Curing Perversion ATTN Ewa Beach (Semi-Open)P/MT

by **New Azura** » Wed Aug 11, 2010 2:16 pm

An Official Communiqué of the

Honourable Republic of New Azura
From the Hand of His Excellency, the Chancellor Ehren Konica, Esquire

To: Open Channel
From: His Excellency the Chancellor, Ehren Konica
Subj: Brewdomian-Ewacian Crisis

To All Eyes Who See Fit to Read:
The Honourable Republic of New Azura hereby issues the following administrative ruling to all warring parties in the internationally recognized super region of Judea. All military and commercial traffic is hereby restricted through the Straits of Donovan, effective at 1800 Hours on 12 August, 2010. This blockade is to prevent the flow of weapons of mass destruction in the territorial waters stretching between the Ewacian Federation and Albrante. Repeating, all flagged vessels of the Conglomerate, the Brewdomian Coalition, and the Northern Eagle Military Alliance: the Honourable Navy of New Azura has created a Demilitarized Zone along the Straits of Donovan in Central Judea. All civilian, commercial, and military traffic found to approach the blockade will be turned around and escorted to the nearest civilian port. This is for the safety and security of the Central Judean Prosperity Union.
This missive has been noted in the personal and public logs of His Excellency the Chancellor on this, the 12th Day of August in the Year of Our Lord, 2010.

By the Hand of His Excellency the Chancellor Ehren Konica, Esquire.
Let it Be Done, This the 12th Day of August in the Year of Our Lord, Two Thousand and Ten.

His Excellency the Chancellor Ehren Konica, Esq.
The Honourable Republic of New Azura

ORBAT for the Honourable Military of New Azura

by **LINTYLAND** » Wed Aug 11, 2010 2:31 pm

AWAC 'Thunderhound' - Near Judean Maritime Border

Operator James Stanton eyed the glowing radar, with great interest. Multiple unkown radar signatures had just passed the Judean Maritme border and James wasnt to happy about. He quickly got up and went to the cockpit area of the AWAC, making sure not to run into of the equipment onboard.

"Hey Brooke, i got a shitload of unknown's past the Maritime Border. Should we contact the patrol fleet?" James eyed the female pilot slowly, while waiting for a reply.

"No, i want to see this for myself. Get back to your station James, were going to be taking a dive." Brooke pressed a few switches above her, as James walked back to his station. She looked at her co-pilot and gave him a nod. "Lets take this baby down nice and slow, Rick."

Rick nodded, as he slowly turned the flight stick, making the AWAC turn slightly to the left and below some clouds. Now in full view of the enemy fleet, the AWAC did a slight dip, before Brooke grabbed her radio and tried to get into contact.

<<"This is Captain Brooke Styles of the Lintyland Imperial Navy, to unknown ships. You are crossing into Judean waters, what is your intent?">>

Taking the radio away from her mouth, Brooke waited for a reply.

by **Star Trek America** » Wed Aug 11, 2010 2:45 pm

USS - Enterprise
Nimitz-class Aircraft Carrier
International Waters - Judea

Grand Fleet Admiral Robert Neel took up the radio as it crackled with word from some barbarian nation within Judea. "This is Admiral Robert Neel of the USS-Enterprise of the American Federal Navy." Neel stopped as he waved an arm to his weapons officer and silently ordered arming; seconds later an already prepared Harrier lifted up off of the flight deck. "I'm afraid I have very bad news. If you had a family; I will send them my regards." The Admiral waved his hand mournfully, a sad look in his eye as the Fleet lit up with multiple SAM battery contacts; some five missles all of which made a bee-line for the heavily laden plane that soared above them. "I am truly sorry. May God have mercy on your souls." Admiral Neel released the radio and walked to the command point on his bridge taking a ship wide communications unit in hand. "General quarters, general quarters; all hands man battlestations; all hands man battlestations!" Alarms went up across the fleet as several thousand men and women ran to their stations and prepared for coming storm.

by **Belkaland** » Wed Aug 11, 2010 4:14 pm

While Rostilian & Gothic naval forces had started to enter Judean waters, some starting combat operations already, the wolfpacks of von Koesters & Forstmanns had already sailed into Judea at near maximum operating depth under the Thermocline at slow speed, so that sonar wouldn't detect their approach. After sailing for a few hours, they finally made it within range of their target, the Islands of the Judean Council.

At 2000km from the furthest Judean Council Island landmass, the tip of the Ewacain Federation's island, 20 von Koester-class SSGNs rose straight up through the Thermocline to a depth of 20 meters and open the hatches to the missile tubes that held the VLS plug-ins armed with thermobaric warhead-armed Ml. 571 Schnellfalks-TBs. With bursts of compressed air, one by one the 15,960 Schnellfalks rushed towards the surface and flew off in a ballistic course for various targets on the Islands of the Judean Council. These targets included all military facilities, all the diplomatic buildings, and other important buildings. With the thermobaric warheads, should the missiles hit their targets, none of the buildings would remain standing.

----------------------------

Task Force Judea

As the wolfpacks launch their attacks, the task force that had been gathering when they left Belkaland had finally arrived in Judean waters to the southwest of mainland Judea. At the center of the task force were 2 Belkaland-Class CVNs, the KMV Owen & KMV Bogen, and a single von Dämon-Class BBGN, the KMV Anton von Dämon, that was acting as Flagship of the Taskforce. Other ships in the fleet sailed in a battle formation designed for maximum protection of the capital ships while maintaining fleet speed. As they sailed forth, those on the bridge of the KMV Anton von Dämon looked out at the sea in the direction of their goal, a group of 3 islands to the south of Brauzillia.

by **Slazenagara** » Wed Aug 11, 2010 4:48 pm

Official Communique of The Slazenagarian Republic

To all those who oppose the Ewacian Federation,
It has been deemed fit that the Slazenagarian Republic being a close ally of The Mighty Ewacian Federation intervenes in this conflict. We have a proposal for the nation of Brewdomia, The First Condition of this proposal includes a complete withdrawal of all military forces of the nation of Brewdomia and it's allies. The Second Condition is a sum of money depending on the damages caused to the Judean Nations and it's people and 3rd, An apology to be made by the Leader of Bewdomia to the Judean People for the terror caused. If none of these conditions are met then, The Republic of Slazenagara officially declares war on Brewdomia and it's allies, an immediate mobilisation of Republican Forces will be underway and within 10 days the Glorious Slazenagarian Naval Fleet will impose a blockade on your nation and halt all trade in and out of your nation. We hope it does not come to this but if we must we will. You have 24 Hours to respond to this message or we will understand that these conditions will not be met therefore mobilising all Slazenagarian Military.

Thankyou,

Andrei Belyakov, President of The Slazenagarian People.

by **Estainia** » Wed Aug 11, 2010 5:15 pm

IES - Natasha Romanov - Diktator-class Heavy Battleship
International Waters

Carrier-technology is used by the Empire begrudingly at best; only to defend themselves against the hordes of the dishonourable currs that inhabit the world. No longer it seemed did the world have the honor; the gall; to watch their enemies die. No longer could they stomach watching the light fade from their eyes. The American Navy once trumphed the Estainian; yes. They however paid for their victory in a steep steep price; thick armor surrounds Estainian Battleships and the mighty vessels at the Battle of the Rostillian Sea shrugged off bomb after bomb, torpedo after torpedo as the cowards decended upon them like wasps. The Estainians fought bravely and with much skill; knocking scores of American planes from the skies above them before the battleships started to feel the sting of the annoying flying craft. Unfortunately however; numbers do win battles and at the end of the day almost the entire Russo-Spanish Fleet rested at the bottom of the ocean with the Americans victorious but at a price.

In this new era of cowardice the range between combatants is not yards but miles; hundreds if not thousands of miles they strike from behind a curtain of clouds and cowardly assaults. Planes, Missiles; the most dishonourable impliments of war; have taken precedance in the fleets of the world. All but a staunch few refuse their admittance and sadly; regrettably and shamefully Estainia is no longer among that small number. They bent their knees finally but not to take offense to the cowards with their own weapons; no! To defend themselves from them; to get close enough to their beloved air fields to blast them asunder!

Such was the very purpose of the mighty Diktator-class Heavy Battleship the pinnacle of naval warfare originally constructed in Birkaine; this perticular vessel the shining jewel of the Estainian Navy. The Natasha Romanov was dwarfed by few; feared by all. Fifteen twenty four inch main guns bristle along her deck; multitudes of smaller secondary batteries line her battlements and a massive fortress-flag flew from her highest tower. She was every bit the awe inspiring, respect inspiring fear inspiring image as her name-sake; the late Empress of Estainia; and she would earn her name well, very well indeed.

Aboard her command bridge was something of a new concept; the Captain of the Natasha Romanov was not the typical stuffy glory-driven Captains that infested the Estainian Navy. Well she was but that was the thing really; she was. Despite the gynocratic nature of Estainia and it's thought complex of women being slightly higher [not superior] to men the military was surprisingly biased; not so much out of negativity of women as it was to keep them out of harms way. So as to find a Female in the Estainian Navy was to find a sober Vojnagrad Partisan.

"Captain; word has it the Americans have opened fire already." The Communications Officer handed Captain Maria Ferdenova a transcript from the American fleet without so much as a second glance.

"Contact the Motherland; we ride to battle." She said with an indifferent tone, neither pleased nor displeased.

Across the fleet the Estainian vessels fell into formation and Gu-214s began lifting off from the Estainia, Luciella and Valentin. The massive hulls of the James Patterson-class battleships displaced hundreds of tonnes of water in an instant as they formed up in a spearhead ahead of the fleet; led by none other than the Diktator at their point; the first and last thing any Judean ship would ever see; was the business end of an Estainian Battleship.

by **Birkaine** » Wed Aug 11, 2010 5:15 pm

In a wake of fuel, diesel smoke, steam and foamy water that could have probably been seen from space, the Birkanian Battlefleet moved away from the region. All ships, from the imposing dreadnoughts to the smallest cutters and RIBs were dwarfed by the overall size of the fleet, extending over the horizon and hundreds of meters above and below, giving the effect that all ships were equal no matter their size or might, just small cogs in the gargantuan seafaring monument to warfare that the Birkanians had assembled for the activity that defined the very essence of Birkanian culture: War until the very end of time. It was a breathtaking sight that erased all sense of individuality from the mind; imposing mountains of steel that cast the seas aside to pass through, unseen submarines that lurked the sea and silvery swarms of aircraft conducting their routinary patrols, with the roar of engines reverberating for dozens of kilometers around the fleet, and in frequencies unheard, a carefully coordinated choir of thousands of transmissions and radar signals, wrapping around the fleet as if a shroud that went on for thousands of miles.

