The Long Way Down | Closed

by **Achesia** » Fri May 01, 2015 7:46 pm

Murovanka wrote:Summary

~11am: 1. Battalion, 75th Mountain Infantry Regiment starts clearing Aemen resistance on the Highway 69 junction after SOAB attempt is foiled by AAA airstrikes
~12am: Abwehr-dominated Sellenland provisional government organizes referendum to determine the districts future; further elements of the 7th, 22nd and 26th Divisions enter the Sellenland
~1pm: 75th Mountain Infantry Regiment sets up defensive positions around Krakenhof (incl. Highway 67); 76th Mountain Infantry Regiment sets up defensive positions around Echterdorf; 77th Mountain Infantry Regiment sets up positions around Siegen and Highway 68; Schwarze-Kavallerie-Jäger-Regiment sets up positions around Ellenburg, Brenzlau and key positions along the Donau and Elbe rivers
~2pm: SEKS units prepare to ambush Achesian forces on Highway 68
~3pm: Call-up of the following reserve formations: 13th, 14th, 15th Divisions (all mechanized, for build-up on Wanko-Sylvan Border), 27th Division and 28th Division (both Mountain); start of mountain combat training operations of the 8th Division (Mech) and the 9th Division (Mech)

Above Highway 68, Sellenland-

"When Achesions first, at heaven's command,
Arose from out the azure main,
Arose, arose, arose from out the azure main,
This was the charter, the charter of the land,
And guardian Angels sung this strain:

Rule Achesia!
Achesia rule the waves.
Achesians never, never, never shall be slaves."

The fourth go around of this ballad almost made young Dejan Berislav retch over the side of the helicopter onto to turret gunner of a Adhesion Mora MRAP bellow. Doubtful the soldier would appreciate the fruit of his paunch as he rode along unexpectedly, but the unsettling feeling in his stomach was a unshakable reality as he watched the land cruise bellow him. It wasn't just the helicopter ride (although he did choose to be infantry for a reason), it was more the thought of his first combat. The expectations, the fears, the stress of it all was allot for the boy of one and six who had never seen more than a simunition shot in his direction in his lifetime. The other soldiers who behind him sung stanza after stanza called him the slang term "Smooth-boy" in reference to both his lack of facial hair and the absence of "Scratches" on the shoulder of his battle dress. The term scratches were what soldiers called their mark of experience, each stripe or scratch a soldier had on his arms marks the completion of a campaign and a soldiers seniority within a unit. His Sergeant at Arms, Lukas had five stripes upon his left arm, he was the loudest amongst the supposed chopper choir.

The green digitally patterned NH90 utility helicopter made a hard bank as it came around for another pass over the convoy of MRAPs, Armored Cars, Trucks, and Tanks bellow. Dejan caught a glimpse of the other helicopters in the patrol (a pair of AH-1Zs, and three other NH90s) as they made the turn. He looked bellow him at the highway as the trucks began to make the turn around one foot or another of the mountains. It had been several hours since they had been up in the air doing overwatch over the convoy. They would occasionally trade off with another company whenever their captain fancied the idea of his sutler whore waiting him back at our forward camp and staging area. Dejan however just fancied the idea of the first contact just happening and getting it over with. He knew as soon as it happened he would be the first out since he was the newest, he recalled Lukas saying he needed to break his "combat cherry". He checked his M89 combat bayonet to ensure it was fixed tightly on his FN-SCAR-H, no need for another lost bayonet and his ass being drug through the mud again by Lukas for loosing a vital piece of equipment. Sure enough it was on there and the mag too was fixed and ready to go, it was just a matter of waiting for it all to happen. Dejan shook back and fourth suddenly as one of his comrades shook him violently by the shoulders squeezing the blood out of them laughing.

"Is smooth boy ready to get it in eh?" Kodey a screwball scratched men-at-arms yelled over the rotor wash. He squeezed the shit out of Dejan's cheek and patted him on the other. "Look, the bloods out his poor white face." He bellowed as he pointed to the pale complexion of Dejan who visibly looked stressed. Lukas crawled over to him as Dejan tried to look unconcerned and out over the landscape.

"You alright laddy?" He put a hand on the back of his neck.

"Ja" Dejan popped in a wad of tobacco in his mouth and looked back over the mountain.

"The first battle is in your head ya know." He said as he pointed his half gloved finger at Dejan's drab green helmet. "You'll be fine, we've trained for a year now. Finally you'll get a scratch at the end of his and not be called a smoothboy. So get the stick out of your pussy." He whacked him on the back one more time before joining the chorus of "Achesia the Mighty".

Dejan did not ease his fear however, he just receded into himself more. But thats when it happened, it seemed all too sudden as the first few anti tank missiles began to hit the MRAPs in the convoy. Several exploded with such violence that they flipped either into a ditch next to the road or onto another Achesian vehicle. Thats when small arms fire began from the side of the mountain, an ambush. Dejan could hear over the radio that they had hit the M60s front of the column, effectively stoping the advance. Thats when the NH90 began to make some maneuvers that Dejan's stomach really did appreciate. Iakob a rather salty man with a large unkept beard began to let it loose with the side mounted M240, throwing rounds down on the heads of the Wankan shits that were shooting at the boys on the ground. Dejan almost lost it all together as a AH-1Z Viper shot under their NH90, letting a whole payload of rockets out onto some unlucky SOBs (what the Achesian soldiers have begun to refer to the SOABs as). Lukas kept to his head piece listening to the commands coming down to their sections from hirer.

"Arlight, Sur Giannis has ordered us down to take these SOBs on proper. Ready your kits." He slapped around his mag a bit to make sure it was mounted correctly. He crawled over again to Dejan who was sitting on the side of the cabin his bayonet mounted rifle at the ready. "Boy, you know the right, your out first. Bring glory to the Berislav name, else your Color Sergeant daddy mighty cry a'lil if he found out his boy was craven."

Dejan nodded as he held tightly to his SCAR. He check over his equipment one more time. Helmet... check, Vest.... check, Mags.... check. He brushed his hand one more time on his dark green digi patterned uniform. He watched as the treetops bellow began to approach, it would be time soon as the chopper looked for a clearing. Dejan could see some movement bellow, the Wankans were watching them come in, it was going to be a fight.

"Who knew lil' ol' infantry like us were going to be Goon'in it up." Alkiviadis a younger men-at-arms with only one scratch on his arm laughed as he charged his 1911 and holstered it once more.

"A baby like you wasn't in Coastbourne when we fucked that one village hard after we jumped out the little Hueys." Iakob turned back from the M240 long enough to put his two cents in.

Dejan didn't even hear any of this, he just watched the ground come up... fast.

"Lay me doon in the caul caul groon
Whaur afore monie mair huv gaun
Lay me doon in the caul caul groon
Whaur afore monie mair huv gaun

When they come a wull staun ma groon
Staun ma groon al nae be afraid

Thoughts awe hame tak awa ma fear
Sweat an bluid hide ma veil awe tears

Ains a year say a prayer faur me
Close yir een an remember me

Nair mair shall a see the sun
For a fell tae a Germans gun "

"Alright, go on my mark, Ill be right behind you....... GO!" Lukas gave him a push as they came up on the ground fast. Dejan fell down to the deck fast, he barely caught himself and missed a boulder as he hit the side of the mountain. Quickly he shot up weapon in hand, the black steel of his bayonet reaching down the barrel of his rifle. He covered his sectors and saw no signs of the enemy.... until the RPG shot from the tree line several hundred yards away. It zipped through the air and the NH90 barely had a chance to move up when it hit right in the cockpit. Several of Dejan's squad-mates were thrown from the chopper which was at least 30 feet above the ground. They hit the threes and the ground hard. Dejan quickly dispatched the SOB that fired the rocket with a quick burt of his 7.62mm before he even noticed the NH90 plummeting towards him. He sprinted away the best the can before he felt the heat of the explosion from the impacting helicopter. As the dust settled he began to hear the sounds of the battle all around him, panicked and alone he wasn't sure where he was anymore. He started to see only fog until he could hear a familiar but frazzled voice from beyond.

"Dejan...Dejan...!" Lukas crackled a few meters from Dejan's position. As the smooth-boy ran towards his reagents position he soon realized the tragedy of his current situation. Lukas was half the man he used to be, almost all of his body waist down was gone. He looked up at Dejan blood curdling in his mouth. The words barely making it out of his mouth. "Kill.... me..."

Shaking, Dejan held back the tears, he couldn't cry he was man now, not a smooth boy, he took his rifle... and plunged the bayonet in Lukas' heart. The life left Lukas after a few moments of the 50 centimeter blade being held in his heart, he let out one last curdle of blood before he looked towards the sky without a soul. Dejan grimaced as he pulled the blade out. He could look no more at the scene, only the bodies of his fellow comrades remained, their souls were gone.

It didn't take long to hear the ringing of the machine gun nest beyond him, down the slope from his current position. Dejan leapt towards a pair of large oaks that were near his position, he could make out the enemy position from there. It was a squad sized element of SOBs operating a crew served weapon firing down at the convoy bellow. From what Dejan could see most of the Achesian convoy was destroyed or barely fighting back, some vehicles were managing to fall back to a safer position. Above a few helicopters flew overheard still, but mostly the Vipers giving CAS to the embattled infantry squads much like Dejan's. He focused back in on the SOBs bellow him. They seemed to have gotten over or not even heard the crashing helicopter drama that had just unfolded. Dejan decided to move a bit closer to get a better position, perhaps with their backs turned he had a chance to deal some damage before he was inevitably claimed by the fighting.

As soon as he got up however he shot right back down, they were coming. Two men, marching up the hill towards the helicopter with weapons drawn. Seems they did take notice to the situation, but must be confident that most were dead here, perhaps they were coming to verify. Dejan would have to wait for them to get close, lest he garner the nest's attention and have a crew served on top of him, not ideal. The two men continued their advance up the hill, they wore the uniforms of the SOABs but they sure didn't seem to act like what the intelligence had said, these guys were professionals. They walked and as soon as he could hear, talked like his dead squad-mates, not like some farmer-boy Wanker from the hinterlands. They soon passed the trees Dejan was crouched at, not even bothering to look back and see if it was clear. This gave him the chance, he unmounted his bayonet which was more a short sword than anything and approached as silently as he could. He had plenty of ambient noise from the nest behind him rattling rounds off, he came behind the first man and reached around with his sword, splitting his throat wide open. The half scream then gurgle alerted his friend to the attack, but to his surprise the half dead corpse of his partner was lunging towards him, with Dejan behind it. As soon as he was close enough he shoved the body onto the other SOAB and swung around to cut the man at the knees. With a scream he fell to the ground but at the same time his weapon fired into the dirt, and contrary to Dejan's luck was at a time when the nest was not firing.

"Was war das, du bist ok Bruder?"

"Ruprecht bist du da?"

The men bellow continued to yell towards their dead comrades location. But they obviously didn't answer, soon the fire began as they turned the crew served towards Dejans position and let loose. He jumped behind his former oak position fast but not before he took a round to the leg. He scooted himself behind cover in agony as the rounds ate up the tree around him. He managed only to turn around for a brief moment to return fire with his SCAR. But he soon took a round to the shoulder and that would be it. He lay now face up looking at the sky, his blood joining the earth, as his body soon would as it lay in the open. He breathed heavily thinking of home. His mother and father as they sat in their home back in Imperium eating supper. His sister as they both played in the gardens many years ago as children. Erna the bakers daughter and her bright smile and ample bosom. All of this as he swore he could hear the sirens calling him home to the afterlife, but reality came back to him for one failing moment as he realized that was not the sirens of myth, but the incoming 155mm round that splashed just a meter from his head. The heat alone sent him to eternity before another passing moment of reality could grasp his slipping mind.

His own savior from the mortal plane was not the only one of its kind. In fact all matter of ordinance hailed down on the mountain and road side to claim the wretched souls of those who were embattled, Achesian and Wankan. Some Achesians who had a moment to bask in their bend bent down on their knees in worship as they knew as Resolutes there was no more glorious an end than to die in combat, they accepted their fate with outstretched arms. Hundreds of artillery rounds poured over the Ambush point as the mountain side exploded. Some Achesian vehicles managed to make it north of the strike zone to the friendly positions but not many. As soon as the massive artillery barrage was complete MAS.88 Lindworms came in to have the last laugh, dropping HE all over the mountainside, they avoided the road to allow for future forward movement but they made sure to cover the entirety of the mountain side. When all was said and down nothing would be left alive in the strike zone, Achesian or Wankan. It was not beyond the courage of the Achesian High Command to let a battalion two of its own troops go to prove a point to their enemies....... undying determination and sacrifice of its men.

The remaining three of five battalions of the III Legion which made up the vanguard were halted 10 miles south of the scorched earth. They were set up in defense in case of impending attack by any more ambushing enemies. The sounds of the explosions could be heard by all of the soldiers present in the front, and they knew that it would be a glorious sight to behold, the pinnacle of Achesian firepower being proven to their enemies who now were being sent to meet their false makers. Oblivion was not a friendly place but for those who defied the Ackular of Man it was a marcy to only be sent straight to it instead of sent in pieces. As the bombardment of artillery and airstrikes on the position ahead of the convoy ended several recon helicopters, ARH-70s and AH-1Zs were sent ahead to scout the aftermath. All they would find would be black dust and fire. The hulks of Achesian vehicles would be left in the middle of route 68 as derelicts, anything still found moving with no question was given fire from these helicopters. The line would be made here where the ambush was conducted. The hulks of Achesian vehicles would be moved to block the road as the III Legion began to set up a line across the mountain and route. Several firebases would be erected to defend the line from any Wankan advance. The advanced towards Seigen was at a halt for now, and would be seen as a failure by the command.

Further to the north at Reiterhof more Achesians were landing as the battle engulfed the III Legion to the south. The infamous "Wyverns" Achesian Air Dragoons were unloading their brand newMonarch Aerial Systems .78 "B'l'ak" Utility Helicopters. These flying horses would carry them in and out of battle as they battled the Wankan advance. The "Wyverns" were specially dreaded for their several colonial campaigns in Eld-Audian where they repressed several instances of rebellion. Accompanying the Wyverns were an even more dreaded Achesian military unit, a Brigade of the Acklius' Royal Rangers. These elite commandos were perfect for the mountain terrain and fighting hit and run style against the Nazi forces. Achesia was committing fully to this battle, and it did nt intend to loose.

Summery:
The Wankan ambush heavily damages two battalions of Achesian infantry.
G6 howitzers, and MAS.88 Lindworms conducted a scorched earth campaign against the entire area of the ambush, with a 25 mile radius.
III Legion Vanguard halts for the time being forming a line, the IV and II Legions line in the mountains forming fire bases.
Elements of the IV and III Legion of the 120th Air Dragoon Front as well as the 7th Brigade of the Acklius' Royal Rangers arrive at Reiterhof.

by **Meinkraft** » Fri May 01, 2015 7:55 pm

I-401
Battle Site
International Waters

Iona flickered.

The main bridge was filled with thick, gray smoke, the fog avoiding the hologram’s domain, though it fizzled in and out of existence. It was strangely quiet, save for a few coughs, here and there. The overhead lights were out, and a red emergency light illuminated the room with its solid glow. Moments before, Captain Flashheart had ordered his crew to hit the deck, and had put the vessel on autopilot. The AI had attempted a crash dive to avoid the incoming torpedo. It had worked, partially, as the projectile had only grazed the hull. Unfortunately, it had detonated, and had ruptured the outer armor. Iona had tried to keep herself stable, and repair herself, but the water had shorted out some of her vital systems in that area.

A leather gloved hand suddenly reached up from the floor, and grasped the arm of the starboard helm chair. Coughing, the figure rose, supported by the chair, to his full height.

“All hands!” bellowed Flashheart through the smoke, “Report!”

“Devan!”

“Hughes!”

“Raymond!”

“Andersen!”

“Nialls!”

“Stevens!”

“Bueller!”

“Mack!”

“Taylor!”

“Strekker!”

“Shane!”

All twelve men onboard were accounted for. Flashheart sat down in the chair and pressed the input button for Iona’s flickering interface.

“Surface us, Iona. I don’t want to chance the damage.”

The ballast blew and the sub rose softly to the top. The Captain stared at the hologram. She looked badly hurt, as she was programmed to display the damage to the vessel as damage on herself. There was a huge red gash on her side.

Outer hull. thought Flashheart, Must’ve taken heavy damage.

The Iona broke the waves more humbly than before. With the submarine fully surfaced, a large, blackened hole was obvious in the sunlight that was just peeking over the horizon. The secondary propulsion, general electrical power, made the vessel steam along towards the wreckage of the Kingfisher. As they approached, Flashheart opened the hatch to the top and clambered out, brandishing his silver and black service revolver. Behind him followed Ensign Hughes and Sergeant Raymond, both in their Emergency Combat Uniforms and carrying the naval XM8-7. Nearing the wreck, the men on deck spotted survivors in the water. Flashheart stepped up to the edge of the portside bow. He leveled his gun and cocked it. Pulling the trigger, he began to execute every one of them.

“Find the Commander and pull him aboard, if you can find him!” the Captain yelled at his subordinates, who were also taking potshots at the sailors in the water.

“I want that bastard alive…” he muttered under his breath.

Seconds later, a tube on the aft deck opened up and the Iona fired off a SAM to intercept any remaining Sylvan aircraft. Flashheart radioed the bridge and, from within, a message was sent to the Telegraph Station, in North Maracaibo, where the First Signal Co. was stationed.

TELETYPE INFROGRAMES INC.
//INCOMING TRANSMISSION//

AT 200 HOURS, THE SUBMARINE VESSEL CODENAME -BLUE STEEL- HAS BEEN FIRED UPON AT THE UPCOMING COORDINATES IN THE STRACHAN SEA. SYLVAN BELLIGERENT DESTROYED. BLUE STEEL FIRED UPON FIRST. APPROPRIATE ACTION TAKEN. ALL HANDS ALIVE. ALL HANDS ALIVE. CAPTAIN RIK FLASHHEART IN THE PROCESS OF RESCUING ANY SURVIVORS. IT APPEARS ONLY THE COMMANDING OFFICER MAY HAVE SURVIVED.

Now, they were at war.

by **Havensky** » Mon May 04, 2015 8:57 pm

Snip:

"Do I accept?"

Lady Regina "Glitch" Raven dropped all pretense of diplomatic politeness. Her voice grew as dark as her black curly raven hair.

"Do...I...accept..your..bribe...Colonel?"

Glitch knocked the wad of Rupees out of Maldondo's hands.

"Did your government not provide you with any briefing as to who I am? Is your government so incompetent that you would arrest my diplomatic attachés and then try to bribe me?. Were you really not aware that I own my robotics company? Did you think that my government would send an idiot to look at your refinery? I'm Special Envoy for Technology for a reason. I don't need your money, I need my pilots back and clearance for takeoff.

Glitch turned around to stare down the men with the guns.

"And if you're going to shoot me - I'd appreciate not getting a bullet to the back of the head. At least the Cappers had the decency to shoot at me from the front. "

Glitch faced Maldondo again.

"A backpacking trip... Are you really that stupid? Your government has breached international norms by arresting my pilots, by not letting my people leave, and has threatened her neighbors with chemical weapons. This place is about to become a warzone. You're not gonna catch me anywhere above ground. And seeing as we really are free to go, I think we're gonna do just that. Colonel."

With as swish of her long coat, Glitch turned and left the airport as the rest of the party quickly followed.

* * * *

Proclamation of the Skybound Republic of Havensky

The Skybound Republic of Havensky is appalled by the arrest of the pilot and co-pilot of our diplomatic vessel. We are outraged that our diplomatic team which was dispatched as a gesture of friendship as part of an effort to prevent armed conflict are being held hostage by the Allied Nations government. The fact that this act by the Allied Nations government comes directly after peace talks hosted in good faith by the Skyan Humanitarian Fleet is an affront to the People of Havensky. The People of Havensky consider this an Act of War and the Skyan People will act accordingly.

The People of the Skybound Republic of Havensky hereby demand the safe immediate return of our diplomatic team. Failure to allow for the safe transport of our diplomatic team in the next 24 hours will result in the following actions.

[*] All Skyan Commercial Enterprises will be hereby banned from conducting business with any company headquartered in the Allied Nations.

[*] The Skyan Diplomatic Corp will begin efforts to have other nations also impose sanctions.

[*]The 95th Expeditionary Fleet will be dispatched to the region to diminish the Allied Nations' capacity to wage war.

[*]As military action has already commenced, our aid offer of 1 Million Credits worth of oil is hereby withdrawn. If our diplomatic team is not returned promptly, this oil aid will be delivered to Sidonia.

Furthermore, the Skybound Republic of Havensky reiterates our opposition to the use of force to acquire territory. We strongly condemn the use of chemical weapons and their use in this conflict will not be tolerated.

While we have received communication from the Allied Nations government beckoning the Skyan People to re-enter negotiations, the Skyan People refuse to discuss any other topic whilst our Diplomatic Team remains in the Allied Nations. The Skyan People have always been willing to talk and we are bewildered that this action was deemed necessary by the Allied Nations. Upon the safe return of our diplomatic team, the Skyan People are prepared to reconvene peace negotiations.

On the behalf and behest of the Skyan People,
Prime Minister Elizabeth Artemis

by **Havensky** » Tue May 05, 2015 7:34 am

Stars and Signals Command
Port Ambition, Havensky

It was dark inside the Stars and Signals Command Complex. The faces of people in white uniforms lit up by glass screens depicting the latest satellite imagery, lines of code, or monitoring complex data sets.

The consoles were in large rings around a single logo. A winged lion holding a key and telescope in its paws was etched into the floor. Right above the dark eagle the words, "No see - No Trust."

Mathias Willow paced the floor looking at various screens getting more data inside his head. He was a tall slender man with dark short unkempt curly hair. His uniform was askew and it looked as if he didn't get much sleep. He kept pacing.

"How many MINERVA instances have we deployed so far?", asked Willow.

An ensign in the front row spoke up, "230 instances up and running, 460 currently uploading to servers."

"Excellent, with any luck we'll be in prime position when the clock runs out."

Stars and Signals Command had been busy working to get the MINERVA programs installed on as many computers and servers in the Allied Nations as they could. Some of it would be through phishing schemes, others through code embedded in video files, and in some cases they would simply try brute force. Once in a network, the MINERVA program would try and duplicate itself and move to each computer in the network. Once installed, the virus would look at what was on the computer system and let Stars and Signals know. After that, it would lay dormant until activated.

In another section, teams of technicians were preparing hundreds of servers to wreck havoc on Allied Nation Internet traffic. Finally, the last section was working on gathering location and trajectory information for Allied Nation's military satellites and determining what could be done about them.

With luck, the preparations wouldn't be needed.

* * * * *

HRS Shadow One
95th Expeditionary Fleet (Vanguard)
Approaching Regional Waters

Shadow One was the lead Mako-Class Attack Submarine in a pack of twelve. Their current mission would be to act as an advanced scout to the rest of the fleet. They were moving in a V formation spread out across several hundred meters using passive sonar to get a sense of what was out there above and below the water. There would be no surprises when the rest of the fleet arrived.

ORBAT:

by **Nova Sylva** » Tue May 05, 2015 1:14 pm

Collected Letters from SL forces during the Sidonian War

1 May 2015

Dear Courtney;

I just got back from my first two of probably many more combat missions. My squadron and I were assigned to defend an E3 Eagle Eye AWACS from the AN air forces. They want nothing more than to shoot our AWACS down and us theirs. We had a force of about equal size to our squadron target the Eagle Eye within ten minutes of the official commencement of hostilities, all with these shiny new F35 fighter planes.

We’ve heard a lot about the F35 but a lot of it is just talk. It’s a joint strike fighter designed to do pretty much everything – be nimble enough to dogfight in the air, strong enough to provide close air support to troops on the ground, all with VTOL capability. As a result, it does none of them as well as they said it would. In dogfighting, they are just about equal to the Sif-16s that we fly, but we have a bunch more of our jets and our pilots have more experience.

Casulties today were much higher than anyone expected. We lost a grand total of nearly a hundred and twenty aircraft destroyed or damaged – Command had expected about half that. But we destroyed at least as many of them as they did us, and that Eagle Eye is still in air. I guess you could call it a victory. Anyways I’m going to try and get some sleep before I have to fly again. God knows I need it.

Wish me luck,
Alexander

2 May 2015

My family told me I should start a war diary. I was originally opposed to the idea but after thinking about it I think it would be pretty cool to have this all written down. So, here goes.

I’m deployed with the Coalition State First Ranger Battalion in the Eastern Highlands area of Sidonia. This area is extremely hilly (hence the name “highlands”) but also rocky, forested, and hard to traverse, much like the Cloysteric Highlands back in Sylva – just way hotter. There’s no way anyone could drive any regular vehicles across this part of the country and as such its mostly uninhabited. There are snakes and scorpions seemingly everywhere and the sun seems to be especially brutal.

Facing us is the AN 10th Mountain Division, one of the most elite units in the Allied armed forces. They’ve been trained especially for this kind of warfare and it shows. These guys aren’t your average blue-helmeted conscripts – they’re top of the line, well-equipped and well-trained elites. And they have an entire division of them.

But we’re Rangers, and we don’t give a shit how many they have. We’re not engaging them on their terms – obviously they would like nothing more than to meet us in open battle and overwhelm us with sheer numbers and firepower. Instead, Colonel Steele (1st Rangers CO) and Colonel Rodriguez (2nd Rangers CO) as well as our Aleckandorain counterparts from the 133rd Force Reconnaissance Battalion are planning on going guerrilla warfare on the bastards.

Yesterday, when the AN crossed the border, the first thing they did was napalm the hills. We expected as much, and had prepared shelters – next, they slowly advanced through the hills, their infantry summiting the slopes to clear them of us while their specially-designed mountain vehicles crossed through the many little valleys that crisscross the region.

We didn’t engage them outright – we waited until nightfall and raided their motor pool and camp, just sniping the bastards from the hills. When they finally organized and counterattacked up the slope which my company was sniping from, we just retreated.

It was a real bloody nose for them, and sent their record for infallibility crashing down. I killed six of them with my rifle by myself, and C Company only lost a single man, who got hit by a lucky shot when the AN were firing wildly into the hills at us.

Signing off,
Staff Sergeant Andrew DeForest, Coalition State Rangers

3 May 2015

Dear Mom, Dad, Emily and Jimmy ;

I finally got a few hours to rest. It’s been about two days since the Allies started their invasion, I think. I’m not really sure, I’ve lost track of time. My brigade was deployed originally around this crossroads called Cherbourg. According to command it’s really important – holding it means that the AN can’t encircle Las Colinas, and instead they’ll have to funnel their forces into what the guys are calling the “meat grinder,” the bulk of our defensive positions within the city.

It must be important to them if the Allies are hitting us this hard. Every day they pound us with artillery, then from the air. They said originally that the SL would have air dominance in the war but that’s really not true. AN gunships and airplanes bomb us it seems every day.

I hope you guys are doing well. Did little Emily get those flowers I sent? There called bluebonnets, apparently. They only grow here in Sidonia, and they’re really pretty. They grow all over the place this time of year, on the hills, in the plains, and everything though all this fighting has destroyed a lot of them, and a lot of the country. This town we’re in, not a single building hasn’t been hit at least once by artillery.

But don’t worry about me though I’m safe. Since I’m a medic, I get to stay in the field hospital, which is relatively safe. We’ve got a lot of food, and water, but I really wish I could sleep. It’s just this damned artillery, even if you lay down its like every second the earth just shakes and then you think your going to die and then you don’t, and it’s really hard.

Also, what does Jimmy think of those pictures I sent? I know he really likes all this military equipment stuff (what middle school kid doesn’t) so I thought he might enjoy seeing those. That first picture with the guys in front of the tank is a crew with their Trojan-II. It’s a really well-built tank, with all these different layers of armor and plated Chobham. It shoots these things called Sabot rounds, but the tankers call them “silver bullets.” What they do is they slash through the enemy tank’s armor and blow up inside which destroys the tank. Apparently our sabots are really taking a toll on the AN armored corps. The current kill/death ratio for our forces is something like five to one.

Please give Rex a rub behind the ears for me, tell Jimmy I say hi, and give Emily a kiss. Tell her I’ll walk her to school again as soon as I get back.

Lots of love,
James

3 May 2015

To: SL Executive Council
From: GALA Marshal Sêllkhyr Lízhühn [SACSIDONIA]

Ministers, Generals, & National Executives Of The Septentrion League;

It is my pleasure to announce our united front’s successes in stopping the unwarranted and unjust aggression of the Allied Nations. Our forces have successfully stopped the AN war machine in its tracks, despite being vastly outnumbered. It is only through the skill of our commanders and the tenacity of our soldiers that we have been, and will continue to, stop the enemy invasion.

We have inflicted heavy losses on enemy forces all across the line especially in the region surrounding Cherbourg. I have ordered our reserve formations to support Las Colinas as to give the AN the impression that Cherbourg is the weakest part of the line, when, in truth, I have personally selected our toughest formations, such as the 36th Airmobile Dragoons Division plus a number of Sylvan Armored Cavalry Regiments, to defend it.

The AN’s strategy seems to be to attack the entire line with armored spearheads and funnel reserves through wherever there may be a breakthrough. They cloud their assaults with airstrikes and artillery all across our defenses as to not let us see where they are concentrating their assaults. Due to the flexibility of my personal unit, the 112th Mechanized Cavalry, they have not been successful. On numerous occasions I have taken personal command of the division in order to coordinate my forces from the front.

Furthermore, our continued pounding of the Allied Nations’ logistics is hampering their ability to launch assaults. We estimate that the Allies have five days left of offensive supplies, and that the SL will be victorious by the week’s end.

All Hail Aleckandor! All Hail the League!

4 May 2015

Mariana,

I know you said things were over between us, but I really just didn’t know who else to write. That, and to be completely honest, I think it’s to early to call it quits on our relationship.

