Project Calendar: Target July [closed]

[Allanea]

OOC: This thread is closed. Only four people are allowed to post in this thread - me, ZMI, Kraven, and one more person of Kraven's choosing, which I am told of this moment will be AMF.

IC:

D-Day, 00:30, Reichsburg Time

The broadcast comes at half-past midnight. Those who track Allanea already know that Congress declared war on the nations of Gholgoth half an hour ago – and the various SIGINT and orbital intelligence assets would no doubt spot the military preparations many days now. And now dozens and dozens of warships moving out from harbours in the ZMI Arctic began to form slowly battlegroups and squadrons.

And again, a new broadcast came. Again, upon dozens of screens, the Emperor of Greater Prussia appeared, clad armour and wielding his sword. Behind him, the Allanean and Greater Prussian flag stood – and he spoke again, as he had spoken to the Freeks.

Hear me, my allies and subjects.

Hear me, Allanean Freemen.

Hear me, Kravenites.

We had fought against the Kravenites before – in the Kahanistani desert and in the skies over Numonica. We had beaten them before – and we will beat them again. To quote a man far greater than myself – we will fight on the beaches, we will fight on the landing grounds, and we will fight in the lawns of homes – but to correct that quote, we will fight on Kravenite beaches, we will fight upon the landing grounds in deep Kraven, and we will fight – with grenade and bayonet – in the Kravenites's very doorsteps.

We will know no compromise.

We will know no mercy.

We will know no fear.

And yet we will give the Kravenites a lesson in fear that they will never unlearn.

There is a myth among some peoples that, many millenia ago, a bloodthirsty god had so imprinted his image upon the world that, to this date, the many peoples of the Earth recall him as the image of Death itself – the Grim Reaper, wielding a scythe like that god had, in myth. But we will teach the Kravenites a new image of death. Centuries from now, they will paint their new Grim Reaper – as an Allanean soldier, his bayonet and rifle as the new scythe of Death itself.

I do not mean, of course, to say this will be easy. The Kravenites will be assisted, no doubt, by their allies, the Freeks. Their Sentinels are brave soldiers, practically on par with Allanean infantry in skill and resilience. They will resist us upon every turn of our path – even with our allies in the Incorporated State at our side.

But in the long run, I put my faith in the strength of our allies – and moreover, something that is even greater the strength of battleships, of bombers or of tanks. I put my faith in the very thing that had kept Allanea and Greater Prussia alive – even as we were cheated, downtrodden, or suffering. I put my faith in something the Kravenites do not yet have. I put my faith in the animating spirit of Liberty.

That is all.

May God Bless Our Allies.

May God Bless Greater Prussia.

And May God Continue to Bless Allanea.

[The Ctan]

Morgâthern House, Angäthägne Heath, outside Vestranor, Southern Xirnium

“Imperial Wehrmacht Forces,” a droll voice said, tutting at a personal computer panel in a slim hand in black velveteen gloves with gaudy rings of delicate silver filigree basketwork with sapphires and moonstones. The most important of which was an elaborate ring was worn with the eight pointed star of the House of Fëanor in it against a background of a stylised orchid flower, “a preposterous name.”

The Elenaran chuckled, “You know, every time I hear about a crippled emperor on a life supporting throne, I wonder at the perversity of the universe.”

Valádriel smirked, glancing back at the report of Helghan’s speech, “I don’t think their Emperor quite grasps that the enemy understands that some of them will die. The trick is to make them all die upon the beaches, or preferably at sea…”

Ranisath gave a quiet laugh as he lay against her, the covers of her bed in a state of disarray around them, her head against his chest, her dark curled hair spread around it, her clothes in a fetching state of dishabille.

“Perhaps they will,” he said a moment later, “but it seems unlikely, it is more likely that the Allaneans will retreat, rather than be wiped out.”

“The Kravenites are pitiful fighters, in any case,” the Xirniumite woman said, “given their performance in the last war,” she had access to the archives of the Elentári, which covered the topic in more detail than most of her people knew, “with Xirnium, we could defeat them from our drawing rooms.”

“On the other hand, their opponents are about as disciplined as a bag of starving cats,” another woman, Ariennä, Valádriel’s Lady’s Companion, lying upon the other side of the Elenaran said, “It amazes me they manage to maintain their state, such as it is.”

