia on him that would seemingly belong to a person in a piracy group" Oemba mentioned, delivering the final verdict. "The Fearsome has definitely, without a doubt, been attacked by multiple Rotororandan pirate groups. The Fearsome must have thought the boats were just a group of fishing trawlers or merchant vessels. By the time they got close it was probably too late."
The squadron surveyed several more rooms, coming to the same conclusion. There were dead sailors everywhere on the ship, along with many pirates accompanying them to the grave. By the time they had come to a conclusion on the full extent of the damage, the firefight for the control tower had ended. Four Pazanian soldiers had lost their lives, in addition to ten of the remaining fifteen pirates. The remaining five pirates had been taken as prisoners, while all of the remaining boarding personnel were all somewhat wounded, some more severely than others, although none of them were in critical condition. Personnel from both cutters had since boarded the Fearsome in an attempt to tally the amount of dead Pazanians. The figures were morbid. The entire crew, save for a few engineers who had hid away in the deepest regions of the engine room, were all found dead or fatally wounded. The fatality rate was staggering, with other 250 Pazanians dead. On the Welch-5, Captain Michaels once again stood with Night Officer O'Malley.
"Well, I've reported the events of tonight to the Nautical Service High Command." said Michaels to start the conversation.
"What have their reactions been?" replied O'Malley.
"Predictable. They've canceled the exercise in Xerntevis and have ordered all surface ships on the southern and eastern shores back to base. All ships on the western shore are traveling in larger packs than normal, and are on the lookout for any suspicious activity. They've contacted T.W.P.F. High Command in New Cardiff. All personnel along the same aforementioned shores have been activated, and before long there will be a high concentration of T.W.P.F. ships in our area. We've been ordered to tow the Fearsome back to port in Noyabrgrad. Tyushimi is pushing for an emergency meeting."
O'Malley looked at the rising sun, and thought back to his semester of geography in college. "It's arround 5:00 A.M. here. That means it's around 2:00 A.M. on the west coast and Kidlantis City. That's rather early for a meeting of any sort..."
Michaels chuckled. "O'Malley, I suggest your not get worked up about that. The people in our government don't need sleep, they only need run of the power of their own greed and unchecked ambition..."
Executive Tower, Kidlantis City, New Pazania, 2:10 A.M.
Vice President Harald Bandoni walked down the quiet halls of the Executive Tower in search of the elevator. In his hand was a working flashlight, as the Executive Tower as a new security policy turned off their corridor lights at midnight except in special situations to prevent any intruders from quietly attacking the president, on his body were drab gray nightclothes, and his face bore a grim smile. It had been a long wait for an incident of this magnitude to occur. Now they could finally proceed with military action in Rotororanda. Behind him, he heard footsteps approaching.
"Good early morning, Councilor Crane. I presume you jumped straight out of bed and onto the skybridge once you heard of the events that transpired earlier this morning." Bandoni said to the tall, young, brown-haired man in sky blue nightclothes behind him.
"Indeed I did, Vice President. And how are you this morning?" Jeff Crane replied.
"Tired somewhat, but otherwise I'm fine. How about you?"
"Excellent."
"Why did you take the trouble of taking the long walk from the Legislative Tower to here?"
"My room is actually closer to the Executive Tower elevator that goes underground than the one in the Legislative Tower, so I decided to take the shortcut." Promptly after he said this, an NPSS agent walking expeditiously in the opposite direction of Bandoni's residence, inadvertently bumping into him.
"My apologies, sir." said the agent, whose badge identified him as Myrat Babayev.
"Think nothing of it, my friend. However, I must ask, where are you going." Bandoni said in a perhaps overly lighthearted nature.
"Lee's room. Apparently they're having a hard time waking him up by calling him and setting off the emergency alarm clock did not work. They want me to check that he's alive as well as wake him. I have no idea what they want me to do. If the emergency alarm clock noise wasn't enough to jolt him into consciousness, well, I suppose I'll have to dump cold water on him." he said.
"Don't bother, said Bandoni. "Lee has been strenuously on that Gerhvea-Pazania Job Opportunities Bill. To my knowledge, he has not slept at all in the last 48 hours. Allot him some sleep, it will be excellent for his health. Just listen to the cardiologist."