I’ve been deployed with the joint SL naval task force, flying a Sif-21 for Naval Aviation. This will be my fifth mission in three days, and quite possibly my last. The squadron has been annihilated. These fucking admirals, they have us flying in to the St. Michael’s Strait, trying to hit the AN’s logistics and their supply ships. The Allies, for there part, are sitting their waiting for us with anti air and fighter planes and its like a suicide mission. I counted twenty-seven holes in my plane when I landed back on the Resurgence. Half the squadron has been hit yet they keep sending us out there. But I guess we’re doing our job too, since we've destroyed a bunch of those big cargo ships. I don’t know how many of them they have but it must be a lot since we’ve destroyed as a squadron a dozen of them. That doesn’t include whatever our subs or our surface ships have hit, but I just hope its worth it, because we’re losing a lot of good planes and even better pilots.

I haven’t updated my emergency contact information purposely. If I don’t make it out of here alive, you can keep all the stuff in our apartment (though I guess it’s your apartment now anyway).

But if I do get back, I would really like you to give me – to give us – another shot. When I said I loved you I meant it, and that wasn’t something that faded, even as we slowly drifted apart. I know we’re right for eachother, Mariana…I just hope that this is a stage, and when I get back, we can pick up where we left off.

Best of luck and lots of love,
Kevin

5 May 2015

Dear Robert,

Brother, I'm not sure what I've gotten myself into. When I signed up with the Army Reserve I never really thought I’d be called up. I was honestly hoping that the COSAF would just pay my way through college, I’d get to put something cool on my resume and every few weekends I’d get to put on my Khaki, run around with some guns in fun training exercises, then go bar hopping with some buddies and have something sweet to tell those South Carmi babes.

Yet here I am, outside Las Colinas. Central command has integrated a company of Sylvans into every Sidonian regiment as a way to teach them “on the job.” These Sidonians, they’re even less prepared for war as us reservists are. They’ve got the weapons, yes, and the tanks, and the equipment, but they don’t know how to use them. Just to give you an example, I got to see an Sidonian artillery battalion in combat yesterday. They’ve got M102 howitzers – top of the line Sylvan 105 mm towed artillery pieces, guns that can shoot miles. And what do they do with them?

Instead of placing these bad boys on a hill, where they could fire down on enemy tanks, they want to shoot them point blank at zero elevation. They want to wait until the tank is right in front of them. As if the Allies are going to be so nice as to come right in range, stop, and wait for the artillery to fire? Idiots!

But for as much crap as I give them, I will say that these Sidonians are some of the bravest motherfuckers I have ever seen. I can’t decide if it’s courage or stupidity – but they never retreat. They fight for every inch of ground, and it’s really quite inspiring. Where as we Sylvans tend to retreat to more favorable positions, fire, retreat, fire – the Sidonians never fall back. I think it has something to do with their sort of family honor system or something, but I’m not sure.

The fighting inside Las Colinas has been especially vicious. I never thought urban combat could be so devastating but it really is. At first they tried to flank the city from the east around the Cherbourg area but from what I hear that’s holding strong. So now they’re just throwing troops and tanks up the gauntlet, trying to beat us in a war of bloody attrition.

Thing is, it’s probably going to work. They advanced less than two kilometers into the city total yesterday, but that was two kilometers that cost us nearly five hundred men and a battalion’s worth of vehicles. Yeah, they may have lost a hell of a lot more, but they also have a lot more to loose.

I hope things are going better in the Navy.

Maracaibo delanda est,
Raymond

5 May 2015

Courtney;

I got your letter, and I must say it is wonderful to hear from you! Later tonight if I can I’ll Skype you, but I don’t know if I can since the AN has made nightly raids against our bases and our radar stations a daily exercise, and I have no reason to believe today will be any different. Normally they have us on rotation where one squadron can rest while another fights and then they alternate, but we’re loosing so many planes that we’re having to fly virtually twenty-four-seven now.

Thank God for our ground crews. I’m not sure how those boys do it but they’re able to load up our jets with bombs and fuel incredibly fast, sometimes even when the airbase itself is under attack. Capernaum Air Force Base, the largest in Sidonia and where I am stationed, has been hit relentlessly. You can see all the bomb holes in the tarmac that have been smoothed over by our engineers, and the burned-out hulks of aircraft that have crashed and vehicles that have been destroyed.

It’s quite strange observing the battle from the air every time I go up. The smoke generally tells you where the battle lines are, and every time I see them they are a bit more to the north. It’s very disheartening – it’s as if we can’t rely stop the Allies, we can only delay them.

But don’t worry about me, darling. The Air Force takes care of their own.

XOXOXO,
Alexander

[box]5 May 2015

The 10th Mountain is making a lot of headway. Our nighttime raids are becoming less and less effective and more and more costly as the AN adapts to our tactics. We need to change ours if we’re going to survive out here.

But from what I can tell we are a real thorn in their side. We’ve killed six-hundred-seventy-three of the bastards if you count everyone’s kills though sometimes I think the snipers inflate the numbers a little bit. Even so, the fact that we’ve lost a total of sixty-nine Rangers in five days of fighting really does attest to how good we’re doing. The problem is, we loose more and more each day, and no matter how effective our raids may be the 10th Mountain is still advancing steadily through the Woodlands.

I really hope Colonel Steele and Colonel Rodriguez come up with a plan to get us back the initiative, or we may loose the Woodlands yet.

Signing off,
Staff Sergeant Andrew DeForest, Coalition State Rangers

5 May 2015

Cecilia,

I just wanted to thank you for that amazing night before I deployed. You were really pretty in that dress (and even better out of it), but it’s not jut that. I think there was real chemistry between us, something more than just sensual attraction.

Anyway, idk if you just wanted that to be a one night thing or whatever but it meant a lot more to me than just a one night hookup. This may sound really stupid but hopefully, when I get back to the State, we can meet up again some time?

Anyway I’m deployed currently in Cherbourg with the rest of 29 Armored Cavalry Regiment and the 1. Cavalry Division. We’ve been reinforced by these Alecko paragrenadiers, and let me tell you they are some tough sons of bitches. The Allies have been hitting us every day with their tanks and armor and soldiers and every day we beat them back. Its actually pretty great considering how small of a number of forces we actually have.

But we’re running out of our guys too. I just hope we get reinforcements soon, or these next few attacks might actually break through our lines. I hear that 29 ACR in total is down to two-thirds strength, and we weren’t that big to begin with.

Anyways, how are things back home? I heard that Festung Akademie beat USC – is that true? I certainly hope not, I had money on South Carmi.

Hope to hear from you soon,
Francis

by **Achesia** » Wed May 06, 2015 12:08 pm

WARNING POST IS RATED: R FOR SOME SEXUAL THEMES

Underbelly, Tower of Ascendancy, Imperium, Imperium Hold, Realm of Achesia-

Her deep breaths were as harmonious as the steady drips of water on the stone of the cellar. Her skin glistened with moisture as she heaved up and down. Her head was against the cold stone behind her, auburn hair flowing over her naked shoulders. She droned with a low soft pitch as he kissed her neck and finished the deed, her whole body trembled with each quiver. As he set her back on the ground she endeavored to catch her breath, but before she could clinch on to the damp stale air around her, he was on her lips caressing them ever so softly. He moved his mouth down her bare skin almost to her navel, pecking at the soft tissue of her body. She gasped with delight, grabbing his scruff with both hands and forcing his mouth to hers. They embraced for a few moments before she pushed him off her nude form.

"What time is it?" She said feebly as he pinned her against the wet stone, kissing and gnawing on her neck once more.

"Does it matter?" He said between smacks.

Prince Jupiter Charles White, Bastard of Requient

"You know we have places to be." She shoved him off.

He grabbed her neck and forced her back against the wall. "I don't care, this is the only place I want to be."

"Stop it Charles!... we will be missed." She spouted, he covered her mouth quickly as she got the last of words out.

"Quiet Alexandra, don't let your voice carry, no one can hear."

She shoved his hand away and stooped down to pick up her garments. "No one will hear us here, we are deep within the underbelly." She slipped on her panties and pulled up her skirt. With a few flicks of her hair she brushed herself off, she then grabbed the back of Charles head, pulling him down to her. "No one will find out about us Charles. Not anyone, not ever." She bit his lip ever so slightly. "Now come, father will be waiting for us..."

Before she could make but a few steps towards the exit of the cellar he grabbed her once more from behind. His warm breath on her neck again, like a dragon breathing upon the fields, and like the fangs of the beast upon the herd he sheep he bit her on the neck. She gasped as he held tightly, his hand finding his way up her skirt and into her. He played her until her moans grew louder and finally came to climax. Then he shoved her down to the stone floor, and took her once more.

The Portal, Tower of Ascendancy-

It was a large archway off the throne room, bellow it was a large balcony able to hold a slew of people to look our over the city. The portal was the eye of the Tower of Ascendancy, it looked out over the Elysium Quarter of Imperium City. Bellow it crowds of Titelian Achesians would gather to hear the Ackular address the Realm in what were often lengthy dialogues about God and the right of Achesians to rule all of man. No matter how long or tedious the orations may be people still flocked to hear them all eager to see what their leader had to say. Most came believing they were hearing the words the Summer God had spoken to the Ackular, others because they wanted to gain favor. But no matter the reason most were eager, except the children of the Ackular.

Princess Alexandra Requient

Amanda Rose Requient sat in her chair fighting ever so diligently the forces of sleep from her eyes as she listened to her father drone on once more. It was often that her and her siblings were suffered to listen to their father talk of legacy or power of the Requient House that she had grown too accustomed to her fathers voice in his monotone speech. She faded in and out of thought of everyday things that she almost lost what her father was speaking of altogether. She occasionally grasped the word "Sellenland." or "Holy War." or even the occasional "duty of the Holy Realm" but she still paid no heed to these words as she watched a few gulls play far above the harbor that lay bellow the tower. She looked over to Bruce, the youngest of the Requient Children at the age of 8, squirming in his seat, barely able to keep still. Mother would usually hush him quiet often if he became too rowdy (an image of a dutiful and well mannered Royal Family must be maintained to their subjects) but Amnanda was forced to fill this roll in Mothers absence. Thats when Charles and Amelia walked in late... again.

They made it just in time to walk through the portal as their father had a pause in his speech. The glare he gave them was unspeakable as they both avoided eye contact and took their seats amongst the family. Ameilia took her seat next to Amanda with the main section of the Royal Heirs, while Charles took his seat with Charlotte where the bastards of the family sat. Charles had been born to a member of the Seplich family that the Ackular fancied some years ago, and ever since he was five lived with the Royal family as father insisted. Charlotte however was born of a handmaiden to the Queen, an unknown Titelian. Again father insisted she be raised with the Royal Family. Amanda reflected on this, and her mothers diligence in raising two children not her own, perhaps that is what has taken such a toll on her over the years. She looked over at her sister Ameilia who was the image of grace and beauty, her perfectly keep Auburn hair, her bright eyes, and graceful smile. She was everything Amanda strived to be with half the effort, routinely she was late to family functions or by some short measure not fulfilling her family duties. But still she remained the golden daughter, though Amanda did not mind this as the two of them were close, but there was no denying the envy was there.

Princess Amanda Rose Requient

Father continued his speech for a near twenty more minutes before concluding with great cheers and fanfare. Amanda soon seeped back into her thoughts, as she gazed around at the open sky amongst the high towers of their Royal home she caught a few stray glances her sister sent back towards Charles and Charlotte, but she thought nothing of it. As the crowds bellow faded back to their lives the Royal Family was left alone between heir father and their servants. The Ackular gave an approving nod and the children got up from their seats and proceeded about their business. But he soon beckoned Charles an Ameilia to stay.

"If the people see their monarchs act as if their time does not matter soon they will come to believe you will not matter young ones." He said in almost a distant abstract tone.

"I apologize father, I let the time get away from me in my studies." Ameilia spoke with such a charming voice.

"I too lost track, I was inside training with Radomir." He spoke softly.

"No matter, it is our duty to be diligent in the best intentions for our subjects, and both of you squander that." He looked back at them a fire in his eyes. "Ameilia leave us." The princess paused a moment and looked at Charles, she looked down to the marble floor as she stepped back into the tower, her foot steps echoing through the great halls. "Perhaps I have not had high enough expectations for your as a son, perhaps since you are not an air I have looked over you.... But no longer, I am sending you to Sellenland to fight, there you will command men, and bring glory to our House's name." He looked back down over the plaza bellow him.

"Father.... I do not wish this." He stepped forward pleading. "I will do better father, I will do more." He begged.

"What is done is done." His father said. "you leave first thing tomorrow." With that no more could be said and the Ackular, his father walked away leaving Charles on the balcony to ponder the near future.

He was angry, what right does his father have to control his future as such. What will he do that far from Ameilia. It was all to much to ponder alone. He left his thoughts there on the balcony and rushed to share this terrible news with his sister.

by **Nova Sylva** » Wed May 06, 2015 12:47 pm

Collected Letters from SL forces during the Sidonian War

6 May 2015

Raymond,

It was so great to hear from you. I’m sorry to hear about everything happening with you and the Sidonians in Las Colinas – but things are going much better in the Strachan Sea.

I’m not sure if you know, but we’ve been pounding the hell out of Maracaibo, all day and all night. The Aleckandoreans have these things called “arsenal ships” which are essentially floating missile launchers. Every day they launch a dozen or so cruise missiles at the AN capital. We were hoping that maybe we could have scored a hit and killed Kerman, but sadly he came on the radio a few hours after the first strike and told the whole world that he was alive and then something about how our strikes would not go unanswered. All political rhetoric and bullshit, if you ask me.

While we hit Maraciabo daily, our main targets are the AN logistics. We’ve bombed the shit out of their port facilities on both sides of the Strait, but those damn Army Corps of Engineers are fixing them almost as fast as we’re destroying them. I don’t know how it’s possible, but somehow it is. Someday when this war is all over I’m going to hire some of the Allied ACE guys to build me a beach house.

Stay frosty,
Robert

7 May 2015

Meredith,

Don’t listen to what the newscasters, or the Aleckandoreans, say about the war. We’re losing.

Yes, we’re holding the bastards back, but for how long? We’ve expended nearly all our reserves defending a massive front in a war of attrition that we cannot win. Casualties are already twice as high as we expected. Yet SACSIDONIA insists we are winning. The idiot, he can’t see past however he’s going to spin the war to get himself a high seat with the Darkspires.

You have to understand – these Confederates, they don’t care about Sidonia, or Sylva, or the League – they care about their own greater Septentrion agenda. To them, this is just a game, and we’re the pawns. I don’t know for what purpose, but I’ll be damned if I don’t find out soon enough!

You’re the defense minister, and I need you to convince De La Calle to mobilize additional forces, to prepare them to defend Sylva. I don’t think with our current leadership or strategy that we can repulse the Allies from Sidonia – but I do just hope that we can defend the Coalition State if the need comes.

Our campaign against the AN’s logistics is the only thing I’ve been able to control, and it’s having the most effect on the Allies. We’ve sunk approximately six hundred thousand in tonnage of cargo in the course of one week, at the cost of nearly a hundred fifty aircraft. We’ve also lost eight of our hunter-killer submarines to enemy ASW operations…though MARFORCOM assures me that we can continue this rate of attrition. I don’t know, Meredith. I just don’t know.

This whole damn war, it’s not about Sidonia. It’s about Kerman’s big ego, and Aleckandor’s bigger hidden agenda. We’re the pawns, not the players – and this is ending up just like the that damn insurgency that Stephen died in.

I’ll be damned if I can’t find a way to fix this before it's too late.

Yours truly,
Lt. General John Clarke, CINC-South

8 May 2015

Dear Robert;

I only have a few minutes, then I must get back to my company. We’re working to build some more anti-tank ditches and they need all the help they can get.

Las Colinas is all but destroyed, and our division is no larger than a regiment in strength, but we’ve held the bastards back so far. Today was the first day that we didn’t get hit with a massive onslaught of tanks and troops. Some of the guys say that maybe the AN is out of reserves, that we’ve killed them all – but I think their just getting ready for a massive offensive. Either way, the day’s rest didn’t go to waste. We’ve been fortifying our positions around the city center in preparation for it just in case, and SACSIDONIA personally came down and inspected them. It was a really great morale boost for our guys. He also said that he would be sending some more forces our way in preparation for the attack – they seemed convinced that Las Colinas is going to be the be-all and the end-all for this war.

I’m just worried that in moving all these troops over here, we’re not weakening some other part of the line.

Maraciabo delanda est,
Raymond

8 May 2015

Cecilia,

I got your last letter, and must first say thank you. For a soldier, receiving a letter in mail call is perhaps the one thing that can keep me sane in this. Also, thanks for clearing the game up with me – I would have another two hundred koso right now, but Huntington was killed yesterday in the AN’s armored attack. They are getting bolder, but more troublingly, they are getting smarter. They don’t attack in the middle of the day anymore – they’ll toy with us, bombard us with artillery, and hit us with airstrikes, but at night they actually attack. Nobody has been sleeping. Every time we think we’ve got a minute to not fight, some new order comes down the radio to reinforce some other part of the line.

We never got any reinforcements save a battalion of tanks from the 3rd Armored Division. We were expecting the entire 3rd Armor to come to Cherbourg, but apparently SACSIDONIA deployed them to Las Colinas instead. We’re down to less than a brigade in total strength – we’ve got about a hundred fifty tanks left and about five thousand men, though a third of them are wounded. We’ve actually had to go to field hospitals and bring back anyone that can fire a rifle to supplement our losses. It’s horrible, but most of all, it’s sad. I just wish I was back on the beach, or in the officers’ club with you, or in that hotel room. I just want to come home. I hope that doesn’t sound cowardly, but I’m tired of this death. Huntington is dead, as is Carlos, Mead, Ferguson, Tonico…all my buddies. I’m the last one from 301 Platoon still here.

But as bad as it is for us, it’s got to be worse for them. I don’t know how the AN can do it – we’ve must’ve killed tens of thousands of the motherfuckers, yet they keep on coming. They must have infinite reserves or something, I don’t know…but I can only imagine how many families back in the AN that are receiving posthumous awards and the flag ceremonies and all that – my tank alone has downed a dozen AN tanks, and I don’t even have the highest kill count!

Once again, I really appreciate your letters. To be completely honest your continued correspondence is one of the few things keeping me sane in the midst of this whole damn war.

-Francis

P.S. I got a new tank after ours’ was disabled. We’ve taken to calling her “Cecilia.”

9 May 2015

The 10th Mountain has taken the Woodlands.

We’ve finally run out of room, and as such had to abandon our positions and fall back across the Rio Verde River. We were reinforced by three companies of Sidonian regulars, which brings our total force back to about a brigade in strength.

Luckily for us the AN 10th Mountain Division is battered. Our guerrilla warfare tactics have done their job – while the 10th Mountain has taken the Woodlands it is in no shape to continue it’s advance.

Let’s hope it stays that way.

Signing off,
Staff Sergeant Andrew DeForest, Coalition State Rangers

9 May 2015

Mariana,

My name is George Perot, Kevin’s best friend and squadron executive officer. I’m not sure if you remember me or not, but Kevin and I were roommates in college before we joined COSAF a few years back. I’m writing you because yesterday evening Kevin died when our ship, the CSS Resurgence, was hit.

The AN has been trying to counter our raids against their shipping and yesterday they succeeded. AN aircraft and missile destroyers engaged our fleet, and what resulted was the largest naval battle of the century. Our squadron was scrambled to engage. We prevented the AN fighterbombers from engaging our ships but couldn’t do anything about their cruise missiles (that is, missiles launched from ships) and half a dozen of the fleet’s ships were hit, with one of the Aleckandorean cruisers sinking and the Resurgence taken out of commission. Kevin and the squadron had just landed when the first missile hit our carrier – not fifty feet from where he was, and his plane, which was full of fuel, just exploded. Another missile hit us aft (in the back) right next to the Combat Information Center and killing everyone inside. I hope it gives you some solace that Kevin’s death was painless; he was vaporized on the spot, and probably didn’t even know what had happened.

Kevin always loved you, Mariana. At USC, where you guys met, I could see the love he had for you in his eyes, and his actions. The flowers, the beach dates, notes for your exams – I’ve never seen anyone love someone as authentically and truly as he did. Even after y’all supposedly broke up, he still cared for you. I was never sure if you felt the same way about him, but if you did, please take solace in the fact that he loved you to the very end and beyond.

Kevin had asked me that if anything should happen to him, that I mail you a letter and a single package. The package (which should have arrived with this letter) contains an eighteen-carat gold engagement ring that Kevin wanted to give you. Originally he had wanted to propose before he deployed, but when you walked out on him, that changed. Instead of breaking his resolve, however, it merely strengthened it. When he got back to Los Olivos, he would always say, he’d finally get the girl of his dreams.

He wanted to marry you, Mariana, and spend the rest of his life with you.

It’s truly a shame he won’t be able to live out this dream, but he wanted to protect you either way. That’s why in the package with the ring is also a check for $178,092 koso, Kevin’s entire bank account. He wrote that check and gave it to me with the ring. The entire squadron also pitched in a little bit, and that’s where the second (smaller) check is from.

Kevin was a friend to all of us and an even better squadron commander. Please accept me and the rest of the squadrons’ deepest condolences for your loss.

Sincerely,
George Perot, Interim Squadron Commander

by **Murovanka** » Fri May 08, 2015 7:24 am

Official Statement of the Wankan Foreign Ministry

The Wankan government and people are outraged at the repeated attempts by Sylva to undermine the integrity of the Volksrepublik. The satellite images are nothing but photoshopped, fabricated lies constructed by the Coalition State in its aggressive campaign to isolate the Volksrepublik and turn public opinion against Wanka and its people. In addition to that, the Sylvan government has used this “evidence” to justify the mobilization of troops along the Wanko-Sylvan border, further threatening to escalate the situation. Any violation of Wankan territorial integrity will be met with force.

Furthermore, the Meinhof administration maintains that any ethnic minority, whether Sylvan or Aemen, will not be held responsible for their governments actions and will be treated and protected equally in accordance to the law.

Highway 68
Point Kessel, SEKS Ambush Location
First Day, ca. 16:00 Hours

Initially, the ambush went very, very well. The overall commander of the operation, Jens Lukas Haradra, watched with satisfaction as the leading tanks were disabled, which stopped the entire column. This gave his RPG men easy, stationary targets to fire at, and his men didn’t waste the chance. RPGs and small-arms fire proved an effective combination as no Achesian soldier below was safe; meanwhile, just like this morning in the north, the mountains provided some excellent cover and elevation which made them nearly invulnerable to direct fire from below. In response, the choppers above had opened fire with their miniguns and rockets, sweeping bullets across the suspected Sellenwanker position. To little effect; the fog made it rather difficult to identify the Wankan positions. And soon after, the choppers were discouraged by individual short-range SAMs which looped into the air, mostly missing their targets. The “Pfeil” MANPAD was difficult to operate without extensive training, and the jittering nerves only made it worse. But it did encourage the enemy choppers to back off a little.

So far, so good. Then the Achesians attempted to land soldiers to directly combat the SOABs via helicopter, something which didn’t turn out well for the unfortunate enemy, whose choppers stood little chance against the RPGs and MANPADs. Haradra had watched one of the choppers get hit by an RPG, which quickly crashed dramatically into the mountain, presumably with a squad of young Achesian soldiers. He’d turned back to the battle, which was going well. Numerous Achesian tanks and armored personnel carriers lay destroyed on the highway; dismounted soldiers took cover between them, trying to shield themselves from the deadly cross-fire. Damaged vehicles retreated slowly in face of heavy RPG fire, their mounted machine guns blazing, the occasional missile screaming toward the mountains. And then there was a whistle, and a massive explosion which sent Haradra flying into a nearby bush. In front of him, his second-in-command and good friend of his, known only as “Leo”, lay screaming on the floor. His right leg below the knee was no more, what was left was a mess of flesh and blood. It was time to leave before the enemy artillery blew them to smithereens. Picking up his radio, his spoke loudly:

“Alle Tiger-Rufzeichen, alle Tiger-Rufzeichen, hier ist Tiger-Eins, fallt zurück, wiederhole: Zurückfallen!”

All Tiger callsigns, this is Tiger-One, fall back, I repeat: fall back!

However, as he cleaned up whatever he could of Leo, he saw that none of the RAPE commanders took heed of his orders. The positions, which he’d mostly chosen himself, were too good, it seemed, and now it was working against them. The former Wankan military officer watched in disbelief as the RAPEs on both sides of the mountain remained rooted in their locations, firing at the enemy below while ignoring the ever-increasing number of artillery shells exploding around them. Haradra was in no position to see their fate. The other six men of his squad, one of which was lightly injured, rapidly scampered through their pre-planned escape route. The vegetation provided good cover from any choppers; nevertheless, the occasional shell accompanied them along. He just thought they’d made it to safety when an Achesian fighter, roaring close over their heads, launched a missile right into their midst. The men were thrown apart, one, a tough 19-year old machine-gunner, was clearly dead, his body pulverized by the almost direct impact of the blast. Haradra dropped Leo, who seemed stable enough for now, and ran over to check on the others. Two others, both RPG men, stood up, bloodied but only superficially wounded. The other three… their situation wasn’t so good. One had his arm blown off, the others had shrapnel stuck all over their bodies.

”Tiger-Eins zu Basis Drei-Eins und Basis-E, wir brauchen dringend Unterstützung. Vier Männer kritisch verwundet. Wiederhole, brauchen sofortige Hilfe!”

“Tiger One to Base 31 and Base E, we need immediate support. Four men are critically wounded, I repeat, we need immediate help!”

His last words were shouted in pure desperation. The officers at the SEKS supply base acknowledged, and reported that a team of medics were on the way. However, it was some four kilometers away, through this kind of terrain… Haradra had little reason to be optimistic for his comrades. He and the two other Wankers attempted to stabilize the wounded, which was the only thing they could do until the WAF doctors arrived.

Hours later, back at their headquarters in one of the villages in central Sellenland, the three unscathed men sat gloomily around the radio. Sonderführer Hennings congratulatory speech did little to improve the mood. The one who’d lost his arm, a 21-year old Sellenwanker, had not made it. Leo, Haradras childhood friend, lay in critical condition in the hospital that the WAF had set up in the village. The two of them listened in as Haradra attempted to raise the other RAPEs. The two army squad commanders responded, reporting that their units were more or less intact and were returning back to Siegen. However, nothing was heard of the remaining four RAPEs who’d participated in the attack. Of the 62 men involved in the ambush, eighteen lay confirmed dead on the Westallgäuer mountains, fourteen were wounded and another eight, an entire RAPE, were presumed to have perished in close combat with Achesian airborne troops. This amounted to a nearly 65% casualty rate, losses which would deeply affect the SEKS combat power in the upcoming weeks. Haradra blamed himself for not ordering an earlier pull-out, and for not warning his troops of the inherent danger of the Achesian artillery, although it did confuse him as to why they were apparently so unwilling to disengage in face of the bombardment.

However, the atmosphere in the SOAB headquarters was much more different. After receiving congratulations from his superiors in the Wankan Army, a joyous Henning gave all SEKS units in the Sellenland green light to engage. Hunting RAPEs along the highways readied themselves to disrupt the AAA logistical systems and cause chaos amongst their lines. Low-flying helicopters would not be safe anywhere above the mountains, where a random MANPAD missile could easily swat them from the skies. Around the Achesian defensive perimeters set up around the ambush point, Haradra was ordered to start ambushing patrols and attacking firebases. These would be coordinated with sniper teams which would make no soldier feel safe outside his armored personnel carrier. Information on the successful ambush was forwarded to the head of the provisional Sellenland government, Franz von Heidelberg, another well-known Wankan rights activist whose name was being used to gain the support of the Sellenwanker population. He would then make a statement for the press, which would hopefully attract more volunteers to the Sellenwanker cause.

Meanwhile, news of the victory spread quickly amongst the SOAB ranks. In Siegen, the local battalion paused the construction of the village defenses, celebrating together with the men and women of the 77th Regiment. The ambush was a much-needed morale booster for the SOAB after the debacle on the northern junction.

***

Biergarten
Central Sellenland
First Day, ca. 18:00 Hours

Now that the strategically important towns had been seized and secured, the men of the SOAB turned towards the numerous villages and hamlets dotting central Sellenland. Deep within the Sellenland mountains, cut off from the outside world, one wouldn’t think that these isolated settlements would be of any significance to the Sellenwankers. But the opposite was true. The villages, it was decided, would form an important part of the rebel supply network. SEKS hit-and-run units would use it as a safe haven, a hiding spot and a supplies depot.

It was also planned to be the emergency supplies centers for the regular Wankan Army battalions which would start slowly advancing up the center. The main problem for the Wankan Army was that the mountains posed significant difficulties for the logistics corps. Long routes had to be taken through the mountains to be able to keep an army battalion functioning, and the unstable weather more often than not would force the convoys to a standstill. So the plan was to advance along the northern and southern edges of central Sellenland, allowing the troops to be supplied by the highways. Patrols would then keep watch over the central area to guard against any sneak attacks.

However, approximately 70% of the central Sellenland village population was Aemen, and they certainly wouldn’t welcome the “liberation” by soldiers disguised as Sellenwankers. To prevent any interference by the local population, small groups of SOAB militiamen began descending the mountains to clear the settlements of Aemen citizens. The armed men, with the assistance of lists of Aemen inhabitants, began forcing themselves into the property of the Aemen civilians, ordering them at gunpoint to gather up their belongings and leave immediately. Whoever refused was beaten and dragged toward the village center, together with known civil servants. No resistance was encountered, apart from the couple of occasions where the locals defended their property with shotguns, hunting rifles and old pistols which were quickly silenced by automatic rifle fire. As the sun descended, marking the end of the day of the liberation of the Sellenland, numerous old and tattered pick-up trucks, motorcycles, cars and even families on foot streamed toward the northwest, heading toward the reported Achesians, whose location was readily revealed by the SOAB fighters. At the same time, “political prisoners” and anyone who resisted were tied-up, loaded onto trucks and sent to join the increasing population of “prisoners-of-war” in the Brenzlau concentration camp.