The pair were more than mistresses, but rather, counselors, friends and advisors to the Elenaran, and here, they discussed, the events of the day. “Perhaps,” he said, “but then, subtle commonality is all you need, their lack of a unifying culture matters little.”

“Or any culture,” Valádriel crooned, “So, my lord, who do you think will win?”

“Anyone who wants a world with less lunatics,” he said.

OOC: I am told by Allanea that it’s okay to post IC reactions and such, just not get involved in the fighting.

[Allanea]

Whatever Helghan said, the Allanean ships continued their motion. They moved slowly – covering perhaps twenty knots across the wide-open seas. The naval force was incredible in its scale – hundreds of carriers, thousands of escorts. In full, a quarter of the Allanean Navy was pushing its way across the wide Gothic Ocean.

Moving – or being towed - behind the main force were hundreds upon hundreds of barges, cargo ships, and merchant vessels. Many escorts remained behind to convoy these vessels – and among them were things even yet larger than ships. Immense concrete barges, the components of oversized floating bases and pre-manufactured runways were being moved along, towed by nuclear tugboats. As they passed specific points in the ocean, some of these would be assembled into runways or left behind as floating bases.

It would take four weeks for Allanea's warfleet to reach the Kravenite shore, but it would be perhaps long before then that the fleets would engage. For that, what remained important would be what the Kravenites would do – not what they would say.

Thus, Helghan's statements were not taken seriously by the Allaneans. Oh they were mocked in the various news hows of the nation, and they were discussed in a variety of online forum – but officially, the Allanean state paid them absolutely no heed. Alexander Kazansky did not even bother to give a speech in retort. The ships and their escorts continued sailing.

[Xirnium]

Narrow and feeble, the town of Anthèthath had an atmosphere of detached impermanence as it lay in the shallow valley with its bastion of disdainful cypresses surrounding it. With its slashed, gashed earth roads and its gleaming graveyards, grey under the pale sun. Here stood Faúchery in its eccentrically dormered centre, amongst the high houses, looking for the time.

He stopped a long-jawed, thin-faced man with down-turned, finely curved scarlet lips. The man rocked on the heels of his oxford lace-ups and stared at Faúchery in silence, his grey eyes brooding.

‘What time is this?’ Faúchery asked the man.

‘Time?’

Faúchery laughed at the joke, but the man refused to join him, did not even smile blandly. ‘Seriously, tell me. What does the clock say?’

The man shrugged and walked off. Faúchery pushed his hands into the depths of the pockets of his topcoat and watched the man’s long, narrow back as he walked stiffly and self-consciously over a footbridge built of light, pink-veined marble. The bridge spanned soft water full of poppy and white rose blossoms and leaves turned to gold, copper and bronze, flowing in the pale sunlight of the moaning dawn.

It was like a grey, hazy winter’s morning, with the brittle, interwoven skeletons of the trees in the public park black and grey and sharp against the cold sky. Crows perched motionless on the slender branches of silver birch and larch and burnt-brown honeysuckle bushes, or flew noisily into the silent air. Elms crowded upon the leaf-strewn grass. Murmur of grey and brown pigeons. Albino peacocks, their necks craned forward, dived towards scattered birdseed and millet. White ferns swayed.

From the curving entrance of an arbour, all browns, blacks and yellows of sapless branches and fading leaves, a girl of about nineteen with long, blonde hair appeared. She began to descend a flight of narrow stone steps with quick, awkward movements, stopping when she reached the path leading back to the gates of the public park.

Faúchery looked at her. He didn’t recognise the girl, yet she gave him a look of recognition, smiled shyly at him and ran towards him. When she reached him she stood on tiptoe and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

‘Hello, Faúchery.’

‘Good morning, young lady. Um, please excuse my presumptiousness, but are you Dórottya?’

‘No. I’m Edwige. Where have you been, Faúchery?’

Faúchery merely gave a smile of amused bewilderment. She took his hand.

‘Come on,’ Edwige said, and he let her lead him back up the steps, through the arbour. Its branches contained the mellow, nostalgic scent of winter and through them Faúchery could see a garden and a carp pond. ‘Mother’s looking forward to seeing you.’