"Sir, the new elements are within RF range"

"Excellent. Stop satellital communications, I want to speak to them personally. We need to welcome our new brothers"

Grand Admiral Krakev would have never seen his whole fleet from the bridge of the ultracarrier that led the huge mobilization, but the maps and large screens on the bridge were enough to give him a general idea of the forces at his command. He and his forces were coming back from a campaign that resulted in the conquering of the Keemansan atoll, and the descision to simply ressupply and head to another location was met by few complaints from commanders and soldiers, as the troops of Battlefleet Legioner knew very well that as the most veteran units in the entire Armed Forces, being relied upon was its own reward.
However, believing the forces used to conquer Keemansan were too small for a campaign on Judea, the Grand Admiral had a large ammount of infantry units from Battlefleet Tempestus annexed to his own force; these extra units having sailed from Birkaine, and being headed by the imposing aviation dreadnought, Omen.

"The picket ships should be getting visual anytime soon" One of the officers said as they calmly looked at the horizon "The aviators already confirmed visually... all ships are fine"

"Well, they better be" Krakev said, lighting up his pipe "We're going to need them. Are all requested units onboard?"

"Yes, sir" An Army General replied, next to him "13th Shock Army. Elements from the Army, Marines and Enforcer Corps... with a bunch of partisan stowaways I'm sure. Even the Interior Ministry wanted to have a piece of the pie and sent a platoon, and that's without even taking the MEC forces into account"

"The fact that they consider joining us a honor should be our ultimate reward. Even the Estainians have lend us a hand." Krakev said with a smile. "Somebody needs to carry on after we fall"

"We are in for rough times, however" The general adjusted his glasses "According to the chief meteorologist we're going to have to cross a storm if we want to get to Judea anytime soon"

"We have withstood worse threats" Krakev said. There was indeed a large wall of clouds in the distance. "I just hope that your troops have stomachs as strong as mine"

"Of course" The General smirked. "My only hope is that our enemmies do"

Battlefleet Legioner and Grand Admiral Lavrenty Krakev symbolized the same thing for the rest of the Birkanian people. They represented the archetype, the ideal of the warfighters that would spend generations in combat everlasting. It was less of a myth and more proven fact, as the battlefleet had already felled not regiments or field armies, but whole nations and regions.

The fleet kept in, towards Judea, and straight into the storm that they would have to pass to finally get near the region.

OOC: If anybody wants to intercept the fleet in the middle of the storm it'd be cool too

by **LINTYLAND** » Wed Aug 11, 2010 6:43 pm

AWAC 'Thunderhound' - Near Judean Maritime Border

As the missile warning system blared all around the cockpit of the AWAC, Brooke felt more calm then ever. She let go of the radio in her hand and stared at Rick. The man she had flown countless patrols with, the man that was supposed to be her future husband. All of those dreams for the future were gone in a massive fireball, that plummeted down to the clear water below.

32nd Naval Patrol Fleet - Onboard LNV Garteka - 1,000 km from Judean Maritime Border

Captain Blake Nasfer stroked his chin, as the ensign next to him talked about the recently destroyed AWAC, that had launched from the carrier, just a few hours ago.

"Sir, the AWAC was shot down by an unkown enemy fleet near the Maritime Border. HQ noted for us to engage at our own will." The ensign brushed her blonde hair back, while she waited for a reply.

"Engage at our own will? Damn things are getting crazier everyday." Blake stopped stroking his chin. "Alright, get a lock on any nearby enemy ship and tell the two destroyers to fire off their cruise missiles." Blake looked on at the few ships he had. "Get the remaining Frigates to give us an AA screen, when the time comes. Also have our LI-12's onboard take off and provide CAP." Blake turned at the ensign, with a weary look. "Get a move on it."

The ensign nodded and quickly got to work issuing out the orders. In a few minutes, the destroyers had launched a first wave salvo of 60 cruise missiles. While the deck crew onboard the Garteka began to load up the LI-12's, with weapons and fuel. Today was a bad day to go on patrol.

by **Euro Asian Republics** » Wed Aug 11, 2010 7:43 pm

Dunkerque-class Battlecruiser EAS Sudsbury - International Waters - Wednesday August 11, 2015 - 1900 Hours

A young woman came out, supposedly to get some air, headed to the handrail. She looked to be in her mid 20's and had blonde hair. Her name is Hope Peters. Unlike her superiors, she was a pacifist. She managed to get a few breaths of fresh air before heading back inside. Inside, she headed to the mess hall where other crewmen and women were having their dinner. She got her dinner and headed for a table where some of her friends were sitting. Her friends, Jenny Patrick, Salena Fredricks, Salena's brother, Omar, and Hope's cousin, Tina, were already having their dinner and were conversing with each other. She headed to their table and sat down. This was going to be an uneventful night.

by **Star Trek America** » Wed Aug 11, 2010 7:51 pm

USS - Ebon Atoll
Ebon Atoll-class Missile Cruiser
International Waters - Judea

"Fly blind." ECM from the Ebon Atoll lit up the air waves used by the idiot Lintylandians as addititional support came in the support of dediciated ECM-Ships such as the Mirage-class that lingered at the back of the fleet. While their jammers clogged Lintylandian radar and systems a ripple of fire came from the two hundred and sixty VLS cells aboard the Ebon Atoll and her near by sister the Azure Pyramid each of the cells baring a powerful anti-ship missiles specifically the UGM-109B. Hundreds of them filled the air and made a direct bee-line for the Lintylandian fleet; what of it there was.

It was not to say that the Americans did not take casualties. CIWS, Anti-Missile Missiles and LADS systems cut down a good amount of the 60 anti-ship missiles from the Lintylandians; some five of them got through however, two of which leveled a Destroyer and sent her to the bottom, two of which sank deep into the armored belt of an Iowa-class battleship, the heavy armor plating of her belt holding for the most part as heavy steel plates were blasted away into the sea; she counter fired with the standardized land-attack variant of the Tomahawk missile. The last missile struck another Destroyer and damaged her heavily, the orders were given to abandon ship and her crew scuttled her at sea due to her damages.

USS - Enterprise
Nimitz-class Aircraft Carrier
International Waters - Judea

"Forward the Federation. For the Emperor!" Flights of Harrier Jump Jets lifted off from Enterprise with graceful ease as their thrust-vectoring engines took effect. Fragile minutes passed before fifteen Harriers and ten F-36 Pharohs Swords were airborne, instantly they streaked off toward the Lintylandians heavily laden with air to air and anti-ship missiles.

USS - Kelvin
Nimitz-class Aircraft carrier
International Waters - Judea

A similar scene played across the deck of the equally mighty USS-Kelvin, a relatively new ship this was her first combat experience in her three years of life. Phraohs Swords flew down her flight deck traditionally here to give the deck use and get it used to combat stress. Eight of the sleek aircraft took the air along with a single F-22N to act as a smaller AWACS [Which the Raptor can do; seriously look it up.] in order to support the battle.

by **Sailsia** » Thu Aug 12, 2010 12:05 am

The URS Jensburg, Sailsian Territorial Waters (off the coast of Trealum), The Unified Republics of Sailsia:

As the attack submarine surfaced, Admiral Levni Ularith gave the order to pull into port. Adm. Levni was far away from his home in the Neapolitan Republic of Kalumino,and he missed his wife and children. He began to day dream of how his wife would react when he returned home. He pictured her face glowing with the sun gently touching her fair skin. He thought of how much taller his sons would be. He remembered how their short blonde hair would look white on a bright day. He thought of how excited they would be in the days before he would return home. How they would help their mother clean the house so it would be presentable when he arrived. He even thought of the family dog, how she would jump on his chest and lick his face. How she would follow him relentlessly that day forward, never leaving his side. Just like the old days.

Excuse me, Admiral Ularith. Admiral Ularith?

Oh, I'm sorry Captin Herrin. What was that?

When we reach port, the other JX Class subs will be ready for deployment by o' ten hundred hours tomorrow, I just received the telegram from Admiral Jenson.

Well then, I assume we had better enjoy our last night on dry land. Lord knows enjoyment will be the last thing we get to indulge in for some time to come.

When the submarine docked, there was a cool mist from the ocean. The men all shuffled out of steel ship, taking the first breaths of fresh air they had had in a little over four days.

Well Ularith, good to see you finally made it. We were worried you had lost your way.

Well Jenson, I guess I'm not so fortunate as to be the eighth generation seaman like yourself.

Its not your fault Ularith, how some Kaluminese like you ever became an admiral in the finest navy on this Earth, I'll never know.

"Some Kaluminese? Who does that prick think he is?" Levni thought to himself. "If I had the opportunity, I'd kick this snide jack ass from Vesrazia to Orlith."

Well Jenson, I suppose we'll meet again in the morning.

What, you aren't going to be out and about this evening? I thought your kind loved any excuse to get drunk off their ass.

Oh, thats just a stereotype Jenson. Not all of us can just be born an admiral. We have to earn it.

Just then Captain Herrin arrived, and the two walked off, leaving Admiral Jenson at the dock.
After an hour or so of re-suppling the submarine, Levni had the rest of the night to himself.

Port Jerrison, The Unified Republics of Sailsia:

Levni awoke to a rising sun at around 6:30, and promptly began his morning with a hot shower. The early day sky reminded him of the morning when he left for Sailsia. Him and his wife stayed up all night enjoying each others' company, talking without end. Levni didn't want to leave Kalumino, but Sailsia was the land of opportunity. A Sailsian admiral made six times the money a Kaluminese one did, and how often did other countries go looking for foreign commanders? It was something he just couldn't pass up.

