To Die Is Because Of You (MT|IC|GD/Invite Only)

[Palmyrion]

Slavery. The 7-letter word that invokes in many Palmyrians young and old a flashback of horrible memories. First, it would be warring tribes, and the winning tribe, enslaving all minority tribes, but eventually emancipating them. Second, under the Spaniards, who turned Palmyrion into their foreign cash crop farm. Third, under the communist rule, under the guise of a “new Palmyrion”. Now, Palmyrion braces for a new war against slavery, one that they would have to fight anywhere, anytime, no matter the slaver’s face.

The massive increase in funding for the military and the near-abandonment of reconstruction operations is quite alarming. Palmyrian soldiers are stacking up by the southern front. Fighting has become more intense along the outskirts of the southern front’s cities. Soldiers and citizens alike live in fear as the cacophonous orchestra of war plays nearby-soldiers pray that they won’t be in the way of the bullet, or not fall as prisoner, and the citizens are most affected; while the soldiers are friendly, they live in fear not of the soldiers, but of the impending war, as mechanized patrols trudged down roads with hundreds of onlookers gazing at war in motion among the peace; mothers and fathers pray that their sons and daughters will survive the war, siblings pray that their fellow siblings live, and children cry at night in fear of their parents dying, those suffering from fear of loss becoming unable to be consoled even by God, and all in all driven to insanity, thinking that their loved ones have fallen.

This war of slavery may not end. Anytime, anywhere, no matter the slaver’s face, Palmyrion readies to fight.

Sometimes, that anywhere is at your backyard, that anytime would be in a moment’s notice, the conscription order declared at an impolite time, and that face would be your brother’s, your relative in nationhood. The Palmyrian Army stacks up troops at what could be the southern front of the war, and the Palmyrian Marine Corps is stacking up troops at the nearest territory of the United Federation, the Protectorate of Antique. So far, fighting has intensified, from regular ambushes and short skirmishes to pitched battles and long firefights. As Palmyrion makes her ultimate sacrifice, the lives of millions of young yet burly men, some as young as 18, will she live through the war? Who will live to see the light of peace? And, for those who have seen the light of peace, will they revere in memory those who were devoured by the darkness of the night of war?

---

Outskirts of the city of Liganes, Province of Negros Norte
Sgt. Laika T. Profisky, 8th Armored Division
14:14 PST (DMT-8)

The outskirts of the city of Liganes was quite a chaotic place, a bullet haven where angels and demons alike fall, where even Death is afraid to wade in the crossfire, with no choice but to leave the souls writhing in pain, trapped inside the now-dead vessels of flesh that contain them. Bullets criss-crossed the fields, without a mind of their own, mindlessly striking what they were meant to kill: whoever is at the business end of a gun.

“Target, 400 meters, ala una!” Sgt. Profisky loudly said as she tried to let her voice heard through the PA system of the squad, amidst the loud firefight that was happening between the slavers and the Palmyrian soldiers. “PCAS, Sarhento Profisky, do you copy, over?” she said as explosions razed the battlefield around her, and a tank, an M211M2, fired its main gun, the dust thrown by its raging muzzle burying those around it with dust. “Profisky, White Eagle copies all, standing by at map Grid Delta Bravo 0 3 9 7 at Angels Five, one klick southwest of your position, go ahead, over.” The pilot of an A-20 radioed back as it circled the area. “Target number Papa India Alpha 6 7 9 3, map Grid Delta Echo 0 4 5 3, 400 meters northeast, one o’clock of our position, enemy consisting of a mechanized platoon with three BTR’s, fire for effect, danger close, over.” She radioed back as a soldier was being dragged to a nearby medical bay for a shot on his left chest. “Solid copy, going for danger close mission at Angels One, airspeed Mach Oh Point Nine, guns guns guns, verify effect on target.” The pilot finished his transmission and swooped down on the enemy with full force.

The target was in the pilot’s sights: a neatly-arranged firing position with hastily built-up cover positions, a few small tents at a nearby rice paddy, and three BTR’s firing in sync, with some soldiers rushing to their cover positions. The pilot gave one smirk as he opened fire on the column of infantry, his 30mm minigun firing almost 6,000 rounds per minute, the armor-piercing high-explosive rounds ripping the BTR’s into shreds and killing any infantry exposed to the explosion radius and shrapnel cloud. “Guns guns guns” the pilot radioed with a smirk, a sadistic smile on his face, as if he was happy about reducing that platoon to shreds. “Profisky, White Eagle, verify effect on target.” “Good effect on target, thanks.”