Her mother was a woman in her forties, well preserved, tall, fine-boned with a fine-featured face, and an unsmiling mouth. She was waiting on a bench of lemon tree wood.

‘How do you do, Mr Varthênion.’ Dórottya smiled thinly. ‘The intelligence directorate’s told us about you. You’ve questions about the Kraven Corporation, I hear.’

‘How do you do, Ms Nalôrna. Call me Faúchery,’ he said, a little uncomfortably. Faúchery was thinking about how attractive mother and daughter both were, in their different ways and for almost opposite reasons. The young, fresh girl and the cold, intelligent mother. ‘I suppose you’ve heard that the Kraven Corporation has announced mobilisation of its vast armies in Norska.’

‘No – I haven’t...’

Dórottya, alias Theodora Feuillère, had worked as a sleeper agent in Pantocratoria before her involvement in the international effort to organise and supply underground resistance movements against the Kraven Corporation in occupied countries. The despatches mentioned her infiltration by parachute into Fortress Whyatica, and her participation in partisan raids upon the concentration camp and extermination complex at Gidi, alongside agents of the Kingdom of Fourhearts.

‘Ah – well, after scant warning war was declared on the Kraven Corporation last night,’ said Faúchery. ‘Do you know anything about that?’

‘Allanea, wasn’t it?’ asked Dórottya.

‘Yes.’

In the gloom and, in her black-lensed glasses, as blind as an owl in daylight, Dórottya’s eyes could barely be seen. But they were calm. The excitement that had wakened within them at mention of the Kraven Corporation had given place to this strange calm.

‘Of course you haven’t sought me out just to update me on current developments,’ Dórottya said. ‘However, I should tell you before you go any further that any useful information I have on the Kraven Corporation, I’d have given already in my Närväryn debrief.’

‘Well, I’ve read your debrief document,’ said Faúchery. ‘I was impressed most of all with your deductive powers. You’ve come to some much firmer and more original theories than I have. Particularly your views on the Kraven Corporation as a psychoanalytic manifestation of misogyny, homophobia and racism in the body. I had always imagined its object in terms of power, not as a means but as an end. Your explanation was logical and worth thinking about.’

‘Oh? It was?’

‘Alive or dead, dismembered or decapitated, vivisected or autopsied, well preserved or in a state of advanced decay, you noted the omnipresent accessibility of the body in your reflections on the Kraven Corporation,’ said Faúchery.

‘That’s right,’ agreed Dórottya. ‘The Kraven Corporation is something of an exploration of the perverse manifestations of misogyny in the analytic process, and also the abhorrence of otherness – be it female or something else. There is something about the opposite sex or about the other’s love relationships that generates horror. The carnal soul needs therefore to be vanquished, tamed, trained, conditioned to do as it is told. With a dedicated body and pure mind, the Kraven Corporation sets out to kill off the soft and feminine parts of the world not subtended by enthrallment and the need to sacrifice.’

Edwige listened carefully to her mother, twirling a fine lock of blonde hair round and round her wrist. She had noticed her mother’s grey eyes drawn together and a sad curl at the corner of her mouth.

‘I think your psychological insights could reveal faults and weaknesses in the Kraven Corporation running far deeper than any flaws in its systems of concrete bunkers or any broken links in its underground railway lines!’

Dórottya coughed crisply. ‘That would depend on the creativity of perceiving simplification, both cognitive and emotional, as the hallmark of the totalitarian state of mind, as its soothing iron belt. It’s obvious that the Kraven Corporation can best be understood as violent reaction to coming into contact with another body, taken to extreme. The feeling of fear or terror of physical contact.’

[Allanea]

They had been hunting for a week now – the ocean space between Gholgoth and its enemies had been literally millions of square kilometers in size, and tracking ships in it in real-time was incredibly difficult, even with satellite communications. The need to retain radio security made it even harder. But eventually the submarine commanders found precisely what they were looking for – a massive Kravenic convoy, perhaps a hundred ships in total, headed for Neo Cydonia.