Crane felt pressured into saying something which supported Bandoni's statement, which is precisely what he did. "I do have to say, a good night's sleep is essential for maintenance of heart health. In addition, staying among the living would require enormous amounts of caffeine, which would increase his heart rate and his blood pressure, neither of which are good for heart health, especially with the additional stress of the entire Nosteneven situation. If he didn't drink a large amount of caffeine, then he would be likely either to pass out or be so tired that the need for sleep impairs his decision making."
Bandoni followed up on this statement immediately. "I can take over for him in the immediate situation, and when he has finally regained consciousness, he can make the important long-term decisions. Check that he is alive, but don't wake him up."
The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open to a blinding light from the interior. Once the trio had recovered from the sudden onset of light, Bandoni and Crane merged with the light of the elevator and walked into the elevator. Agent Babayev continued on his path back to Lee's residence. Bandoni took a deep breath and inserted his ID card into a slot below the buttons, and pressed the button for floors 35, the top floor, floor 21, floor 18, and floor 1.
Government Base Bunker, Situation Room
The refurbished Pazanian Government Situation Room was a technologically complex, yet simple structure. In its center, there was a massive conference table with seating for about 30. There were monitors for every seat at the table, as well as a laptop for those who needed to attend the meeting but were not able to do to distance constraints. Among those present were Supreme Senator Nancy Prestocheven, Marshal William Rostwell, Field Marshal James Nottingham, High Admiral Hiroko Tyushimi, Grand Admiral Grace Cantrill, Air Marshal Vasili Shwaeserenski, and Minister of Defense Raleigh Fenage, along with other lesser military and political figures. In addition, there were several participants attending the conference while not being there physically, including Marshal of the Territorial Waters Protection Force Markus Olsson, and Senator Wilfred Drucus, Head of the Senate Committee on Defense Affairs. There were several notable absences, those being Supreme Councilor Steven Nosteneven, Councilor of Defense Riley T. Underhill, and President Xavier Lee himself.
"Vice President Bandoni," Marshal Rostwell began in a gruff, raspy tone, staring Bandoni right in the face. "Do you have any knowledge as to the whereabouts of our absentees?"
"Marshal, I believe that I do. Councilor Underhill in presently in Washington attempting to strike a deal with the Americans for military equipment. President Lee is upstairs sleeping. He had gone without sleep for 48 hours, and it is crucial that he does not have his decision making impaired by sleep deprivation." replied Bandoni.
Rostwell seemed perplexed by the reasoning behind the last absence, but continued on. "And Nosteneven?"
"I believe that we all know where he is right now."
This sobering remark from Bandoni brought a solemn attitude to each of the room's occupants, and made them accurately reflect upon the large scale of the situation they were dealing with.
"Undergoing extensive chemotherapy..." Rostwell said, checking off a mark next to his name.
"He's stage four. I don't understand why he keeps trying." Crane said.
Rostwell gave Crane a look and determined it would be best to return to the topic at hand. Once everybody was seated, he began.
"Alright, I believe that everybody attending this emergency conference has some knowledge of the incident that occurred around 0400 hours P.E.T. in Cerdo ret Endqop." Rostwell said, looking around the table for confirmation of this.
"I will now hand the floor over to Marshal Olsson in New Cardiff for a more complex briefing."
"Thank you, Marshal Rostwell, said Olsson, in an accent that was distinctly Swedish. "At approximately 0400 hours, the N.P.N.S.S. Fearsome was approached by several large vessels. The captain of the frigate, whose name is undisclosed, believed that the vessels were merely mercantile in their actions and determined not to confront them. However, the vessels upon closer examination proved to be pirate vessels, and the M2 Browning machine guns on the vessel opened fire. The Fearsome returned fire by firing its naval guns at one of the vessels, eliminating it. However, the remainder of the vessels were able to survive and eventually board the Fearsome, and on board the sailors' pistols proved no match for assault rifles. In addition, the pirate stormed the armory before and Pazanian Nautical Servicemen were able to do so, leading to a great power imbalance. We know this through audio logs found on the ship. At approximately 0445 hours several T.W.P.F. cutters responded to the distress call. On board, they witnessed the entirety of the crew massacred, and one boarding crew became involved in a firefight, which they eventually won, reestablishing control of the vessel. Some of the pirates allegedly responsible are believed to be missing at this time."