At 9:30, the men were all lined up in front of their submarines, waiting for their captains (and the two admirals) to arrive. Captain Herrin and Admiral Ularith both had speeches planned, but due to excessive "enjoyment of the last night on dry land" Capt. Herrins' voice wasn't exactly in much of a morale boosting state. Leaving only Adm. Ularith to addressed the men:

Today, we sail for the shores of the Ewacian Federation. We sail to this, what some might say "far off" place for one simple reason: an ally is a friend. Sailsia is a land that helps those in need, and helps its friends. Both of which the Ewacian Federation meets the criteria for. No matter what your personal views on the Federation, or its acts throughout history might be, we will fight and die if the case need be.
We don't do this for the Federation, but rather, for the Unified Republics, and all of its citizens. We fight for Sailsias' home, Judea. We fight for all that we know and love.
Today is the day that we move forward to fight against the perverse league of enemies that plan the downfall of freedom, prosperity, and all that we hold dear.
Keep in mind that the days, months and maybe even years ahead, will not be pretty. There most likely will be blood, and heartbreak. But we fight so that we may live. Today is the first day of the future, of the rest of our lives. Sadly, in other parts of Judea, today will not be the first day of the rest of a life, but rather, the last. Even though we may be risking our own lives, we do it so that the ones we care most for, don't have to. Now men, lets get ready to move forward, and kick some ass!

[OOC]ORBAT coming soon[/OOC]

by **Tergnitz** » Thu Aug 12, 2010 3:00 am

The day of small nations has long passed away. The day of Empires has come.

Sub-Level 45-R, Imperial Palace, Pretoria, Tergnitz

The reflective, metal doors slid apart with a slight whisper of escaping air as His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor of Tergnitz, Augustus Tiberian Vera I, stepped forward and began to walk casually but purposefully down the long, white corridor, ending in two, large oak doors. The Imperial Palace Situation Room, the safest and arguably most secure location in the entire Empire, there was nearly twenty layers of security and defence measures between this room and the road outside the Palace

The two imposing and well-armed Praetorian Guardsmen standing guard outside the door caught sight of the Emperor and gracefully opened the doors in one quick movement, before throwing him a by-the-book salute. He paused to return their salutes, a gesture of mutual respect which he always endeavoured to fulfil, before walking inside.

The members of the Council of Twelve rushed to their feet as he entered, but he waved them down and they cautiously returned to their seats. He walked over to his seat at the head of the long, antique, wooden table and sat down slowly, observing the faces of the men assembled in front of him.

On one side of the table were the most important individuals from the Imperial Government Cabinet, the Directors of the Imperial Intelligence and Reconnaissance Agency and the Imperial Internal Security Division, the Ministers of Defence, Foreign Affairs and Treasury, along with the current leader of the Imperial Government, Princeps Hintar Yass. Seated on the other side of the table, were the top brass from Imperial High Command, the Grand Marshal of the Army, the Admiral of the Fleet, the General of the Air Force, the Lord Commandant of the Marine Corps and the Lord Marshal of Imperial Strategic Command.

“Well gentlemen,” said the Emperor in a commanding tone, “What is the situation?”

“Sire, there have been several important developments over the past few days which require your immediate attention,” said Princeps Civis Yass.

“Well don’t keep me waiting Hintar, what’s happening?”

“I think Lord Admiral Anderson is better suited to answer that question, Admrial.”

The eyes of the Council changed from watching the back and forth between the Emperor and Yass, to Director Anderson, head of the Imperial Intelligence and Reconnaissance Agency, who was seated at the far end of the table. The Lord Admiral cleared his throat and began to speak.

“My Lord, gentlemen, I would first like to direct you attention to the red folder in front of you,” Anderson paused momentarily as the assembled Imperial leadership opened their briefing packages. “It contains a broad overview of the actions leading up to this current intersection that we find ourselves in. Points of interest include the resounding success of Operation Iron Wing in March, when operatives from the I.I.R.A were able to obtain a very important package from the Solmians. We had believed that the package contained the current identities and residences of all of their covert agents inside the Empire and around the world. Yet, as I am sure we are all aware, the package was unfortunately destroyed, along with a significant portion of the Kappa Facility during the decryption process.”

“We are aware of that Admiral,” said the Emperor coldly.

Taking note of the Emperor’s tone, Anderson paused briefly, gathering his thoughts, before continuing, “Of course Sire, if I may continue?”

The Emperor nodded his head slightly; this conversation was delving into dangerous territory in his opinion.

“Realising that we had captured this package, Solm quickly dispatched a military force, bolstered by the addition of military units from her allies, namely the nation of Ewa Beach. This provocative action ignited the conflict commonly referred to by the popular media as the ‘Crimson War,’ and saw an allied, naval taskforce threaten the security and sovereignty of our beloved Empire. Yet, the men and women of the Imperial Navy proudly stood their ground and forced the invader backwards, if at the steep cost of the entirety of the First Fleet.”

“Why I am sure we all appreciate the recent history lesson Lord Admiral,” said the Minister of the Treasury, Vladimir Partus, snidely. “If you could please arrive at the more pressing matters.”

Anderson shot Partus a very brief look of contempt before continuing, “As I was saying before I was interrupted, the Imperial Navy successfully repulsed the barbarians, yet the Empire was left with few options regarding a counter-attack. This situation,” said Anderson smiling maliciously, “has changed.”

The sombre atmosphere of the Situation Room was altered the instant those words left the Lord Admiral’s mouth. “What do you mean exactly Admiral?” Asked the Emperor cautiously.

“My Lord, the Agency, through a variety of sources, has been able to determine that a large number of nations have mobilized significant military forces against the nation of Ewa Beach. We believe that these nations have aligned themselves together, cloaking themselves in a shroud of righteousness, to try and force the Federation to atone for a genocidal action against homosexuals in the past. This is exactly what we have been waiting for gentlemen. These invading foreign forces will provide an excellent cover for the Empire to accomplish our goals in the Judean region.”

“Vengeance and security,” said Defence Minister Felix softly, as the assembled leadership nodded thoughtfully at his words.

“This the opportunity we have been waiting for gentlemen,” said His Majesty, his voice rising steadily. “Our course is clear; we will establish a military facility in Judea to increase our force projection in that region, ensuring that our Empire’s voice is heard by our nation’s enemies. We will strike fear into the hearts of every Ewacian citizen! We shall show them that the retribution of this Empire is biblical in proportion. Righteous thunder will fall from the Heavens, engulfing the entire nation in flame, utterly decimating their people, their lands, their entire way of life.”

The assembled Imperial leadership sitting around the table rose to their feet and began to ferociously applaud. The Emperor waiting for the applause to die down before continuing, “Men, the campaign to restore this nation’s honour, has begun.”

Cyn Air Force Base, Northern Tergnitz

The sound of thousands of leather soled boots running across tarmac was nothing compared to the loud blaring of the base’s general alert siren. War had come to Tergnitz and now these pilots were going to bring the war to the enemy. Within several minutes the assembled pilots had made it to their parked bombers, fuelled, armed and ready to bring the fury of God down upon those fools unfortunate enough to have incurred the wrath of the Empire. One by one, the bombers took off, racing down the runaway at intense speeds. It was as if the planes themselves were eager to see combat.

The bombers grouped in their regular formations once the entire Air Wing was airborne. As a single unit they banked westward, heading out the sea. Within an hour, they would be joined by the six additional Strategic Bomber Air Wings based around the Empire. Then it was simply a four-hour journey to Ewa Beach, where they would strike the first retaliatory blow.

Aboard the Bridge of the Vistula Class Command Ship, TICV Independence

Lord Admiral David Harbinger’s entire life had revolved around the Navy. One week after his eighteenth birthday, he was arrested for grand theft auto and the judge; an old Navy man himself, had given him a simple choice, join the Imperial Navy for a four-year stint, or spend the next ten years of his life behind bars. Harbinger had never regretted his decision that day.

He stood leaning against the back wall of the bridge, watching the sailors in front of him run to and fro as they rushed to ensure that the ship, along with the rest of the fleet was battle-ready. He was silently going over various battle strategies in his head, all of which centred around his Imperial Marines landing on a hostile and probably defended beachhead.

His thoughts were interrupted however, by a young sailor rushing up to him, before quickly saluting. “Sir, this message just arrived for you from the Defence Ministry,” said the young man, offering the Admiral a slip of freshly printed paper. “Thank you sailor,” replied Harbinger, returning the salute. The man raced off back to his station; however he didn’t notice him, his entire attention was now focused on the message cradled in-between his hands.

Code: Select all: TO: Lord Admiral Harbinger – TICV Independence FROM: Imperial Defence Ministry PRIORITY: Aa-5 ENCRYPTION: Vermillion - Admiral, His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor hereby orders you to establish a full air and naval blockade of the nation of New Ewa Beach. - Prevent any vessels or individuals entering or leaving this perimeter, without the express permission of the Defence Ministry. - When you deem the fleet is ready, launch a full invasion of island Alpha-0056. You are then to neutralize all hostile forces present and secure the island for future development. - You are also to assist Air Wing Omega, to successfully complete Operation Hammerdown. - Self-defence of the Fleet regarding any hostile enemy actions is authorised.

Harbinger memorized every detail contained with the message, before crumpling it up in his right hand. He pocketed the piece of paper and slowly leaned backwards into the bulkhead yet again, adopting his earlier position. Closing his eyes, he drew a deep breath and readied himself for the coming storm. Without warning, he leaping into action, barking a long string of orders at the bridge crew. He wanted to ensure that the fleet would be ready to overcome any and all resistance once they reached New Ewa Beach in roughly two days time.