For the rest of the day, unmarked army vehicles streamed throughout the streets of the Sellenland, with mobile air-defense vehicles fending off the occasional AAA fighter jet. The defenses prepared by the elite 101st “Edelweiss” Division was taken over by the “Cave-Sweepers”, the 26th Mountain Division. Fragmented armor and mechanized units continued to arrive. The initial lines had been consolidated, the Achesian quick response forces were halted. In the north, the Aemen defenders had dispersed and were allowed to retreat back to Reiterhof. With the first phase of the operation complete with all the objectives achieved, Wankan army planners prepared for the next phase: Securing central Sellenland and marching on to Reiterhof. In the south, troops of the 77th Regiment and the elite Schwarze-Kavallerie-Jägerregiment made its way cautiously through the mountains to the village of Horb, with the task of dislodging and crushing the Achesian forces anchored at Point Kessel. In the center, elements of the 76th Regiment made their way toward Biergarten, a strategically important village connecting virtually all villages in central Sellenland. Further north, the 75th Regiment trekked its way through the difficult terrain alongside Highway 69, with advance units making contact with the SOAB administration at Kalk. Most troops went on foot; with exception to the small Wiesel weapons carrier and to some extent the Mountain-Personnel-Carrier Husky, vehicles had to take long diversions to join their units on the towering mountains.

***
Map of the Sellenland (Updated, Apologies for the messyness)

by **Aemen** » Sat May 09, 2015 9:22 am

Reiterhof
Forty eight hours after Rette den Brude

“They did what!?” Bezuidenhout shouted at a Sub-Brigadier as he was informed of the latest from the front. “They defied me! I told them specifically to follow the Aemen convoy up Highway 69 so that we could divide the Sellenwanker forces! Instead I'm receiving reports about how the Achesians are making their way south contrary to MY orders!”

The Field Marshal, on the advice of the Inspectorate, had relocated his command centre to Reiterhof's City Hall from the airfield for safety concerns. Occupying the Lord Mayor's office, Bezuidenhout had his men sweep away the room's calm and quaint appeal, replacing it with a harsh atmosphere of buzzing military radios, constantly updated maps and an imposing portrait of himself on the day he received the honour of becoming the army's second non-royal Field Marshal since the House of Olbridge ascended to the throne. The Sub-Brigadier, fresh from the Harrow Military Academy's Senior Officer Preparation Course, held himself high in the face of the furious Marshal. “Two battalions of Achesian infantry were decimated by mountain ambushes. The surrounding terrain of all the highways provides them with an advantage; it'd be impossible for us to accurately pinpoint where they would attack us from. We'll break through eventually but we may suffer heavy casualties.”

Bezuidenhout pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew he had no choice but to order the advance to continue onwards, lest he face his career coming to an incredibly impotent end and the Sellenland being lost to an enemy that was assumed to be inferior. “Then burn them, Sub-Brigadier de Klerk. Order the terrain surrounding the highway to be bombed and have the convoy advance up the road thirty minutes after. I will not - I will NOT - have a military campaign under my command be beaten back by a ragtag band of jumped up civilians wielding weapons they don't even know the names of and I refuse to have it slowed by allies who cannot recognise a strategic advantage when they see one!”

The Sub-Brigadier was taken aback slightly by the Marshal's outrage. Ultimately, however, he nodded in agreement with his superior. “Yes, sir!” De Klerk saluted before turning towards the door and marching out of it, briefly letting in the loud chatter of the intelligence staff assembled in the other room.

Bezuidenhout took a breath and stared out of the office's window at the entrance to city hall, which was barricaded and under constant watch. He knew how this had to end and he wasn't about to let the Sellenwankers prove him wrong.

Highway 69
The Sellenland

Many soldiers of the advancing 47th Mechanised Infantry were nearing the end of or halfway through their compulsory service to the crown and as such were facing their first real battle with a mix of youthful confidence and suppressed fear. The highway, though it suffered some minor blockage in the form of dirt, rubble and rocks, was otherwise untouched by the bombing and was still suitable for the vehicles rolling slowly over them. What laid around it was a sight of pure destruction; trees had been blown from the ground and laid on the burned black ground, deformed and charred. Beyond the highway's side railings, large brown craters of what used to be lush green grass now dotted the landscape and the burned bodies of men were strewn across the plains. Whether they were civilians or militants, the soldiers were told not to care - all Sellenwankers were considered enemies at this point.

As the trees and fields vanished at the higher altitudes, the bombers had also made their marks on the mountains. Large rocks dislodged in the attack pushed against the safety bars of the highway's side, making the bars seem like they were struggling to hold back the weight. There were no corpses present, but no resistance either, giving the Aemen the impression that the bombings must have had a psychological effect on anyone waiting in ambush. As it would turn out, they were wrong.

The first signs came as stones and small rocks fell down the rocky hillside next to the convoy which was assumed to be caused by the rumbling and vibrations of the vehicles as they inched along the road, the second came as black smoke rose into the air and soon came into view as being from a downed Aemen jet that had been destroyed whilst delivering its payload. As the 47th crept further into the unknown, the mountains suddenly became alive with gunfire and bullets pinged off of the ground, striking some soldiers down immediately. Luckily, the Aemen had been preparing for this. The armoured carriers pulled up to the edges of the road, lining up to shield the infantry who soon began using the APCs as their own cover from the ambush. This sort of stalemate would have continued for much longer had it not been for the Usurper tanks, which were able to edge up to the front of the convoy with the space now available, and use the force of their main guns to root out the primary troublemaking SOAB positions. The Aemen soldiers had to work fast in the face of an invisible opponent; if the ambushers had RPGs or grenades on hand, then the advance could end up limping on without the resources that were needed to take Krakenhof.

“Ulbor devecht! Ulbor devecht!” shouted one of the Lieutenant-Technicians. Ulbor devecht, essentially 'bloody hands', was an incredibly ancient term thought to have been used in the language of the Heer, Aemen's founders. It had been adopted by the military as an order for troops to engage in close-quarters combat. Under the cover of mounted machine-gun fire coming from the APCs and the secondary weapons of the tanks, the Aemen broke from their cover, vaulting over the railings of the highway and throwing themselves on their stomachs to avoid being seen by their attackers. As the soldiers crawled up to the highest point, their attackers leapt up from their holes to fire again on the convoy and were surprised to see their opponents directly in front of them. A lot of Aemen soldiers reacted first, shooting or physically slamming the end of their weapons into the faces of the Wankans, stunning them briefly and leaving them vulnerable. Some, however, weren't so quick on the draw and found themselves being pulled into the Wankans pits before engaging in a brutal hand-to-hand situation, which is what the entire ambush eventually descended into as the Aemen convoy held its fire.

In the end, as the surviving soldiers returned from the dug-in positions of the Wankans victorious, but by no means jubilant, the convoy found itself bruised in its losses of infantry. Wounds had to be sutured, the dead counted and registered, repairs tended to by engineers, but afterwards the 47th Mechanised Infantry and its supporting tanks lumbered on in the name, and for the glory, of their King.

Summary:
-The Field Marshal has given up on the support of the Achesians for now and intends to press on towards Krakenhof alone.
-The surrounding terrain from the mouth of the mountain leading upwards into Highway 69 was bombed with incendiary napalm, burning the wooded patches and probably killing some civilians as well as Wankan SOABs. One fighter jet was shot down and crashed, killing the pilot.
-The 47th Mechanised Infanty was ambushed by remnants of the SOABs along Highway 69 and suffered casualties, but due to hearing about the reports on the Achesians and knowing the land somewhat better, it presses onwards to Krakenhof.

by **Nova Sylva** » Sat May 09, 2015 2:06 pm

Allied Nations X Corps Divisional Headquarters
Forward Edge of the Battle Area, Republic of Sidonia
0130 hours | 10 May 2015

IV Corps commander, Field Marshall Cole Phillips Welch, stood perched over his map display, listening intently to the last-minute intelligence that came in from the front. The damn Sylvans had shot down nearly every drone he had deployed, and the air battle was still too rough to deploy high-altitude spy planes. He had to rely on battlefield reconnaissance and his military satellites – the latter of which relayed him information every four and a half hours. As such, the information of SL deployments he was currently basing his assault plan off of was three hours old.

“Sir, I have someone on the line for you,” a communications officer said. Welch waved him off. “I have work to do – we are to assault in half an hour!”

“General, it’s the President,”

Cole Phillips Welch swallowed in his throat audibly and picked up the line. He considered saying a prayer, but it seemed superfluous to the atheist general. He though about it again, and made the Sign of the Cross before answering the President on the satellite phone. He wish he had a landline – but the constant SL aerial bombardments across the province had destroyed nearly all of those.

“President Kerman, good morning,” Cole Phillips said. “We are just in the final stages of preparing our assault. Our troops should be on the move in less than thirty minutes.”

“Success must be achieved,” Kerman said, breaking through Welch’s soft barrier of good news. “If the empire is to survive, this battle – this war - must be won.”

That was true, though. The Septentrion League had been hammering the Allied Nations’ supply lines, and as much as he hated to admit it, doing so was having a profound effect on the combat capability of his forces. Having to send tanks into battle without full loads of ammunition, cutting back on the fuel consumption of his mechanized infantry units so that his armored spearheads could advance. As a result he was having to risk all of his offensive supplies in one final push – if it failed, his forces would completely lose the initiative.

His supply lines were ravaged, after all - though it had come, from what Maracaibo had told him, at a massive cost to the Septentrion League naval air forces. Then again, Maracaibo had also told him that the SL had enough reserves to last another twenty-four hours before their lines completely collapsed – and that was four days ago.

“Of course, Mr. President. We have one armored and four mechanized divisions at our disposal, along with nearly three hundred aircraft – at least, that is what the Frontal Aviation General tells me – as well as those…special weapons.”

“Use them indiscriminately, Marshall,” Kerman sounded off. “I want everything in that godforsaken country dead if it means poisoning them all. I have also allocated an equal amount of chemicals to Frontal Aviation for use in more…strategic targets.”

“Sir? I was aware we would only use them against enemy combatants-”

“Do you have a problem with my decision, Marshall?” Kerman interrupted. “Everyone in Sidonia is an enemy combatant. There are no civilians in this war, General, and as such, I expect you to take no prisoners, just like in the uprisings you put down. Is that understood?”

“Yes sir.” Welch didn’t need to be reminded of the war crimes he had committed against the PLA during the Jungle Rebellions.

“Good. Because if you cannot succeed, Marshall, I will find someone else that can. Is that clear?”

“Crystal, sir.”

“Good to hear. Best of luck, Marshall. The eyes of the empire are cast upon you – for the Great Republic and the Allied Forces!”

CS ONI Sidonian Field Office
Capernaum, Republic of Sidonia
0145 hours

The tech specialists in Sylva’s Office of National Intelligence had been busy since before the war began; tapping phone lines, coordinating satellites, and arraying stolen information, and waging a massive campaign of cyberwarfare against the Allied Nations – they had already hacked the Admiralty House webpage as more of a extracurricular as their main force was on the electronic infrastructure, and the economy, of the Allied Nations. In this they had been extremely successful – ten of the Allied Nations’ largest corporations had been hacked by ONI as of yet.

Furthermore, the installment of MINERVA by the Skyans – something that, officialy, they denied – had given ONI a wealth of new intelligence and assets to ping them off of. The two countries were working in incredibly close – and prolific – tandem when it came to intelligence, such as today.

So when a private communications satellite for Telecom Industries (an AN company hacked by MINERVA, and relayed to ONI) pinged a phone call from Sidonia to Maracaibo it was ONI’s job to listen in on exactly what that phone call implied. They found it to be a private communication between President Kerman and Field Marshal Cole Phillips Welch…discerning a massive attack that was to take place at Cherbourg in less than half an hour. Moreover, the news that possible chemical weapons were involved gave the message and its contents absolute priority as it was passed up the chain of command.

Forward Operations Base November
Capernaum International Airport, Republic of Sidonia
0145 hours | 1 May 2015

“We have word of an incoming attack south of Cherbourg, multiple division strength,” Coalition State CINC-South, Lt. General John Clarke, said. “We have a mere two brigades holding that sector. They’re already at half strength – we need to get them reinforcements now!”

SACSIDONIA frowned. “It could be a trick. They could be playing us, trying to divert reinforcements and reserves from Las Colinas. Then they could strike there, and,” he made a smashing movement with his fist, “break through our center of gravity.”

“I doubt it,” Clarke replied. “Cherbourg is it. That has to be the schwerpunkt. Why else would they be stockpiling chemical weapons? We must warn our men of this, and reinforce them!”

“I will not abandon one battle for another,” SACSIDONIA replied.

“And if you’re wrong?” Clarke fired back. His counterpart sighed, and thought for a moment, before perching his lip.

“Very well. Dispatch your reserves if you must – but no Aleckandorean land forces can be spared. I’m moving the rest of my reserves to Las Colinas and the oil fields.”

“You want me to throw the entire 1st Maneuver Group into the fray? They are supposed to be our reserve operational formation, not fighting on the line! Maneuver Groups are designed for exactly that – maneuver. They won’t last long at all in the attrition warfare this conflict has been so fond of.”

“It’s up to you to send them or not,” SACSIDONIA replied.

“Fine,” Clarke said, grabbing his coat regardless of the fact that the humidity and heat seeped in the early morning hours of the day. The heat was brutal even at night - during the day it was just unbearable. “I’m going to meet with the Sidonians, and see if they will let me borrow some of their reserves.”

Clarke turned to one of his aides. “Relay a message to our forces in and around Cherbourg. Tell them to prepare for an AN attack to come in less than twenty minutes. Also, get any Sylvan reserve forces not allocated to the 1. Maneuver Group to head for Cherbourg immediately.”

With that, Clarke left FOB November and made his way to the Sidonians’ command bunker, north of Capernaum. Little did he know it, the trip had saved his life.

Allied Nations Frontal Aviation Command
Rear Edge of the Battle Area, Republic of Sidonia
0200 hours | 10 May 2015

The largest offensive of the war to date was about to begin. Above the St. Michael’s Strait, nearly a hundred and fifty Allied Nations fighter aircraft prepared their assault against the Septentrion League forces in Sidonia. They flew high over the warm waters of the Strait, and then above the obliterated landscape of the AN South Sidonia Protectorate, before entering the twisted, burning landscape of the Republic of Sidonia. Devastated by a week and a half of constant warfare the country resembled a wasteland – and now it was to be even more so. Fifty of the aircraft were interceptors, with the sole objective of destroying the SL’s AWACS net. These converted 747s provided a virtual electronic shield over the battlescape, coordinating the League’s air forces in their pitched battles with their Allied Nations counterparts.

As the interceptors raced across the sky at nearly a thousand miles per hour alongside heavy jammer support the two Sylvan and one Aleckandorian AWACS cried out for help – their escort squadrons moved to defend them but it was too late – the AWACS were forced to turn off their active radars and go evasive, flying back over Sylvan airspace. One of the Sylvan E3s was unlucky and obliterated midair – and though the other two escaped, they would be unable to provide support for the SL planes for the time being.

For the first time in the war, the Allied Nations had achieved air superiority over a major operational area in the theatre. Immediately, they set about using it – dozens of fighterbombers swooped in over Capernaum, the Sidonian capital, dropping high explosives and bunker-buster munitions on Capernaum International Airport, the SL’s Forward Operations Base “November.”

Though Sylvan, Sidonian and Aleckandorean aircraft swooped in to blunt the attack the damage had been done. Additionally, AN planes dropped thermobarics (fuel-air bombs) into the city’s population centers, vaporizing hundreds of civilians and wounding or displacing thousands more. Finally, the coup de grace of the entire strike culminated into the releasing of hundreds of canisters of Sarin gas across the city. Though targeted at FOB November and other military installations, the westward winds that swooped in from the sea every morning pushed these gas clouds into the city, affecting nearly twenty thousand people in the greatest war crime of the century.

And more was to come.

Sylvan 24. Armored Cavalry Regiment
Cherbourg, Republic of Sidonia
0225 hours | 10 May 2015

“We’re pretty exposed here,” Master Sergeant Hawthorne observed.

Hawthorne’s Trojan II main battle tank was dug into the reverse slope of a hill, overlooking a dusty plain flanked by wooded foothills. Small shrubbery grew in the sandy grass, which gradually became a small rocky ridge. The valley, if you could really call it that, belonged to a well-to-do farmer who had planted a tomato crop in it just a few weeks before. Behind that hill lay an unknown number of Allied Nations tanks and soldiers, though it was estimated they were at least a full Army Corps in strength.

Behind the 24. ACR was the village of Cherbourg, an important crossroads that led to Highway 10, which cut Sidonia bilaterally. Highway 10 was also a crucial supply route for the defenders, and allowed them to shuffle reinforcements wherever they were needed, and as such a primary objective for the AN invaders. They would undoubtedly attempt to hit it from the air, but the defenders had placed a number of SAMs and AHEAD SPAAGS to prevent, or at least neglect the effects, of that.

"Now's really not the time to be doubting our position,” the driver, Staff Srgt. Lopez, replied. “But if you really want to move, we have an alternate back a ways.”

The 24th Armored Cavalry Regiment was sixty-four Trojan II tanks strong, along with fifty other armored vehicles of varying type. They had been reinforced by a battalion of Aleckandorian Paragrenadiers, which had brought along a couple ATGM launchers. After watching the latter preform in SYMBATSYL, having the PGs on his side let him rest easy.

“Do we have any air support?” The gunner, Sergeant Oswald, asked, scanning the ridgeline for any movement.

“A couple A-10s,” Hawthorne replied. “Maybe some of those Aleckandorian helos, if we’re lucky. Though they’re saying that the Allies just took out our AWACS net…so it’s all up for grabs.”

There was a tense silence as the men prepared mentally for the inevitable. They had been in Sidonia for weeks, getting ready to face the AN – but Hawthorne could feel himself shaking nonetheless. A full Allied Army Corps was going to come rolling into them – how could you possibly prepare for that?

AN IV Corps Mobile Headquarters
Forward Edge of the Battle Area, Republic of Sidonia
0215 hours | 10 May 2015

A sheet of flame rose from the earth as 2. Division of Artillery began opening fire on the Septentrion League positions. The morning sky, usually a dark black, was now stained orange with the conflagration of hundreds upon hundreds of howitzers and rocket artillery vehicles. The division’s Railway Artillery Brigade also opened fire, for the first time since the conflict had begun, massive 240 mm siege pieces pounding the SL positions, obliterating defensive entrenchments.

One battalion of 115 mm howitzers was arming their guns with shells from crates labeled “SPECIAL WEAPONS.” In full Chemical Warfare gear these artillerymen loaded their guns with Sarin-filled shells, and began firing at predesignated positions such as the Sylvan divisional headquarters, located in Cherbourg. As these shells came down in the early morning hours the Sylvans and their SL counterparts were wholly unprepared. Close to fifty rounds full of the gas exploded in and around the divisional headquarters, killing everyone inside.

Once again, the wind attributed to a further loss of life as the Sarin seeped its way into the Field Hospital adjacent to Divisional Command. Close to a thousand wounded men and women were inside the medical tents and most all of them coughed blood as boils formed on their skin. Those who inhaled the Sarin felt their insides burn before dying of either asphyxiation, their faces turning a sickly blue.

Once again, the Allies had committed horrible war crimes against the League. The total death count for the chemical weapons now reached almost twelve thousand people, most of whom were noncombatants…making it the single deadliest chemical attack in regional history.

24 Armored Cavalry Regiment
Near Cherbourg, Republic of Sidonia
0230 hours | 1 May 2015

It only lasted ninety seconds, but it was the scariest minute and a half of Hawthorne’s life. Artillery blasted all around them, destroying the pre-fabricated defenses the Sidonians, Sylvans, and Aleckandorean PGs had prepared. He had no idea how many must have died in the barrage, but he was grateful that the AN seemed to saturating the entire ridge, and mainly to the north of him. That must be were they were going to try and break through.

Sylvan artillery, those less numerous, responded with a vicious counter battery assault. The two sides exchanged shell fire like two boxers throwing punches, and it only ended when the AN finally silenced the Sylvan gunners. At what cost to them, Hawthorne had no idea.

As soon as the barrage stooped, smoked began hissing from canisters shot into the field and covering the landscape, to cover the AN’s advance. The smoke wouldn’t make a difference, though – all the tanks had thermal imagery. As they advanced over the far ridge, and into his view, Hawthorne nearly shit his pants.

Atleast two hundred Allied Nations armored vehicles were rolling over the ridge, preparing to overwhelm his position. IFVs, SPAAGs, APCs, MBTs – vehicles of every class, which were now moving towards his position.

“Load Sabot!” he yelled, with a small voicecrack reflective of his nervousness. Just like training, he reminded himself. His gunner replied a second later. “Gun ready!”

“Target the lead tanks,” he ordered, “and fucking send it!” The turret rotated, and set its sights on the forward enemy tank. Hopefully it was the command tank – maybe a company, or even a battalion commander – or it was, before the Sabot round blasted through it’s armor and killed whoever was inside. “Hit, motherfucker!”

“New target,” he said, setting his sights on another tank. He bounced a laser off of it and got a reading – 1300 meters away. His tank automatically calculated the trajectory, speed, and elevation of the main gun, and adjusted to conform. Lopez, the gunner, pulled the trigger, and they watched as the forty-foot muzzle blast temporarily blinded their vision, annihilating the shrubbery around them. The cannon jerked back in recoil, and the sabot, for it’s part, fell free of the casing and the 40 mm uranium/tungsten dart sliced through the enemy tank at speeds over a mile per second.

The Sylvans’ accurate fire was taking it’s toll, as were the PG’s ATGM missiles. But the AN tanks were also falling victim to the minefield in the valley, which were more effective than Hawthorne could have ever hoped for.

But the two successive muzzle flashes from Hawthorne’s tank told the AN tankers exactly where they were. An enemy HEAT round streaked overhead, narrowly missing them. Perhaps it had been meant for one of the Badger IFVs supplementing the tanks on the line, but it didn’t matter either way. Hawthrone and his Trojan-II continued firing.

“Lopez,” Hawthorne ordered. “Kill that bastard!”

He loaded another sabot and fired, this time hitting the tank’s sloped frontal armor. Unfortunately for Hawthorne’s crew, it failed to penetrate the AN main battle tanks’ heavy armor. “Fucking hell,” he cursed. “Fire two!”

The Diplomat got to fire first – it sent another round, which hit the ground just in front of the Sylvan tank. The explosion sent dirt and grass flying fifty feet in the air, but their reverse-slope entrenchment had saved them. He thanked God for the engineers – and the Sidonian farmers – who had dug the fortification for his tank.

“Time to go,” he ordered. “Head for the alternate position, move!”

The tank was thrown into reverse as another round streaked into where it had been a moment before. The tank spun to the right and drove fifty yards, before entering another prepared position and continuing the battle.

Allied Nations Expeditionary Force – Sidonia IV Corps
Near Cherbourg, Republic of Sidonia
0240 hours | 10 May 2015

“Damn it!” Welch cursed. “They must have a full regiment on that ridge!” His first division, a mechanized one, had already taken heavy casualties. The Sylvans had the annoying habit – or maybe it was blind luck - to target his commanders’ tanks, to the point where companies were now commanded by sergeants.

“We must break them,” he ordered, to no one in particular. “Throw in the mechanized Marines on the right flank. I need a breakthrough!”

He walked out of the command vehicle and waved down an advancing IFV. “Take me to the front,” he ordered.

“Sir, I cannot allow a Marshall to die –“

“Are you questioning my orders, corporal?! Take me to the front, I must see what is going on!”

Reluctantly the corporal made room, ejecting the squad of the AN infantrymen that had previously inhabited the vehicle. They drove up to the ridge that the Sylvans had just vacated, near a obliterated defensive position and a burning Aleckandorian ATGM humvee. A rocket landed just meters away, narrowly missing an advancing AN tank from the auxiliary brigade.

“My God,” he said. “We must have lost an entire brigade taking this ridge!”

“Get down, sir!” he was thrown into a foxhole by the corporal. A sweep from a Sylvan ground attack fighter obliterated the vehicle he had been in a moment before, and the tank that had been lucky missing the missile wasn’t so lucky with the enemy plane – 11 inch armor-piercing depleted uranium rounds blew apart the tank. Welch cursed Frontal Aviation. So much for air superiority!

24 Armored Cavalry Regiment
Near Cherbourg, Republic of Sidonia
0245 hours | 10 May 2015

Hawthorne had arrived at his alternate position in less than a minute, but as he re-engaged he noticed with trepidation how far the enemy had advanced. “We need to fall back,” he said. “And where are those A-12s I was promised?!”

Hawthorne ordered his driver to get on the move again. The defenders were retreating now, to the second line of prepared positions. A troop of tanks provided a skillful rear guard action, as they entered another set of reverse slope positions. The AN had crossed the first ridge now – if they broke through the second line of defense, Cherbourg would belong to the Allied Nations.

“Where the fuck is my air support?” He said again.

The flash of an A-12’s gatling gun answered that for him. The twin-engine ground attack fighter swooped in low, passing through the clouds, strafing the advancing AN, and destroying a tank that an Aleckandorean ATGM had missed just a moment before. The nose of the aircraft disappeared in an orange flash of fire as the pilot fired his antitank cannon. Another four tanks exploded before his eyes. The A-12 appeared to stagger before heading back north into the clouds, a missile and two enemy F35s following closely behind the aircraft.

Hawthorne watched as a pair of antitank missiles swooped into the AN lines, one miss, one kill. More smoke came from both sides as the defending forces retreated once again another five hundred yards. The city they were defending, Cherbourg, was now in sight.

The AN had apparently staked an entire division into this battle, as another fifty enemy tanks crossed the ridge. The A-12 made a second pass, releasing all of its rockets and flashing it’s cannon, but was soon destroyed by an enemy SPAAG. In a last act of defiance the pilot intentionally crashed his doomed aircraft into a tank, both going up in flames.

“Holy fuck,” Hawthrone observed. “Relay back to central command, and tell them we need everything they have at Cherbourg, now!”

Forward Operations Base November
Capernaum International Airport, Republic of Sidonia
0300 hours | 10 May 2015

FOB November had been, for all intents and purposes, destroyed. The momentary lapse in AWACS cover had cost the League dearly – FOB November was devastated by cluster munitions as well as chemical weapons. The casualties continued to mount as the Sarin gas seeped through the city – one of those confirmed dead was SACSIDONIA, the Aleckandorean Grand Marshall commanding all SL forces in the theatre.

His replacement was the former Sylvan CINC-South, Lt. General John Clarke, who was fifty feet underground in the Sidonian War Office’s command bunker when the strikes were carried out. Immediately, Clarke took command and diverted reinforcements to Cherbourg before a major Allied Nations breakthrough could be achieved.

A brigade of tanks from the Sylvan 3rd Armored Division were heading south, ordered to relieve the defenders at Cherbourg before they were completely overwhelmed by the AN. The regimental commander, Colonel William Smith, had thought it best that they travel in a column in order to reach the position faster rather than in the standard echelon formation.

He was about to regret that.

Ten Allied Nations Ambassador gunships, which were almost identical to the Sylvan Apache attack helicopters, had been diverted from the 10th Mountain Division’s advance through the Western Woodlands to assist in what could be the decisive breakthrough. The lead chopper’s commander spotted a mile-long column of vehicles heading south. Knowing immediately they were not friendly, he ordered his flight squadron to engage. He emptied one of his missile tubes and let loose both of his HE rockets, and destroyed the lead vehicle and the three behind it. The Sylvans, he now realized, tried to break formation and scatter, but it was too little to late. The ten gunships had laid waste to nearly half of the brigade’s tanks before the presence of Sylvan AHEAD guns forced them away.

AN IV Corps Mobile Headquarters
Near Cherbourg, Republic of Sidonia
0300 hours | 10 May 2015

“We’re going to break through,” Welch noted with satisfaction. He had just received word that a full brigade of Sylvan tanks was obliterated by his attack helicopters. Without reinforcements, there was no way that the defenders could hold Cherbourg.

The Sylvans were throwing the full weight of their air power against his division, but it wasn’t going to be enough. He made a quick adjustment to the location of his fourth division and ordered them to advance directly on the town.

“1st Maritime Division reports a breakthrough, sir,” Welch had returned to his command vehicle, which had moved forwards as his forces did. “So the 150th Volunteer Infantry Regiment of the 8th Division.”

“Exploit it!” he ordered. “Send the 1st Armored Division through the gap. Let’s take that damn town.”

The night sky flashed bright as a Sylvan aircraft released a massive load of napalm on his forces. It wouldn’t hurt his tanks very much, but any infantry in the open were effectively dead. His artillery was relentlessly pounding the village now, trying to dislodge any defenders that intended to fight house-to-house. That is, if anyone had survived the chemical attacks less than an hour beforehand.

Forward Operations Base Zulu
University of Capenaum, Republic of Sidonia
0330 hours | 10 May 2015

“Capernaum is a lost cause,” John Clarke observed. He had just arrived at his new headquarters – with FOB November destroyed, he had to move what was left of his staff to FOB Zulu, which was situated at a repurposed college campus north of Capernaum. Clarke had set up his command room in the chemistry lab – it was underground, making it more secure than say in the central building. Then again, it was nothing a simple bunker buster couldn’t destroy.

The outcome of the battle was clear to everyone in the room. The Septentrion League’s defensive lines had been decisively broken at Cherbourg, west of Las Colinas. The AN had achieved a major breakthrough, and now a ten mile wide gap was smack dab in the center of the SL’s defensive entrenchments in Sidonia. West of it was the Woodlands, which were virtually impassable by armored vehicles – but east of Cherbourg lay the Las Colinas Metropolitan Area, which was the largest city in the country and the site of some of the most vicious urban warfare the war had yet seen. Inside Las Colinas were ten divisions of SL troops – or rather, what was left of ten divisions – and forcing them to retreat would likely result in massive casualties. Moreover, it would leave the vital oil fields north of the city to the AN.

However the oil would probably fall to the Allies anyhow. Five AN divisions were now exploiting the gap created by the fall of Cherbourg, heading east, towards the sea. He had expected as much – a race for the Strachan. If they reached the sea, they would have effectively cut off two thirds of the SL army in Sidonia, and in the process they would capture the majority of the country’s oil supply.