"Has word of this broke to the press yet?" asked Councilor Crane, a concerned look on his face. When Olsson answered with an affirmative no, a sigh of relief swept through the room.
"At this moment, however, our PR officials at HQ in New Cardiff are drafting up a press release. We can't keep this a secret for long, otherwise eventually somebody will report it. Right now, we have a rare window for decision making prior to public knowledge. Bandoni, in consideration of Lee's and Nosteneven's absence, you have the executive command here."
Bandoni gave a little smirk and took a few minutes to think his options over while the lesser figures at the conference discussed options.
After a few minutes, Bandoni had come to a conclusion.
"Draft up the mobilization papers for Lee. We need to invade Southern Rotororanda." Bandoni said.
This elicited a particularly strong response from Crane. "Are you insane?! The West and the East have both threatened to declare war on us if so much as a single Pazanian boot touches the ground in Southern Rotororanda."
"Because obviously the still rebuilding militaries of the West and the East have a fully modern and functional army that will be able to repel us as if we were ants attacking an anti-insect spray factory, and that will be especially certain with the drug cartel armies of the South."
"No, what it will do is get many innocent civilians potentially involved, and start a new Rotororandan War, which will end any possibility of potential peace with the Rotororandans."
"I completely disagree. This time there will be peace because we will actually occupy and reunify Rotororanda."
"Who died and made you the President?"
"This fool doesn't know the secret military protocols in the case of a Third Rotororandan War. Tell em', Rostwell."
Rostwell sighed, knowing he was about to divulge top secret military information to people which might not have proper clearance. Oh well he thought. They'll know soon enough anyways.
"In the event of a Third Rotororandan War, I drafted up the possible framework for a potential treaty with the Rotororandans. It was on the basis that our little 'experiment' with the four separate governments of social democracy, fascism, monarchy, and anarcho-capitalism had failed, and that it wad necessary to establish one government. The terms are extremely harsh. Five year occupation, suspension of freedom of speech, military overlords, etc."
Crane jaw dropped upon hearing this and smothered his mouth with his hand and appeared as if he were about to cry.
Bandoni smiled. He effectively had the entire room in his hand, especially with the silencing of Crane, who had worked for seven years as Assistant Secretary of State trying to improve relations with the Rotororandan states.
"Continuing on, it is imperative that we take swift action against the pirates responsible for this attack." Bandoni said, rotating his slim figure toward Air Marshal Shwaeserenski. "I am issuing a direct order to the Air Force to launch an airstrike upon the perpetrators of this attack in the most immediate sense."
Shwaeserenski immediately objected to this. "With all due respect, Vice President, we simply cannot carry out an airstrike without proper intelligence. As of now, I am completely in the blind as to who the perpetrators are and where they are located. For all I know, the boats could be run by Eskimos in Venezuela. "
Bandoni stared at Marshal Olsson. As generals in the military, Bandoni had found that Shwaeserenski was generally one of the more clueless, passive ones, while Olsson was a quick-witted man with a chip on his shoulder. He knew precisely what was coming next from him.
Olsson sighed and looked at the intelligence report. "According to information we found on the vessels, they can be traced back to a small port on the coast line called Waltport. I have already gathered some preliminary knowledge on the city. It has a population of approximately 30,000 people, and is a hotbed for pirate activity. However, there are several civilian fishing trawlers that depend upon the harbor for their livelihoods. And by that, I mean that if we removed the harbor by destroying it, the town would fall into absolute anarchy. So we have extremely limited options here."
"If I may speak up for a moment," Crane said, the man apparently regaining his composure. "I have extensively studied Southern Rotororandan social structure."
"And have come to the conclusion that there is none." Bandoni said, making a snide remark to the man next to him, Councilor Alexander North.
"Most towns are run by major gangs or drug cartels or some sort of criminal organization and essentially act as these towns overlords. All vehicles have to be registered so that these criminal organization knows where you are. This way, per se, you're a pirate and you attack a ship of the dominant gang, they will be able to find you and kill you."