Sgt. Profisky soon radioed back to HQ that they were ready to advance to their next checkpoint, where they would set up their staging grounds for an assault on a city. “HQ, Profisky, enemy is neutralized, we’re en route to staging ground." she radioed back to HQ as soldiers got ready to move towards the staging point at which the entire division was to make their first move into enemy-held territory. "Roger that, solid copy." "We request immediate CASEVAC, how copy, over?" she radioed as four casualties-three wounded, one dead in an olive green bodybag-were readied for eventual evacuation. "CASEVAC is available, send traffic over." HQ radioed back with an affirmative response; without wasting time, Profisky soon radioed in the details of the casualties. "We have four casualties, three wounded and one dead. Markings are red flares arranged in a cross formation. Do you copy?" "Solid copy, CASEVAC birds are en route, ETA five mikes." "Roger that. Profisky out." she finished the conversation as she returned the radio telephone back to a radio telephone operator.

[Palmyrion]

Fort Castaneda, Protectorate of Antique
United Federation of Palmyrion
12 July 2016, 1600 HRS (DMT-8)
NAVSOG

Fort Castaneda was filled with more marines than they could previously count; the fort’s seaport was filled with entire expeditionary strike groups, each consisting of 3 LHD’s, a cruiser, two destroyers, and a frigate, and the usual carrier strike armadas, with an entire fleet parked in the fort’s seaport; marines were quite a ubiquitous sight; the populace, the tourists especially, thought what benefit this war could bring them, living in a mixture of fear and courage as mechanized patrols were highly ubiquitous along the streets of the Protectorate of Antique, the intimidating bulk of the armored fighting vehicles going alongside the cars that zipped along the roads of the island.

Task Force 41 was put on hold for some time due to the controversial Pyrrhic victories that it had scored; SOCOM gave up on them, saying that they must keep their remaining few alive, because SOCOM won’t be giving more soldiers to sacrifice in the meat grinder that was the northern Palmyrian genocide and slavery hellhole of the Ultranationalist Army of Palmyrion. That would mean all of TF 41’s operators were RTU’d to their units-NAVSOG, Scout Rangers, Asymmetrical Warfare Detachments, Special Airborne Service, Army Special Forces, Marine Special Operations Command, etc.-and they would have to run missions on their own. The status of TF 41: Disavowed.

Meanwhile the navy was put in jeopardy because of the enemy’s anti-ship missile systems that prevented them from ever going near the coasts in fear of getting struck by them-such engagements were not all too uncommon, and when the navy tried executing counterstrikes against them, the emplacements, mobile as they were, were long gone, or, due to the presence of enemy anti-aircraft systems, were shot down. Special forces units were dispatched to locate as many of these installations as possible. Now, such installations were to be eliminated.

“These anti-ship emplacements have been jeopardizing our naval assets for as long as they have been here.” Captain Gozum (Matrix) said as she briefed the soldiers of her NAVSOG squad – SGM Jehiel Malan (Helix), Sgt. Elizabeth Profisky (Carat), Cpl. Harold Legaspi (Junker), PFC Charles Cardinal (Warden), Pvt. Gracemaria Valzado (Scorpio), PFC Karen Amaral (Meteor),Pvt. Marius de Castro (Pointman), and Cpl. Adele Magsipoc (Cassius) – on their next mission. “This is one of our concerned anti-ship emplacement that we have to eliminate, alongside other units. It’s an Exocet emplacement which can strike to 100 km beyond the shore, and is jeopardizing the navy as it cannot get its guns into range. If the anti-ship threat still exists the marines won’t have any naval fire support and will be jeopardized in their landings, so we have to take as many of these anti-ship emplacements as possible. We will be working with the Special Airborne Service and Army SODA (Special Operations Detachment-Alpha). Good luck, and Godspeed. We will be going to our assigned SDV’s within the next three hours. Dismissed” she said as everyone went to their barracks and readied their weaponry.

---

Province of Baler, United Federation of Palmyrion
12 June 2016, 1900 HRS (DMT-8)
NAVSOG

Alpha Squad (Asker)

• Asker Zero
  
  • SGM Jehiel Malan (Helix) (Asker Zero-Six)
  • Cpl. Adele Magsipoc (Cassius) (Asker Zero-One)
  • PFC Charles Cardinal (Warden) (Asker Zero-Two)
  • Pvt. Gracemaria Valzado (Scorpio) (Asker Zero-Three)
• Asker One
  
  • Sgt. Elizabeth Aragon (Carat) (Asker One-Six)
  • Cpl. Harold Legaspi (Junker) (Asker One-One)
  • PFC Karen Amaral (Meteor) (Asker One-Two)
  • Pvt. Marius de Castro (Pointman) (Asker One-Three)