At Cherbourg, his division had been shattered. Three different nationalities meant three different languages and three different radio settings. As a result the order to retreat from Cherbourg was never interpreted correctly, and thus none of the formations disengaged until it was too late. From Cherbourg he estimated a total of two hundred to three hundred survivors of what had been nineteen hundred at the start of the day. Among the destroyed formations was the Sylvan 24. Armored Cavalry Regiment, which had been completely ovverun.

His only hope was that De La Calle and the Sylvan government would allocate him more forces. But with unrest stirring in Erquin and Murovanka he doubted the First Minister would defend Sidonia over Sylva itself. Nevertheless he picked up his pen and began writing a heartfelt letter to Meredith Foster, the Secretary of State. Perhaps she could convince De La Calle of the gravity of the situation.

10 May 2015

Dear Courtney:

Well, I’m back in Sylva, but not in the circumstances I would have originally liked.

I was on patrol, on AWACS defense duty this morning when the AN launched a major air and ground offensive against us. They had interceptors flying at us at speeds over a thousand miles per hour, with the sole objective of destroying our AWACS. Fifty of them, twenty of us plus a few SAMS – seems like bad odds, and they were. We managed to down all of their aircraft but only after one of the AWACS we were defending was destroyed. It all happened really fast, within a matter or minutes – but at the end my Sif-16 was spiraling towards the ground and a trailing smoke. I ejected, and made it out (obviously, I wouldn’t be writing you otherwise). The landing was harsh, though, and I may have hurt my back. They’ve got me in Portsmouth Memorial Hospital now – if I remember that’s only about ten minutes from where you are. So I’d really appreciate it if you could pay me a visit!

-Alexander

10 May 2015

Meredith,

I’ve taken over command of all SL forces in the Sidonian theatre with the death of SACSIDONIA, and of course after the AN broke through exactly where I said they would – at Cherbourg. The bastards are swinging east now, and flooding through the gap. They want to capture the oil fields outside of Las Colinas which is defended by four divisions of the Sidonian Republican Defense Forces, an Aleckandorean division, and the Sylvan 3rd Armor, all under a corps command I've taken the liberty of codenaming as "BATTLEAXE". They used to be almost ten divisions strong, but they are about half that now.

As you probably also know, the CSS Resurgence was hit yesterday. The damage report is bad – the Resurgence is going to have to return to Long Beach Shipyards for a complete refit. As such, we’ve lost a valuable asset in our ongoing battle against the AN’s logistics. However, I can safely say that it is a fight we are winning, albeit at a tremendously high cost. The Skyan naval echelon is going to be providing support as well – hopefully, with forces on both sides of the strait, we can make their supply situation worse than it already is. At the current expenditure of resources, we estimate that the AN has enough supplies for, at best, a week. Any AN supply dumps or convoys are priority one targets – above actual enemy combat formations.

I’ve ordered the commanders to retreat to Capernaum but the SRDF general won’t listen. He says he won’t retreat and leave the oil fields and Las Colinas to “those Allied savages.” I agree with him that we’re at war with savages here – those dogs hit a hospital in Cherbourg with sarin gas, and the suburbs of Capernaum are covered in the stuff. Who the fuck does that?! I thought that the Pan-Septentrion War was over!

The SRDF commander, Lt. General Hannover, believes that retreating would mean everyone in Las Colinas would die. I don’t blame him – we don’t know what the hell these AN dogs are going to do next. But what gets me is that the Aleckandoreans aren’t listening to my orders. They are working by themselves now, alongside but not with us. They’re actually pushing all their reserves to support the Sidonians in Las Colinas.

Originally, I was mad that Hannover refused to retreat, and that the Confederates were advancing, but now I see that it presents me with a great opportunity. The AN is swinging their army east, trying to encircle the SL forces in and around Las Colinas. In doing so they are ignoring my forces which are retreating from Cherbourg. If I can reorganize the 1st Maneuver Group, I may be able to launch a counteroffensive and break the AN advance, thus relieving the Las Colinas Salient.

In the meantime we’re fortifying our present position. I’ve allocated a large portion of our air forces to help the Sidonians, hopefully to draw out their battle with the AN. I hope they can hold out - every hour of time the Allies spend attacking them is another hour I have to consolidate my forces. Currently the First Maneuver is a little less than half its original strength, though hopefully I can merge the Group with the two full-strength armored divisions from our reserves – our last remaining reserve formations, I might add. It’s hard to believe that every soldier Sylva has to offer is currently in uniform and depolyed, either to combat NAZI or the AN.

I just hope it’s enough.

Sincerely,
Lt. General John Clarke, CINC-South, SACSIDONIA

P.S.
Some other good news came in today - in the wake of these chem attacks the Skyans are helping us out in full force. Those Legionnaires, and more importantly, the Skyan Air Force, will be extremely helpful in the days to come.

The Acropolis
Chandler, Capital District, Coalition State of Sylva
0600 hours | 10 May 2015

To Stephen De La Calle, the air in the room was tense, hot, and anxious. The First Minister sat at one head of the table, surrounded by generals on his left and secretaries and ministers to his right. No one had slept that night; or the nights before it – but the combined stress levels of everyone in the room was peaking. De La Calle watched in silence as across from him, an ONI spook delivered a startling report of the use of Allied Nations chemical weapons, and the complete disarray of SL forces after the battle that followed. Stephen stared at him, his pen twirling in his hand and sweat beating down his face. There were graphs, charts, field data; arrayed into a neat powerpoint presentation, complete with amusing animations that did nothing to quell the tension in the room.

For the first time since the Pan-Septentrion War, the continent had seen the use of weapons of mass destruction used on a civilian population. Twelve thousand people were confirmed dead with nearly three times that many in desperate need of medical assistance. Whole districts of Capernaum were covered in a toxic cloud of Sarin and VX gas – it couldn’t have been any worse. Well, De La Calle thought cynically, They could have used nukes.

But to top it all off the Septentrion League’s defensive lines had been decisively broken at Cherbourg. Two full Allied army corps were now spilling through the gap into the SL’s rear area, and were swinging east, swiping aside any resistance put up. They were heading east, the ONI spook giving the presentation explained, in order to cut off Las Colinas and encircle the war-torn city, where a hundred thousand SL troopers were effectively trapped. To make it even worse the SL’s supreme commander, an Aleckandorean fellow who’s name De La Calle could not pronounce, was dead in the chemical and conventional air attacks that had virtually leveled Capernaum, the Sidonian Republic’s capital city.

“The new SACSIDONIA is reorganizing his forces as we speak,” the ONI spook explained. De La Calle listened intently but found himself disconnected from the reality of it all. “Clarke is assembling what is left of our reserve formations and reforming them into an army group with which to defend Capernaum.”

“That’s correct,” Meredith Foster said. “I have an email from him. He asks that we take the 25. Infantry Division from COSAF Western Forces and the 11. Guards Armor Division from COSAF Northern Forces and redeploy them to Sidonia. He says that with two fresh divisions he can save the situation at hand.”

“Two divisions?” CINC North and CINC West said, almost at once. CINC North nodded to CINC West who spoke on behalf of both of them. “Mr. First Minister, NAZI has already been showing signs of aggressive action towards Sylva and the League. Taking thirty thousand men off the border would result in bolder NAZI movements against us, perhaps even an invasion of the Coalition State. The Erquinians have six divisions along our northern border – to counter them we have less than half that, an the situation is equally as bad along the Wankan border!”

“We are not at war with NAZI,” De La Calle said. “Still, I feel it could be a probability. What about the Aleckandoreans? Do they have any forces they can deploy?”

“They have two hundred thousand plus men at arms on the way from the Foundersland as we speak. However they will not arrive for another week at the earliest.”

“And the Skyans?”

“The Legionnaires are not numerous enough to present a strategic difference,” the Defense Minister, Daniel Calabrese, explained. “The Skyan ground presence is minimal; they are working wonders in the air and on the high seas but the Skybound Republic is wary of deploying a sizable expeditionary force to a foreign country indefinitely. Diplomats they may be, but nationbuilders are not what they would like to become.”

“There is another option,” the Foreign Minister spoke up. “Princess Mariana of Sylva is on an official diplomatic mission to the Kingdom of Aemen as we speak. If she could convince King Reginald to support the League, well, the Aemen have three armored divisions along the border that could link up with Clarke’s army in a matter of hours.”

“Then keep your fingers crossed,” De La Calle said. “Because I cannot endorse leaving Sylva unguarded to defend Sidonia. That being said, I will authorize the deployment of the entire South Carmi Provincial Guard along our southern border, in case the Allies push into the Coalition State. Now, about these chemical attacks.”

“We must respond, sir,” the Defense Minister said. “We have a stockpile of our own that can be used with devastating effect on the Allied Nations, far greater than what they inflicted on us. Furthermore, there are strategic bombers at Colleybrooke Air Force Base with nuclear payloads-”

“We are not using nukes!” De La Calle snapped. “I will not go down in history as the man who ordered the destruction of Septentrion. The Allied Nations have a nuclear arsenal far greater than our own – enough to wipe Sylva off the map four times over! We will NOT be responding to these animals by using nuclear weapons – do I make myself clear?!”

Their was a sharp silence in the room. Heads nodded to confirm the First Minister’s words.

“Very well,” he said, straightening his tie. “What other options do we have?”

“Sir, we have a stockpile of VX gas at Camp McCarren in South Carmi. We could have our aircraft dropping the stuff on the advancing AN armies as soon as tonight.”

“I doubt it would have much effect,” the ONI spook said. “The Allied advance is mainly mechanized anyway, and if I were them chemical retaliation is exactly what I would expect. A counterattack would have far less effect than the initial strikes they pounded us with.”

“We could hit Maracaibo,” the Defense Minister said. “Show those dogs what it feels like to have gas swirling through their streets,”

“No,” De La Calle said. “Then we are no better than those savages. Any response must be with conventional arms. Furthermore, I am worried that if we respond with chemical weapons, we may loose Skyan support for our endeavor. And they are crucial to this war effort, and will be even more invaluable at it’s cessation.”

“Then we do nothing?!” the Defense Minister said. “The Sidonians won’t approve. They are currently looking to us to respond; and if we do not, I would not be surprised if they act on our behalf!”

“Sidonia is not a nuclear power,” CINC-North reminded the Defense Minister.

“We don’t know that,” Calabrese responded. “They have ICBMs. They have nuclear reactors. It would be stupid to think that they are not capable of creating, and delivering, a warhead.”

“Your saying the Sidonians would nuke the Allied Nations? And risk full out mutually assured destruction?”

“Mr. Calabrese,” De La Calle said. “Sidonia is already destroyed. President Lanceman is desperate. He has lost everything – his country, his family, his people - and Mr. Calabrese, there is nothing more dangerous than a desperate man with nothing to lose.”

10 May 2015

Dear Dad :

Please don’t show this letter to Mom or Emily or Jimmy. I don’t want them to worry about me.

The Allies hit us with everything they had this morning, including chemical weapons. They used Sarin, VX, and mustard gas, and it really hit us really hard – including the entire frontline, my field hospital, pretty much the entire country. Word is that Capernaum was hit as well – the residential blocs, the suburbs – the Allies hit them with chems. Who the fuck ordered that? I hope he hangs by his neck when this war is over.

The field hospital in Cherbourg was overloaded as it was and so we had a bunch of patients on the floor since we didn’t have enough beds. Sarin gas is heavier than air, and sunk…I think you know where this is going.

We were able to save only about two hundred of the original thousand patients before the suffocated as they inhaled the gas. The ones that couldn’t walk…they were…shooting…themselves. Doing anything to make the pain go away.

I got out okay, more or less. I’ve got a bunch of boils on my right arm which hurt like a bitch and my eye is swollen shut. It hurts to breath, too, but I’ll get over it. There are a bunch of guys that didn’t do as well as me and caring for the wounded keeps me busy. Word is that the Skyans were prepared to deal with this kind of thing – I sure hope so, because we don’t have enough of anything to fix this mess.

Those fucking AN dogs. I swear, if ever meet one of their soldiers in person, I’d like to show him firsthand what Sarin and VX can do to a person. Maybe I’ll make him watch as his friends and comrades die all around him, as he struggles in vain to save them. Then he’ll know what I feel like right now.

The AN broke through at Cherbourg. The chemical weapons, combined with a massive armored and air assault, finally smashed our lines. To make things worse, SACSIDONIA was apparently killed when they hit Capernaum, and so now we don’t have a commander! In addition the entire divisional staff at Cherbourg is KIA – so now we’re essentially just having a general retreat to Capernaum, where it seems we’re going to make one final stand. There are no orders for us to do that – but it seems the only logical thing to do.

But the rest of the army near Las Colinas is staying put. The Sidonians refuse to retreat, even if it means their going to be encircled and destroyed – and the Aleckandoreans don’t know who to listen to anymore, so they’re advancing, trying to reinforce the Sidonians. It’s all one big clusterfuck if you ask me.

The only good news is evidently the Skyans are going to help us out now. A little late if you ask me, but I guess some help is better than no help no matter when.

I think we’ve lost the war, Dad. You can see it in everyone’s faces, especially the wounded that I’m having to care for. They all just want this thing to end. I don’t think anyone cares about defending Sylva or Sidonia anymore, they just want to go home, and forget that this war ever happened. I know I do, but I also know that I can’t. I’ve just seen to much. To much death, to much fighting…I never knew that humans could be this savage to one another. Aren’t we supposed to be civilized, for god sakes?!

Pray for me,
James

Sidonian Presidential Bunker Complex
Underneath Capernaum, Republic of Sidonia
0630 hours | 10 May 2015

Even fifty feet underground, the impact of bunker-buster munitions shook the concrete and steel subterranean structure to its roots. Dust particles fell from the ceiling, covering the floor in a thin layer of grey dust as the high-pressure sodium lamps flickered with every hit and swung by their supports like pendulums.

In the center of the room was a large metal table with matching chairs around it. TV screens and woven flags embroidered with the Republic’s flag hung on the otherwise barren walls, giving the room a feeling of emptiness. The air was stale, thanks to the recycled dehumidified oxygen that was being cycled throughout the bunkers many rooms. The room’s sole occupant wished for a breath of fresh air before he was reminded that there was no fresh air above – just Sarin-filled toxic clouds that occupied what had been bustling city streets.

President Matthew Lanceman stared at the picture of his daughter, then at the glass of whiskey. He drank it all in one chug before pouring himself another.

“Mr. President,” an aid said, approaching the man from behind. “The League delegation earnestly would like to speak with you.”

“They can all go to hell!” He screamed, throwing the shot glass against the wall and knocking his chair back. “I’m going to hell, those AN dogs are going to hell, everyones going to hell!”

He began to laugh, cynically, sadly, yet uncontrollably, like a psychopath before killing a victim. They were mixed with sobs, the aid realized. As Lanceman’s longtime friend and personal secretary Adriana Wright approached her boss, she saw that the man was staring at the image of a little girl laughing, hugging a golden retriever. She couldn’t have been older than six or seven, and vaguely resembled the President. “Is that…your daughter?”

Lanceman collapsed into his seat again. “Born…out of wedlock. Her name, her name is Rebekah. I left her with her mother and gave them a nice government paycheck to live off of.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t outright say she was mine, it would have been the end of me in politics. Which meant I couldn’t see her, couldn’t watch her grow up – so I decided I was going to make this country the best place possible for her. Now look at it. Las Colinas is destroyed, Capernaum a chemical wasteland…and Rebekah…” tears were coming down his face now. “…is dead.”

Lanceman broke into sobs. “I always loved her…always…”

“It’s not your fault,” his secretary said, awkwardly embracing the President as he sobbed into her shoulder. “You didn’t start this war. It’s not your fault. Relax, Matthew. It’s okay,”

“Your right,” he said, wiping away the tears. “It’s not my fault. This, this hell that has been wrought upon us…this unjustice….its all one man’s fault. Its Kerman’s fault.” His secretary attempted to tell him that’s not what she meant but Lanceman wouldn’t have it.

He stood again, breathing hard. His eyes bore an unholy mixture of rage, determination, and sadness and his face reeked of lack of sleep, tears, and generous amounts of alcohol. “I’m going to kill that bastard,” he said, “I’m going to kill him, his family, and burn his country to the ground, just like he’s done to us! I will see to it that Maracaibo remains a radioactive hellhole for the next thousand years, if it’s the last thing I do!”

All around me are familiar faces
worn out places, worn out faces
bright and early for the daily races
going nowhere, going nowhere

the tears are filling up their glasses
no expression, no expression
hide my head I want to drown my sorrow
No tomorrow, no tomorrow

And I find it kind of funny
I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had
I find it hard to tell you
I find it hard to take
When people run in circles it’s a very, very
Mad world

Strategic Aerospace Defense Command (STADCOM)
Fort Fischer, Sierra Sylva Mountain Range, Coalition State of Sylva
0700 hours | 10 May 2015

“Sir, we have a missile launch!” the watch officer shouted, addressing all of the Strategic Aerospace Defense Command. “Coming out of the water, northern Strachan Sea. Looks like an underwater submarine launch.”

“Your telling me someone just launched a missile?!”

“Sir, I’m not sure what it is. I have a bird lifting off. Could be a RORSAT, or something for the space program…signatures identify it as either a SS-11 ICBM or K1 Satellite booster. Though I really doubt they’d launch one from a submarine.”

“Only one?”

“Yes, sir, only one.”

“Who the fuck could it be from?”

“The only SL vessel in that sector is a Sidonian missile submarine.”

“So it wasn’t the AN?”

“Not likely. If they were firing nukes at us there would probably be more than one, and they would have used the MRBMs they have on the continent, not ICBMs in the North Strachan.”

A lot of people in the Air Force and more specifically, STADCOM, became very tense very quickly. The missile, or the rocket, or whatever it was, was on a bearing to fly over Sylva in forty minutes. It could be many things – an intercontinental ballistic missile, a satellite booster – they just had to pray it wasn’t the former.

“Okay, we have cutoff,” the watch officer said. The missile or rocket used FOBS – Fractional Orbital Bombardment System – which could potentially deliver a twenty five megaton nuclear warhead into a path mimicking that of a harmless satellite.

Already STADCOM had flashed a warning to Chandler. The Defense Department began rolling over contingencies and the within minutes the First Minister was tapped into the line. The current scenarios were either that of a direct nuclear strike or a thermobaric explosion in orbit, which would cause massive electromagnetic damage to communications systems and civilian infrastructure.

“Second stage cutoff…and there’s third stage ignition. Do you copy our position fix?”

“Copy that,” the General, acting commanding officer of the Strategic Aersopace Defense Command said. The signal was being flashed to Chandler and was displayed on many of the large screens in the base, as the watch crew stared ominously at the space booster making it’s way across the satellite map.

Ground based radar in Westronia was now tracking the vehicle, as the Hexagon was patched into the feed coming out of STADCOM.

“We don’t have shroud release,” the watch officer said nervously. “We need visual of this thing. I can’t rule out that we might have a nuke on our hands.”

The protective aluminum sheathing was needed for atmospheric flight, particularly for those going for reentry. Ditching it would almost certainly confirm it was not a FOBS, since it was simply unnecessary weight for space vehicles. But the fact that it hadn’t…was disturbing.

At New Haven Naval Air Station on Grisham Island, an Air Force RC-135 aircraft took flight and raced to the necessary altitude. Essentially a 747 with a massive telescope attached, the RC135 was designed to inspect foreign space vehicles. In this case the technicians used the plane’s sophisticated targeting system to track and then zoom in on the Sidonian rocket. Ten minutes later they had solid confirmation.

The Sidonian Republic had just launched a nuclear missile at the Allied Nations.

Bear Force One
En route to Fort Fischer, Sylvan Airspace
2:00 hours to nuclear impact

“That fucking little cunt!” De La Calle cursed, slamming his flip phone shut. Meredith Foster, the Secretary of State, looked at him curiously. The First Minister and his entire staff were en route to Fort Fischer, where they would wait in the case of a nuclear war between the Allied Nations and the Septentrion League. The only good news was the Allies had yet to launch their own nukes – he had no idea what they were waiting for but he had flashed a dozen urgent messages along the hotline to Maracaibo –

PRIVATE COMMUNIQUÉ FROM THE SYLVAN GOVERNMENT
PRIORITY : URGENT

WARNING : SIDONIAN PRESIDENT LANCEMAN HAS INITIATED NUCLEAR STRIKE AGAINST THE ALLIED NATIONS IN THE FORM OF A SINGLE SS-11 INTERCONTINENTAL BALLISTIC MISSILE WITH A MAXIMUM TONNAGE OF TWENTY-FIVE MEGATONS TO IMPACT THE MARACAIBO METROPOLITAN AREA IN TWO HOURS. HE IS NOT ACTING ON BEHALF OF THE REPUBLIC OF SIDONIA OR THE SEPTENTRION LEAGUE; ALL MEASURES TO ABORT THE STRIKE ARE BEING CARRIED OUT AS WE SPEAK.

WE ASK THAT THE ALLIED NATIONS GOVERNMENT REFRAIN FROM RETALIATING AGAINST SIDONIA AND THE LEAGUE AS THE LAUNCHING OF SAID MISSILE WAS NOT DONE WITH PROPER CONSENT FROM THE SIDONIAN REPUBLIC’S LEGISLATURE OR MILITARY COMMAND STRUCTURE.

REPEAT, THE SEPTENTRION LEAGUE HAS NOT VIOLATED THE FIRST-USE POLICY OF NUCLEAR WEAPONS. THE COALITION STATE AND THE GLOBAL SOVEREIGN CONFEDERACY OF ALECKANDOR ADHERE TO THE STANDARDS OF CONVENTIONAL ARMS, EVEN FOLLOWING THE CHEMICAL ATTACKS OF 0200 HOURS THIS MORNING, AND HAVE NOT LAUNCHED NUCLEAR WEAPONS AGAINST THE ALLIED NATIONS.

KEEP IN MIND THAT THE LAUNCH OF ANY INTERCONTINENTAL BALLISTIC MISSILES, MEDIUM RANGE BALLISTIC MISSILES, OR ANY TRANS-ATMOSPHERIC PROJECTILES CAPABLE OF CARRYING NUCLEAR WARHEADS BY THE ALLIED NATIONS WILL BE TREATED AS A FIRST STRIKE AGAINST THE SEPTENTRION LEAGUE; IF THIS IS VIOLATED SYLVA, ALECKANDOR, AND THE (LEGITIMATE) SIDONIAN GOVERNMENT WILL RESPOND IN KIND BY LAUNCHING A PROPORTIONAL AMOUNT OF STRATEGIC ARMS.

KERMAN, TRUST ME ON THIS WHEN I SAY THIS ISN’T AN ACT OF WAR. YOU KNOW ME. I WOULD NEVER CONDONE SUCH A HORRIBLE WEAPON’S USE UNLESS THE FIRST STRIKE POLICY WAS VIOLATED. I AM DOING EVERYTHING IN MY POWER TO MAKE SURE THIS DAMN MISSILE DOESN’T HIT MARACAIBO. TRUST ME ON THIS, PLEASE.

SINCERELY, STEPHEN DE LA CALLE, FIRST MINISTER OF SYLVA

“What options do we have for shooting this thing down?” De La Calle demanded. “Do we have any lasers, or anti nukes that we can launch?”

“ICBMs don’t work like that,” the Defense Minister informed him. “No single weapon exists that could for sure destroy an incoming nuclear warhead. We have prototypes, but –“

“Use them,” he said. “If this thing hits Maracaibo we could be looking at a full scale nuclear war. The end of civilization on this continent – I am not planning on letting one man’s stupidity kill hundreds of millions of people. Not now, not ever.”

“I’ll relay to COSAF-AF command that they need to try and shoot this thing down – in the meantime, what are we going to do about Lanceman?”

“The Aleckandoreans said they’d take care of him,” The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff (CJCS) informed the First Minister. “Whatever that might mean or imply, I don’t know.”

Sidonian Legislature Emergency Council Meeting
Undisclosed Location, Republic of Sidonia
1:45 hours to impact

Only fifteen of Sidonia’s magistrates had thus survived the war. Most of them had died during the attacks on Capernaum, or had simply vanished in the chaos that followed – either way, that left the decisions of the country up to the small conglomerate of ministers that were now hiding, as far away from Capernaum as they could be. With them were three representatives of the Aleckandorean government, two military and one civilian, the latter being the official ambassador of the Confederacy to the Republic, Síllzhyn Tzôrähníy.

“We must remove Lanceman’s authority as President,” John Fireside, Chairman of the NPP party, said. “That must be our first move.”

“It’s a bit superfluous at this point,” another minister said. “After all, an impeachment wouldn’t serve much real purpose other than making it official. What we need now is to remove him power, by force if necessary.”

“But how? Our military is loyal to Lanceman!”

“But the Aleckanodoreans are not,” Tzôrähníy said, butting in. “And we have a company of Paragrenadiers standing by in NBC suits, ready to go into Capernaum and finish off Lanceman. If they do not deploy, there is not telling what Lanceman may do in the next few hours – he could even launch more missiles.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Fireside demanded. “Kill the bastard!”

“Ah, not so fast,” Tzôrähníy said. “The Confederacy would like something in return.”

“In return for preventing nuclear war? What could you possibly want?!”

“A rewritten Terms of Confederalization. I have a copy that is much more…acceptable to my government with me right now.” He withdrew a large binder from his breifcase and slapped it down on the table before Fireside. “You were in support of the original bill. I have no doubt that you will be in support of these minor changes we have made?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Fireside said, skimming through the first few paragraphs. “This gives Aleckandor control of all of Sidonia’s oil exports, and prohibits tarrifs on imports to the Confederacy…how? Why, why are you doing this? Our economy would slump!”

“Would you rather have no economy at all?” Tzôrähníy said. “Nuclear weapons can make that happen.”

“This…this is extortion!” Fireside protested. “You were supposedly defending us from having the Allies do this exact same thing to us, you hypocritical, backstabbing Confederate bastard!”

“Call it, call me what you want, it doesn’t change the result. Will you save your country or not?”

“Your insane!”

“No, Mr. Fireside, history will call you insane for not saving the Republic you supposedly serve. Are you going to let all these people die just so you can have a Sidonian instead of a Confederate flag flying above your cities? So you can have a bit more oil? Tell me, sir, who is insane here?”

The Sidonians conferred for a moment amongst themselves before returning to Tzôrähníy. “Fine,” he said, bitterly, reluctantly signing his name on the Bill of Confederalization. “We accept your terms. Now take care of that bastard Lanceman before he starts a goddamn holocaust!”

I’ve been fucking around while you’ve been saving the world
I’ve been out of mind
I’ve been dreaming things and scheming things
I’ve been smoking the poison
You’ve been slinging your anecdotes
I’ve been fucking around while you’ve been saving the world
From nothing

The end, the end
Things will never go our way
In the end, the end
Things will never go

So take it in, don’t hold your breath
The bottom’s all I’ve found
We can’t get higher than we get
On the Long Way Down

Burning in my eyes, blinding me from the truth
If there’s a shadow in me
The dark is a tidal wave inside of you
Taking shots at communion
Getting drunk on your antidote
I’ll save you a seat next to me down below

The end, the end
Everyone will go away
In the end, the end
Everything will go

So take it in don’t hold your breath,
The bottom’s all I’ve found
We can’t get higher than the rest
On the Long Way Down

by **Murovanka** » Wed May 13, 2015 8:46 am

Kronstadt
Freiheit, Ehrlichkeit, Wahrheit Central Headquarters
Day 2, ca. 20:00 Hours

“Welcome to Freiheit, Ehrlichkeit, Wahrheit- English, Wankas primary news agency, bringing you fresh updates from the unrest in the Sellenland. My name is Justin Hepburn, and with me is Juliana von Hodingen.

“Freedom fighters from the Sellenwanker Ober-Allgäuer Batallione have ambushed Aemen-Achesian-Alliance forces yesterday afternoon as these attempted to reconquer territory liberated by the SOAB. A SOAB government official, who spoke on condition of anonymity, claimed that as many as 150 AAA troops had been killed with well over a hundred wounded. Casualties on the SOAB side numbered four killed and ten wounded, the official claimed. When contacted, the Aemen foreign ministry declined to comment. In retaliation, AAA military aircraft have launched a massive campaign of airstrikes on suspected SOAB positions today, which began this morning. Our correspondent, Antonio Ziegler, has travelled to the area to monitor the situation. Antonio, we have seen footage captured by Wankan civilians, what is going on down there?”

“I am currently on the outskirts of Echterdorf. As you can see, things are pretty quiet around here, as the AAA jets have mainly focused on bombing targets along the front. The Aemen officials have claimed that they are only targeting rebel positions, but very shockingly, hundreds, and possibly thousands of fleeing Aemen and Wankan civilians have been killed or wounded. Aemen fighters have used napalm extensively in this campaign, and the results, as we’ve all seen in the footage captured by Wankan refugees, have shown us how lethal this ordnance is. Napalm is basically flammable liquid which is easily spread over large surfaces and burns the skin as it reaches to temperatures more than ten times higher than boiling water. Behind me is the Echterdorfer hospital which is currently overflowing with victims of napalm attacks. However, the airspace is not completely safe for the AAA air forces. This afternoon, an Aemen fighter was shot down by a SOAB man-portable surface to air missile. The wreckage was found just two hours ago, with the pilot dead inside.”

“Thank you, Antonio. In response to the indiscriminate attacks on Sellenwankers, the Meinhof administration has expressed outrage and has warned that this escalation only served to make the situation worse. Aussenminister Heinrich von Preisen has stated that the Wankan government would soon begin humanitarian missions to evacuate affected civilians out of the conflict zone. He has also threatened to implement sanctions against the Aemen regime in case they don’t immediately pursue negotiations with the provisional Sellenwankan government. In a sign of worsening tensions between the Volksrepublik and the Aemen government, the Meinhof administration has this afternoon declared the Aemen ambassador to Wanka a persona non grata after State Security allegedly uncovered evidence showing that the diplomat was engaged in illegal arms smuggling.”