Official Imperial Communiqué

To: The Cowardly and Despicable Individuals claiming to be the Government of Ewa Beach
Fr: Tergnitz Imperial Foreign Ministry
Re: War
Encryption: None

His Imperial Majesty by the Divine Providence of the Almighty, the Emperor of Tergnitz, Augustus Tiberian Vera I; Patriarch of the House of Vera, Protector of Mankind, Father of the Fatherland, Defender of the Faith, Princeps Senatus, Imperator Destinatus, Imperium Maius, Pius Felix, Grand Baron of the Upper and Lower Realms, Duke of Runnor, Duke of Jazaa, Duke of Northern Sam Immanuel, Lord Regent of the Veran Islands, Dominus of the Praetorian Guard and Supreme Imperator of the Tergnitzian People would like to condemn the Ewacian Federation. For too long, have the nations of the world suffered under the imperialist tyranny and oppression of the Ewacian menace. Even the citizens of Ewa Beach have not escaped the seemingly boundless depravity of their nation’s leaders, as evidenced by the mass genocide of homosexuals so brazenly carried out by this barbaric nation. On this day, the brave men and women of the First Fleet, who died defending their Fatherland, will be avenged, sated with the blood of their killers. On this day, the Empire will strike drive a stake into the very heart of the Federation! May Almighty God grant you forgiveness for your transgressions against the Empire, in this life or the next.
Long Live the Emperor

Sincerely,

by **Trivval** » Thu Aug 12, 2010 3:34 am

Callsign Eagle Two One - Just North of the Birkainan Fleet

The light buzzing of the aircraft would be the only give-away as it flew patrol just outside Judean International Waters. Perfect for stealth and Reconissance, Eagle Two One was just the aircraft that was needed. The cloud cover was heavy, a rough storm brewing, perfect cover for any naval operations. So thats why, high above the clouds, Eagle Two Squadron flew alone, each aircraft with its own section of water to cover.

The waters far below were choppy on the fringe of the storm, and impossible further in... well from what they could see, that is. Further out towards the Eastern Horizen it was clear as Lake Eidon during Spring. To the North the Icecaps were just visable. To the south and west, lightning lit the sky, and thunder roared at some oceanic creature which has caused its wrath.

The pilot looked to the west of the storm, scouting. He turned on the digital recorder to send through the data to the computer. Suddenly he caught a visual of something and zoomed in, also checking his radar.

"Oooh shit," he muttered as he caught sight of the Birkainan fleet, and reported what he had found to his commander.

Silently, he monitored the fleet as the Naval Assets and Aircraft of the NEWC mobilised. Eagle Two Squadron moved into a tighter monitoring circle of the large fleet infront of them.

The UAV was barly a spec, and the Pilot hoped the electical storm below him would cover the very little ping that may come back from radar.

SIC:

Code: Select all: To: All Northern Judean Assets From: NEWC, Sub-NRANC Subj: Birkainan Fleet Sighted Encrpt: //ECB-092U:72E (Bouncing Message: TCS-92, TCS-8, TCRS-24, TCRS-NRCOM, TCRS-92, TCS-21, [more]...) BOUNCING MESSAGE... BIRKAINAN FLEET SET TO ENTER JUDEAN WATERS AT APPROX. 0300HR STANDARD JUDEAN TIME... SEVERAL TAF FORCES IN THE AIR ABOVE FLEET... CONSTANT MONITORING... ATTACHED FILE: PHOTOS OF BIRKAINAN FLEET ASSETS... WARNING... BOUNCING MESSAGE... [attached]

by **Albrante** » Thu Aug 12, 2010 4:12 am

Official Telegram from the United Kingdom of Albrante.
Encryption Code: Violet

To:
To the Enemies of Judean Nations.
You ooze deep into our territorial waters and begin to gnaw at our naval borders, your transgressions have been noted and will not soon be forgiven. The full armed forces of the United Kingdom of Albrante are in the process of being mobilized and any enemy ships or submarines in Judean waters officially have standing kill orders on them. You have awoken many giants that slumbers here, but you yourselves are giants, in the war to come the earth will shake and the giants shall be felled like age old oaks, but at the end the forest of Judea will remain; burnt, broken but standing.

May Vestri Artus per in Appositus Tempestas
From:
The United Kingdom of Albrante

Official Telegram from the United Kingdom of Albrante.
Encryption Code: Violet

To:
Honourable Republic of New Azura.
We would gladly allow your vessels of righteous cause through near and through waters at will, we ask no compensation either. Years ago your forces leveled the city of Sandport, but we have forgiven you, now we hope that you fight valiantly by our side and remove the interlopers from our lands.

Exspectata Amicus ut Foedus of Fortis Quod Fortis
From:
The United Kingdom of Albrante

Parliament Building
Seacliffridge, Albrante
"Dam it," the Prime Minister growled to himself, "Those sons of bitches have actually done it."
"We need not worry, our forces are for the most part mobilized and we have installed various plans to cope with full scale war." the Minister of Defense responded. "We saw it coming and we are braced for it, to attack the fortress that is Judea they will pay dearly of that I assure you." he finished whilst the parliament began murmuring. After a few seconds the Prime Minister cleared his throat and addressed the parliament. "We were not the aggressors his," his voice cut through the whispering masses, "But they brought war and they will pay, so help me god!" he finished to the cheers of the entire Parliament.

Scrimsonsea Air Base
Scrimsonsea, Judean Council Island
Scrimsonsea was the name of Albrante's little piece of the Judean Council. A simple Island with long sand beaches and tidy concrete lines with many enclaves of greenery to brighten up the lives of those that resided on it. But now the well tended gardens and characteristic Tudor architecture of the Island was being blown to oblivion. Most unessential personnel had been removed from the island, and the essential personnel were being evacuated by strategic air liners stationed at the local air base. One of many listening buoys had tripped, giving precious minutes for the constant readiness drills to pay off, the majority of the 502 personnel remaining were evacuated before the thermobaric hellfire rained upon the island. The battle-group stationed on the island had been instructed to "melt" into the woods that composed the center of the island. Its bunker network had enough supplies to last until relief or evacuation could arrive. The last task was the evacuation of the sizable helicopter fleet stationed on the island. Of the sixty Ocelot helicopters, stationed on the island, fifty four had made it airborne before missiles struck the air force base and they were heading to three empty helicopter carriers that were being sent from a naval base on the mainland. The attack had struck a symbolic blow, the paltry deaths no doubt a precursor to the immeasurable destruction that was to come.

by **LINTYLAND** » Thu Aug 12, 2010 10:00 am

32nd Naval Patrol Fleet - Onboard LNV Garteka - 1,000 km from Judean Maritime Border

Blake looked on, as his bridge crew tried to counter the enemy jamming techniques with the onboard ECCM. For the most part it worked, the Frigates and Destroyers were able to put up a screen of CIWS and anti-missile missiles, swatting down most of the incoming enemy projectiles, but the enemy ECM was taking its toll. Blake took a long gaze out into the open sea. Due to the small size of the patrol fleet, and the enemies relentless ECM, a hundred or so missiles were able to break through and make contact with all of 6 frigates, while both destroyers were struck down and made into burning hulks of steel and metal.

Blake cringed, as two missiles came and struck the bow of the light carrier, rendering the runwway useless. One of the bridge crew notified him of multiple enemy planes inbound, while another informed of the damage they took. The runway was nothing, but a mess of steel, and fire. The deck crew quickly went about, to put out the fires, so the flames wont reach the stores of ammunition below. Blake watched the ordeal unfold, as he thought how long LI-12's would be able to hold off the enemy, until additional reinforcements arrived.

85th Tactical Fighter Squadron - Nearing Enemy Planes

Senior Captain John Tascoga, looked at the digital OLED screen to his right. It showed a digital map of the surrounding area and the incoming enemy planes. Taking a look to his left, John checked the read outs of the LI-12's weapon systems. He armed his AIM-120 Medium-Range Air-to-Air Missiles.

Using the Zhuk-AE/FGA-29 radar system onboard, John began to jam the enemies radar system, while he issued out the orders tot he rest of his squadron.

<<"Alright bloodhounds, jam the enemies radar systems and fire your AIM-120 missiles immediately after that. I dont want not one enemy plane getting past us. Lets to this for the Empire.">>

The pilots did as John told them. In all, 120 missiles were on a direct path for the incoming enemy planes, which hopefully would be downed and mopped up by the LI-12's.

(ooc: Star Trek America, my planes can jam shit to.)

by **Ewa beach** » Thu Aug 12, 2010 12:20 pm

To: The Misanthropic Introverts of Unilisia
From: Federation President John Murphy
Encrypted: Level Six

To My Dear Friend Evelyn Staleko,

We understand your support declaration, as we are allies, we would not be suprised. Though you do not need to return the favor for the situation concerning Raludcia, because you are a close ally of the Federation, we are very concerned with the safety of your nation, especially since you are fellow Adoni. We will need your Navy, as our Navy is a bit...outdated. The foreign navies are superior in this case, and we hope that you and other Judeans can hold them off.

Sincerely,

John Murphy
President of The Ewacian Federation

To: The Religious Democracy of Trivval
From: Federation President John Murphy
Encrypted: Level Nine

To Whom It May Concern,

Request for use of ERA Air Bases is granted. As an ally of the Federation, you are in fact requested to assist us, so you do not need to request permission to assist us.

Sincerely,

John Murphy
President of The Ewacian Federation

To: The Grand Imperial Empire of Tergnitz
From: Federation President John Murphy
Subj: RE: War

To Whom It May Concern,

Your petty insults do not effect us, and you may condemns us all you want, we will not fret. Now we have said this before, and we will say it again. We have full support of our government, which means every single Ewacian supports us, so you can try to liberate them, you can try to make them turn on us, no matter what you do, they will always support the Federation, and they will always thirst for the blood of those who oppose them.

Sincerely,

John Murphy
President of The Ewacian Federation

***

Ewacian Council Building - Hanafi Island, Judean Council, Central Judean Sea

Hank Anania, an Ewacian government official, responsible for handling Judean affairs was quietly walking through the halls of one of the many Council buildings, passing by friends and strangers, he waved and nodded his head as they walked by. He was about to turn a corner when he was grabbed by the collar, he groaned and looked up, it was one of his bodyguards.

"Sir, we must get you to the bunker under the HQ. We have multiple missiles incoming."
"What? Missiles...from where? Who?"
"Shush, sir. We will explain it all once we get to the bunker, but we must hurry!"

The bodyguard stood 7 feet tall, still holding on to Hanks collar, he pulled him outside, brining him to the HQ, where they would go underground to the bunker. He finally let go of his collar, letting Hank walk freely, but still urging him to move faster. "Come sir, hurry. The missiles will make contact in three minutes." Hank decided to start running, after he saw his bodyguard start sprinting towards the HQ.

Rufus, the bodyguard, slammed open the doors of the HQ, and Hank could tell everyone was in a panic. He heard people yelling, people running around, papers were flying everywhere. "Boy, it must be bad."
"Yes, yes, very bad. Come, to the elevator."