It was quite a stormy night; frogs croaked loudly and frequently as they signaled the incoming storm that would douse the entire northern and central Palmyrion with heavy rains. A frog looked on to the ground that for him looked like a man of the province looking at the Capital District’s grandiose buildings and large surroundings; it was as if the trees were the tallest buildings he’d seen, the ferns already 10 stories high, and the ground as if it was the congested roads of the Capital District. The frog croaked for three more times while looking around at its surroundings and occasionally jumping. The moment it heard mud being squished at a regular pace, much like the mud it had heard before which spoke of incoming danger (could be hunters with almost nothing but frogs to eat), the frog soon leapt back into the safety of the thicker vegetation. It looked at the mud as it was trampled by a boot, the camouflage pattern being quite familiar (MultiCam) for the frog.

“Control, this is Asker Zero-Six, we are Oscar Mike to the rendezvous point.” Helix radioed as he rushed through the pathway with an M24 assault rifle aimed forward, his feet frantically rushing for his objective while the rest followed him-but they weren’t in single file, they were in an arrowhead formation approaching their target. “Copy that, Asker Zero-Six, Asker One is Oscar Mike to the rendezvous point. Watch your three.” “Patch me through control.” He was soon greeted by the voice of a woman at the other side of the line just almost 2 seconds after he requested to be patched through to Asker Zero-One. “Zero-Six, this is Zero-One, what’s your SITREP, over?” “We are Oscar Mike to the rendezvous point.” Helix soon put the conversation on hold as he saw a target of opportunity-an armed patrol, consisting of five soldiers with a German shepherd. “Contact. I’m seeing a target of opportunity. Five men, automatic rifles, frag grenades, one German shepherd.” “Dogs. I hate dogs.” Carat replied. “These dogs are pussycats to Lyran Battlehounds, requesting permission to engage, over.” “Askers Zero and One, from this point on, you are all cleared to engage at will targets of opportunity.” “Copy that. Let’s get into position and frag these boys.”

“Take up firing positions and fire on my mark.” Helix placed the reticle of his ACOG scope on the torso of a target after commanding his soldiers to take up firing positions. “Three. Two. One. Mark.” The soldiers fired upon the enemy patrol, killing it in mere seconds. “Five tangos and one German shepherd down. We’re moving.” They moved towards the objective-an anti-ship missile emplacement, ironically lightly guarded; this one was one of the mobile anti-ship missile emplacements that previous reconnaissance revealed, and was threatening the naval assets of the United Federation. “Asker One-Six, this is Zero-Six, what is your position?” asked Helix as he looked at a battery, consisting of almost 4 launchers, guarded by three BTR-80’s and almost 30 soldiers. “Zero Six, this is One Six, we have visual of a battery 500 meters 11 o’ clock to our north, consisting of 4 launchers and guarded by three Bravo Tango Romeos.” “Roger that. We’re looking at the same target. Control, what about the others?” Helix radioed as he commanded his troops to take up firing positions, signaling an anti-armor team to fire at the BTRs at his command. “Other units are proceeding taking out their respective target batteries.” “Control, do we have permission to engage our target?” Helix asked as he commanded his team to approach the battery to a distance of 300 meters between them and the nearest target. “Askers Zero and One, you are cleared to engage target at will.”

“One Six, this is Zero Six, we are cleared to engage.” Radioed Helix as his team closed in slowly but surely. “Roger that. Sniper teams and anti-tank teams, do the first strike!” Carat replied back as the team’s machine gunner started firing his machine gun, and the soldiers advanced under heavy fire support. The anti-tank teams of the squad destroyed the BTR’s-the targets were quite easy...owing to the fact that the BTR’s never had any form of active protection system with which they could fight off an ATGM or two. “Clear shot boy.” A sniper said as he pulled the trigger of his Cheyenne Tactical M200 sniper rifle, successfully killing a target from a distance of 1,200 meters. “Tango down, boy.” “Machine gunners, keep up the fire on the defenders! We need them suppressed as we try to advance to papa bravo range!” Helix commanded as his squad moved up with support of heavy suppressing fire. Helix looked through his scope as an exposed enemy fired at him from beside an anti-ship missile launcher, a large one at least, with the exposed enemy being treated to two shots at the body and a headshot. “We need to eliminate all defenders around the battery! When we get to the battery, we must destroy those launchers with our C4’s and wait for the scrapper boys to salvage any documents!“ he radioed as the entire squad engaged with the 30 soldiers that were hopelessly being massacred from point-blank range. “RPG!” Warden shouted as he shot the rebel holding the RPG-but he was too late, since the man fired the RPG as his location. Luckily someone shot the rebel (it was Carat), but the RPG struck the position of Warden, killing him in the process with a hail of shrapnel and a loud explosion. “Warden is down, I repeat, Warden is down!!”