***

Highway 69
ca. 40 kilometers Echterdorf Junction
Day 3, ca. 04:00 Hours

Usually, traffic along Highway 69 was light; however, today, it was eerily empty- apart from a small group of menacing military vehicles which navigated its way through the light fog which covered the entire area. Leading the convoy was Hauptmann Roland Katsnaroff who stood out over the drivers hatch of his Panzer-90, scanning the area with his binoculars as the tank rode roughly across the badly-maintained roads. As a Füsilier, the mechanized troops of the WAF, he was used to the trembling of his tank, but not to the strong, icy winds which froze his uncovered ears. Even after several weeks living in altitudes of over 1,000 meters, he had not properly acclimatized to the tough Sellenland climate.

At last, he arrived at his destination. He jumped off his tank and surveyed the area, at the same time bracing himself against the wind. At his disposal was a company of 15 tanks pilfered from Panzerbattalion Nr. 2107, four Schützenpanzer-10 infantry fighting vehicles with a platoon of Füsiliers from the 2nd Battalion of his 21st Regiment. Providing air cover were six rather cute Ozelot vehicles armed with short range surface-to-air missiles, whose two-troop crews immediately set out to cover the vehicles with camouflage nets after they found suitable fighting spots. The terrain was suitable enough for this job. Katsnaroff’s mission was to engage the approaching Aemen, fire off a few rounds, retreat to the next positions; rinse and repeat. The rolling mountain feet were perfectly formed for that; he was optimistic that his unit would find good defensive positions to fight from.

Katsnaroff turned to his platoon commanders who had gathered around him.

”Schultz and Sükrös, establish your defensive positions on the west side. Würdemann, von Lökring, establish yours on the east side. You know what to do. I want them to stretch back to Keitl’s position.”

”Jaa-woll, Herr Hauptmann!”

“I will inspect the forward positions in half an hour. Dismissed.”

He held back the commander of the Füsilier platoon, a young Leutnant.

“Stay with me. We’ll be supporting them from up there.” Katsnaroff pointed toward a section of the mountain several hundred meters from the frontline positions.

“Have your troops stay dismounted and watch for enemy choppers. All three Schützenpanzer will be providing covering fire, along with my platoon. Be ready to move any second.”

As he reached his tank, he was greeted by his radio operator who gave him an update on the latest transmission from Ellenburg. A pair of sniper teams would alert them of any enemy approach. Katsnaroff shook his head, looking at the infantry platoon commander.

“That isn’t good enough, with this unpredictable weather and goddamn fog, those little snipers and their scopes might miss their approach. I need at least a twenty minute warning, so that we can hide the tanks and protect them from air attack until the 47th arrives. Send a Schützenpanzer along with a recon team out.”

”Zu Befehl, Herr Hauptmann.”

Katsnaroff unfolded a map of the Sellenland, sneezing twice in rapid succession in the process. Around five kilometers behind him was another similar delaying force. His force would have to fight while retreating until they would be replaced with that unit; they would then each take turn to pull back, the other unit providing cover, until the entire weight of the 7th Füsilier-Division would be thrown into a massed counterattack, which would hopefully throw the Aemen 47th all the way back to Reiterhof. That was the plan, at least. He had to slow the momentum of the 47th down, and buy time for the 7th Füsiliers to reorganize themselves for the counterattack and to allow the 75th Mountain Infantry Regiment, which was located in the mountains south of the highway, time to organize their battalions to provide flanking support. AAA air activity up to now had been focused on providing close air support on the advancing troops. Katsnaroff hoped that his Ozelot SPAAVs, with their twin short-range SAM launchers, would be able to deal with that threat when it came. He heard that an air-defense battery of the 75th Mountain Infantry Regiment had already claimed its first kill with the surface-to-air missile system which on paper had a probability of striking its target at 2 kilometers of 90%. Which was most likely only possible with clear, blue skies. The fog would work both ways, however. Air support and air defense would both be affected.

Katsnaroff was in no hurry. The day before, learning from the Achesian experience on Highway 68, the Aemen Air Force had bombarded the mountains lining 69. Many SEKS units lying in ambush managed to flee on time, although several of them were nevertheless decimated. But the main impact was that when these units returned, their positions were found to be burned to the ground or lay as charred waste on the once beautiful Allgäuer valleys. Forests and other dense vegetations could not be used as cover. The following improvised ambushes laid by the SEKS proved to be costly. Advancing slowly cautiously, the Aemen troops responded swiftly to any disturbance, often sending vehicles and dismounted mechanized infantry to overrun SEKS positions before they could flee. This delayed the Aemen forces long enough that Katsnaroff and his 7th Füsiliers had a lot of time to prepare the defense of the Sellenland… at the cost of dozens of Sellenwankers.

Around two hours later, the pair of look-outs from the recon team sounded the alarm as a pair of Aemen armored reconnaissance vehicles raced out of the mist. The other eight men, playing cards within the Schützenpanzer (which was hidden away amongst the large boulders), scrambled out of the vehicle, clicking the safeties off their weapons. Taking position in previously prepared positions, they awaited the arrival of the Aemen scouts. However, their movement had been spotted, and the machine gun on the leading vehicle fired bursts of gunfire in their direction. The squad anti-tank gunner rose into view, sending a Panzerfaust-3 rocket screaming toward the enemy vehicles, before being hurled back down by a bullet to his shoulder. The rocket impacted less than a meter in front of the first vehicle, sending its front into the air, before it landed back down safely. Troops began piling out of both vehicles as their machine guns released a long fusillade, sweeping the area with fire. An intense five-minute firefight ensued, with the men of the recon team exchanging fire on the rocky offroad terrain which lined the highway. The Wankan squad soon pulled back in an orderly manner, quickly reaching their hidden Schützenpanzer. Smoke grenades masked the exit of the recon team, which disappeared just as the first units of Aemen armor arrived to support. One man was left behind, killed by a grenade blast, while two others were wounded. He radioed back to Hauptmann Katsnaroff: ”Die Emner kommen, wiederhole, die Emner kommen!” (“The Aemeners are coming, repeat, the Aemeners are coming!”)

The response was instantaneous. Tank engines were started, camouflage nets were packed in. From their sheltered hiding spots, grey Wankan armor appeared, growling loudly as they readied themselves for combat. The real fight for Highway 69 was about to begin.

***

Kronstadt
Rote Haus
Day 3
0800 Hours

[Transcript of the Security Councils meeting on Day Three of the Sellenland Conflict]

Generalfeldmarschall Ludwig von der Leijen [CINC-Sellenland]: Frau Kanzlerin, you must give me permission to use combat helicopters immediately. Our troops are already engaging the enemy on 69.

Ulrike Meinhof [Chancellor]: Herr Vonderlein, sending Panzers to the Sellenland already poses great political risks. Helicopters will likely break our façade almost immediately.

Generalfeldmarschall Ludwig von der Leijen: You’re threatening to undermine the drive to Reiterhof. Any delay will only result in more AAA troops landing in the warzone which will threaten to turn this into a long, drawn-out conflict. The longer the conflict, the lower the chance of complete victory, and the lower the benefits, as we will be relying more and more on oil imports from NAZI nations.

Admiral Franz Kanaris [Abwehr Director]: It is true. AAA choppers are flying all day and all night to bring in troops and supplies. Thousands of troops are in the area, and thousands more are arriving. Engineers are already building a second airfield at Reiterhof to allow more rapid deployment of forces to the Sellenland.

Generalfeldmarschall Ludwig von der Leijen: Frau Kanzlerin, if we capture Reiterhof, even if official war is declared, Aemen will never be able to recapture the Sellenland. The closest town is several hundred kilometers away, and organizing a defense in the mountain will be extremely easy and cost-efficient.

Heinrich von Preisen [Foreign Minister]: We have discussed this before. An official war will be only used as a last resort. With the Sylvans buddying up with the AAA, an open war may lead to consequences beyond imagination.

Ulrike Meinhof [Chancellor]: Or not. The majority of the population seems to be understandably very much in support of the Sellenwankers and we have many MP’s, even within our party, calling for the ‘defense of the Sellenland’. A war might just unite the Volksrepublik and make our citizens stop fighting amongst themselves over petty issues. War is peace, quite literally. Herr Vonderlein, you have my permission to use rotary wing aircraft. However, promise me that you will use them sparingly, and do all you can to hide their identity.

Generalfeldmarschall Ludwig von der Leijen: Doing otherwise would be irrational. As with the armor, we’ll continue with the claim that they’re supplied by the Red Security Company.

Ulrike Meinhof: Good; that brings us to the second point. Herr Zusak, thank you for the report on the estimates of the presence of natural resources in the Sellenland. Could you please give us a brief overview?

Siegfried Zusak [Econ. Minister]: The report, which you all have, is a result of several weeks of investigations by numerous civilian scientists in the employ of the Wirtschaftsministerium and the Abwehr in the weeks preceding the invasion, which have been updated by the teams dispatched with Wankan forces to the Sellenland and who are currently operating without the former restrictions in the territory.

The Sellenland sits on a gigantic pile of energy resources, along with valuable minerals like silver, diamond and gold. More time will be needed to get a more accurate picture of the concentrations of the latter. The basins in the north are where massive oilfields are located, containing a rough estimate of 1.2 billion barrels of oil, along with huge reserves of natural gas and oil shale. These fields alone could reduce Wankas domestic oil production deficit to nearly nothing. Then there are the numerous uranium deposits scattered throughout the location, along with possibly over five billion tonnes of coal. Of course, these are only initial estimates; heavy equipment will be required to give us more accurate numbers. All in all, if the entire area were to be developed, it would seriously kickstart our economy for the 21st Century. However-

Ulrike Meinhof: Why hasn’t the Aemen government exploited these reserves yet? For forty something years, it has been sitting around twiddling its thumbs with seemingly enough energy and oil under its grounds to supply the entire world!

Siegfried Zusak: I was coming to that. With the Sellenland so detached from the rest of Aemen, it has never seriously bothered to look for resources in the area. Practically, for them, it’s going to be a real logistical pain to be able to fully exploit it, not even considering the potential environmental damage such operations might cause. In addition, it is, or was, an attractive spot for tourists, ecotourists, naturists… which in itself has generated some serious income, in addition to a clean image for the monarchy.

Admiral Franz Kanaris: The Sellenland is home to a vast, near-untouched ecosystem and contains the rarest animal species on earth, for example the famous Lucos Humus Septentrius. Were we to blow off the tops of the Allgäuer mountains to dig for coal, we’re risking the extinction of these species. Not to mention the side-effects of the change in wind direction and speeds, which might result in global…

Ulrike Meinhof: Genug, enough! Franz, I never knew you joined the Green camp. I’ll stop you right there before you start fantasizing about climate change and saving insects. I was just wondering just how beneficial this war that we just started, would be. Dankeschön, Herr Zusak. I understand your concerns about the environment, but we have to provide for a hundred fifty million hungry people which happen to be on this piece of land we’re governing. We will worry about that once the oil rigs are drilling, Sellenwankers are mining and the economy is skyrocketing. For now, there is a war to be fought. Hopefully, a secret war; but if necessary, an open war.

Admiral Franz Kanaris: Frau Meinhof, you do not understand. We will take years to build the necessary infrastructure, and by then irreparable damage to the environment will be done and will give you problems which cannot be solved by a great economy.

Ulrike Meinhof: Herr Admiral, have you not been following the news? Aemen aircraft have been burning your precious ecosystems to the ground with napalm. By the end of the war, I assure you, there will be nothing but bare mountaintops, with resources ready to be exploited by a rejuvenated generation of Wankers. The meeting is adjourned; I will see you all tomorrow, here, at the same time. ’ch diene das Vadderland.

***

Near Horb
Day 3
0900 Hours

Gefreiter Heinz Schulemann navigated his way through the thick forest, which was the best way to quietly approach the strategic village of Horb, a settlement which straddled a mountain overlooking Highway 68. The Wankan 77th Mountain Infantry Regiment was engaged in a race against the Achesian forces to capture the village, and the regiment commander was determined to get there first. So despite the threat of the AAA aircraft, he’d sent part of his reconnaissance company down the highway to be able to reach Horb quicker.

The local SOAB forces, particularly the troops under the command of the Spezialeinsatzkommando Sellenland (SEKS), were doing a good job in monitoring the activity of the enemy forces. Armed with the knowledge that no Achesian units had reached Horb yet, the company Hauptmann directed his troops straight toward the village.

Schulemann, in his Spähpanzer Fuchs armored reconnaissance vehicle, sighted the isolated village first. The recon section, consisting of five recon vehicles, formed into a wedge, with the four Schützenpanzer-12 IFV’s interspersed with them. As one, the formation appeared out of the cover of the dense vegetation, driving quickly up along a bumpy side road leading to Horb from the south-east. No resistance was expected, and none was met as they passed by the first abandoned huts. One of the Schützenpanzers stopped while the rest continued on, its troops quickly dismounting to search the houses.

The first sign of trouble came from behind them. The search platoon had crashed open the first door when they were met with automatic rifle fire. Before the unit could react, dark shadows appeared in the windows of the huts in front of the formation. Two rockets raced out, accompanied by noisy machinegun fire which tore through the peaceful silence. One of them detonated on the front left tire of Schulemann’s Spähpanzer, causing it to make a 90 degree turn and grinding it to a standstill. Bullets pinged noisily on the armor of the Luchs as Schulemann regained control of himself.

”RRRRRAAUS! Raus aus dem Panzer!” (“Out! Out of the vehicle!”)

Schulemann obliged, grabbing his MP-13 and tumbled out of the vehicle. And just in time, too. Seconds later, the Luchs was hit by two more rockets which wrecked the vehicle and instantly killed the gunner who’d remained inside. All around him, the automatic 20mm and 30mm cannon fire of the Wankan vehicles chattered in response to the contact, flattening the huts in front of them. Dismounted Gebirgsjäger accompanied the vehicles as they advanced in face of the fire. Schulemann, firing his submachine gun at the enemy, ran over to another Luchs whose crew were busily attempting to fix the vehicles wheels under fire. The Wankans continued advancing, the troops finding cover from the moving vehicles. Fierce close combat fighting occurred as the light infantry sought to clear the cellars of the destroyed huts of Achesian infantrymen. Nevertheless, the resistance soon proved to be too strong for the Wankan recon company, and the company commander had no choice but to retreat. Harassed by Achesian fire all along the way, the company finally reached the safety of the forest once again, and the commander paused to calculate his losses. Schulemann’s Luchs had been destroyed, along with another Schützenpanzer, both of which lay abandoned on the battlefield. Three Luchs were damaged, but could still move, while a Schützenpanzer was heavily damaged. The explosive-reactive armor had seemingly worked as planned, although it would certainly take awhile for the damaged vehicles to return to combat. Ten men lay dead, along with another fifteen wounded, most casualties coming from the armor crewmen being incinerated in their vehicles. The wounded were quickly whisked off back to Siegen, while the remaining troops set up monitoring posts along the forest outline. Soon, entire battalions of Gebirgsjäger would be arriving, who would kick the Achesians out of Horb- for now, the commander relayed the information to the regiment headquarters, and ensured that the SEKS troopers would be given a serious telling-off.

by **Nova Sylva** » Thu May 14, 2015 9:48 am

NUCLEAR WAR BETWEEN AN, SL NARROWLY AVERTED
Sylva destroys Sidonian missile before it hits Maracaibo

NORTHPOINT AIR FORCE BASE – History was made, and saved, today when a Sylvan anti-ballistic missile was launched and successfully destroyed an incoming ICBM bound for Maracaibo. For the first time in the regional history, a warhead bearing missile was destroyed in flight by a ground-launched ABM using a prototype model the Air Force had deployed.

The ICBM was launched under the orders of Sidonian President Matthew Lanceman in response to the chemical attacks on Capernaum on the morning of 10 May. First Minister De La Calle, through numerous public and private correspondences with the AN government, avoided full-scale nuclear war by shooting down the Sidonian missile.

The Minister’s approval rating also jumped nearly twenty-one points to 74%, the highest rating any Coalition State executive has ever had.

President Lanceman has refused the SL’s demands that he step down from office after launching the missile. The League has repeatedly stated that Lanceman acted out of his own accord, without so much as a warning to the other nations of the alliance to the missile launch. He has been declared a persona non grata by League and Sidonian Republic authorities, and officially relieved of his official duties after a vote of no confidence by the Sidonian government in exile. However, Lanceman has not been apprehended, instead barricading himself in the Presidential bunker with an attachment of personal guards.

The war in Sidonia continues regardless of the nuke. AN forces have effectively trapped the Sidonian and Aleckandorean forces in Las Colinas, and the Sylvans are too disorganized to launch a major counterattack to break them out. The Skyans, who have promised to support the League after the illegal holding of its diplomats and the use of chemical weapons by the Allied Nations, have yet to reach the Septentrion theatre with its rapid-deployment forces.

More updates to come as the situation progresses.

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by **Nova Sylva** » Sat May 16, 2015 1:26 pm

Erus, Kingdom of Aemen
Co-written between Aemen and Sylva <3

The press and the paparazzi had Princess Mariana’s private jet surrounded from the moment it had touched down at Erus International, swarming around a small pathway set out from the plane’s descending staircase. A small carpet had been laid out by two members of the Royal Dragoons, who now stood at perfect attention flanking where the princess would exit her aircraft.

The cameras flashed as Mariana stepped down the stair ramp leading down to the carpet that had been laid out over the tarmac. The princess wore a tight grey business skirt and heels and a plain white blouse, though her blonde hair offset the outfit’s formality. She looked uncomfortable in the spotlight – she had always been the favorite child to the tabloid magazines which took a peculiarly strange obsession with the (single) 28 year-old’s life, and even more so the men in it – and though she had never truly enjoyed the spotlight, she had had more than her fair share of it.

She hurried down the carpet, tightening her grip on the briefcase strapped on one shoulder. Mariana tried her best to shoot a smile as the flash of camera bulbs nearly blinded her; that, and the ever-so vigilant newscasters that shot questions forth at the Princess. They were as trivial as “What are your vacation plans?” to political powder kegs such as “Is Roseanna’s betrothal an endorsement of arranged marriage?”

She hurried past the cameras and questions and microphones and into a State vehicle provided by the Kingdom. In the backseat, as the vehicle pulled away, she reflected on her mission in Erus. Sylva was at war; even worse, it was losing. The Allied Nations had achieved a major breakthrough (albeit after violating nearly every rule of war) and was on the verge of finishing the job, decisively defeating the Septentrion League.

She had to stop them. She had to save Sylva.

The only way to do that was to get additional troops to deploy to Sidonia. The Sylvans were stretched thin as it was – the Aleckandoreans and the Skyans were both sending reinforcements but both of the battlegroups were too far away to assist in the Battle of Sidonia. But Aemen…Aemen had three full-strength mechanized divisions on it’s southeastern border that could link up with the 1. Maneuver in a matter of hours. If she could convince the Kingdom to support the SL, she could save Sidonia, and Sylva.

Easier said than done, she thought.

***

It hadn’t been long since Crown Prince Julian of Achesia had departed after his meeting with Princess Roseanna that Alexander had to hurry himself back to his home of Irinvat Palace within Erus’ Antiquity Quarter. The prince was due to meet Princess Mariana of Sylva and the preparations had been laid out long before Alexander had returned from Olbridge. Preferring to refrain from changing out of his military dress uniform, Alexander poured himself a small glass of scotch to clear his head before he prepared to exercise the trust his father had placed in him. He knew what this meeting was about, he knew that throughout most of history Mariana’s ancestors and his own had been coldly indifferent at the best of times and bitter enemies at the worst, but this was different; Sylva needed Aemen’s military support if it was to continue to wage war against the Allied Nations. Alexander knew this and had been encouraged by his father to exploit the situation for the benefit of the crown.

As Alexander waited in his lounge, the Palace’s servants prepared the building for Her Royal Highness’s arrival whilst scores of Crown Guardsmen lined the structure’s exterior, more out of suspicion of the Sylvan princess than for her welcome.

***

She was late. Only by a matter of minutes but late nevertheless. Alexander’s father had always taught him that early was on time; anything else was late.

Alexander was sitting on a soft plush sofa staring out the window when Mariana was escorted inside. He stood to greet his guest, straightening his uniform, and saw the Sylvan princess in the flesh for the first time. The pictures don’t give her enough credit, he thought to himself.

“Heir Apparent Crown Prince Alexander,” she said, extending a slender hand. “A pleasure.”

“The pleasure is mine,” he said, with a small smile. Immediately his entire view of the conversation’s tone had changed. He walked over to the table and poured himself and his guest a glass of scotch, emptying the small bottle he had started earlier.

“How do you like Erus?” he asked.

“Quiet,” she said. “Much quieter than Chandler.”

“Yes, well, an oil shortage will do that,” Alexander explained. “In an effort to save the liquid we’ve cut down on the amount at the private sector has access too. Not a bad change if you ask me. I rather enjoy the…peacefulness that having no automobiles create. Which brings me to my first point,” he said, taking a seat across a small table from Mariana.

“The Kingdom is in need of oil imports. The destruction of the Spinneli Refinery, and this damn thing in the Sellenland has more than halved the amount of oil we have access to. Though, from what I understand, Sidonia has an excess of the substance.”

“Yes, though unexploited. The Sidonians are very weary of the petroleum industry even if it does provide nearly three quarters of the country’s economy. However the Gas Act changed all that – they opened the fields up to private development instead of leaving them under government oversight. Surveyors estimate that Sidonia produces only forty percent of its maximum capacity, though it will take time to build up the industry…especially considering that it is being ravaged by the war.

“However that does not mean that Sylva is oblivious or uncaring of Aemen’s situation. We have been from an official point of view neutral in the Sellenland, though this is open to change, especially when a formal state of war exists between the Kingdom and the Volksrepublik. Furthermore we are willing to lend some of our oil reserves to Aemen until the Sidonian oil situation can be fixed. Fixed, in the sense that the Allies are out of Casaterra altogether. With this in mind I have drafted a rough proposal of sorts for you to review.”

Mariana handed Alexander a legal pad. On the front page were two bulleted lists written in English shorthand writing.

“Forgive my penmanship, I did this on the plane ride here.”

Aemen will –
*Deploy troops to Sidonia and fight alongside SL forces until the war’s cessation.
*Assist in the reconstruction of Sidonia’s economy and infrastructure after the war’s end.

Sylva will –
*Ship heavy industry, aircraft, and diesel fuel to Aemen from existing Sylvan reserves (barrels per day to be decided)
*Allow significant Aemen participation in the joint exploitation of Sidonia’s unextracted oil after the war.
*Provide logistical, intelligence, and advisory support to assist in the reannexation of the Sellenland back into Aemen.

Alexander took the pad in his hand and looked through Mariana's proposal. He stroked his chin, glancing occasionally back to the princess before keeping his eyes focused on the paper in front of him. The prince was trying to think like his father, whom would eventually have to authorise the deal between the two countries should one arise from these talks.

“It's very vague, Your Highness. I accept that you drafted these terms in a hurry, but my father will want something much more concrete than this, especially if we are dedicating soldiers to the war effort against the Allies.”

Alexander handed the pad back to Mariana before taking a sip from his scotch. “What he wants would be for all Aemen involvement in Sidonia to take precedence over others as soon as this war was over, whether it be military, economic or otherwise. However, I'll try to be as accommodating as possible because I'd like this negotiation to not end on a sour note.” The prince smiled, adjusting one of his gleaming medals.

“How about this: We will deploy troops to Sidonia, we will assist Sylvan and Aleckandorean forces against the Allied Nations and we will devote resources to aid in the reconstruction, after the war has ceased, for a period of twelve months, I have no problem with that and I'm sure I can convince my father to agree. In return, the Aemen-based business entities Salian and Co. and Folcwalding-Merovingia Shipping will have the initial undivided crack at Sidonia's untapped reserves - it will be Aemen drills that strike the oil first and it is they who will set the price.”

The Heir Apparent continued to smile at Mariana, usually his father's stern tone would be at the back of his mind, controlling his every move. But somehow, Alexander felt relaxed and confident. “We can work out the numbers of your reserves you'd be willing to ship to us at a later date and you were right to note down only logistical, intelligence and advisory support for the Sellenland conflict; my father wouldn't enjoy seeing Sylvan forces inside his own borders.”

Aemen will –

*Deploy troops to Sidonia and fight alongside SL forces until the war’s cessation.

*Assist in the reconstruction of Sidonia’s economy and infrastructure after the war’s end for a period of twelve months.

Sylva will –

*Ship heavy industry, aircraft, and diesel fuel to Aemen from existing Sylvan reserves (barrels per day to be decided)

*Allow Aemen corporations Salian and Co. and Folcwalding-Merovingia Shipping to exploit unextracted Sidonian reserves before any other entity after the war.

*Provide logistical, intelligence, and advisory support to assist in the reannexation of the Sellenland back into Aemen.

"That is quite a high price, Prince Alexander,” Mariana said. “Personally I would take it as is, but unfortunately – excuse me, because of the fact that Sylva is a democracy, this plan will have to be approved by the Foreign Relations Committee of Parliament. However, the First Minister has vested in me the authority to negotiate a settlement. As such, I have a few clauses I could add.”

She stopped for a moment, choosing her next words very carefully. “Sylva is committed to the bilateral containment of NAZI,” she said. “In the Strachan Sea, we have effectively cornered the Erquinian fleet. Any movement they make out of port and into the Strachan can be, and is, monitored through our coastal sonar nets. However we do not have any way of preventing Murovanka of sending vessels into the Achesian Sea/Gulf of Mozria. The Wankan fleet does not present a strategic threat, however their allies abroad, particularly in the United World Order, present a grave problem. While Sylva and the League can no doubt defeat Murovanka and Erquin in open conflict, they cannot defeat them both with Ordernite forces backing them. As such, the Sylvans feel it in everyone’s best interest – including Aemen’s – that a carrier battle group be deployed to the Gulf of Mozria, the Achesian Sea, or whatever you call it – to prevent Ordernite ships from resupplying Murovanka. However we have no suitable base of operations in the Gulf to do this – we have Grisham Island, but it does not have the natural harbors or military infrastructure needed to support a full carrier group.

“However Aemen does. If the Kingdom was to allow a Sylvan battlegroup to base itself in, say, Plymouth or Cold Harbor, and lease the base from the Aemen government, then we could find these terms acceptable. Now, that would mean Sylvan forces inside of Aemen. I realize your father’s trepidation about this, and as such am also willing to include inside the clause a public pact of non-aggression to be signed between Sylva and the Kingdom.”

"An alliance?" Alexander asked. “My father would never approve.”

“No, simply an agreement to demilitarize our borders. This will allow Sylva to move its far-stretched forces north and west to the Wankan and Erquinian borders, and alleviate more forces for you to deploy into the Sellenland. Although, Sylva is not against the idea of a mutual defense treaty, if your father or you would ever allow such a thing.”

Mariana wrote these things on the pad and handed it back to Alexander.

Aemen will –

*Deploy troops to Sidonia and fight alongside SL forces until the war’s cessation.

*Assist in the reconstruction of Sidonia’s economy and infrastructure after the war’s end for a period of twelve months.
*Lease (location to be decided) naval base to Sylva to house the Coalition State Crimson Sea Fleet.
*Agree to demilitarize the Sylvan border.

Sylva will –

*Ship heavy industry, aircraft, and diesel fuel to Aemen from existing Sylvan reserves (barrels per day to be decided)

*Allow Aemen corporations Salian and Co. and Folcwalding-Merovingia Shipping to exploit unextracted Sidonian reserves before any other entity after the war.
*Provide logistical, intelligence, and advisory support to assist in the reannexation of the Sellenland back into Aemen.
*Agree to demilitarize the Aemen border.

Alexander breathed in after looking at Mariana's revised terms, scrutinising the demilitarisation most of all and wary of the lease that had been added, though he knew that she was right; were Ordernite forces, which Aemen had no experience in fighting, able to resupply Murovanka with their battle groups, who would then in turn transfer those resources to the SOABs in the Sellenland, then things would become much more difficult and the probability of defeat increases drastically. Alexander looked back at Mariana, mulling over his decision. “You're certainly correct on the NAZI front. Though I have little knowledge of the United World Order, they have yet to properly pose a threat to my father, I suspect they will in time. I have heard... whispers of their brutality and would prefer they didn't set foot on the continent.”
He took another sip from his scotch, encouraging his mind to come to a decision. “The furthest easterly island of Sarston is known as Kemwick. It sits between the Achesian territory to the northeast and the largest Sarston island of Hiltrul to the southwest. Kemwick's military port is a prime location for identifying ships seeking to pass into the Achesian Sea. As you've said, my father isn't keen on seeing Sylvan forces on Aemen ground, so I believe it will be necessary for the Crimson Sea Fleet you intend to house on Kemwick to seek the permission and authorisation of the Elector-Margrave Ridley Folcwalding, both once it arrives in Aemen waters for safe passage and for any major movements that it seeks to make outside of the island's maritime boundaries once its lease has begun.”

Alexander finished his scotch, placing the glass on a central table in the room before walking back towards Mariana. “Aside from that, I can agree to demilitarisation, for the time being. Those divisions along our border can be used for other purposes.”

Aemen will –
*Deploy troops to Sidonia and fight alongside SL forces until the war’s cessation.
*Assist in the reconstruction of Sidonia’s economy and infrastructure after the war’s end for a period of twelve months.
*Lease Kemwick Military Port to Sylva to house the Coalition State Crimson Sea Fleet. All major fleet movement the CSCSF attempts must be authorised by the Margrave's Citadel before it commences.
*Agree to demilitarize the Sylvan border.

Sylva will –
*Ship heavy industry, aircraft, and diesel fuel to Aemen from existing Sylvan reserves (barrels per day to be decided)

*Allow Aemen corporations Salian and Co. and Folcwalding-Merovingia Shipping to exploit unextracted Sidonian reserves before any other entity after the war.

*Provide logistical, intelligence, and advisory support to assist in the reannexation of the Sellenland back into Aemen.
*Agree to demilitarize the Aemen border

“This can be arranged,” Mariana said. The pad was handed off to an aid, who was to type it up. Mariana recognized immediately that the man wasn’t Aemen by birth – perhaps an Achesian? It didn’t matter. If he was on the Crown Guard, he was trustworthy.
“Prince Alexander, thank you for you hospitality,” Mariana said, with a smile, extending her hand once more.

"Ah, nonsense!" Alexander replied. "You have spent barely any time in our beautiful city. I'll tell you what – when do you leave?”