"Interesting." Bandoni said. "So you're saying we could theoretically obtain the records of the dominant gang and use the limited information we have about the vehicles to find the pirate's location and arrest them? That is indeed tempting. However, this is not exactly something that we can do in broad daylight, and that would destroy any semblance of immediate action."
"Wrong." Marshal Olsson replied. "During your conversation, I skimmed the known information known about Waltport. Apparently the town is run by the widely-known gang Übermensch."
"Why would a gang name themselves after a part of Nietzsche's philosophy? " asked North.
"That question is irrelevant," said Olsson. "What is important is that Übermensch is the largest gang in Rotororanda, which is something that most people should have in their knowledge. They are also the wealthiest and most advanced gang, which allows them to have more sophisticated equipment. This means that there is a possibility that they could be holding the information on a computer, which can be hacked. "
"There is a possibility, yes, but how would we know that they have the intelligence we need on a computer? And in that case, how would we obtain the information necessary?" asked Bandoni.
Almost immediately every head in the room turned towards one man in the room. The only two who refrained from doing so were Major General Jacquette Bordelon, who was sleeping through the meeting, and the man in question.
"With our vast resources, we could determine all of this in a very short amount of time. However, doing so would require me using terms that you would not understand. " said the man in a slightly sinister, yet sarcastic voice.
"Just do it. I don't need any of the techno-babble, John." said Rostwell.
"Agreed. I will commence operations immediately. We will give Pazanian Military Command the necessary information on the condition that you finally change our name."
"Whatever. We want an immediate response. Whoever runs this pirate organization will have realized right around now that they just fucked up horribly and will try to cover their ass. " said Rostwell, his patience snapping from the combination of a highly stressful situation and four hours of sleep.
"Well, gentleman and ladies, I believe that we have covered everything besides the potential motive, and after discussing that, we can adjourn this meeting and return to our chambers to retire for the night." Bandoni said.
"From our early analysis, there was an enormous amount of alcohol on the ships, and the prisoners that we took were highly intoxicated. My personal belief is that the cause of the attack was stupidity combined with dubious amounts of alcohol. That will be all, I believe. said Marshal Olsson, cutting the feed.
Bandoni sighed. He had intended to ask Olsson more questions, but the Marshal obviously felt as if there was no need to continue the conversation. He adjourned the meeting and went over to a corner to discuss matters with North.
"I talked to Ekøstrom previously. He's agreed to send out a letter asking assistance from the international community at the same time the T.W.P.F. press release is sent out." said North.
"Good." said Bandoni, noticing Crane leaving the meeting dejectedly.
"It appears as if Crane is leaving." said North. "Nothing odd."
"No, Councilor, you must understand. That right there is the look of a man who is going to go get drunk out of his mind, and wake up and rethink his life."
"Ah. In that case shall we commence Operation Fox?"
"Indeed. Tell Natalya to bug him on the way out."
Official Request to the International Community
From: Pazanian Ministry of Foreign Affairs
To: Any Members of the International Community
Encryption: None
Greetings,
As you will soon learn, the Federation of New Pazania was brutally attacked by several pirate vessels in the early hours of the morning in Cerdo ret Endqop. A Pazanian Nautical Service frigate was assaulted by the aforementioned vessels, leading to the crew losing control of the vessel. Two Territorial Waters Protection Force vessels responded to the distress beacon, heroically storming the ship and reestablishing control, only to come to the devastating conclusion that that the entire crew had been massacred. Our upper military hierarchy has determined that it would be best to end any and all South Rotororandan pirate attacks, which have constantly cascaded upon our nation in the past few years by invading the country. However, the nations have threatened to respond with force should we happen to lead an invasion force into the country. Since New Pazania is a selfless country that believes in global peace, we have held off on any invasion for now, only leading the occasional airstrike into the country. However, this event has led us to the belief that these groups have crossed the red line, and that an invasion force is required to permanently silence these threats, which will lead to almost certain war with the West and the East, causing a destabilizing regional conflict. Due to this, we are asking the assistance of the international community in any further matters involving the Rotororandas, in order to allow us to invade the south without causing a massive war by making any military action by the West and the East an act of suicide. We thank any members of the international community in advance for assisting us during these potentially trying times.