Rufus took out his pass and the small screen on the wall scanned it, opening up the elevator doors. They both stepped in, the doors instantly shutting in front of them, allowing no others to get inside in time. The elevator music was soothing for the moment, but Hank could tell Rufus was scared. He had a family living on the island, and he knew that there was a chance they could be killed.

"It's okay, Rufus. I'm sure whoever's doing this won't attack your family's neighborhood." Hank said, patting Rufus on the back.
He looked at him, distressed. "I sure hope so, sir. I don't know what I'd do without them."
"Don't worry about it, just relax."

At that moment, the elevator doors opened up again, revealing a large hallway. "Hurry, let's go," Rufus looked at his watch, "They will make contact in one minute." They ran again, down the hallway, making the left turn and almost hitting the large metal door in front of them. Rufus once again pulled out his pass, the screen quickly scanned it, then the doors were pushed open by two other guards inside.

"Welcome, Mr. Anania. So good to see you here." Spoke one of the Colonels inside of the room. They had walked into a very large room, with multiple hallways leading out of it. The room held over 70 computer's and screens, allowing the staff of the building to watch over everything. "Sir, let me explain. Multiple thermobaric warheads have been fired at the island, we suspect these are aimed at destroying all military, and diplomatic facilities. Now, our defenses have taken out many of them, but there are still 9,682 of them moving towards their targets. The headquarters above being one of them, including all of the buildings surrounding it."

Hank just slipped down into his chair, "Who could do something like this. How did they slip past all of our defenses? What....why.."
Rufus looked at Hank, and then at the others. "He's just in a state of shock right now." The others nodded, watching Rufus wave his hand in front of Hanks face.

One of the Council staff spoke up, "ETA is 10 seconds. 9..8..7..6..5..4..3..2..1..0." At that moment, the men inside of the bunker heard a large explosion above them, along with multiple other explosions after that. The sounds woke Hank up from his state of unconsciousness, startling him. "What the hell is that noise!?"
Rufus screamed back at thim, "It's the missiles!"
"Oh! When's it going to be over!?"
"I don't know! Hopefully soon!"

Presidential Office, Burgandeer Building - Vuskow, Mykilstov, Ewacian Federation

Johnson, one of the many assistants of the president, walked in, carrying multiple files under his arm. "Mr. President, we have important updates on the situation at hand. Good news or bad news first?"

President Murphy spun his chair around, facing Johnson who was now at the foot of his desk. "Give me the good news first."
Johnson took one of the files and opened it up, reading it, he then looked up. "It seems that our allies are currently engaging enemy fleets in Judea." Murphy looked up at him, "That sounds good. Very good, indeed. Hit me with the bad news."

Johnson put the file on his desk, pulling the other file out from under his arm, taking a couple seconds to read over it again. "Well, sir. It seems that an unknown enemy has fired multiple thermobaric warheads at Hanafi Island, they targeted our military, and diplomatic facilities. The defenses on the island managed to intercept and destroy 6,278 of them, but the remaining 9,682 of them hit their targets."

"Casualties?"

"Intel reports that casualties are up in the hundreds, there's no exact number yet. Though we lost two of our Army outposts, and one Navy outpost. Along with the entire Council Headquarters Building, and most of the buildings surrounding it. It is unknown whether or not our officials there survived."

Murphy sighed, spinning his chair around to face the window, he stood up. "Alert the Armed Forces, I fear whoever did this may have enough courage to invade us."
He turned around, "Well, go!"

"Yes, Mr. President. Of course, but do you really thing these people would be crazy enough to launch an invasion of the Federation?"
"If they were crazy enough to launch a missile strike against the Judean Council, they'll be crazy enough to invade us."
"I understand sir, I'll alert the Armed Forces."

by **New Azura** » Thu Aug 12, 2010 1:49 pm

An Official Communiqué of the

Honourable Republic of New Azura
From the Hand of His Lordship, Fleet Admiral Ernst Grobjnak, Esquire

To: HNV VanCullen DDG-209, Re: Captain Britt V. McAden, Commanding
From: His Lordship Fleet Admiral Ernst Grobjnak, HNNA SOUCOM Command
Subj: Task Force Rio Bravo Deployment Orders - ALERT ONE.

Authentication: Alpha - Foxtrot - Zulu - Bravo.

Top Secret - Classified! Eyes Only!:
Attention, crew of the VanCullen. You are hereby ordered to take the lead scout position for Task Force Rio Bravo. Your mission is to secure the sea lanes surrounding the Straits of Donovan. Permission from the Government of Albrante has been given to move into position off their territorial waters. You are to make haste to the Straits immediately. The remainder of the Central Judean Fleet will respond in kind within forty-eight hours. Be vigilant for any hostile contacts in the region, as Azuran military presence is deemed "risky" in this area. Be advised, your nearest support will be the Western Judean Fleet off the coast of Huntertopia.
This missive has been noted in the personal and public logs of His Lordship Fleet Admiral Grobjnak on this, the 12th Day of August in the Year of Our Lord, 2010.

By the Hand of His Lordship Fleet Admiral Ernst Grobjnak, Esquire.
Let it Be Done, This the 12th Day of August in the Year of Our Lord, Two Thousand and Ten.

His Lordship Fleet Admiral Ernst Grobjnak, Esq.
The Honourable Republic of New Azura

___---~~~+++END TRANSMISSION - DESTROY WHEN LOGGED+++~~~---___

Operation: Hellscape
Aboard the HNV VanCullen DDG-209
Captain Britt V. McAden, Commanding
Somewhere in the Southern Judean Sea
12th of August, 2010 - 1411 Hours AST

"General Quarters! General Quarters! All hands, man your battle stations!"
Captain Britt McAden loved the sound of a ship full of alert sailors frantically scurrying into position during a GQ drill. It was, as a matter of fact, music to his fucking ears. McAden adjusted his cap, pulling the brim down a bit to protect against the hellacious glare coming off the smooth seas. His bridge crew were on standby, preparing to act on his orders. Even as he prepared to move, a pair of sentries began weaving through the cluttered bridge, carrying matching slips of paper.
"Damn it, move your ass! We get an EAM, and you two Nancy-boys fuck around with my authentication slips? Jesus, what if this bastard told us to prepare for an attack?"
The sentries, as Britt knew they would, begat frantic looks towards each other. They began flinging themselves forward, not bothering to avoid contact with some of the bridge crew. Britt wasn't overly mad at them, since he'd been expecting the very same status report that he now held (and had time to read twice). Still, sloppiness would come back to bite him in the ass if he didn't clamp down on it quickly.
The first sentry had barely come to attention before he spouted: "Sir, may I have permission to-"
"Fuck it, seaman. Give me the authenticators." Captain McAden furiously snatched the authenticator slips away from the first sentry, skimming the coding on both the Emergency Action Message as well as the authenticators. Without even looking up, his badassery allowed him to snatch the second sentry's authenticators just as he stepped forward, too.
Alpha...Foxtrot...Zulu... Bravo, It's authentic-
"Alright, gentlemen," Britt called out. "The message is authentic. COB, order the ship to port..." Britt paused, looking down at his navigation charts, trying to remember his positioning correctly. "Strike out, come about to heading 0150, mark ten degrees. We have orders to join with Task Force Rio Bravo in blockading the Straits of Donovan until further notice. COB? Make it so!"
"Aye sir!" The Chief of the Boat replied, though Captain McAden didn't particularly care to hear his orders repeated across the bridge again. Stepping through a quickly separating wave of personnel, McAden only had thoughts of grabbing a cup of coffee out of his ready room.
Fucking wars!
A sentry opened his hatch for him, allowing Britt to step inside quickly. The air conditioning in his bridge quarters was refreshing after the maddening heat and humidity outside. His Ready Room was the only location on the bridge that was wired for air conditioning, as odd as that was. Tiredly, McAden sat down on his office stool, motioning to the sentry standing vigil to procure a cup of coffee from the Break Room.
Britt crumpled the Emergency Action Message leaflet in his hand, wandering to himself just what kind of shitstorm the Azuran Navy was sailing into. There was no immediate threat of a military encounter, per se, but Britt didn't like it. Hell, half the Fleet was still en route to Judea, and now Rio Bravo was being called to establish a blockade right in the heart of the fucking region. It was fucking insane, that's what it was!
The sentry was just stepping through the hatchway with Britt's coffee when an idea struck him. Leaning forward in his chair, Britt pushed the intercom button on his console. "COB, who is the lead scout vessel for the Western Fleet in Judea?"
Britt waited impatiently for the Chief to respond. "Ah, yes sir, that would be... the... the Destroyer Carstarphen, sir. Commander Mancuso's boat."
Fuck!
"I know who the fuck Mancuso is, COB. Tell me, does his boat have SHIPLYNK installed yet, or will I have to tap out Morse code?"
There was a brief pause. "Uh, yes sir, Captain. All destroyers in the Expeditionary Force were updated with SHIPLYNK before they put out to sea."
Britt smiled. He'd simply get a status report from across the region. "COB, this is the Captain. Patch me through to the Carstarphen.
Britt could almost here the submission in the Chief's voice. "Right away, Captain!"
"Yesterday, damn it!"