The commander of the USS Alabama was the first to hear them – the hum of dozens of engines, the batting of dozens of propellers, spread out along about fifty miles. Among them, with the use of computer identifiers, he eventually found the one sound he was looking for – the propellers of a Kravenic Navy aircraft carrier, the Enthroned Darkness Triumphant. It was game time.

Within the next hours, the pieces fell into place. With the coordination of ballet dancers, deck crews on aircraft carriers hundreds of kilometers away rushed to and fro, preparing dozens of aircraft for launch. Miles ahead of the Kravenic fleet, unbeknownst to them, minisubmarines detached from their hosts, unnoticed by observers. Torpedo tubes were filled and missile warhead were armed. Aboard Allanean ships, helicopter engines were revved up. And finally, back home in Allanea, four missile silo doors opened.

Up, up an away they rose – four Khan missiles. They were seen as some by an enormous expense – dozens of millions of dollars of taxpayer money, forged by the war forges of ZMI into enormous anti-ship missiles, carrying a penetrator several tons in weight to any spot on the planet – far beyond the range of any anti-ship RADAR in existance. It was only through the use of a spotter craft – like the Alabama – that the Khans could be developed to their full potential.

They screamed down from orbit like blue lighnting bolts, decelerating only slightly as they came down. As the last stage of the missiles detached, countermeasures were fired off – decoys, making it appear as though it was not four Khans, but at least four dozens, that were now headed towards the Darkness Triumphant.

As the magnificient missiles entered final approach, they spewed conductive and prysmatic dust – in effect, creating massive, metallic blobs on the Kravenic RADAR. From the sides of the terminal stages, dozens of kinetic impactors bloomed like fiery flowers, registering as separate CIWS targets – and aimed at the enemy ship for additional impacts.And then – at least one of the Khans would surely hit, delivering a ton of ultrasonic depleted uranium followed up by two tons of thermite into the side of the Entroned Darkness.

“We have impact! We have impact!” - the Alabama's SONAR officer screamed excitedly, and the other crew knew immediately what to do.

“Torpedoes away! Torpedoes away!”

The torpedo tubes of the Alabama spat forth, firing six 26-inch torpedoes at the nearest Kravenic escorts. Simultaneously, four other Allanean submarines made their move. Between them, they had fired 30 torpedoes. And it was only the start.

Across the path of the convoy, ten armed minisubs launched their weaponry – two torpedoes each, aimed at the Kravenic destroyers. And finally, three squadrons of deck fighters, screaming in from the nearest Allanean ships, unleashed a hail of anti-ship missiles.


And now the finishing strike would come.

From the launch tubes of two Allanean ships, a single salvo came – dozens of Tomahawk missiles, armed with flux-pumped EMP warheads, set to detonate dozens of yards over the Kravenic slaveships.

And far away, from the Allanean warfleet, dozens of cargo helicopters were on the way.

[Dephire]

"Sons and daughters of Briska..." These words began a brief summary of what was to be an address to all of the citizens of Briska. Spoken from the mouth of their leader, Unholy Emperor Archerus Maximus Reynolds, the speech held a deep and heavy bearing on the hearts of those who heard them. "It is upon this day that we fulfill an oath to our fellow friends and neighbors. An oath that has long been a part of this region we call home. The region to which you know as Gholgoth. I have been keeping an eagle's eye open, watching the rise of a new enemy as our nation remained in her indefinite slumber. It is now that we awaken the dragon of which we are! It is now that we become a feared force to be reckoned with! I have seen in my dreams of a grand victory over Gholgoth's attackers. Yes, the enemy may be numerous in numbers, but we are more powerful than they give us credit for! I call to you, my people, to answer my call and stand up to fight back those who aimed to high a rung by believing they can invade us. We must seek justice when our military joins those of our Gholgoth brothers and sisters on the battlefield in fighting Allanea. They attack our friends' ships as I speak to you. People of Briska, Belka'Vek, and Los Mexico will you stand under a united flag and fight against this foreign tyranny as Briskans? Will you defend your homeland from the evils that wish to take away everything from under your feet? What say you?" To this the people were silent. The square mile sectioned off for public speeches outside the capitol building was full of tens of thousands of people, yet a pin drop could be heard. Archerus slammed his hand against his podium, "What say you?!" To this the citizens celebrated with their approval. Mindless drones, the Emperor murmured under his breath, it is in their blood to crave war... to crave violence. Though it pains me to see so many of them die for causes of which have no realistic effects on their own lives, they are willing enough to do anything so long as they can kill a fellow human. This war may be the end to several million lives, but they will not care.