“Well, my flight out is tomorrow afternoon.”

“Splendid! You must let me show you the city.”

He sealed the deal with a touch on Mariana’s diplmatic side. “It will look good for the cameras, either way. An Aemen Prince and a Sylvan Princess.”

“Well, from my experience they will get the wrong idea,” Mariana said, remembering her many run-ins with the press. “They yellow press will go viral with it. They’ll see us together, and the next thing you know, tomorrows’ headlines will say ‘Princess Mariana dating Prince Alexander.’”

Alexander parched his lip, looking for words. His face began to blush. Regardless of the military uniform, the combat training, and the hardline diplomacy – there was nothing like a beautiful woman to make a man speechless. It was only then that Mariana realized what was happening.

“Wait – are you – asking me out?”

"Uh...yes?" He said, with a hopeful smile.

She laughed once, then twice. “Uh...sure!” she said, before laughing to herself again. “I’ll admit – I didn’t see that one coming.”

by **Achesia** » Sat May 16, 2015 10:39 pm

Horb, Sellenland-

As the fighting faded and the dust settled Sur Dieter Albrecht climbed from his Mora MRAP to survey the damage. Several buildings were reduced to splinters from the latest attack by the Wankers. The dust nearly covered his entire suit of armor in a film, making the black lion on a field of yellow hard to see. He was sworn to House Speech but Sur Albrecht had a oath to the Army, as part of long standing tradition of household knights being loaned out to serve in the Royal Armed Forces. The chips of wood and stone crushed under his boots as he stepped around the rubble of the building, he soon came upon what was left of the men he had take up post here, the upper torso of a young man at arms, his one remaining eye gazing at the sky where his soul returned to. Albrecht covered his nose from the wretched smell of the burning and exposed flesh around him. There wasn't much left of these men, it would be a tough fight to keep this town.

Behind him the crushing of debris came closer and a young boy of no more than 15 stood there. "Sur, same thing for the other eastern posts. 8 Total dead." The boy reported.

"Thank you Gotthilf." He nodded to his squire, still holding his glove to his nose. He soon stepped back towards his MRAP and signaled for his radioman to bring him the coms. A more salty experienced soldier ran up with the radio strapped to his back and handed Sur Albrecht the radio. "Get me headquarters." He ordered. With a few clicks of a button and turning of a dial the static soon gave way with a clear channel for the knight to speak through. "Razor Actual, this is Razor Blue. Heavy contact with enemy, suspect main attack to be on position Hangman. Request direct fire support our way."

The men around the knight began to spread out, rifles in hand treading ever so carefully as they knew somewhere a Wanker was watching them. But it was a trust in their overwatch that they would find the scout before enemy fire found them. A couple men at arms began placing crew served weapons in various positions such as ditches and upper levels of houses. Others set up ATGM missiles to prepare to direct fire onto them. These men were used to traveling light, as they were the Air Dragoons, Sky warriors if you may. Achesias commanders felt safe putting them in a hot situation to let it work itself out.

"Razor Blue, confirmed, you have 155mm batteries on your direction. Send in targets when ready."

"Roger, targets will be....." Sur Albrecht went on for a minute giving the targets to the fire base just 10 miles behind their position. They would be very ready for the next attack.

The 120th Air Dragoon's, IV Legion, 3rd Battalion had 840 troopers in Horb at present time. This was not its full strength but in fact just 3 companies worth of soldiers. They had arrived via helicopter just 8 hours to set up a defensive position after the first few engagements between Achesia and Wanka, and with Horb being at a crossroads between the two forces it was key that this village be secured. High headquarters assured Sur Albrecht that reinforcements in the form of two companies of Royal Rangers would arrive within the hour but he knew that their time tables were always wrong. Plan goes out the window as soon as the first shot is fired, that saying was rolling through his head constantly, an idiom many sadly stuck to in the Army, but he knew only piss poor plans went out any window. Knowing he was outnumbered he had prepared for the worst possible scenario of being overrun by superior Wankan numbers. He had rigged the first threshold of the village with claymore mines and anti tank mines along the roadway. As soon as they set foot within the village they would be blown to bits by the booby traps while being cut down by fire from Achesian infantry teams. With the direct fire support he was able to pre target designated positions all along the hillside and tree line, so at the first sign of Wankan advance he would rain steel on their heads from their field artillery.

It was a well thought out plan, he imparted much of this strategic thinking upon his squire who stood by him waiting for the inevitable, they would be take up positions near the front of their forces lines. It was important for the men to see their Knight Commanders at the front, it took grit to lead Achesian Men, they would not follow just anyone. That was Albrecht's first lesson to young Gotthilf. Often these squires or young knights come from privileged Titleian families, and their soldiers from nothing more than a step above the rest. This gap often created for interesting situations, it wasn't unheard of a cock sure privileged knight to catch a bullet in the back during a heavy engagement, or a grenade to appear at their feet when they were not paying attention. So it was important to remind Gotthilf that if he wished to lead Achesian Men to glory and honor the name of their House, he better realize the enemy isn't the only one who will potentially kill him. But for the most part Sur Albrecht's Dragoons respected him, for his leadership and his prowess in battle.

by **Nova Sylva** » Mon May 18, 2015 6:53 pm

Collected Letters from SL forces during the Sidonian War

13 May 2015

Dear Cecily:

For the past two days the new SACSIONIA, who was formerly CINC-South, has been reorganizing us. For the first time in seemingly forever, we weren’t attacked at all – apparently the AN is too focused on the oil fields which the SRDF is defending southeast of us. We’ve used the break to rearm, resupply, and reorganize. Two fresh Sylvan divisions have replenished our force composition as well – our brigade was brought back up to full strength, and we got a full load of ammunition and fuel. Word is we’re about to launch some sort of massive counteroffensive against the AN.

Nobody knows for sure, but from what I understand the Allies are focusing their forces on capturing the oil fields from the SRDF, which are now being attacked from both the south and the east. I think the plan is head southeast from Capernaum and smash the AN eastern spearheads from behind, and link up with the SRDF divisions. From there, hopefully we push this thing back into the Allied Nations.

I’ve also heard rumors about how the naval/air war is going. Apparently the Allies had these shiny new F35 fighters, which do just about everything. But they are expensive, and more fragile, and harder to maintain than our specialized, single-role fighters. Nevertheless we’ve lost a lot more aircraft than the Allies – but we have a lot more to loose. I hardly see any AN aircraft in the air anymore so we must have shot them all down.

I’m really mentally ready for this battle. After what those bastards did to our field hospital in Cherbourg everyone is itching for a chance to get revenge, and I’m no exception. We’re ready for this, more ready than we’ve ever been. I just can’t wait to get out there and kick some ass.

Wish me luck,
Francis

14 May 2015

Meredith;

It is with great joy that I write this letter on the eve of the greatest military triumph in the history of Sylva.

The Thursday Offensive, as the reporters are calling it, was more of a success than I could have ever hoped for. Not only did we militarily relieve our trapped forces at Las Colinas, but we stopped the entirety of the AN advance into Sidonia in its tracks. They are completely incapable of launching another offensive, while we are being reinforced and resupplied in massive magnitudes by the Skyans. One final effort is all that is needed to break their assault for good – and who knows? Maybe we even press on into South Sidonia, the AN's province on the north side of the St. Michael’s Strait.

The offensive, called Operation: Jailbreak, was a two-pronged spearhead against the AN forces encirlcing Las Colinas. One of the prongs, led by the Sylvan 15. Guards Armor and the Aleckandorean 112. Mechanized Cavalry Divisions, codenamed LANCER, were supposed to break a three-mile wide gap in the enemy siege lines through which our forces in Las Colinas could be resupplied and reinforced. Instead, the attack was so successful, the gap was nearly ten miles wide, and the entire AN line collapsed. Our forces in Las Colinas staged a massive breakout effort focused on where LANCER was advancing through. This further weakened the AN’s lines, and their entire force retreated headlong southwards, and effectively trapping a division of AN soldiers that had previously outflanked the Las Colinas defenses.

The second prong was made up of the two more Aleckandorean divisions and the Sylvan 1. Cavalry division (24, 27, and 29 ACRs). This force, codenamed JACKRABBIT, moved south with the sole objective of destroying the Allies’ IV Corps, which had been held in reserve for the latter half of the war and their last remaining Category A force. The result was the largest tank battle in regional history.

24 ACR made first contact with the AN 8. Division northeast of Cherbourg. They retreated and waited for one of the nearby Aleckandorean divisions (Marine Order XXIII) to dispatch a brigade to reinforce (we were still convinced the bulk of IV Corps was southeast of us) but after the AN 9. Division and 1. Maritime moved to reinforce, we devoted most of JACKRABBIT to dislodging 8. Division.

I had kept 29 ACR and 27 ACR in reserve, but then used them to outflank the AN lines entirely. I ordered 29 ACR to swing around the bulk of IV Corps and hit them from the west and the 27 ACR to do the same from the east, while taking personal command of JACKRABBIT shortly thereafter.

IV Corps managed to hold back JACKRABBIT but in doing so devoted their reserves into the defense. It was only after that 29 ACR was engaging AN forces on their left flank, and that 27 ACR was minutes away from doing the same thing on the right and thus cutting off IV Corps from the rest of the AN army, that IV Corps was forced too disengage and retreat or risk being completely encircled, and thus left the field to the SL.

We have won the battle, Meredith, but the war is still on. We now must move to decisively defeat the weakened enemy force – we have the initiative, and now we must use it.

Yours truly,
Lt. General John Clarke, CINC-South & SACSIDONIA-2

15 May 2015

Meredith;

You can tell those damn politicians to go to hell!

We are on the verge of complete, decisive victory, and they want me to stop advancing? The AN army is out of supplies, disorganized, and in retreat. Their shipping lanes have been annihilated. Now is the time to throw everything we have into the fight, not back out!

I understand and respect the First Minister’s desire for peace. I furthermore commend his leadership ability during this conflict and it’s forerunning origins. But I do not, and cannot, understand his orders for me to stand down. Nevertheless, I respect his authority as Commander in Chief and I have given the order to halt my forces. But mark my words – every hour we piss away in negotiations is another hour the Allied Nations have to reinforce and reorganize their present position.

Kerman and the AN government are doing nothing but buying time. Meredith, you know just as well as I do that just like on the Friendship Kerman does not want peace. He is simply playing us to better his military position by reinforcing, resupplying, and reorganizing his armies for another offensive – I cannot stress this enough. If you will not let me advance, at least demand that he not reinforce his present position.

If we must negotiate for terms let us do so from a position of strength, and on the move. Did Caliphus The Great ever halt his army’s advance in order to achieve a diplomatic victory? No! He conquered Casaterra by forcing his enemy’s hand. Defeat them in open battle, and march on their capital, sending messengers ahead. We must learn from the lessons of the First King – allow me to advance, and destroy these imperialist bastards decisively, and I promise you your negotiations will come to a much more favorable settlement.

God save the King,
John Clarke, CINC-South, SACSIDONIA

by **Havensky** » Mon May 18, 2015 9:05 pm

Maracaibo, Allied Nations

Glitch was sitting in a beat up truck with a scruffy long-haired gentleman. The truck was riding around a street just off the beaten path in Maracaibo.

Glitch was in a foul mood - a foul mood that had existed for weeks since the Allied Nations government had impounded the Beast of Burden. The first move would have been to go to the embassy, but Allied Nations guards had surrounded it. With the Allied Nations doing their damndest to keep Glitch and her team in the county, the normal options would not work.

That's when Glitch had met up with Mustang Jack. The Criminal

Mustang Jack looked somewhat like a pirate. He was tall with a long black beard and longer black hair. He was grizzled and worn with a scar just above his right eye. He had even taken up wearing a long coat to complete the costume.

Jack had several small businesses which may or may not have followed all the rules. One of which was an international export and import shop specializing in alcohol and candy. At one point in time, he had traded arms. That had gotten him a Warrant for Arrest in the Skybound Republic. And with that, Jack had fled the country and set up shop in the Allied Nations.

It was the export business that had gotten Glitch's attention. It was easy enough to use the Jack's busy bar to provide a safe hiding spot for most of the crew. The export plan not gone over well as there was a slight misunderstanding on Jack's part.

A slaver Jack was not.

Once Jack had been properly informed, Mustang Jack had researched his options and put a kibosh on the plan. With the League torpedoing Allied Nations shipping a ship would be a dicey proposition.

And so, with that Glitch had decided that if the Allied Nations wanted a highly capable operator with advanced technology right smack dab in their backyard. One would think that would be a bad idea.

So be it.

Once the 24 hour mark had passed, Stars and Signals Command had utilized its thousands of servers to send enormous amounts of traffic to every Allied Nations website and server host. While civilians had sometimes dabbled in DDoS attacks, there was nothing quite like full fury of a Skyan server farm directing their full interest towards one single target.

The MINERVA AI program was also activated to wipe out anything it found itself on. Skyan High Command didn't expect MINERVA to be able to cause significant damage to targets that had built up their defenses, but if enough reporters had their computers wiped - they'd do a story about it. And as more AN residents found their computer's acting up (as would be expected with Stars and Signals DDoSing every AN website) people would wonder if it was their enemies.

All of this was a general distraction. The real effort would be the men and women of Section 6. Section 6 of Stars and Signals was comprised of hundreds of computer engineers that would now spent their days creating general havoc on any Allied Nations server it could find a weakness on. They were also looking out for any weakness in military and government systems in order to glean intelligence from their systems.

The Skyan Armada also started to seize any ship they found bound for the Allied Nation. Diplomatic pressure was also ramped up to pas punitive sanctions on the already shaky AN economy.

Of course, Glitch was still pissed.

Glitch had been through hell with the last Kraven War. She had gone way behind enemy lines and had come out the other side. This was supposed to be a simple diplomatic assignment. All of her assignments were supposed to be diplomatic in nature. She was retired now.

Not so much.

So now, Glitch and Jack were sitting in a truck staring at what Glitch had deducted was a command post in the Allied Nation's capitol. The little dragonfly drones that had been brought in to do an inspection of the refinery were now being used for their original purpose.

Military reconnaissance.

Shadow Squadron had arrived in the area first. The twelve submarines had arrived in preparation for the 95th Expeditionary Fleet to protect the Humanitarian Fleet. That was before President Kerman had ordered the chemical weapon attack.

That had pissed the entire Skyan Nation off.

It wasn't that the Skyan people were itching for war. However, being a nation with a population of refugees who had come in from war zones that had dealt with chemical weapons, this had struck a nerve. A nerve that required..consequences.

As soon as the 95th was in place, Glitch had made the trip from Spreck to Maracaibo. She had taken the step of straightening out her outrageously curly hair and dying it - something that she had not done since she was a teenager.

She had not been pleased by this.

Glitch looked completely different with long straight hair. And with a change in wardrobe, Glitch wasn't nearly as recognizable as she normally would be with her trademark curly hair and long coat. The look may had changed, but the tech was the same. The dragonfly drone that had fit in the palm of her hand now flew through the city streets looking for prey.

Glitch watched the screen embedded in her sunglasses as a high ranking AN military officials walked out of a building. She hit a button on her phone sending the information back to Stars and Signals Command

"With luck, eventually we'll get a good location on Kerman."

Mustang Jack drove the car out again in search of another target.

HRA Shadow One
Disputed Waters

DAWHOOOOOP - BEEP BEEP BEEP

Alarm sirens went off inside the lead submarine of Shadow Squadron as the target information on several AN airfields and troop positions came into the targeting systems of Shadow One.

Sir, Targets confirmed.

Lieutenant, arm, and fire Switchblades when ready

The submarine surfaced just for a moment while the Switchblade cruise missiles left the submarine and arched up across the Allied Nation sky. Shadow One and Two had ventured out south of the 95th's position to conduct air strikes against the air assets used by the Allied Nations in the chemical attacks. The two submarines would lob about two dozen cruise missiles against the target then slowly slink back to the 95th's position. The hope was that the attack would also draw out AN naval forces giving the SL some relief.

Today, I ordered a number of strikes against the Allied Nations military. As the Skyan People are aware, the Allied Nations have not only broke international norms by impounding a diplomatic vessel and arrested two diplomatic attaches - but have used chemical weapons against civilian populations.

As we stated before during peace negotiations, the use of chemical weapons on civilian population is unacceptable. We repeat our demand of the arrest of President Kerman for Crimes Against Humanity and for the release of our pilots and diplomatic team.

The Skyan People do not blame the People of the Allied Nations. We understand that people feel like they must obey the orders of their president - even when they bring their country to ruin. For this reason, we have opted not to obliterate the City of Maracaibo. Instead, we are targeting the leadership of the Allied Nations. Understand, no person of authority in the Allied Nation is safe from harm. So long as President Kerman remains free, the Skybound Republic of Havensky will continue our strikes.

In addition, aircraft carrying supplies have now reached the airfields of Nova Slyva. We will continue our support of the League until the Allied Nation is defeated.

I speak now to the People of Allied Nations. Arrest Kerman and the Skybound Republic will commit themselves to rebuilding your nation. You should not suffer because of the actions of one man. All of this can end with his surrender. Any officer who surrenders to the Skybound People or her Allies will also be spared and given a fair trial.

Otherwise, we will continue air strikes against military leaders until the Allied Nations is no longer capable of another chemical attack.

On the Behalf and Behest of the Skyan People,
Prime Minister Elizabeth Artemis

by **Aemen** » Sat May 23, 2015 8:25 am

Sarrington Manor
Erus
Several hours before the arrival of Princess Mariana

“Utterly hilarious, Adler!” cried Prince Tavish as he gulped down a glass of wine. The prince had taken the opportunity of a day free of royal duties to gather his most trusted drinking companions and begin a no-holds-barred day of pure intoxication. Taking place mainly in the Manor's garden so that the group could enjoy the weather, the sun was just starting to approach its highest point in the sky, marking the beginning of what was to be a surging headache for the prince and his friends in twenty four hours time.

“You mean to tell me that out of all of your mistresses, she's the one your mother caught you with!? I'm in stitches!” yelled one of Tavish's friends to another. Tavish, being educated at Brein College of the University of Marresburg, had kept a network of rich and powerful friends since his departure, often inviting them to the Manor on days where his schedule was empty to pool their warped senses of humour and insatiable thirsts for historic alcoholic vintages. The difference between Tavish and his friends? He went to Brein a prince, he left a prince, he remains a prince. His friends entered as students and ended up as bankers, doctors, diplomats and architects, whilst Tavish became the constant among them, unchanging and at his father's beck and call.

“Oh shut up Renshaw! I still remember that scandal you got into with the Wankan girl! Damn near half the Sellenland wanted your blood, though they'd have preferred your money!” there were howls of laughter broken up by moments of silence as the group drunk heavily from their glasses. “And what of you, Your Highness?” asked one of the prince's friends mockingly. “What about your exploits. All we see of you now, apart from these highly entertaining gatherings, is your royal face bobbing about on the television with that god awful smile! I've seen more genuine facial gestures at a war criminal's trial and that was back in university!”

Tavish laughed. The occasional pokes and playful, sometimes dark, jabs his friends took at him and each other were something he had grown accustomed to, though he dare not let them speak to any other members of his family that way; news always travelled fast back to his father's ears. “Well, as luck would have it old chap, I've decided to get involved with the military a bit. All those uniforms and the medals that come with them that I ponce about in and I've only ever done my five years of service, hardly anything to warrant such rewards if you ask me!”

“Ah, so you're going to cheerlead for them? Your father would be most impressed!”

“Oh shush you bastard! I've actually created several units that-” Tavish stopped himself. Even under the heavy influence of alcohol he knew that if he said a word more on his military involvement, he risked one of the Manor's servants overhearing. One thing he didn't want was for the Aemen high command, worst of all his father, to find out he was blabbering to friends about secret information on what the Aemen military were doing to captured soldiers.

“That... that... oh, bloody hell, it's gone! I must need some more of my special memory juice to stimulate my dormant cerebrum. Gordon! Bring along a bottle of 1974! We'll need the best year to revitalise this conversation!”

Olbridge Castle
Erus
Co-authored between Aemen and Achesia and still in progress

Prince Alexander led Julian through the castle’s splendid halls, passing various suits of armour that stood as relics of the ages and large marvellous oil paintings depicting the kings and princes of old times. Alexander gestured to some of the paintings with romantic depictions of Aemen’s more famous kings. “Rulers of the past, Your Highness, forever immortalised in the fabric of a canvass. My father in his younger years is among them as is my grandfather and my great grandfather. They are all soldiers that fought and bled in their own ways for this country. It’s a trait I hear that our families have in common and will make us strong allies, wouldn’t you say?”

Julian admired the canvas of King Reginald in his youth- time claims us all- he pondered. “It is said a prince must not have any other object nor any other thought… but war, its institutions, and its discipline; because that is the only art befitting one who command… something my father told me once, a passage from an old book.” He stepped away from the painting and continued to follow Prince Alexander down the hall. “That is why you and me are speaking today, because our fathers were warriors. They fought for their right to rule, if they did not we would be in some nation like Sylva where they have a constitution… that binds their king to being nothing but a banner that is torn, fluttering in the wind as its last fibers disintegrate into the air. That is not us your highness, today we stand together to make our enemies fade away.”

Alexander smiled at Julian. The limited royalty of Septentrion had left him feeling alone before the marriage was announced, but now he was feeling a kindred spirit in the Crown Prince. “And fade they shall, but not before they tremble and quake in such fear that our families’ names will be seared into their minds as the opponents they should never have made.” The two princes came to the same staircase that Reginald had previously climbed to reach his study; they were close. As the pair of them walked up the stairs themselves, they came across a small diamond-shaped window with the sun beaming through it which provided a view of the Estate Gardens. Alexander stopped halfway and took in the marvellous view before spotting a young blonde woman in an emerald green dress walking the cobbled grounds with another female companion. He instantly recognised the blonde woman as his younger sister, Princess Roseanna. Alexander beckoned Julian to the window. “Your Highness, please do take a moment to absorb the wonder of Olbridge’s gardens. It’s been in my family for centuries and it only becomes more beautiful with age, not even war with the Sylvans tarnished its image. I believe you’ll be walking it before you depart from Erus yourself, I do hope you enjoy it as much as I do.”

He looked into the garden below, it took him a moment however to come to terms with what Alexander was saying but then he fixed his eyes upon the young princess. He smiled, “Normally with the war going on and my troops being in the field I would not idle long. However; given the circumstances I may have to take you up on that offer.”

The two men continued upwards, passing butlers and maids attending to their daily rounds, before reaching Olbridge’s top floor, where velvet and silk curtains were held in place with golden and red tie backs and the symbol of the Royal House of Olbridge, an owl with its wings spread abreast perched atop a marvellous crown, lay emblazoned along an immaculately clean red carpet. Alexander led Julian down one of the corridors to a polished wooden door with a spherical smooth handle. “It’s been a pleasure to speak with you, Your Highness. Personally, I believe your marriage to my sister to be the right choice and that our kingdoms will be stronger for it. Beyond this door, my father awaits in his study. He’s no doubt eager to finally meet you himself.” Alexander knocked on the door before opening it, spotting his father at a desk in the far end of the room. “Father, I present to you His Royal Highness Crown Prince Julian of Achesia.” Alexander stepped aside, allowing Julian the chance to pass through into the room himself.

Julian after acknowledging the Prince’s kind hospitality, strutted forward into the the King’s study. Before walking to far into the room he first bowed lowly to the King and introduced himself.

“Your majesty, I am Julian of the House of Requient, the Crown Prince of Achesia. I thank you for your invitation to your beautiful Kingdom.” He stood upright once more and came closer to the king. “My father sends his best wishes to you, he wishes he could come, but he thought the experience in both warfare and statecraft would be too much for me to miss. And he jests that in his old age it is hard to jump out of helicopters.” Julian pulled something out from one of the pockets on his armor, a small golden thing, very ornate. He held it before him, it was a small orb of the world, and atop it a Bird of Prey and an Owl flying high together. “He sends this gift as a token of goodwill. Gold from the recently excavated Achesians ruins of G'katt-Snin. Very rare, from the 2,000 B.C.”

Alexander closed the door, leaving Reginald and Julian alone. The King turned from his chair, fixing Julian with his eyes before standing up and letting a smile curve into his lips. “I’m sure I will meet your father in time, Crown Prince. The days of our friendship are still young.” Reginald raised his eyebrows at the sight of the gift, impressed, before taking the orb from Julian and placing it on his desk. “A wonderful gesture, Your Highness. I am sure we will soar the skies of this world together as your gift implies. You must tell me more of your kingdom’s history when we are not currently occupied with open rebellion. Now, please, sit. We have things to discuss.” Reginald led Julian to a pair of black leather sofas that faced each other with a table between the two and beckoned the young prince to sit on one as he claimed the other. “So, do tell me, what are your predictions for the conflict in the Sellenland? How long do you believe your troops will take to support mine in its recapture?”

“Steps are being taken to ensure our success your majesty.” He folded his hands in front of him as he leaned towards the King. It was hard to sit in all the armor but Prince Julian made it look good. “An entire Legion of our best troops, the Order of Knights Avant Garde is expected to land here in Aemen within a week. Once they arrive it will only be a matter of time before our conflict is won. In addition to that an entire fleet of my father's ships sails to us from our colony of Eld-Audian, it will not be long before they can bring their guns to bear on our enemies. In addition to all of this a Brigade of Rangers came in today to begin mountain warfare operations to push the Wanka lines back towards their dark bastion.” He smiled “I expect victory is around the corner for us. But how far do you wish to take us your majesty, all the way to Kronstadt?”

Reginald nodded, connecting his fingers and forming a bridge with his hands on the level of his chin as he listened, refusing to give away any sense of being impressed by the young prince. “The Wankans have stained the Sellenland with their mere existence for far too long. Under my rule I’ve allowed them certain freedoms, but after this colourful show of theirs, I intend to rectify those freedoms with the necessary authority. Your generous military contributions to our efforts will not go unnoticed, Crown Prince.”

The King took in a deep breath, contemplating his next move like a tactician engrossed in a game of chess. “I do not intend to march on Kronstadt, Your Highness. Aemen already finds itself in a most advantageous position here on Casaterra, to become too ambitious may result in that delicate luxury slipping from my grasp. I will, however, have temporary need of your soldiers once the Sellenland is returned to the crown’s hands, should you and your father approve of course. I wish for your forces to remain in the region alongside my own troops for a period of three months whilst the Ministry of Enforcement deploys the Sellenland Social Order Act, a law of my own design which will allow the entire region to be monitored without hindrance by a new Sellenland Council Authority, so that we can ensure for generations that this sort of disobedient and repugnant behaviour never happens again.”

“We are at your disposal my king, they will all remain here at your leisure.” He crossed his legs and leaned in some more. “What are your ambitions if I may ask, these rogue nations will only serve to test divine right as long as they stand. Wanka, Allied Nations, Sylva, all of them who do not bend the knee are a threat to us, and all that we built.”

Highway 69
The Sellenland
Day 3, 04:10 Hours

It all started incredibly quickly. The recon team had spotted movement and engaged Wankan lookouts in a brief exchange of gunfire before retreating as the rumbling of the Usurper tanks began to move up to the front. Armoured personnel carriers carrying the bulk of the infantry force weren't far behind, but the convoy's commander, Lieutenant Colonel Harald Furst, had decided to switch the armoured tanks to the head of the convoy, intending to use them as a steel battering ram to smash his way to Krakenhof. Furst wasn't like the other Aemen soldiers in appearance, in fact, he was a purely ethnic Wankan. Furst's family, who had lived in the Sellenland since the remnants of the Wankan monarchy invaded, had sworn allegiance to Reginald shortly after Aemen soldiers achieved victory in 1982 and added the Sellenland to their King's possessions. One of the incredibly few Wankan families to do so, and one of the even fewer to be successful in Aemen, Furst, on the recommendation of his father, remained with the military after his compulsory service ended in 1996 and progressed steadily through its ranks, eventually finding himself here, in his ancestral home and commanding his people's ancient enemies against them. For Furst, there were no conflicting morals; his King had spoken and he would obey, reaping the glory and prestige that would only be obtained with a decisive victory.

The fog obscured most of the battlefield from above, meaning the Aemen were unable to utilise their advantage of air support which came in the form of four GR4A Harpy strike jets circling just outside of range. They were watching over the progress of the back of the convoy, making sure no sneak attacks from the Wankans caught the 47th and its support in a pincer.

The Usurpers' speed increased as they rushed forward, hoping to plant themselves right in front of the line of fire to emulate their previous encounter with the Wankan ambush and allow the infantry carriers time and cover to deploy. The first shot was fired as a lucky Aemen tank shell screamed out of the barrel, parting the mist temporarily and striking one of the grey Wankan vehicles as they emerged from their hiding places. This temporary advantage was one Furst intended to capitalise on. From the back of the convoy, being wired in to the tank radios and their updates from the front, he planned to adapt accordingly and let the battle play out with the intent of only going one way: Forward.

Wankan tanks poured from the mountains, rolling over rocks and the bodies of the three casualties of the first encounter between the recon team and the lookouts. They outnumbered the Aemen Usurpers and pressed towards them, firing off shells at the vague lumbering silhouettes in the fog, taking one of the tanks out with concentrated fire and causing it to explode. As bits of enflamed metal splattered onto the chassis of the now-destoryed tank's comrades, the other Usurpers primed their main guns and unleashed a flurry of shells in the direction of their Wankan counterparts. Explosion after explosion tore apart the highway, but neither side was backing down as both armoured forces manoeuvred into positions behind large dislodged boulders and piles of rocks that temporarily shielded them from enemy fire. By this time, the Aemen APCs, nicknamed 'Cauldrons', had unloaded the infantry behind the Usurper line, bringing with them a large amount of anti-tank weapons. Furst's intent was to brute force his way through and wipe out the entranced mountain positions of the Wankans through air and artillery strikes with tanks destroying positions closer to the convoy. To achieve this, he needed the enemy armour eliminated incredibly quickly.

As several squads moved up to the front, joining the Usurpers behind the boulders, shots suddenly rang out from the elevated sides of the highway, striking several Aemen soldiers dead.