Operation: Hellscape
Aboard the HNV Carstarphen DDG-241
Commander Virgil Mancuso, Commanding
Somewhere Along the Coast of Huntertopia
12th of August, 2010 at 1421 Hours AST

“Commander, sir! Incoming message over the SHIPLYNK - recommended ‘Alert One’!”
Things slowly came to a stop in the crowded battle bridge, prompting the ruffled Commander Mancuso to ease the queasy looks of his crew with the wave of his hand. “No need to be alarmed, gentlemen. I’m expecting a status report here momentarily. COB, I’ll take it in my office.”
The Chief of the Boat responded briskly, trying to steady himself as the destroyer pitched in the rough seas: “Aye, sir! Patched and waiting, Commander!” - reminding Virgil how lucky he was to have such an experienced liaison to the crew as Jason was. Command Master Chief Petty Officer Valance, or “Jason the Terrible” to most of the sailors on board, was a sea dog of the first order. He’d sailed on the legendary voyage of the first Azura Dawn during the final showdown with the Montemayorans, and his record was the stuff of legend amongst most of the newer ship hands. Along with the Boatswain, Mr. Laurie aboard the Battlecruiser Nantahala, CMDCM Valance was the last remaining noncom aboard a combat vessel in the Azuran Navy who had served during the final Montemayoran War in the 1980s.
It always helped to have a calming influence aboard a vessel, especially a newer vessel like the Carstarphen. It also helped to have someone who had a built-in bullshit meter after twenty-five years of service to the Honourable Navy, since Mancuso had been lying out his ass to the crew. With the slightest of nods, Valance had tipped his hand that he knew the "expected call" line was complete and utter nonsense, but that he'd sell it anyways.
A Fucking Saint, that one.
Commander Mancuso stepped into the small alcove that lead to his Ready Room/Office aboard the Battle Bridge of the destroyer. The office had just been wired with the new inter-ship communications system, code named 'SHIPLYNK' three weeks before putting out from Naval Station Vandengaarde. There were no sentries on guard during the day watch, which would help aid his privacy a bit. Stepping through the hatchway, Mancuso quickly grabbed a hold of the bulkhead and pushed the hatch closed behind him. The flashing red cursor on the SHIPLYNK monitor was already appearing underneath his viewfinder - the most dominant feature in the cramped bridge office.
Mancuso let his top rubbers fall from his shoulders, hitting the floor with a soaking thud as he maneuvered towards his office chair. Plopping down into it in a state of exhaustion he didn't know existed, the Commander pivoted to his right, pressing the "receive" button as he did so. The SHIPLYNK logo briefly flashed, before a familiar face began staring at him over the connection.
"Commander Mancuso! It's nice to see a friendly face on the other side of the region!" The voice - and grizzled face - belonged to his old Academy buddy, Britty McAden. The 'Dirty Bastard of San Mateo" they called him; Virgil simply called him his friend.
"Captain, it's a damn pleasure to see a friendly face on my end as well. I take it you all are sailing in a trifle bit better weather?"
Britt smiled heartily. "It's nice and toasty sailing; the sea is calm, but the humidity would choke a bitch in heat." Mancuso grinned, remembering the Captain's affinity for unusual... er, expressions of character.
The Captain's expression quickly turned from one of jubilant remembrance to one of unexpected concern. "How goes the voyage, Carstarphen?"
"Do I look that beleaguered?" Mancuso laughed, almost out of desperation.
"You look like you've been through Hell, Virg." Britt replied.
The Commander was suddenly quite nervous. Though Captain McAden was a long-standing friend, the Navy had a clear cut policy regarding accidents at sea. The following bits to their conversation were going to be more critical than Mancuso wanted to give them credit for being. "We've hit a Hell of a squall line out in the Western Judean Sea. We're making for the Huntertopian Coast to try and find a safe shelter. We've pitched and rolled as much as forty-five degrees; ah, wind speed is registering upwards of seventy-five knots. We, uh, also had a black and blue moment earlier, Britt."
Britt's concerned look stretched into genuine fear. "What happened?"
Commander Mancuso sighed, rubbing at dry, weary eyes. "We were sailing pretty easy for awhile, until our screws began to drag a bit. I had the Chief Engineer check it out. As it were, we sailed right through a fucking minefield. Whomever had mined the stretch of water we were moving through had tethered a few mines together here and there, so that some unlucky bastard would catch the trip line and pull the two mines into the hull of the ship. Luckily, we were able to cut the tether before any damage was done, and we put out an APB to the nearest Mine Sweepers to haul ass into the region. The fleet doesn't need any fucking accidents like the one we nigh had earlier."
"God Almighty, Jesus!" Britt responded in earnest. "What was your position?"
"Ah," Mancuso blurted, trying to recall the coordinates. "84W, 21N".
Virgil watched as Captain McAden skimmed through a folding chart from out of his log book. Finally, the Captain looked up: "I don't have anything charted on that area. I'll put out an APB for the Navy to send out Mine Sweepers ahead of the Carrier Groups."
"Thanks, Britt," Mancuso replied.
"Yeah, no worries, Virgil. I'm just glad you're alright. The shit's really starting to hit the fan out there, and I'm fearful of what may happen in the next several days."
Mancuso nodded apologetically. "Yeah, it looks like Capodimonte wasn't able to broker a peace settlement, after all. Do we know where the fleet is?"
It was Britt's turn to nod apologetically. "Yeah, the main fleet will rendezvous with your Task Group once it assembles in the Huntertopian Waters. Rio Bravo will center around one of our Imperator Class Carriers, probably the Hayabusa. We're to make for the Straits of Donovan, ricky tick. We'll be running a Peacekeeping Operation in the Straits."
Mancuso was apoplectic. "I'm guessing SOUCOM figured on the Albrantans and Ewacians being all peachy keen on seeing an Azuran fleet setting up shop right in the midst of a fucking war zone? I mean, God fucking damn it!"
"Easy, Virg," Britt commanded. "Albrante and the Ewacian Federation have their hands full right now, and we're invited guests. Yeah, I have as many misgivings about a sneak attack as you do, but as far as I'm concerned, we're not leaving Judea without busting a little ass, be it Brewdomian, American, or what have you. If the Ewacians are still holding a grudge over the Serpent War, then we can end it for them if it comes to that."
Mancuso nodded. "Well, just take care out there, Britt. Our western fleet in Judea would have to sail around Cabickstan to bail you guys out if you get into trouble."
"Shit!" McAden chuckled. "They're fucking Judeans, for chrissake! They're more terrified of us than we are suspicious of them."
"Still," Mancuso lauded, "Take care, alright? We're in the middle of a fucking tempest out here, and I don't want to see anymore friends get ass raped by a trigger happy Judean with a grudge."
"You know it. Take care, Carstarphen. VanCullen, out."
Commander Mancuso nodded, watching Britt McAden's face fade from view. After a moment, the SHIPLYNK viewfinder began to revert to its stand-by mode, allowing Virgil a chance to catch a breather. Technically, Britt McAden would be held liable if he didn't report the Carstarphen's near-catastrophe with the mines earlier. Somehow, though, Virgil was confident that the logs aboard the VanCullen would remain mysteriously silent on the incident, just as his own logs would.
Mancuso sprang out of his seat, not wanting to feel his bones ache in protest against the movement. It was a tiresome habit, but one that had saved him a lot of stiffness in the past. The ship continued to pitch and roll underneath him, but Mancuso didn't mind much anymore. There was a fight coming, and he was damn certain to be ready for it when it finally reared its ugly head.
Virgil stepped forward, pressing down the remote activator for the office's communication relay. "COB? Sound the alarm and raise GQ. It's time to go to work."

by **Euro Asian Republics** » Thu Aug 12, 2010 2:24 pm

Nimitz-class Carrier EAS Jill Ericson - International Waters - Thursday August 12, 2015 - 1400 Hours

William Johnson came out onto the flight deck and headed to his F-22N Sea Raptor. It was another day of patrols over the task force. He started up the fighter's 2 Pratt & Whitney F119-PW-100 3D Thrust vectoring turbofans and taxied to the catapult.

Will: "Trinity 1 ready for take-off on the flight line."

Tower: "Trinity 1, you are clear for take-off. Take off immediately to clear the flight line."

Will: "Copy that. Clear for take-off."

Will powered up the craft's engines and was suddenly sent shooting off the flight deck at over 160 knots. He turned to bearing 280 and joined up with his two wingmen, Roy Whittle and Frank Shavelle. The three fighters then do a patrol over the fleet. The patrol was an easy mission, that's what it was supposed to be.

Tower: "Command to Trinity flight. We've got bogeys heading in our direction. Bearing 3-4-0, altitude 6,000 feet. We need you to intercept and identify these bogeys before they get to our fleet. Do not fire until you are given orders to."

Will: "Copy that. Heading to intercept now."

The three F-22Ns turned toward the designated bearing and headed to the unidentified aircraft. When they got close they turned behind them and were able to identify the bogeys. They were identified as SEPECAT Jaguar attacker aircraft, but without any markings. As soon as they were identified, the Jaguars broke formation and went behind Frank. They managed to fire a single missile but the F-22Ns had broke formation.

Roy: "Heads up! They're firing at us!"

Will: "Trinity 1 to command, permission to engage the enemy planes."

Tower: "Permission granted. You are cleared to engage."

Will: "Roger. Trinity 1 engaging."

Roy: "Trinity 2 engaging."

Frank: "Trinity 3 engaging."

The F-22Ns break formation and engaged the Jaguars. There were six Jaguars total. Will's Sea Raptor turned and managed to line up a shot and fired a AIM-9X Advanced Sidewinder. The missile locked and quickly destroyed the Jaguar. Euro Asia's first kill of the war was made. Four of them were quickly taken out by AIM-120C AMRAAMs fired by both Roy and Frank. Trinity 1 then managed to take out the last Jaguar with his AIM-9M Sidewinder at close range.

Will: "Allright guys. Time to head back to the carrier."