"Prepare yourselves for the grandest of all defenses in Briskan history! Return to the factories and to your posts! Put on your Briskan Armor and take up your weapon! Today we declare war on Allanea and her allies, but tomorrow we will be prepared to make sure they have a mighty taste of our steel! Brothers and sisters of Briska, we are at war!" Archerus exclaimed loud enough for everyone to hear in the area. His speech was passionate, but his heart remained unmoved. He turned and walked back through the ivory arches and to his council room, where his powerful generals waited for his arrival.

"A bit rash do you not thing, Emperor?" General Skive remarked.

"Rash... You would not think that were they our own ships," spoke General Bourak.

"They were Kravenic ships, why should we bloody care? Not like Allanea and their allies declared war on poor little defenseless Briska!" Skive laughed.

"You speak with a treasonous tongue, Skive," Bourak looked upon the face of Skive and glared.

"Treasonous? Now who is jumping the gun!? I only speak the truth! We have been left alone for we appear to the world as a sleeping beast that no one would care to stir. Kraven Corporation had their dues to be paid sooner or later," Skive smirked.

"Skive, I would hold my tong-"

"ENOUGH!" Archerus yelled towards the two while slamming his fists against the round table, "Both of you will be silent until addressed. Is that clear?"

Both men nodded in agreement.

"Good," Archerus examined what was on the table which was littered with maps, "Skive, I will be happy to inform you that not just Kraven was declared upon, but many others as well. I will be considering your opinion, however, when it comes up in my next evaluation."

"But... I... Sir!" Skive began to stammer, his facial expression mixed with both pain and regret.

"Did I address you?" Archerus growled. A firm shaking of the head from Skive gave him an answer, "Good. Now we have enough ships to create a blockade surrounding Briska in her near entirety. Only pitch is this leaves our ally, Kraven, vulnerable. So we should lend him the use of our air force. In addition, I will send five million soldiers to aid him. As for our home defense, we will be safer in our mountains. Our only ditch effort would be to find safety in Belka'Vek. It will be very difficult for them to find us there, save for maybe a massive nuclear strike consisting of hundreds of missiles, but that just means they have no patience. I would like to see them try to land an invasion force when most of our coast line consists of mountains full of anti-air missiles and anti-ship coastal cannons. Even if they were to land on the very few beaches that could support a massive landing operation, they would just meet several million people with guns pointed at them. Thoughts, Bourak?"

"It seems solid, sir, but which coasts would we focus our defenses on?"

"Southern coasts, save for the Los Mexican island, their coasts should be ready for anything and everything. Skive, how much of our air force can you dedicate to the Kraven Corporation?"

"We can give them four thousand of our fighter jets and two thousand anti-ship/sub aircraft and if you order now, we can throw in six thousand of our best pilots!"

"I find your lack of seriousness a bit disturbing."

"I find your lack of strategy a bit disturbing myself."

"Watch your togue, Skive!" Bourak butted in.

"Oh take a chill pill, Bourak, I'm just having a bit of fun before we go all 'oh you gonna slap our friends boo hoo' bull shit."

Archerus could not help chuckling, but looked to Skive and then put his palm on his face.

-=-=-=-

In a few hours time, the Briskan military began to show signs of life as millions of people signed up for the armed services as well as current members began to prepare themselves for a long and bloody war. Six thousand pilots said good-bye to their families and traveled to Belka'Vek Air Force Base, which spanned nearly 60% of the entirety of Belka'vek. These pilots entered their planes and set off for Kraven. While these pilots took the faster way to travel, the five million soldiers, which included logistics, traveled through the Kraven-Briska buffer zone en route to Kraven for assistance. Whether or not Kraven wanted the extra power was up to Kraven's leadership to decide, but they will be there nonetheless in case they are needed.

As these men and women depart for Kraven, the billions more at home prepare themselves for a defensive they may never be able to duplicate again in their lives.

For the glory of Gholgoth.

For the glory of home.