“Snipers! Over the sides!” yelled one of the sergeants. The snipers must have been barely able to see the hurrying shadows of the Aemen infantry through the fog, but it was enough for them to risk a shot. The anti-tank squads dropped their equipment over the sides of the highway, jumping over it themselves shortly after and falling into shallow rocky crevasses that made up the highway's sides and began to sneak along them with the intent to get a clear shot on the Wankan armour.

As the tank battle continued, with the boulders being used for cover beginning to split apart from the sheer force they were facing and both tank groups being forced into the open, a fresh wave of assault infantry from the Aemen convoy rushed to the front, intending to support the tanks from clashes with enemy infantry. Furst listened in on the radio from his camp at the base of the mountain, hearing of the snipers and the dug in position of the Wankans along the highway. He was holding the Harpies back for now, determined to use them only when the fog had cleared enough for Wankan positions to be properly targeted; any strikes committed blindly could prove disastrous for the Aemen convoy, as well as Furst's ambitions.

by **Erquin** » Sat May 23, 2015 10:46 am

Wanna know anything else?

by **Havensky** » Sat May 23, 2015 6:49 pm

Special Thanks to the National Library of Havensky at Citadel City for sharing these collected electronic letters during the Sidonia War

18 May 2015

Laura,

We're all ok.

Sorry for not writing sooner, I know you must be worried with all the news about the chemical warfare attacks over here. We weren’t anywhere close to where it happened, but even if it did make it out here the new exosuits have all the chemical protection gear built in. We just have to carry additional air tanks which make the whole getup heavier. It’s also a lot hotter in the suits with the facemask up. At least we can see in these things. The old style MOPP gear only had small eye holes that made it difficult to do surgery. It also made us look like cappers with the round eyes and the tube sticking out of our chins. The ship can also be made to be airtight, but with so many people coming in and out it just got to be impractical.

I won’t go into details, but the attacks were pretty gruesome. Sarin gas does terrible things to the body very quickly. The EMT helijets flew in as soon as it happened, but with the League not having air superiority and we couldn’t get really get them here fast enough after the immediate attack. The most I’ve been able to for those hit with the gas is make them feel comfortable.

You know how I feel about these things. We're all tired, but we're all too angry to stop. I pulled a triple shift the night it happened.

Once we got to port, it’s been mostly patching people up from the aftermath of the attacks. These people have bombed each other to hell. It’s been a constant carousel of burn victims, broken bones, and concussions.

My assistant is having trouble sleeping. He’s pretty fresh and this is his first tour. He hasn’t buckled under or anything, but I’m keeping an eye on him. If he can get over his nerves he’ll make a great ER doc someday.

I’ll try to write sooner again sooner this time - but things have been pretty hectic here. If they go on the offensive again, I’m sure I’ll be pulling more bullets out of people.

All my love,
Erica

[Captain Erica Oakwing
ER Section, HRS Redemption
1st Humanitarian Fleet]

19 May 2015

Dad,

I know I said before that the Skyans were a bunch of hippies with their peace talk and humanitarian people, but forget what I said - the Skyans can be downright scary when they want to be.

Our platoon had gotten cut off from the main group and ended up on the wrong side of an AN armored unit. We called for reinforcements, but we were cut off from the ground units. Then we get a call from the HRS Bully Breaker saying they’ve sent Misfit inbound.

I wasn’t even sure what that meant, but then next thing I know, the radio lit up with “FRIENDLY FRIENDLY FRIENDLY! GET DOWN! GET DOWN! GET DOWN!" and all hell breaks loose. About a dozen red streaks flew above our heads and then this red smoke starts coming down all around us with loud booms coming from every direction. Then there’s this loud low growl and explosions about 300 yards in front of us.

A split second later we’ve got Skyan Vexer coming down right on top of us. They roped from the chopper, grabbed us and literally threw us in the back of the helijet. They didn’t even let us sit down, they latched us to the deck, popped more red smoke, and off we went.

Apparently AN sent a whole battalion after our position after that thinking the Skyans were landing their whole force, but we were long gone.

Skyan World Service has been constantly featuring stories on the 95th Expeditionary Fleet and their war record. Everyone’s expecting them to land a big force soon - but we’ve only seen them pop in when things get dicey, then pop back out again. They’ve never stayed in any one place for more than a few hours.

I still think they look silly with that big thing sticking out of their helmets. The helmet looks like a cross between a hockey helmet and a roman legion helmet. At least we can see their faces.

Francis

19 May 2015

Hey babe,

We're all ok.

My team did good work today. I think Oakleaf is finally getting his head straight and not overthinking things so much. He did just fine during our smash and grab last night.

Some Sidonian butterbar took a wrong turn and landed his platoon in the middle of two Ant tank platoons. Got all of his men surrounded and up so far west of his group that nobody could get him. At least he had sense to call for fire and keep his team together. Made it real easy for Dax to us drop right in.

I had been worried about Oakleaf being out on his first smash and grab. No need to worry, he got low and delivered cover fire and got back in when he needed to.

I think I ended up grabbing some Sondrian greenhorn by the collar. Looked at me all wide eyed and dopey when I threw him in the Vexer.

Course, with all the smoke and bangers we throw into the LZ we tend to have that effect on people.

Their sarge was annoyed with being treated all rough, but you know we don't dilly dally on a smash and grab.

The Growlers had a good day too. The Ants had their tanks too close and they were able to tear through at least a few of them. Word from higher is that they diverted another armored company to try to find us - but nobody is gonna catch us with Dax flying point.

Just another day on the job for Misfit Company!

I miss you - and I'll see you soon.

- Greg

[SSG Greg Malwind
M Company
95th Expeditionary Fleet]

The following conversation is an InterChat between Medical Captain Dr. Lisa May of the HRS Redemption and Tony Wrightwing of Glitch Labs.

20 May 2015

@DrMay: @TonyWrightwing, is there a way we can print out a facemask? I’m getting a lot of burn victim kids from the bombings and the chemical attack. The SuperHero prosthetics have been really popular with the kids and I think we can do something similar for the burn victims.

@TonyWrightwing: Oh, that’s interesting. Tricky part is the eyes - wouldn’t want to obstruct vision. How much of the face do you want covered? Half or all?

@DrMay: All

@TonyWrightwing: Ok, do you want any particular superhero style?

@DrMay: Let’s do clones of all the popular ones and then have some generic ones. The pink arm with purple lights seem to be a big hit with the girls, so we defn want to get that one in.

@TonyWrightwing: K. Do you have a face scan I can use to build on?

[@DrMay has uploaded one file (patient012242face.3ds)]

@TonyWrightwing: Awesome give me a few hours to get the team together. (Tony Wrightwing went idle)

@TonyWrightwing: OK, try printing this one.

[@TonyWrightwing has uploaded one file (PinkPowerMask_012242.3dp)]

@DrMay: So, she’s super excited - but it’s too tight around the eyes. I’ve marked the areas on the file. Maybe give me another 5 mm?

@TonyWrightwing.. ok, try it now.

[@TonyWrightwing has uploaded one file (PinkPowerMask_012242_2.3dp)]

@DrMay: Much better… maybe in the next round we can make it adjustable? She’s gonna grow out of it soon.

@TonyWrightwing: I figured as much, can you snap a picture? @Glitch will want to hear about this when she gets back in touch.

[@DrMay has uploaded one file PurplePowerGirl.3ds)]

@TonyWrightwing: Ha! She looks like she’s having fun. Let me know how it goes. I’ll start working on a RedRanger one next.

To: Field Marshall Cole Phillips Welch
From: kerman@gov.an

By your orders, you are responsible for the deaths of thousands of civilians through the use of chemical weapons. This is a crime against humanity and as such must be punished.

We have your location. If you and your forces surrender to any member of the Leauge or non-aligned nations your life will be spared. Failure to do so will result in your immediate destruction.

You have ten minutes.

Harbinger

by **Aemen** » Tue May 26, 2015 2:28 am

Quarton Heath
Thirty seven miles southeast of Erus

“They look a bit shaken.” said Dr. Orson Carrick as he sat in one of the base's observation rooms and compared the prisoner notes in his hands to the people themselves through the security cameras. Several SOABs, upon seeing the devastating impact of the AAA bombing campaign, surrendered or were left behind and captured by Aemen and Achesian forces who promptly sent them to Reiterhof, where they were then transported to Quarton Heath, one of Reginald's best kept secrets and a highly secure facility located in the middle of a wooded shrubland away from prying eyes. Quarton had been established since the days of Reginald's grandfather, Stephen XI, under the command of the Ministry of Initiative. It was what was referred to in all official documentation as a 'centre for research into deterrence warfare.' What deterrence warfare actually meant to the other nations of Septentrion is entirely up for interpretation, but to the Aemen monarchy it was a way of using brutal psychological experiments to win conflicts.

“What do you expect? The guards aren't particularly friendly towards them.” added Dr. Edward Winslow who was stood beside him, reading through the session notes of previous days. Carrick and Winslow were part of the facility's leading research team and had previously worked on projects for the University of Marresburg. Now, under personal invitation from Prince Tavish, they had joined Quarton Heath's staff and were spearheading the way into winning back the Sellenland from behind the scenes. “Defining characteristics of motivation include nationalistic beliefs, hatred towards monarchal authority and profound symptoms of an Us vs. Them mentality. Prisoners 2B and 3A are the first we'll be focusing on for weak-point detection, they're currently exhibiting signs of PTSD possibly due to the bombing campaign. I suggest photographic and audio stimulation to see if this is correct.”

Carrick observed Prisoner 2B and Prisoner 3A through the cameras. 2B was sat down, huddled in the corner of his cell and was a noticeable victim of the bombing; his right arm and parts of his neck were scarred with the tell tale signs of burn marks. 3A, meanwhile, was more active and banging against the walls of his room, screaming obscenities in Wankan and demanding to know why he was locked up. Carrick rubbed his chin as he observed the man's manic actions. “Record both prisoners' sleeping patterns after today's session. We'll check it against the behaviour of the others to see if there is a common factor amongst them.” He stood up, moving towards the room's exit with the prisoner profiles in his hand. “I'm going to get a coffee. It'll be a long day if 3A's going to act like that for the next twelve hours.”

Winslow turned on his heel to face his colleague, briefly stalling the progress of the notes he was taking. “Get me one too will you? I need to feel revitalised for my observation today.”

As Carrick walked out into the hospital-like hallway, he took a moment to reflect about what this was all for. Carrick didn't often like to involve himself in the nasty stuff that did happen at Quarton, he left that to the doctors with the stronger stomachs and the sadistic streaks, but, in the name of progress, discovery and victory, he was more than happy to indulge in the preliminary checks, bringing out any mental defects or flaws in the captive SOABs before seeking something that linked them all together, something that Bezuidenhout could use to his advantage on the battlefield.

by **Murovanka** » Wed May 27, 2015 1:15 am

The Sellenland
Highway 69
Day 3, ca. 0440 Hours

The cannon boomed loudly as the gunner fired yet another shot at an Aemen Usurper tank which Hauptmann Katsnaroff had marked. His driver reversed the Panzer-90 Gepard tank back into cover of a large boulder, which rocked almost instantaneously with two shell impacts. The gun was reloaded, and the driver moved tank back up to its defensive hulldown position.

”Schützenpanzer, um die Elf… Feuer!”

The tank rocked backwards as it released another shell, this one screaming toward an exposed Aemen IFV whose ammunition rack detonated, sending the turret rocketing into the air. Meanwhile, voices shouted desperately in Katsnaroff’s headpiece, barely audible in the midst of the heavy cannon fire.

”… Achtung… feindliche ‘fantrie… erster Zug zieht zurück… dritter Zug, bitte Deckung geben…”

”…nicht möglich… dritter Zug ist komplett vernichtet… ziehn’ zu Fuss zrück…”

”… Janoschhhh, halt’ die verdammte Infanterie weg… AHHHH… du LIEBER Gott… bin getroffen…”

The withdrawal was not going well. Katsnaroff could see his tank commanders desperately firing the mounted 12.7mm machine guns at the advancing Aemen assault infantry, who were using rocket launchers and anti-tank missiles to great effect. On the right side of the highway, one of his platoons had all of its tanks not only disabled, but were left as smoking wrecks due to the heavy enemy fire. Its surviving crews, numbering six tankers altogether, were left behind as the Wankers made their withdrawal, which was further hindered by numerous massive boulders which broke off due to shell impacts and littered the highway and retreat paths. The six tankers had to fend for themselves using their MP-13 submachine guns, and, as they stood no chance against the hundreds of Aemen infantrymen rapidly advancing, soon surrendered.

The Füsilier platoon which was aiding Katsnaroff’s force proved to be ineffective; their unconcentrated firing, in addition to the fire support given by the Schützenpanzer-10 IFV’s proved insufficient in repelling the Aemen infantry. By the time the second armor group, which had advanced to cover their withdrawal, had taken over the fight, Katsnaroff had only six operational tanks out of fourteen left with most tank crews of the damaged/disabled either dead or in enemy hands. It was nothing but a disaster; the Aemen advance continued unhindered with not a sign of slowing down. Katsnaroff’s “Company”, which was of platoon size, was absorbed into Panzerbatallion Nr. 2701’s second company which was trying to stem the Aemen advance. After a twenty minute rest, where his “company”’s ammunition and fuel was replenished, he was plunged straight into battle again. By this time he and his troops were near exhaustion after over two hours of nonstop fighting, and were practically freezing to death. It wasn’t about to get better, either. As the started to sun shine its rays through the dust, the fog began to clear. Up to now, there were only two occasions when the Ozelot’s radars had detected and launched missiles at the enemy aircraft overhead, and on both occasions the radars quickly lost track of the targets, the missiles flying into empty space, the aircraft not bothering the ground troops. However, with the sky clearing, there was bound to be AAA air activity- which spelt trouble for the planned massed counterattack. Even without air support, the casualties of the initial tank battles already numbered half a battalions’ worth of vehicles- some twenty burning or abandoned tanks.

Not that it would matter much; von der Leijen insisted that it had to be carried out, and all Wankan assets in the north would be committed to the assault. Along the Aemen supply lines, SEKS forces were ordered to spare no man in attacks on AAA forces. Snipers were had already gathered in the area and took on their sniping roles, trying to get as many kills as possible despite the weather. In the mountains south of Highway 69, Gebirgsjäger battalions readied themselves to launch attacks on the Aemen formations right flank. Two attack helicopter squadrons, numbering thirty KH-13 Löwin gunships, were spread across the central mountains and Ellenburg itself in secret camouflaged hangars, placed on high readiness; it was hoped that their presence would shock the Aemen troops and do enough damage to crush their morale (and then it was also hoped that the gunships could clear out in time to escape punishment by Aemen fighters).

The time ticked on. At nine o’clock, Katsnaroff wondered how he was still alive. Earlier, his Gepard had taken three direct hits in quick succession, and he was the only crew member to survive. Bloodied and dazed, he had clambered off the burning tank, and lay on the ground as the battle raged around him. Luckily for him, a group of retreating Füsiliers crossed his path and picked the captain up- when he had his next scrape with death. A mortar shell exploded right behind the squad, and the young female sergeant carrying him shielded him from the blast. He’d taken her name down with shaking hands, determined that he was to bring the news of her death to her family himself.

Not that he’d had much time to think about the comrades he’d lost in such a quick succession. After getting treated in a makeshift field hospital, where it was discovered that he was only superficially wounded, he was pressed into action again. A tank commander of one of the 7th’s Panzer battalions had been killed exposing himself to enemy fire, and so he found himself once again commanding a platoon, again waiting to make contact with the enemy advance. This time, however, in a solid, well-prepared bunker-like fighting position for his tank, well lodged into the slope of the mountain. Thousands of SOAB fighters had been involved, assisted by troops and heavy engineering vehicles of the Wankan Army, in building an extensive defensive network and hundreds of fighting positions for the army troops. The junction was vital; its capture would cut off thousands of troops, militia and material in the north who currently guarded the resource-rich oil fields and basins. Even now, the men and women, many of them civilians, toiled away; they worked much more efficiently than the Wankan troops who struggled in the thin and cold atmosphere. Activity was reduced, however, as the risk of air attacks increased.

Hundreds of vehicles had been assembled in staging areas on the outskirts of Echterdorf and around the junction. The 7th Füsilier-Division had been further reinforced by an independent Panzer battalion, which would spearhead the counterattack. They would be closely supported by the 7th’s 22nd Füsilier-Regiment whose mechanized troops, mounted on Schützenpanzer-10’s, would play the exact same supporting role that the Aemen assault infantry had been playing. Katsnaroff had the luck to find himself in the 22nd’s Panzer battalion, which would be the first line of reserves for the leading column of tanks. But while these represented the main force, hundreds of other vehicles were also present, crammed into this one small space. Batteries of mobile SAM systems were brought dangerously to the front, many dozens more would line themselves along the road. Engineer vehicles prepared themselves to pave the roads to allow the rapid transportation of supplies by the hundreds of trucks filled to the brim with munitions, fuel, basic food rations, drinking water, medications… enough, hopefully, to sustain the drive forward for a significant amount of time if necessary. Wiesel mortar, anti-tank and anti-aircraft versions of the Gebirgsjäger added to the confused mix of troops; even self-propelled artillery battalions were brought to firing positions (however, they were not to be fired, as the risk of fratricide, due to the proximity and predicted fluidity of the fighting, was nearly 1).

It was truly an ambitious endeavor, and one that had been meticulously planned and organized. At 9:30am, on the strategically important 20-meter long bridge to the south of the small villages of Wolfsbach, civilian trucks approached the Aemen military checkpoint from both sides. Dozens of SOAB militiamen jumped out of the vehicles, violently surprising and killing the Aemen troops guarding the bridge with heavy automatic fire. Once the bridge had been secured, dozens more SEKs fighters appeared, carrying heavy weaponry. Immediately, under the direction of the three-man Abwehr leadership, the SEKs troops, in the first offensive since the day before, set up defensive fighting positions around the bridge. In the near vicinity of the bridge, military and suspected military supply convoys were targeted by RPG-armed RAPEs and were either destroyed or hijacked. They were here to stay, with the orders of holding on to the bridge as long as physically possible. As one group rapidly set up heavy weapon positions in the multiple buildings around the bridge, the other began laying anti-tank and anti-personnel mines on both approaches to the bridge. In the air, six stealthy TH-90 Fuchs utility choppers navigated their way cautiously forward, maintaining a dangerously low altitude and sticking close to the mountains. Up to now, all Wankan chopper activity was limited to such hazardous maneuvers which significantly minimized detection, but also proved to be very dangerous. Two choppers had already been brought down in non-combat related accidents, and that number was sure to rise. Nevertheless, it was important to the counterattack that the bridge was to be held so that supplies would be cut off to the Aemen 47th. The six choppers were loaded with a company-sized unit composed of elite, handpicked troops of the 75. Sturmbatallion named ”Sondergruppe Hartmann”, after its commander. The 75th’s troops were dedicated military special operations forces, specially trained for situations like these, and von der Leijen would now rely on them to cause a major headache to the Aemen commanders.

After receiving just two hours of rest, the Generalfeldmarschall von der Leijens voice crackled in Katsnaroff’s earpiece. Although it was just over 10 o’clock in the morning, a layer of light mist still hung in the air, and the temperature had increased to a more comfortable 5 degrees Celcius.

“Ehrenwerte Soldaten und Offiziere der Volksrepublik! Der Feind naht; bereitet euch für den Angriff vor. Vergesst nicht: Fahrkarte bis zur Endstation! Wir werden uns nur in eine Richtung bewegen- und zwar VORWÄRTS! Die Zukunft des Sellenlandes, und unsere Ehre, steht auf dem Spiel… enttäuscht das Vaterland nicht!” (“Honorable soldiers and officers of the People’s Republic! The enemy is approaching, prepare to attack. Remember: Don’t stop until you reach the objective! We will only move in one direction- and that is forwards! The future of the Sellenland, and our honor, is in your hands… don’t disappoint the fatherland!”)

As if on cue, the rhythmic cannon fire suddenly became amplified; a platoon of Gepards retreated down the highway, their cannons firing at targets clouded in the fog. Commands and shouts went through the air and the radio as the Wankan vehicles rolled out of their staging points. The retreating tank platoon, with one of its tanks’ turret clearly shot out of shape, was bypassed by the armor of the leading Panzer battalion. These were closely followed by the 22nd’s mechanized companies, whose troops were ready to dismount to provide the Gepards with close infantry support. Further back, in the third line, were Wiesel weapons carriers and mobile FLAK vehicles. These were followed by thousands of combat reserves of the who would quickly replace any losses on the frontline. The Generalfeldmarschall had made it clear that there was no turning back now; the leading elements were to push, push, push regardless of the situation. The next few hours would depend on whether the Aemen troops decided to try and hold their ground, or fall back; Katsnaroff hoped for the latter, or else the battle would turn into one hell of a messy, close combat fight…

On the mountain ridges overlooking Highway 69 from the south, troops of two battalions of the 75th Gebirgsjägerregiment appeared in a flanking attack on the Aemen formation. Several companies made their way down to fight from a closer distance, but most stayed on the ridge line. The Wiesel mortar-carriers which was practically the only vehicle that could drive up there began bombarding the Highway, supported by long-range recoilless rifle fire and infantry mortar fire. Anti-tank guided missiles swerved down the slopes, heading towards the Aemen armored vehicles caught within their sights.

While this was going on, forward air controllers on the ground each marked their targets, lasing the lead tanks which appeared out of the mist. From behind the mountain peaks, ten lurking Löwin gunships rose into the air, each armed with an array of anti-tank missiles, short range anti-air missiles and rockets. A massive salvo of anti-tank guided missiles was quickly released toward the menacing Usurpers; however, due to the interference of the fog, many quickly lost their lock on their targets. The gunships made their way back out of sight, heading back to base to be rearmed for their next fire support mission. The next ten gunships, hovering in cover of the mountains, took over, quickly overflying the advancing Wankan columns…

***

Kronstadt
Day 3, ca. 1100 Hours

The old, gray government house bustled with activity under the watchful gaze of a giant portrait of Kaiser von Auerhahn, the first emperor of the Wankan Kaiserreich. For over two hundred years, the portrait had remained and been maintained, despite the fall of the glorious Empire, as von Auerhahn still remained a symbol of a united and strong Wanka. It was not the only remaining sign of the former monarchy; indeed, Kronstadt itself meant Crown City and even the various communist groups that had temporarily seized control never thought of changing the name. The ancient city, which was growing by the day, was the holy city for the rather nationalist-paganist Wankers, a symbol of Wankan culture, independence and identity.

”’Tag, Herr Admiral,” greeted the Schwarka guard, who saluted as Admiral Kanaris, Abwehr director, walked toward the exit. The old former submarine captain exchanged a few words with the guard, who seemed to be the only Schwarka guy to be able to talk more than three words at any one time. The rest of the Schwarze-Kavallerie-Leibgarderegiment, including the few women, seemed to have undergone some kind of speech-prevention therapy, the Admiral mused. As he strolled out of the building, dark clouds were forming above and the first cold raindrops crashed to the ground.

”Danke, Lenni,” he said to his adjutant, who opened an umbrella for them, “you know what, having bloody crisis conferences throughout this morning has thoroughly exhausted me, I think I’ll go home and take a rest.”

“Jawohl, Herr Admiral,” the adjutant replied, “after all, you are not the youngest anymore.”

Kanaris had a chuckle at that as he struggled into the armored car. “Goddamn Zusak… I told him to report more conservatively on what he found in the Sellenland… now Ulrike seems to be ready to sacrifice the entire nation for the Sellenland.”

“You know, I had a talk with Vonderlein yesterday. He said that if the counterattack stalls or gets thrown back, we’re essentially screwed. If we don’t capture Reiterhof soon, the AAA can keep landing troops and any chances of victory would soon be lost. He’s skeptical, the good general, always has been since he was given this mission. Didn’t initially want to take the job, but he’s by far the best one we have. I don’t know…”

The car stopped in the traffic. Heavy rain began pouring down; the numerous ragged homeless folk which littered the dirty streets of Kronstadt quickly scattered. Crying orphans, drenched in the water, begged for help from the more well-off passer-by’s who quickly rushed through the more dangerous parts of the city.

“But maybe,” commented the adjutant, “it’s worth a shot. With the riches of the Sellenland we can get these people off the street, and make Kronstadt free of the mafia. We can jumpstart our economy, provide jobs, reform public housing… we have to recognize the fact that Wanka is by far the most poor nation in Septentrion.”

“We’re already making progress, and our growth has been tremendous. But with this business, we’re putting everything at risk.” replied Kanaris.

“You see, if Vonderlein fails, which he considers a major possibility, and the Aemen cut our forces in two and threaten Echterdorf, you know what will happen? Wanka will jump into the war, officially, with all the weapons that our Kanzlerin has allowed the military to get their hands on.”

“Whether or not we manage to capture the Sellenland, just imagine the international reaction. Few are buying our story now, everybody will see an outright invasion of Aemen by Wanka. How many civilians the Aemen have killed doesn’t matter. That the Sellenland is Wankan land, doesn’t matter. We will be isolated, sanctions will be imposed, possibly a blockade erected which will push our economy into the drains.”

“And then there are the Sylvans. The bastards are actively seeking to find a chance to invade us, and what Meinhof is doing isn’t improving matters. These animals always need to fight, and we risk giving them a legitimate reason to do so. Now that would spell the end of us; it would probably be a repeat of the 1970s. Our nations stability solely rests on the government’s ability to provide an increasingly better material life for the people. Once that’s gone, I tell you, there will be another full-scale civil war.”

”You worry too much, Herr Admiral. Have trust in von der Leijen. I’m sure he will be able to succeed; he has never failed, hasn’t he?”

“There’s always a first. Mind you, and even if we succeed, what then? The monarchy will be preparing all it has to retake the Sellenland- why would they do otherwise? Defeat won’t be an option for Reginald. The war will drag on.”

“Then what do you propose?”

“I’ve always been pushing for the withdrawal of Wankan Army troops from the Sellenland. It’s not too late yet, and it’s not too late to save Wanka. I’m a patriot, Lenni, I love our Vaterland, and I will do everything I can to ensure that it doesn’t go down a second time. . Aufwiedersehen, Lenni, I’ll call you if I need you.”

With that, the Admiral clambered out of his car, his hand clutching his briefcase. He did not plan to take a nap; no, in the privacy of his own office, he would plan his next move.

***

Near Achesian Firebases
Day 3, ca. 1745 Hours

Oberleutnant a. D. Jens Lukas Haradra wordlessly surveyed his targets from his observation post high up in the mountains. He had had the whole day to plan this attack, and he wanted it to go perfectly. His targets were three Achesian firebases which were in position to strike on the 77th Gebirgsjägerregiment if it were to launch its attack on Horb. General der Gebirgstruppen Eduard W. Schöner, commander of the 101st “Edelweiss” Division, had personally driven under risk of attack toward the combat zone, and had determined that the Achesian artillery would be the biggest threat to any large-scale advance to capture Horb and they would almost certainly had pre-aimed their guns at Wankan positions.

Luckily, the Wankans had the SEKS, and with the local Sellenwankers expertise, the assault on Horb was supposed to succeed. Haradra wouldn’t be actually fighting the Achesians this time; his job was now to ensure that the six Wankan artillery forward observation officers remained safe and undetected, so that they could lead Wankan-made shells toward their targets. In addition, there was a direct action RAPE under his command, equipped heavily with rocket launchers. For each of the three firebases, there were three men with two launchers amongst them who would send the warheads flying toward the firebase control centers from afar. Supporting these were three teams of snipers who were supposed to give sniper fire support to any unlucky soldier who came in sight of their crosshairs. However, the fog was especially heavy today, which complicated their efforts- effective fire would only be given if the weather permitted. Emphasis would be placed on preserving lives of the Sellenwankers for this mission. The costly ambushes the days before had significantly hampered and cut down available SEKS forces, leading to a more-or-less halt in SEKS attacks up to now. Indeed, for day three alone, only two minor attacks were carried out on AAA supply lines.

Ten minutes to the attack. At exactly 1800 hours, a Wankan artillery battalion, with eighteen self-propelled Haubitze 200 guns stationed in camouflaged positions along Highway 68, would soon saturate the given coordinates of the three firebases with explosive shells. Haradra’s RAPE and snipers would start their assault on his command, all in an attempt to silence the Achesian artillery for the second Wankan attempt to capture Horb.

***

Near Horb
Day 3, 1800 Hours

Gefreiter Heinz Schulemann tensed as the first artillery shells hit home. His Spähpanzer Fuchs, in addition to the rest of the armored reconnaissance company, was in formation, hidden by the thick forest vegetation. In front of them were the Pioniere, the engineers in charge of clearing the heavily mined terrain and road in front of them. Sporadically, bullets pierced through the forest, in response to Wankan snipers taking potshots at the Achesian defenders. Schulemann checked his watch; one minute to 1810 hours. He checked the vehicles systems, preparing himself to head into battle. The second Wankan artillery battalion, also consisting of eighteen Haubitze 200 SPGs, opened fire, sending shells onto suspected Achesian positions in and around Horb. Little consideration was given to the native Sellenwankan homes and other infrastructure; what mattered was that the Wankan forces would take the village. Smoke billowed into the air as the clock ticked on. Soon, it approached 1815 hours- action time.

”Fall Grün, Fall Grün, jetzt geht’s los! VORWÄÄÄRTS!”

Flawlessly, the artillery fire shifted forward, ahead of the Wankan advance. From the forest, just like the first time, Schulemann’s company appeared, this time all guns blazing. Anti-tank guided missiles were launched toward Achesian vehicles as the autocannons chattered on. From within the forest, mortar crews joined in the barrage, providing close support for the advancing engineers. Under fire, the engineers launched line charges across the fields, clearing the way for the Wankan mountain infantry. These leaped forward, providing cover for the engineers as they proceeded to clear the next lines. Schulemann and his company were relegated temporarily to a fire-support role as the foot soldiers did most of the work. Despite the best attempts of the engineers, numerous mines were left undetonated, quickly putting a Wiesel Weapons-Carrier out of action and damaging a Schützenpanzer. Several Gebirgsjäger troops were also maimed badly when they encountered the mines, and progress was slow. Schulemann carefully navigated his way through the cleared lines as above him, his new gunner chattered non-stop with the 20mm cannon. For now, the Achesian artillery remained, thank god, silent.