The Sea Raptors headed back to the fleet and managed to land back on the Jill Ericson. Will, Roy, and Frank headed to the briefing room where they were to get their debriefing. Telling from this encounter, the upcoming battles will be bloody.

by **Trivval** » Thu Aug 12, 2010 5:00 pm

~ Viktr, Viktr, this is, Switchblade, Status, over? ~
~ Switchblade, this is, Viktr, We're just shy of the Federation Coastline.... its a bit away, over. ~
~ Rodger that, you remember the drill? ~
~ Affirmitive, Switchblade. ~
~ Rodger that, out to you. Templar, Templar, this is, Switchblade, position, over? ~
~ Switchblade, this is, Templar, approx. 10km behind Viktr, over. ~
~ Rodger, out to you. Galaxy, this is, Switchblade, where are you, over? ~
~ Switchblade, Galaxy, in aeroconvoy position, over. ~
~ Affirmitive, out to you. Daemon, this is, Switchblade, status, over? ~
~ 5km behind you, Switch, over. ~
~ Alright, out to you. Groundbuster, this is, Switchblade, status?
~ Switchblade, we're below you, mate. Cruising in position, over. ~
~ Affirmitive, out to you. Wraith, this is, Switchblade, position, over?
~ Circling the convoy, keeping an eye on the water, over. ~
~ Alright, fuel level? ~
~ Switchblade, this is, Wraith, Steady, over. ~
~ Copy that, Wraith, out to you. Valiant, this is, Switchblade, hows the rear, over?
~ Switchblade, this is, ---- .. .. . .-- - he-.- - turbulance...- . ---, copy?! ~
~ Say again Valiant! ~
~ H--.ey turbulan-..--- surviving.. just... over! ~
~ Uuhhh, copy that Valiant.. out to you? Tanker, tanker, this is Switchblade, hows the ride going? Need more escorts? Over. ~
~ Switchblade, this is, Tanker. Negitive, we are eh-okay. We are just behind Wraiths ETA, over. ~
~ Rodgerthat, out. ~

Wing Commander Harris, was in the lead plane of the Viktr Wing, flying steadily towards the Ewan Federation coastline. Switching back to inter-wing freq, but leaving the command to prioitise over the wing, he listened to his comrades conversations as he did the half-hour check.
~ ... and so then he said, "Plutonium?", and we all laughed. ~
Harris smiled, remembering that conversation that they had not 5 days ago when they were in peace. Sitting back in the NRSAB, coffee in one hand, book in the other... wife in his mind. Harris sighed, and stretched.. well as much as he could in the cockpit. He wondered if he would ever see his wife again, ever get to see the moutains of home. He checked his position on the GPS and knew it was time to call in,
~ Ewa Coast, Ewa Coast, this is, Trivvalian Air Force, Task Force: EFCover, request permission to enter airspace to move to ERA Base 24, 28, 23, 45, 46, and 62, over? ~

OOC:~~Post Orbat Later~~.

Okay, Second ORBAT ever. So deal with its Crappy-ness. :lol:

by **Birkaine** » Thu Aug 12, 2010 7:47 pm

The storm had begun.

Birkaina and her extensive cohort were rocked left and right by the waves after the decks of the aircraft carriers were cleared and the many airplanes secured inside, while all submarines had submerged to avoid the chaos that was going on above. The visibility was low in the middle of the storm, so large floodlights lit up the superstructures of the ships like christmas trees, scanning around them for any obstacles or fellow ships in the middle of the torrential rain and huge waves that submerged the bows of the warships for several chilling seconds, but the worst was still yet to come. The Admiral scanned the horizon, with many windshield wipers getting the water off the windows for him to see through. The admiral smoked from his pipe, letting out puffs of smoke while a large wave could be seen crashing against the bow of the vessel. He normally took seat in the command bridge of Birkaina, the heavy weather made him transfer to the secondary control bridge located close to the bow of the left hull, so as to get more frontal visibility where the large flight deck didn't obscure smaller ships the ultracarrier could crash into.

"Hm, what does our weather radar say?" He asked, sitting behind the helm of his vessel.

"It's gonna get worse" one of the many weather monitors replied after looking over the data "Winds are nearing 50 knots from 50 degrees north 12 minutes west, average wave height is 9 meters"

"Keep a close watch on our structural integrity" Krakev ordered, as his admirals listened, sitting in front of a variety of monitors and consoles "This is just a monmentary annoyance, not even the storms of armaggedon will keep my fleet outside of Judea"

The ships plowed on, violently rising in and out of the water as the waves struck them, hulls creaking under the enormous pressure as the largest ships literally bent as the mighty waves passed underneath them. Visbility had been reduced almost to nothingness due to the strong cloud cover and the mist created by the impact of the waves, with the only way of looking into the distance being the many lighting bolts that struck the vincinities, with each flash capturing glimpses of the faraway vessels' silhouettes against the fiery dark blue background, a storm strong enough to intimidate some of the veteran men and women onboard the vessels.
No ships had more trouble staying afloat than the many tugboats carrying the huge Mobile Offshore Bases with them, and they were naturally the first to fall to the storm. Six of them were capsized, while another two were simply crushed against the large structural pillars of the MOBs. Lastly, eight of them were torn off from the offshore bases and simply swallowed by the waves, as Navy cutters fought against the tempest to rescue the survivors from the doomed tugboats, as the winds were too strong for the personell onboard the MOBs to help.

"What about the MEC?" Krakev asked

"They're tailing us, will be within range shortly" His first officer said "They're having difficulties with the storm"

One of the more unfortunate ships was the BSK Spravedlivaya Yarost, an Udaloy-class destroyer that was beggining to feel the stress of the agitated waters beneath, that kept stressing the structure of its hull, creating several small cracks through which water poured in like firefighting hoses, with most of the engineering complement of the anti-submarine vessel alwady being dispatched to seal up the leaks. Amongst them was technician Dimitri Dashkevych, who prepared to head to the lower decks. Putting on his boots and an utility belt, he and some of his companions took some heavy equipment to the lower decks to prevent damage from spreading, as they had been informed that one of the pumps had recently failed and its respective compartment was flooding after the waves had caused fissures.

"Well, figures this piece of shit would begin to break up at the worse possible moment, wouldn't it?" He noted as his engineering team began to move.

"And it's the same goddamn pump again" Another engineer said, while they went down a staircase. "I swear to got we already fixed that one like three times"

As they went down the corridor that led to the room where the large piece of machinery was held, they were showered in salty water coming from the many small cracks on the side of the wall, as lights flickered on and off and the alarm kept blaring. The engineers passed through the jets of water, and noticed that the water was already waist-high when they got to the end of the corridor, meaning that the pump could risk getting short-circuited and knocked out for an even longer period of time. They opened the door and saw the large block of steel the pump was, structurally intact, but probably damaged in one aspect or the other. Using power tools, Dashkevych began opening the frontal panel after attempts to manually turn it on proved fruitless, but the constant banking of the ship made him lacerate his own hand with it.

"God dammit!" He yelled, and held his bleeding hand.

<<Engineering, do you have that pump fixed!?>> The captain asked through their radios <<We're beggining to list here!>>

"We're on it!"

As the engineers tried to fix it, a large wave loomed over the horizon, towering above the rest of the waves as if it was a monolith of water relentlessly willing to simply sweep up the Birkanian warships. A mighty rogue wave began crashing against the outermost ships of the fleet, making its way through the fleet without effort. Finally, the wave got to the Spravedlivaya Yarost, sinking the ship in the abyss-like through, before the crest made the ship rise as if climbing a mountain, a mountain that ended upp being too steep when the Udaloy-class destroyer was capsized by the wave, as all lights onboard went out. When the side of the ship crashed against the stormy sea and finally rolled over, the cracks in the hull finally gave up, and the small jets of water turned into a powerful torrent that submerged the corridor in water.

Dashkevych was thrown against the pump by the force of the water, not managing to see his companions through the foamy hell. Stunned for some seconds, he began to reach for the nearest hatch, getting disoriented by everything suddenly being upside-down, but finally managing to get outside of the pumping room through another corridor, and began trying to find his way out in the small areas that still had increasingly-small pockets of air in them, walking on what used to be a wall with the water going up to his neck.

"Damn!" He exclaimed, as soon as he found one of his fellow engineers, Natasha Skovoroda "That was a big one!"

"Help!" She yelled as she tried to struggle free after getting her leg stuck against a couple pipes that ran alongside the former wall "I'm stuck here!"

"Get going!" Dashkevych screamed at the top of his lungs, yelling over the deafening sound of the water pouring in, and taking his hand. "We're fucking sinking!"

"I can't!" She said on the verge of panic, starting to cry. "My leg's stuck!"

"Fuck!" Dashkevych said, enraged, as he took off his belt to lessen up some weight. He tried submerging to help the engineer get free, but to no avail. With time running out, he decided to go straight for the extreme measure, and handed a greasy rag to her "Bite this, try not to fucking murder me"

He held his breath, submerged again, swimming to where Skovoroda was and took a look around. finally, he grabbed a large wrench that was lying on the floor after he had discarded it, and jammed it between the two tubes that tightly clenched Skovoroda's leg. Using it as a lever, Dashkevych broke the leg of his companion with a sickly crack and an agonizing scream, but managed to set the engineer free in a rush of adrenalyne. She put her arm around his neck and carried the engineer through the rest of the corridor, where more panicked sailors were going out as the ship began to roll again and sink. With the corridor to the last hatch being increasingly steep it became much harder for Dashkevych to carry Skovoroda with him, having to hold all sorts of railings, tables and door frames to climb up to the hatch, recently opened by a couple sailors, who helped them out.

Dashkevych came out of the starboard side of the ship, and another wave knocked the survivors off the side of the vessel as it sunk into the abyss, its propellers still spinning as sailors jumped off in all directions. Skovoroda was dragged off Dashkevych's grip, but the relentless engineer submerged under the water again to get her back up.
Two cruisers and a destroyer illuminated the scene with their floodlights and flares, but they were too far to do anything, and the Birkanian cutters were currenly relieving rescue efforts on a light carrier that had been crushed by the dreadnought Omen after the rogue wave. The survivors had plenty of reasons to believe everything was doomed until amongst the mist two large black silhouettes appeared, mighty guns and bulkheads that would have been visible kilometers away and imposing superstructures appearing over the chaotic, hellish landscape. A battleship of gargantuan proportions, the Estainian Natasha Romanov had noticed the scene, and was coming to their aid, while its modernized sister, the Birkanian Imperator followed. Dashkevych, clinging into both Skovoroda and a piece of flotsam, coughing up water after each time a wave struck, began yelling and waving for them to notice.

Above Battlefleet Legioner

Meanwhile, high above the clouds and the misery that the sailors were enduring, the large air component that protected Legioner did its routinary patrols, being supported by a large A-50 AWACS that had taken off from one of the mobile offshore bases before the storm made their runways unusable. To keep the many aircraft flying, an Il-78 tanker craft buzzed above the scene, replenishing the tanks of the fuel-thirsty fighters and monitoring craft that made up the formation alongside a variety of smaller craft. The AWACS long-range radars had been tracking the Trivvalian UAVs as soon as they had showed up, scanning in lower-band frequencies to make the small craft more visible and completely unhindered by the weather, as it flew several kilometers above the most important parts of the storm, albeit turbulence was still plentiful, jerking the planes left and right.

<<This is AWACS Voltaire>> One of the radar operators of the A-50M announced <<We've got small bogey signatures, might be recce UAVs judging by RCS and speed. From their route it looks like they're monitoring our fleet>>

<<Have you confirmed it is not ours?>> One of the pilots asked.