---

Province of Abra Oriental, United Federation of Palmyrion
United Federation of Palmyrion
12 July 2016, 0730 HRS (DMT -8)

There were two cages filled with men and women-prisoners of a war long raging since 1996. The Ultranationalist Army of Palmyrion was at its usual antics again, executing foreigners like Marshites. Especially Marshites, who would be subjected to the harshest of conditions while they were being gruesomely executed by the Ultranationalists, the Ultranationalists considering it as “the ultimate penance for their degeneracy”. The foreigners were killed almost outright in these filmed killings-but a local Nihonese clan’s members would usually get some of the worst treatment…now that the clan was actively fighting the Ultranationalists in a protracted guerrilla war.

“Camera set.” The cameraman said as the first of the victims – four LGBT’s with rainbows painted horizontally on their heads - were placed on the execution platform, the platform covered with dried bloodstains from past executions. The victims knelt on the platform, with their hands chained behind their backs, gasping for their last breath. One gay, one lesbian, one bisexual, and one transgender, were the victims, their respective labels written on the cardboard pieces hanging from their necks.

“Good evening world!” a man clad in military uniform – or at least what it looked like, an olive button-up jacket, an olive pair of pants, boots – said as he faced in front of the camera, then backhanded the gay. “This is to say that Palmyrion shall embrace what it was supposed to be – a nation greater than any other.” He said as he held up the face of a lesbian by the chin and threw xher down to the ground, the x-man crying for mercy as xhe struggled to get xhimself up. “But what has Palmyrion embraced?” he said as he held up a flag containing the emblem of the Grand Theocracy painted on a rainbow. “It has embraced the degeneracy and superstitions of other nations and its old self! Sunugin ang watawat ng mga hayop!” he said as the flag was thrown, trampled upon, urinated upon, and doused in oil, afterwards burnt. “This is what you have done, Palmyrion! You have enabled the heathen practices of foreign nations to corrupt the minds of the Palmyrian people!”

The cameraman brings the camera close to the face of one of the LGBT’s as his face is given the golden shower-simply put, being urinated upon. “But these coming months shall be the deciding factor of what shall win-morality, or immorality? Meanwhile we shall dispose of these moral criminals and let them burn in hell!” the man shouted as he disappeared into the dark night. Four soldiers killed the LGBT’s with a thousand cuts, a process that lasted for almost 10 minutes or until the victim was considered dead. The cacophonic screams of the LGBT victims roared through the forests of that dark night, but scream as they could, nobody was there to help them, not even the tribals who had taken to arming themselves with aging Soviet weaponry from the 1960’s.

Second lined up were what they considered as “foreign rapists”-tourists from other nations that they kidnapped from a resort just nearby. “These are the foreign rapists that you have freely allowed to copulate with our women as if they were johns and our women the prostitutes!” said the masked man as he backhanded one of the foreigners. This time the camera was aimed at a pit that the foreigners had dug earlier, with the foreigners packed like sardines in the pit. The pit was 10 meters by 10 meters in size, filled knee-deep with muddy water, with the occasional rebel urinating on the pit or pouring into the pit a mixture of human feces and water. “Palmyrion has deviated from its sexual and racial purity and allowed these men to freely rape our women, and allowed these foreign women to pollute the minds of Palmyrian men!” he screamed as acid was being sprayed on the foreigners, with some of the foreigners screaming in pain as the acid burnt into their skin. “Shall they burn in hell as our mighty bullets of punishment cut through their skin and punish them with death!” the masked man shouted as the soldiers began firing at the foreigners in the pit. Meanwhile the camera would pan to a nearby group of Nihonese clan soldiers – identified by their masks containing the Nihonese flag, and dressed in stereotypical “ninja” outfit – were being beheaded in a painfully slow way.

The video would soon be published for the whole world to see. The Ultranationalists were infamous for a string of gruesome videos, but this video was going to be the most gruesome, one that would fan flames in the international community now that fighting between the Palmyrians (working alongside Marshite CUDF forces from the north and Romandean CUDF forces from the east) and the Ultranationalist rebels was intensifying. This would fan the flames of war: doubt burns trust, destruction burns construction, the negative burns the positive, hate burns love.