The Wankan assault involved the entirety of the 77th Gebirgsjägerregiment and the elite and ruthless Schwarze-Kavallerie-Leichtes-Regiment. The three maneuver battalions of the 77th were lined up as they approached the village, each with around five hundred men. The second battalion lead the way, followed by the two others which acted as fire support and reserve formations. The Second was also reinforced with the regiments light armor and anti-tank Wiesels which essentially, coupled with the light companies, acted as combined-arms formations. The entire formation was escorted by numerous batteries of Ozelots, which scanned the skies suspiciously for the enemy.

Further northeast, a flanking advance was undertaken by elements of the “Schwarkajäger” Regiment. The terrain was particularly rocky in this area and while it would provide lots of cover from direct fire, progress would be very slow, the use of vehicles was out of question, and they would be perfect targets for Achesian artillery. However, with the expectation that fighting on the main axis of advance might bog down in vicious fighting with the suspected 1,000+ Achesian defenders, General Schöner insisted on launching this flanking attack. And the troops could not have been better suited for this job; despite having just completed an arduous 25-kilometer trek through the bitter environment, the troops of the ultra party-loyal Schwarka Regiment did not utter a single word of complaint when told of their mission. They expertly navigated their way toward the village, with the hope of outflanking and chasing the Achesians out of Horb, and if possible, also capturing a significant portion of the enemy. Over four thousand troops in (unmarked) uniform would participate in the attack, which was personally overseen by the ”Edelweiss” commander, General der Gebirgstruppen Eduard W. Schöner, from a vantage point three dozen kilometers from the front line.

Day Three Troop Dispositions and Movement

Note: Some AAA units may be missing, and the attack on the bridge south of Wolfsbach has not been marked. Blue represents Wankan movements, Red Aemen movements.

by **Aemen** » Sat Jun 13, 2015 12:40 pm

Highway 69
Day 3, 0545 Hours

“Get your head down!” shouted a corporal at a group of conscripts as chaos began to unfold around them. The back of the 47th's convoy suddenly found itself thrust into the middle of the conflict as Wankan forces rained havoc on them from the mountainside. The first mortar shells began to pour down all around the formation, prompting APCs to scramble for cover whilst the soldiers on the ground were open to bullets flying at them from the high ridges. Whilst the Aemen troops tried to regain their bearings and focus on where their attackers' positions were, several mortar shells landed lucky hits on two APCs, blasting them into the air whilst subsequent anti-tank missiles sent their flaming husks smashing into the opposite side of the highway. The APCs and infantry soon began returning fire and peppered the mountainside with bullets, but the Wankans had a strategic advantage as the rocky ridges shielded them from Aemen fire. Without the support of the Usurper tanks who were tied up at the front of the convoy, it was a one way battle that could soon turn into a bloody massacre that would temporarily blunt the Aemen efforts to retake the Sellenland.

“Sir! Surprise attack at our flanks! The Wankans have set up position on the mountainside!” shouted one of the communications specialists manning a radio at Lieutenant Colonel Furst's camp. The entire area was buzzing with activity as the 47th came under massive fire, Furst's team struggled to deal with repeated inquiries from Bezuidenhout's headquarters in Reiterhof whilst assessing the situation at the front. “Please advise, sir!”

“Move the Harpies to support. Lock on to the mountainside and blast it to pieces if it must be done, just get the attention off of our flanks!” shouted Furst who was attempting to secure more aircraft from the airfield, his underlying accent beginning to show.

The squad of Harpy strike jets moved into action, forming up and soaring through the sky towards the rear of the convoy. On approach, they released their payloads and broke formation as their missiles slammed into the Wankan positions, raining down small rocks and bodies caught in the blast down onto the Aemen below before preparing to come about for another pass. Allowed a brief reprieve from the shower of bullets from above, the Aemen troops and surviving APCs turned their weapons on the soldiers that had made their way down the mountain for a better shot at their opponents, with the APC mounted turrets in particular making minced meat of many of the Wankans brave enough to venture close to the convoy. As the Wankans on the mountainside began to recover from the Harpy run, the jets themselves rallied around for another pass, determined to put a stop to the mortar crews that posed a threat to the 47th's vehicles.

At the front, things were a different story. The persistence of the fog seemed to have become a blessing for the advancing Usurper tanks as anti-tank missiles from the gunships danced erratically in all directions, some striking far off their target whilst others exploded just a few metres from their intended destinations. Behind the tanks, sprongs of infantry lined up, preparing to charge forward using the vanguard of Usurpers for cover. Some slung their rifles of their backs and opted to carry their Man-Operated Air-Defense weapons, or M-PADs, with the goal of shooting the gunships from the air once they inevitably became too much of a problem. The dilemma that the 47th faced was that they were woefully unprepared for what they were fighting; in a proper military campaign, the division would be supported properly from the air and coordinating with others to wage an all-out attack for total victory. It was the combination of assumptions, bad intelligence, surprise and uncooperative allies that had landed the 47th in a position where the Ministry of Initiative thought they would be all that was needed to retake the Sellenland.

The Usurpers rolled forward before they were opened up to an attack from all sides as the entrenched Wankan resistance unleashed a barrage of bullets and missiles. The Usurpers' pointed their battered barrels at the larger concentrations and clusters of Wankers, firing off their shells as the bodies of their enemies were launched into the air, limbs were lost and organs were splattered all over the cratered gravel road of Highway 69. It didn't seem to be any use, for every Wankan viscerally obliterated by the Usurper guns, they were replaced by the reserves massing behind the frontline, continuing the strain of heavy gunfire on the tanks and the troops they were protecting. The Aemen soldiers broke off, dashing to cover at the rocky side of the road and trying to draw the attention off the tanks by bunching up, letting loose their own layer of suppressive fire. The tactic appeared to be working; the Wankans couldn't hold the line despite the constant replenishment of their ranks and were reluctantly losing ground to the Aemen advance, who were spurred on by what looked like an oncoming victory. This wasn't to last.

Almost as if it were an omen from some divine power challenging King Reginald's claim to the region, a strong mountain wind picked up pace along the highway, carrying the fog that once shielded the Usurpers from the Wankan gunships further back down towards Reiterhof whilst the steadily rising morning sun began to break the protective natural cover apart. Without the fog, the Usurpers were open to aerial attacks and Aemen soldiers scrambled to switch to their M-PAD rocket launchers, already under incredible strain trying to maintain their fragile advantage on the ground.

by **Murovanka** » Wed Jun 17, 2015 6:41 am

Brenzlau, Sellenland
Day 3, ca. 23:00 Hours

Franz von Heidlberg, self-proclaimed Chancellor of the Free State of Sellenland, looked anxiously at his watch as he quietly opened the back door of his mansion, walking briskly toward the fence which protected the mansion from wild animals from the forest. A section of the fence was cut through, something he’d himself done away from the watchful eyes of the Geheimpolizei (colloquially Gepo) officers, the Wankan secret police, who maintained a small presence at his home, claiming to provide protection from foreign enemies. However, it was soon clear to him that they were only stationed to watch him, and make sure that he stayed in line. Particularly after he’d expressed his opinion, or rather distaste, at the future plans for the Sellenland- the Wankanization of the territory and the planned unconstrained exploitation of the lands resources.

He took a deep breath. Für Heinrich, the Sellenwankan activist and one of his longest and closest friends, brutally murdered by Meinhof and her cronies as part of her ruthless plan to incite hatred amongst the Aemen and Sellenwankers, who had up to now had actually been getting along pretty well, just to get her hands on the black treasures which lay beneath these sacred mountains. Alles wird wieder gut.

The 60-year old carefully slipped out of the fence, and, with only his briefcase with him, walked into the forest. Almost immediately, a loud bark shocked the old man, who nearly fell over and took a few seconds to collect his wits. Shining his torch to his left, he saw a small dog- nothing threatening, yet. Unfortunately, the dog insisted on yapping around, making enough noise to alert the Gepo guards at the gate, who instantly ran toward the house to check on Heidlberg. Heidlberg hissed at the dog, who soon lost interest, retreating back into the forest. With that, Heidlberg began to run as fast as his frail body allowed him to. He crossed through the forest, arriving at an unpaved side-road where, as expected, a black VW was waiting. The window was scrolled down; a face, hidden in the dark, appeared.

”Franz grüsst Franz. Die Heiden sind wieder im Anmarsch, wie?” The face asked. The question was as correct, and Heidlberg answered cautiously, ”Die Ampel ist grün.”

The backdoor opened, and Heidlberg entered the car. Sitting next to him was a man in a black leather jacket. He wore sunglasses, although he had no reason to do so, in this darkness. A tattoo of some kind of poisonous snake ran down his neck, and as he lifted one hand, he could see that a finger, the index finger on the left hand, was missing. There was also a noticeable bulge in his jacket; Heidlberg feared the worst. What had the Admiral set him up for?

Nevertheless, there was no turning back. The car sped off into the night, or more precisely, down Bregenzer-Road. The car was stopped at the Wanko-Aemen border, where a wary Wankan soldier came to inspect the car. But the VW-driver would have none of that, waving his ID angrily at the soldier. Surprised, the private quickly apologized, wishing the Herrn Gepo-Sonderführer a good trip back home. With that, Heidlberg found himself inside the People’s Republic of Wanka.

The soldier at the checkpoint, however, almost immediately got a call from the Gepo-headquarters in the Ellenburg. The officer explained that none other than Franz von Heidlberg had been discovered missing at his mansion, and that it could not be ruled out that the chancellor had been kidnapped, or was attempting to flee. Had anyone unusual crossed the border? The soldier answered that except for a Gepo Sonderführer, there wasn’t much else worth noting. At the other end of the line, the officer quickly conversed in hushed tones with his subordinates- a separate call was made, before the officer returned to the soldier, clearly agitated, wanting to know all about the Gepo Sonderführer who had just crossed the border. The soldier gave him all he remembered- a black VW, a bald, punklike man in the back sitting next to an old man. The license plate was Wankan in origin, the car itself being registered in Schwaben. The nervous Gepo-officer thanked him, ordering the soldier to pull aside and inform the Gepo-HQ of any other suspicious persons attempting to cross the border, before hanging up.

The officer would soon regret giving that order, because the soldiers at the checkpoint soon duly stopped the pair of Gepo cars dispatched to chase Heidlberg. The confrontation escalated, with the (this time) real Gepo-officers ordering the soldier to let them through, while the soldiers ordered them to pull aside as one of them went to phone the Gepo-HQ. In the meantime, however, one of the Gepo-men suddenly suffered from a drop in cognitive ability, throwing all he knew about protocol and firearms safety, and pulled out his revolver, waving it frustratedly at the soldiers. These responded by pointing their assault rifles and a machine-gun at the men. An deadly incident was avoided when the flabbergasted officer at the HQ told the troops at the checkpoint to let them through.

But the Geheimpolizei was lucky. One of the dozen Gepo-cars that had been rapidly mobilized for the search spotted Heidlberg’s VW, despite the darkness, on the A33. It began to trail Heidlberg’s VW from a distance.

The two men didn’t speak, and soon an hour passed. Heidlberg got used to the strangely calming silence as he settled back, admiring the peaceful Wankan countryside which was partly lit up due to the numerous cities and townships located nearby. The highway they were traveling on, in the direction of the predominantly Swabian city of Osnabrügg, was eerily quiet. Another black VW drove at a steady speed way ahead of them, and two minivans, with markings indicating that they belonged to some fashion retailer, trundled on behind them.

Behind the two minivans, however, a grey Benz sped along, covered by the two vehicles in front. The radio crackled. “Achtung, Streife-Führer, roadblock has been set up by the next exit, thirty kilometers in front of you.”

Both men inside, armed Gepo-officers, kept an eye on the black VW that was driving at near constant speed on the fast, right-most lane. After ten minutes, two more grey Benz cars had pulled up behind them, and on the order of the Gepo-leader in the lead car, they switched lane and stepped hard on the accelerator. The officers riding shotgun pulled out and checked their Glock pistols. The area was known to be frequented by gangsters of the Bairische Bruderschaft, the biggest and most infamous mafia organization in the Wankan south that was responsible for the most police deaths every year, for four years straight.

With their powerful engines, the Benz trio soon caught up with the VW. The lead car sped ahead, to sandwich the black VW, with their target inside, between them.

But the officer riding shotgun in the lead car noticed, to his complete surprise, that one of the minivans had pulled up by their side, merely five meters apart. The sliding door slid open rapidly.

Heidlberg had watched, with some alarm, at how the two men became increasingly nervous. The driver kept muttering some inaudible gibberish as the man with the missing finger repeatedly looked behind him. Nevertheless, the sudden burst of automatic gunfire took him completely by surprise. As he looked through the back window, he saw what was going on. The two minivans had lined themselves side-by-side with the Gepo cars, with a tongue of fire sticking out of their side doors. The windows of the lead car were quickly splattered with blood, and the car veered off-road and smashed into a barrier. The second Benz, its front engine block shot-up, pulled back, along with the third car. The two Gepo vehicles quickly disappeared from view. Heidlberg exhaled deeply, pressing his trembling fingers together, uttering a silent prayer for the law enforcement officials in the lead car (not that he was deeply religious). But there was a new problem, the tattooed man next to him suddenly said. A roadblock had been discovered up ahead, and they would need to transfer Heidlberg to another car. The VW stopped, and Heidlberg nervously stepped out. Behind them, the two minivans had come to a halt too, with rifle-wielding men piling out the back, setting up their own provisional roadblock. Several minutes later, a police car shot into view screeching to a halt in front of the stunned Heidlberg.

”Han’ se koi Angscht, they are with us,” the tattooed man said with a strong southern accent, shoving Heidlberg into the police car. “Time’s tight, the Gepo is closing in. Hurry!” he said to the police officer in front, who seemed, and as it turned out was, absolutely genuine.

This time, the two minivans took the lead, going straight for the roadblock, where they slowed down. Being informed of the shooting earlier, the police detachment had been reinforced by heavily armed emergency-response units. As the vans stopped, the officers surged forward, surrounding the vehicles and ripping the doors open. The driver was bundled out of the cabin, as the police, on the count of three, broke the rear doors open- to find stacks of neatly-piled cardboard boxes filled to the brim with garments of all types.

Simultaneously, a police car arrived at the roadblock. Two officers approached it, with one cheerfully greeting the police officer driving the car. They knew each other.

”Was isch denn da los?” the driver asked.

“Brotherhood shot-up a coupla Gepo men. Apparently- by the looks of it, they’ve managed to dupe us once again. Don’t know how they convinced us that these innocent guys killed two of their operatives. Grüss Gott, who is your passenger today?”

“My uncle, in fact, I’m bringing him to Osnabrück to see my kids. Loyal fighter for the Zentrum movement since it popped into play.”

“Na, viel Spass. Just stay clear of the Brotherhood thugs, I’m sure you know all about them. Schöne Dag no’!”

And that was that, they were through the roadblock. As the police officer at the roadblock watched the car leave, something hit him. Kids? Since when did Jürgen, the police officer on the wheel, have kids? They did not know each other very well, but he could clearly remember that a) Jürgen was single and b) that he did mention before that he wanted to start a family, but didn’t have the money to do so…

At the Geheimpolizei headquarters in Kronstadt, director Laurent Blank swore loudly for everyone to hear. Heidlberg, that bloody old spy- or whatever he was- had managed to slip through without any problems and was heading deeper into mafia-held territory. Whatever Heidlberg was up to, it was definitely not good and he had a hunch that Heidlberg was setting out to help the enemy. For now, it was imperative that Heidlberg was either captured, or if that was not possible, killed. Meinhof had already expressed her displeasure at Heidlbergs opposition to her plans for the Sellenland. There would be no harm done if he was gone.

After receiving the information about the police car Heidlberg was traveling in, Blank had the details quickly forwarded to his teams on the ground. The Osnabrügg police force was out in force and alerted, but Blank couldn’t trust them. Many lower-ranked police officers were known to be in the pay of the Brotherhood, and some of the top officers were not to be relied on, either. Corruption was still rampant, and one thing that Meinhof was still struggling to get rid of, after more than a decade. No, he would have to rely on his heavily armed hit squads who were converging on Osnabrügg in armored vans.

Leutnant Andras Aragorn peered over the shoulders of the driver of his van. In the back sat six heavily armed men and women, all in their full assault gear. With their black helmets, which seemingly came straight out of the Star Wars movie, along with their bulky bulletproof vests and assault rifles, they truly looked scary- and slightly ridiculous, in his opinion. What had the Wankan state come to, that to hunt a sixty year old man, it needed to deploy fully equipped soldiers who’d trained to fight for war?

Still, a mission was a mission. The van accelerated as it arrived a at a straight; ahead of them drove the target police car, which had been quickly identified. With no idea with the degree of protection it was traveling under, Aragorn planned to have it surrounded, then assaulted in a more open area. They had arrived in the suburbs of Osnabrügg, and he was sure that a suitable chance would pop up. For now, they would stay incognito and unknowingly to Heidlberg and his protectors, who were probably the Brotherhood itself, and surround him.

“Yeah, they’re likely some of those Gepo bastards. Let’s stop them… here.” With a nod, his passenger opened the back window of the battered pick-up truck, which had cut in front of Aragorn’s van, and pulled the trigger of his 9mm pistol. The bullet impacted onto the bulletproof glass of the van, which veered off to the side. Screams erupted from the sidewalks as bystanders ran for cover. The Wankan commoner in this area was not unfamiliar to deadly gunfights between rival gangs and at times, police.

In the pick-up, one Brotherhood thug nodded to the other. “You were right, it’s them.”

In the Gepo-van, Aragorn cursed loudly, opening the back door of the van and peering out. Several houses lined the road on the right side. The second Gepo-van had stopped after the shooting, too. A second bullet impacted the van. “Let’s finish these bastards first. Group-Zwo, go ahead and get Heidlberg without us!” Aragorn ordered. From the houses, to their right, small-arms fire suddenly erupted, with bullets ricocheting off the armor of the van. One of his men, having dismounted from the van, was hit in the chest, presumably by a pistol round, and fell. Aragorn pulled the officer into cover behind the van.

”ALLE RA-A-AUS!”

Only too late did he realize that they’d run into a well-prepared ambush. As the troops piled out of the armored vans, they came under heavy, concentrated small arms fire from the houses to the right. The Brotherhood gang members were using a wide array of weapons, many of them still originating from the Dark Ages. None of which, thankfully for the Gepo officers, could penetrate the steel armor of their minivans. That wasn’t helped by the fact that that remained their only cover, and that they were pinned behind it. Aragorn lifted his G-74 and its attached grenade launcher, stepped out of the cover and sent a grenade flying into a second-floor window, killing two armed men behind it. On both sides of the van, his troops took turns in returning fire to the enemy. Several meters behind, the six troops of the second van were doing the same. With both of the minivans disabled, with their tyres shot-up, Aragorn knew he had to move out of their precarious situation, lest the run out of ammunition and get overrun. Help was on its way, in the form of the local police, but as with the rest of the Geheimpolizei, the Abwehr, and Wankan society in general, he didn’t trust them at all. Most of them had little training in these civil-war-like scenarios and would probably not advance into the warzone which had just developed. Several of his troops had been hit, but they bullets could do no damage against the heavy body armor his men were wearing. He gestured wildly to the leader of the second van.

”GIBT UNS DECKUNG! DE-CKUNG GEEBEN!”

The other Feldwebel seemed to have understood. He and another man readied themselves as behind them, the six soldiers prepared to unleash a barrage of fire. Seconds later, they did so, and Aragorn and his subordinate rushed out, heading to the nearest house across the road. A bullet strafed the back of his head, drawing blood. But eventually, they made it, crashing through a half-destroyed door and entering the house. Where they found themselves face-to-face with a giant of a thug wielding an assault rifle. Aragorn hurled himself at the man, and both men began fighting a vicious hand-to-hand battle. His partner, meanwhile, fired at the staircase, dropping a man who was descending it, pistol in hand. There was likely another enemy in the house; leaving Aragorn to fight his own battle, the Gepo soldier carefully ascended the stairs. Gunfire exploded close to him. He threw a grenade into the room, which exploded with deafening noise. As he entered, a man was lying on the ground, writhing in pain- and a pool of blood. His life was ended by a quick double-tap to the back of his head. He returned downstairs, where a bloody Aragorn, with the help of two other troops, had managed to strangle the monster.

Whilst the Gepo hit-squads and virtually the entire Osnabrügg police was tied down fighting a massive battle in the suburbs of the city, Heidlberg easily made it through the city itself, arriving at the Weser an unharmed old man. He quickly blended in with the crowd, and bought a ticket on a small passenger ship which travelled between Wanka and Vyssian Chapel. He got through with the help of a fake passport supplied to him by the Admiral, and, several hours after his escape from Brenzlau, was well on his way into neutral territory. Osnabrügg would eventually be put under martial law for two days, with the army itself being ordered to march in to establish order- to little effect, as the Bairische Bruderschaft had disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. It had suffered considerably, manpower-wise, but it had proven to be an ideal time to allow its lesser disciplined men to vent their frustration at the notorious Geheimpolizei. Only the leader of the massive organized-crime syndicate herself, who had organized the entire thing, knew of the real reason for the operation.

***

Nürnberg
Max-Bonhöffer-Streitkräfte-Kommandozentrale Nürnberg
Day 4, 1400 Hours

Frau Kanzlerin Doktor Ulrike Meinhof,
With your decision to invade the Sellenland and wage a secret war against the Aemen people, you have created a deep and deadly divide between Wankers and Aemen and have created wounds that will not heal in the near future, in addition to setting the stage for many future conflicts in the region to come. The worst of all, however, is the fact that you murdered your own, incidentally, one of my oldest friends to fit your imperialist mission and to create gaps between two peoples which have not existed before. The Sellenland belongs to neither Wanka nor Aemen; the Sellenland belongs to the people who live there, whose blood and soil are connected since the arrival of its first settlers, the first people who began to cultivate and lovingly take care of the lands.

You have left me no choice but to act. Whilst I do not feel positively about potentially assisting the Kingdom, the alternative- central Wankan domination- is worse, as you have displayed in our recent meetings. Both Wankers and Aemen are home to these sacred mountains, and we will not tolerate the destruction of our homes and environment to feed the wallets of a corrupted Wankan elite.

With the help of several rational-thinking, like-minded people, of whom there are not few in your government, I have collected an, as you will soon discover, for you unpleasant amount of documents whose publishing will not only reveal the Volksrepublik’s intentions and degree of involvement, but will also give a clear casus belli for the AAA and the Septentrion League against Wanka. Attached to the letter is a copy of the Sellenlandkorps Schlachtordnung 4. Mai, which is just one of the numerous documents which reside safely in my hands.

You have precisely seventy-two hours from the moment you receive this letter to withdraw all Streitkräfte der Volksrepublik personnel from the Sellenland. If this is not done, I will release one document, and then a document every following twenty-four hours that the condition is not met, with increasing incrimination. It is up to you to ensure that as long as I live, none of your soldiers set foot on our territory.

Signed,
Franz von Heidlberg

“The situation on the southern front has stabilized,” Generalfeldmarschall Ludwig von der Leijen, CINC-Sellenland, said, “after the successful but costly capture of Horb, we have forced the Achesians into the defensive. They are dug in around Point Kessel, right here,” With a laser pointer, he circled the area on the map, “and take to shelling our positions every now and then. Along the entire frontline, the 76th and 77th are occasionally skirmishing with Achesian patrols, but no significant effort has been made yet to cut our lines of supply.”

“On the northern front, along Highway 69, we are in a more difficult situation, as I understand from General Galen. Our Panzer spearheads are currently engaged in combat around forty kilometers from this bridge here, north of Aachen. However, the small avalanche near Ellenburg yesterday has complicated our logistical situation somewhat. Herr General, could you elaborate on the situation?” He said, looking at the commander of the 7th Füsiliers.

The young General der Panzertruppe cleared his throat, looking at his report. “Contrary to our expectation yesterday morning, the Aemen conscripts have proven exceedingly stubborn and capable despite the weather conditions. As we counterattacked, we faced difficulty with the fog, which negated our air support, and the Aemen commanders decided to stand and fight. I’ve been down at the battlefield, where our Gepards can be found often not more than several meters away from destroyed Aemen Usurpers.” He flipped a page, before continuing. “Eventually, the flanking assault by General Schöner’s 75th proved effective, as with the seizure of the bridge by the SEKS. By the afternoon, the fog had cleared, and our choppers managed to do some significant damage to the Aemen armor. But overall, we have suffered extremely high casualties. As of early this morning, I have altogether fifty-six Gepards destroyed beyond repair along with around a hundred other armored vehicles out of action. Most of the lost vehicles belonged to the attached Panzer-battalion, which has been completely obliterated in the fighting. This, in addition to around a thousand five-hundred troops killed, missing or wounded; I expect this number to rise in the coming hours.”

Around the table, several ministers gasped audibly at hearing the last sentence. Up to now, most of the casualties had been SOAB men, and they were regarded as expendable. Well, so were the soldiers of the Wankan armed forces, but they were… less expendable, so to say. Even Meinhof, known for her coldness in these situations, looked visibly worried. The only ones whose expression didn’t change were the men and women of the Generality, who had expected as much- and worse.

“The avalanche yesterday at Ellenburg has forced our logistical system to temporarily take a large detour until the road is cleared again. This has clogged up the Tal Street, as it is primarily used to supply the Schöner’s Edelweiss-Division. This, coupled with the casualties, and air attacks on our supply system makes a further drive to Reiterhof currently completely out of question.”

Von der Leijen frowned inwardly at the young generals bluntness, although he knew that what was said was accurate. Galen was a military commander after all; he had yet to learn how to be a politician at the same time. Surprisingly, however, the room seemed to have accepted that. Admiral Lanzer, the head of the navy (who had spent the past days preparing his ill-equipped force to assault the AAA navies), asked- “And the AAA situation? Would they be in a bad-enough situation to accept a ceasefire agreement, as Admiral Kanaris proposed?”

Von der Leijen replied to that. “Both Aemen and Achesia are on the defensive on both fronts, and their morale is badly shaken. Casualties- I don’t have exact numbers- are pretty high on the Aemen side, lower on the Achesian side. Nevertheless, yes, especially if we take the bridge, we will be negotiating from a position of strength. However, I must warn that such a ceasefire will probably not lead to a lasting peace treaty and will be only temporary; the AAA will use the time to reinforce their positions and prepare for a better-coordinated assault. We took them by surprise this time, and leadership and weather have favored us this time, but the next time it will be different.”

“As long as it gives us enough time to pull out our troops, set up the Sellenland state and rapidly ready their own armed forces, with our assistance of course. It’ll also buy us time- hopefully enough time to eliminate this traitorous Heidlberg. Admiral Kanaris, how is the progress on that from your side?”

Kanaris, who had actually organized the defection of Heidlberg and had provided him with the sensitive documents, fought hard to keep a straight face. It was a dangerous game- a very deadly game indeed, where all sides seemed to double-cross another. But he had played this game for over two decades, and he knew how to keep his facial expressions in check.

“Vyssian Chapel is a big place, and our assets there are severely limited and lacking… Heidlberg probably knew that in the first place, which was why that location was chosen.” He said, choosing his words carefully. “The Abwehr will need some luck to be able to catch him, and then we will have to proceed carefully to avoid getting caught by safeguards which Heidlberg has set up. All things considered, eliminating the problem will require a substantial amount of time and resources and is currently unfeasible in the short term.” In other words, impossible.

Meinhof nodded gravely at that, turning to the rest of the table. “So, dear friends, this is what will happen. Once we take this bridge Vonderlein has been speaking of, we will send a generous ceasefire agreement to the AAA. This will allow us to bow to Heidlberg’s demands and pull our troops out. At the same time, we’ll rapidly build up a Sellenwankan state and a strong volunteer force, supplied and dependent on us, but with greater freedoms which Heidlberg will have to accept. And once the Heidlberg problem is gone, we will increase our hold on the region and proceed on our plan to exploit the areas resources. Does anyone have any objections?”

Der Stürmer- English Edition
7th May 2015

Aemen and Sellenland sign Ceasefire Agreement

ELLENBURG- After five days of bitter fighting between Aemen and the Sellenland insurgents, a ceasefire plan, proposed by Wanka acting as mediator, has been signed by both the Kingdom and the self-proclaimed Free State of Sellenland. This followed the successful counter-attack on the strategic Highway 69 by the Sellenwanker militia (SOAB) who captured the vital Hanessa-bridge yesterday evening.

The ceasefire plan came into effect this afternoon at 2pm. Both sides agreed to cease offensive operations and move behind the temporary ceasefire lines, which run in a north-south direction from the Hanessa-bridge, down through the village of Aalen to the Wankan border. The Sellenwankers, who had made significant gains over the past two days ceded control of the villages of Horb and Terinberg, as a condition for the acceptance of the ceasefire by the Aemen Kingdom. Heavy weaponry would be pulled from the frontlines, and the agreement outlined the plan for the settlement of a permanent peace treaty. Sporadic fighting continued until four o’clock in the afternoon, after which most of the fighting died down and the SOAB pulled its troops behind the ceasefire lines. An exchange of prisoners has also been arranged for the coming week.

It remains to be seen as to how effective the ceasefire agreement will be, and experts say that conflict may soon resume. In an interview, Dr. Paul Schneider of the Strategische Forschungsanstalt (Institute for Strategic Studies) said: “Only time will tell whether this peace will last. Conflict may be resumed by both sides, with hardline Sellenwankers demanding that the entire Sellenland, including Horb, Morsel and Reiterhof, be included in the new Sellenland state, not only because they are inhabited by Wankers but also because by having control of Reiterhof, launching an effort to reoccupy the Sellenland will prove immensely difficult for Aemen. On the other hand, Aemen still has not directly recognized the Sellenland state, and the humiliation alone would be enough for them to resume hostilities. While Aemen has suffered several military setbacks in recent days, it still has the capability, and the support of its citizens, to wage another protracted war.”

The Long Way Down | Closed

Wrote this a while ago, finally get to post it

oh wow there are more

Day One Ends

Operation: Bad Idea

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