<<Affirmative, it's not ours>> The AWACS operator replied. <<I already contacted air control, nobody has UAVs that match with the signature up in this moment. Barij flight, please take out the trash>>

<<Roger that>>

The small Va-25 stealth multirole jets turned off their radars and entered radio silence after designating what pilots would strike at what UAVs, to make them fully invisible to the enemy UAVs. After banking to one side, the pilots spread out and each one headed towards a different target, having been ordered to shoot them down with their internal cannons, the commanders believing the UAVs weren't worth the missiles.

by **Estainia** » Thu Aug 12, 2010 9:32 pm

"She doesn't want your respect; the sea. Fear her, remember that at any moment no matter the size of the ship you are on. If you anger her, you will vanish beneath her wrath." - Unknown

IES - Natasha Romanov - International Waters

The stark gray sea surrounded them on all sides; even one so mighty as her lumbered in the waters that churned beneath, around and even above the combined armada of the Birkanians and Estainians. Cutters laborously heaved between the warships in effort to pull not all that they could, but everyone; every person lost to the waves was another failure on their part; Birkanian or Estainian. Perhaps their greatest flaw was their honour, their respect for the value of humanity; life was precious after all.

"The Birks just lost a destroyer not twenty yards off our bow; she went down when the wave hit." Someone noted; it didn't really matter who as the gargantuan flood lights shifted to that area anyway and lit up the slipping shattered form of the Spravedlivaya Yarost just as her defeated form slid beneath the waters. Flares lit up the skies as the Natasha Romanov flung starshells into the air along with the dwindling ones that were fired by the previous still floating Birkanian vessels. "Stations." The tone was just as urgent as the infamous cry for battlestations but without the note worthy call for blood; the urgency was still there however, if not more so evident.

The soaking rails and deck of the battleship made mobility difficult and led to something that probably only Estainians still employed; life-lines. Literally a length of strong hemp rope tied around a line-mast and the other end being tied around each member of the deck-crews waist. Those who dared brave the storm in effort to assist those being lost to the seas slid to and fro here; tossing life-savers and similar hemp ropes of great lengths into the waters below the massive hulking ship.

As many as they could; that was the concentration. "Heave!" The bellowed order was faint and all but lost on the pitching screeching winds but it was instinct to know what to do when they saw grasping arms at the ropes which they then pulled with all their might up the side of the ship as the full compliment of the ships life-savers was chucked into the turbulent sea.

by **Brewdomia** » Thu Aug 12, 2010 11:32 pm

The 4th and 5th fleets.

The storm was apparent now. Already murmurings of allied ships being swept by the hands of Poseidon had already traversed across by word of mouth between the Brewdomian Sailors, but the higher command dismissed such rumors in efforts to keep the morale of sailors high. Navigating through the storm with caution and precision and adapting to the naval playbook, they had begun to close in on attack range. Ahead of them, 12 Von-Koesters had arrived at launch depth and made final preparations. The scurry of flash traffic was urgent as various naval commands were echoed back and forth for the strike on Port Lian.

Dispersed over a wide area, the submarines opened up their cages, and thousands of anti-shipping missiles screeched into the air, their force unhindered by the chaotic rainfall. Like an orchestrated attack, they would maneuver and stalk the ships in port, and all ships that were present in the area. Numerous intricate instruments coordinated in rhythm as in total 9552 missiles cruised through the rainfall to deliver their majestic onslaught.

The torrential rain continued to prevent aircraft from taking off the monstrous carriers that rocked almost in a menacing fashion to sailors on board. The Captains and Admirals, unfazed, went to the next stage of action. Beginning almost immediately, was hypersonic cruise missile strikes on Port Lian. Thousands painted the sky as they used contour mapping to strike their intended prey. Targets consisted of runways, troop barracks, radar centers, and hospitals. Runways were about to be laid waste by kinetic penetrating warheads in an effort to make them unusable, troop barracks, radar centers and hospitals were zeroed in on by thermobarics.

Mixed with the fleets were amphibious and surface troop transports carrying personnel from Brewdomia and Abruzi. In the chaotic chorus of songs to lift morale, the decaying quality of food on the ships, or the near vomiting sensation induced by the tip-toe like dancing by the ships, all remained at somewhat ease. The Brewdomian ships were filled with soldiers playing, chess and cards and an assortment of other games to lift their minds off the growing tension.

One could hear, the faint sonic booms of the missile liftoffs, and knew it had all begun. In an almost endless rhythm, over 6,000 cruise missiles had been released out of the fleet’s arsenal and others waited inside, seemingly hoping for the chance to enter the massacre. LHD’s and other cargo vessels struggled under the immense pressure of the tropical storm that was ravaging the area without mercy. Locked in the underbelly of the ships, the cargo remained safe, but everyone else waited…

Electronic warfare craft accompanied the main ships and towed sonar bouys, intending to watch for enemy submarines. Ships worked intently to prepare for all scenarios, and formed a ruckus navigating through the mess of warfare. Jamming signals would be sent out, if any enemy ships that survived threw back missiles at vital Brewdomian Carriers and other ships. It was all ready.

OOC: Shitty post. w/e.

by **Trivval** » Fri Aug 13, 2010 1:40 am

Eagle Two-One -- Above the Birkainian Fleet

The storm was getting real rough below the UAV, and it danced in the sky. They could barely see the fleet now through the cloud cover, but the planes above were still visible using long range scanners and high scope visual enhancers. They had been monitoring the planes for a while, and no doubt the same the other way. Pilot Officer Wilhens counted from left to right the squadrons in front of him,
"Fighter1.. Fighter2.. AWACs.."
And frowned. Where the hell...? The saw them and smiled. He thought he had lost a squadron there. "Fighter3.. Smalljets.. Fueler1, 2, 3.." Then he frowned again. Waiit... The screen flicked back to the Smalljets, is it just me... He'd been here for 2 hours, since the first sighting of the fleet. Was he hallucinating? ... or are they getting closer?
"Shiiiit..." he growled, before yelling out in frustration. They had deemed that the UAVs were getting too annoying.

His supervisor came over at the yell and saw the situation. "Are you armed?"
"One ASM-82X, One AAM-22U."
"Bolts and Screws?"
"Yah," replied Wilhens as he heard the other operators being informed of the situation.
"Could you hit one of the ships?"
"I dunno," he said, eyeing the jet getting closer, "That storm is mighty rough."
His supervisor patted his shoulder, then said, "I'll try and get the Auth, you keep back the jets. When I get it, you do your best."
"Aye, Aye, Sir," replied the PltOff, readying himself for evasive maneuvers, "How long until the Demon's, KillJoys and the rest of that bunch are here?"
"Not soon enough," replied the supervisor, moving away swiftly.

Putting on his headset, Wilhens spoke to the rest of his team,
~ Everyone see the jets heading for us? We need to break and wait. Keep them off our tail. We have the firepower to do damage here, we need to keep it in the air. ~
He got a cohort of Affirmitives as he yanked hard right and up, tracers lighting the sky where he just was.
There was atleast one yell of frustration.

by **Belkaland** » Fri Aug 13, 2010 1:41 am

Taskforce Judea

"Bridge, this is Weather Control. We have a powerful tropical storm, possibly hurricane strength already, to the southeast of us. Radar & satellite imaging shows it's moving to the northwest, forecasting has it possibly making landfall on Estreana." Listening to the report over his station's speakers, Adm. Jakob Böhme knew that if that storm was to gain further strength, it could seriously hamper any landing operations if it heads for Estreana and his forces failed to capture a port of harbor in time. "Thank you for the report Weather Control, I'll factor that into my battleplans." Turning to a Midshipman looking out at the fleet, Böhme spoke up softly, a habit from his days in the U-Boot service, "Contact the Owen and Bogen, inform them that they are to start initial bombing runs on targets on Estreana's western island." "Aye sir!"

On the decks of the KMV Owen, various aircraft were taking off, the most numerous aircraft was the stealthy Hy-13 Fighter-Bomber. Armed with JDAM-ERs & AIM-9Xs, the Hy-13s were the mainstay strike aircraft of the Belkan Luftmarine, the aviation branch of the Kaiserliche Marine. Already in the air was their protectors, X-02MKBs Wyverns, a custom Belkan variant of the Erusean X-02. Armed with AIM-9Xs and JDRADMs, the X-02MKB would be able to defend against most fighters in Judean service known to the Belkans. Once the Hy-13s finished launching, the 36 Hy-13s & 18 X-02MKBs began their journey to Estreana, but due to the ranges they were flying, the pilots knew that target over target would be short.

Wolfpack Strike Force

With their stores expended, the 20 von Koester-class SSGNs crashed dived back to the depths they had emerged from to head for home. Following them were 12 Walther Forstmann-class SSNs, who would protect the valuable von Koesters as they proceeded out of Judea. Once the von Koesters had left Judea, the Forstmanns would then proceed to hunt for Judean shipping and if by chance, Judean Capital Ships.

by **Albrante** » Fri Aug 13, 2010 4:38 am

Classified Location
Albrantean Highlands
"Do we have any Idea what caused that bullshit on Scrimsonsea?" Admiral Douglas asked the men on his "bridge", an especially designed control room designed to resemble the bridge of a Zeus Class Super Carrier. It was one of the nerve centers of the Royal Navy.
"Nothing came through the surface patrols, and if they were ICBMs then we didn't detect them en-route, must have been subs sir" an ensign answered.
"Great, bloody great," Douglas muttered, "Gentlemen I'm sure we remember how much we paid for disregarding submarines in the Serpent War," he said in a louder voice, "But the Navy learns from its mistakes gentlemen, would you kindly arm the PMN." The Prepared Mine Network was a effectively a trap designed to stop, or at the very least harass an invading submarine fleets. It was quite literally thousands of depth mines floating in the thermocline, each easily capable of ripping a hole in an unlucky sub. They were rendered harmless by a small coded pulse that could be sent friendly subs. But by choking the main waterways the billions of dollars would pay dividends one way or another.
"We have a 89% percent armament rate... sending a months worth of encryption codes to allied nations... okay sir this is as good as were going to get." the ensign informed him. "To the black depths with 'em sir."

Curing Perversion ATTN Ewa Beach (Semi-Open)P/MT

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