Sincerely,
Minister of Foreign Affairs Rosenius Ekøstrom.
MacNeally Pub, Downtown Kidlantis City
Jeff Crane walked into the infamously rowdy MacNeally Pub in Kidlantis City. Without saying a word, he sat down on the barstool, waiting for the bartender to service him.
"Hello, young son. What can I get for you today?" the bartender asked cordially.
"What is the strongest drink that you have?" Crane asked abruptly and somewhat rudely.
"Ah, I see. You're in the middle of a mid-life crisis. I have something just for you." he said, walking away, and eventually returning with a glass of vodka.
"Don't drink more than three of these or you'll have permanent brain damage. More than four and you might as well be digging your own grave. No joke!" the bartender said with a chuckle. Crane thanked the bartender quietly and drank from the glass. Crane took in his surroundings while he waited the alcohol to take its full effect. On one side of the pub was the actual bar, full of older, middle-aged men, drinking beers and watching sports highlights on the television. The other half was a partying group of students from the nearby university. He was smiling while looking at the collegiate students, as it brought him memories of his youthful existence. He was so much in a daze that he didn't even notice the fully bald man in his early-60s trying to talk to him, tapping on his shoulder.
"Hey, bub. the man said. "I want to see if you were doing alright, y'know, you look like you're going through a though time right now."
"Oh no, it's nothing." Crane said, trying to wave off any signs of weakness, downing the rest of his vodka. "I'm fine. I've just been working on something for the last nine or so years, and tonight I learned that it's all going to fall apart."
"What was it?"
"Oh, just something at work that I've been doing for a long time."
"Did you get laid off?"
"No, nothing like that. Just nine years of my life though, down the drain. I mean, I have earned promotions along the way, pay raises, but this was my main goal all along. And now it's all gone."
"How important was it?"
"Very important."
"Ah, I see." A brief look of recognition flashed across the man's face. "You look vaguely familiar. Do you work in the government?"
"Yes, I do, Crane said in a slightly delirious voice. "And look man. In an hour or so, or even in only maybe a few minutes. You're going to hear something. And it's gonna be big. It's gonna change the entire world."
"Poor bastard. Next drink is on me, alright."
Crane smiled and gave the man a quiet 'thanks' and accepted it willingly. When the breaking news report flashed across the screen, his expression barely shifted.
End of IC
OOC: Sorry about that ridiculously wrong OP. I felt as if I had a lot to cover in the OP in order to make the RP to make sense. Right, here are the rules and general information about the RP
RP Rules and General Information:
1. No OOC flaming/trolling whatsoever. I will have a zero tolerance policy towards all OOC flaming or trolling. Anybody who flames or trolls on the OOC will discontinue participation on both the OOC and IC threads. In other words, please be mature and respectful.
2. An OOC thread will be put up eventually, however that will only be when I feel that time has come. I'm not going to set up an OOC immediately in case the thread winds up being a bust.
3. No Godmodding. This should be a given.
4. Please be realistic, and don't immediately declare war.
5. If you are interested in joining the RP but fear possible rejection, do not be shy. Merely send out a TG asking for acceptance, and chances are I will accept you. Even if you are a more inexperienced RPer, I will accept you if I feel as if you have good potential, and it can be a learning experience for you.
6. No usage of Strategic Nuclear Weapons unless I give the green-light to all players. Tactical nuclear weapons I will accept on a case-by-case basis, and be as impartial and unbiased as is humanly possible. As for other WMDs, anybody is free to use them.
7. The content on this thread may trend towards a more mature side, as one could tell from the latter parts of the OP.
8. Please do not bicker pointlessly on the OOC. This includes ideological discussions, and needlessly carrying out arguments about godmodding. I have seen occurrences of this before, and it is not pretty. If somebody is godmodding, please point it out in a polite manner and don't nitpick every little detail.
9. Finally, and possibly most importantly, please remember RPing is about telling an interesting story, not about winning a game. Please keep that in mind with every word you type, OOC or IC.
Thank you, and happy RPing!
