The Way Forward; A GATE RP [IC] [OPEN]

[The Tophat Empire]

OOC here

There are some events that just stick in the collective memories of man, no matter who you ask they will remember what they did when the news came, the end of world war two, the terrorist actions on us soil in 2001, and so on. This event is one much like those. We find ourselves in Stockholm, the date is December 24th, 2016 and the world is filled with the good joy of christmas. The clock is about to strike three in the afternoon on this sunny day, a relatively thick layer of snow ever present in the capital of sweden. It was looking to be a good day, no different from any other. But oh, it was. At first reports came into the dispatch center that hooligans dressed up as monsters were attacking random civilians. Then it escalated, a parking house in the outskirts of stockholm proper had detonated, first responders reported over twenty dead outside of the building, and they were under attack by hostile shooting at them with bow and arrow, and swords, in the skies something flew. The nation went into crisis mode. the government evacuated fearing a attack from russia and ordered the military on full alert. Aircraft was scrambled to intercept the presumed helicopters, the Royal guard, still in the ceremonial uniform they wore, together with riot police started to coperate in eliminating the unknown hostiles. Social media was equal as full as ideas as the government, "they were russians attacking", they were terrorists, or they were hooligans with drones having sheets between them. Alas they were all wrong, for the fighting was short, lasting only for a few hours. They were naught russians, hooligans not terrorists. But what looked like orcs from fantasy, the helicopters were not that either, but dragons. What followed was three months of secrecy, everything within a two kilometer radius of the destroyed building was locked down by the military. What looked like a large concrete bunker taking the demolished parking house place. But in early march it was revealed that a unit of soldiers, under UN banner would enter the portal that had brought the orcs and dragons here. The portal having been held as a state secret at the highest level until now.

March 31th | 1201 hours
T -23:59:50 to OP launch

---

Stockholm, usually a city filled with life, even so on this day. Altho the part that Wiking found himself in was much different than the other parts. It was desolate, few walked on the streets, and few cars occupied the usual full streets. But most interesting was that everything he saw was green, or camouflage in some manner. Those walking were not civilians, but soldiers, both on and off duty. The vehicle where military as well. Mostly trucks and jeeps, but the odd APC and tank rolled in the now locked down area of stockholm. For three months wiking had walked this part of the city, he had been assigned here in the first week. He knew why they were there, but almost no one else did, altest they did not. Now the entire world did, and many nations had sent soldiers to take part in the OP. Only seventy-two of the would follow Wiking and his command squad into the portal that hid itself in the bunker built over it. But not yet, they had another day to prepare. Not that anyone knew what waited on the other side.

But for now what waited was an early lunch. Wiking had been up since 5, and thought he was deserving of some food. He made his way towards the mess hall for the soldiers where where to be deployed, a former small italian bistro. Now repurposed as mess hall for officers and Soldiers alike. He had studied the personnel files of his new comrades in detail, and something had struck him. Many nations had sent their elite. Rangers, Spetsnaz, and so on. Yet the commander for this mission was him, a regular Major from a armoured regiment. A common soldier at heart. But maybe that why he had been selected. He did not know, and command did not say.

As he entered he removed his black beret and stepped into the line to receive his food, and after having done so sat down by a table where some other soldiers sat, before he removed the plastic cover of his meal. It was not a MRE, but portion sised meal made somewhere and then shipped to the mess halls over the nation, where it is heated. Todays menu; Schnitzel, potato and sauce, with a metric arse ton of mixed veggies. Decent enough in wikings opinion. As he sat down by the table he nodded towards the other soldiers and greeted them in perfect british english

[Malshan]

The Special Region
Amidst the ancient Trees

A wolfman sat amidst the boughs of the massive trees that bordered a sacred portion of the world. There lay an ancient device, older than even he, which was capable of connecting two distant places and transporting strange creatures to and from each. It had been inactive for quite some time, sitting dormant in its housing for millennia. But, of course, all good things must come to an end.

The Portal opened once more, attracting the attention of one of the many nations nearby. Seeing an opportunity for conquest rather than peaceful exploration, the nation attacked, sending both ground forces and aerial combatants through the hallowed Gate. The wolfman had watched this from afar with sorrow and frustration in his eyes. He longed to stop them; to stop the attacking nation from destroying what could have been new additions to their world. But alas, he was unable to leave his post without express blessing from his benefactor.

So he watched passively as the invading armies swarmed through the Gate, killing and ravaging without restraint, he was certain.

Eventually the stream of troops halted and the armies ceased hostile activities. The wolfman hoped that they'd be repelled and that the defending peoples wouldn't seek vengeance. Knowing the nature of man as he did, the Guardian was certain that his hopes would be in vain. If the foreign nation didn't respond, he was certain that a second wave would follow the first...

Months later...

The wolfman watched from afar as some human children played in a stream in the woods. He laughed quietly at their enthusiastic playtime, watching as they splashed and ran around. In the distance, a voice called them home and off they ran, giggling and laughing as they enjoyed their childhoods.

The Gate had been silent the last few months, though he was certain the link was still active. At this point, he was beginning to think that the invading forces had simply found no one to fight and had claimed the territory for their own.

The wolfman sighed and stood, turning away from the edge of the Forest and disappearing into its interior. It was time for his usual patrol of the Gate. It would take him nearly a day to reach it, but that was why he liked this stream. Secluded as it was, it was a perfect location for a nap.

He slung the massive longbow he carried over his shoulder and dropped down to all fours, dashing into the forest. Time to get back to work.

[Occupied Deutschland]

The Special Region

Raab lay on the bottom of the cart as it trudged along the path, staring up at the almost-cloudless sky. Every now and then, a wheel would catch a rut in the road, and she’d bounce slightly against the hard wooden frame. Far from annoying her, the jostling actually relieved her. It was another reminder she was temporarily free—almost free, at least—from having to fear a sudden knife in her back. Be it a metaphorical or physical knife.

She was actually enjoying this little adventure to find out what had happened to her goblins. Granted, the company wasn’t very good—a problem she would correct soon enough—but the world itself couldn’t be more splendid. The weather was clear, there’d been plenty of wildlife for her to kill and eat, and they hadn’t yet actually found the goblins. That gave her a good excuse to stay away for a few more days at least.

Raab sighed and brought one hand up to rest behind her head. The problem with goblins was that on top of being imbeciles, they were greedy imbeciles. They could follow simple instructions, such as ‘Go east to the holy site and find valuables to steal’, but if they found an actual worthwhile cache of such valuables, they were as likely to settle down around it as return with it. Which was unacceptable.

The nice thing about goblins was that if you killed one or two of the greedier ones who’d decided to follow their own course, the rest would fall in line. Goblins were much like any other sapient creature that way.

“My lady, it should be only two or three more leagues up this path.” Llas, the other elf with her, said. His words interrupted his rhythm, and the cart came to a momentary stop.

Raab sighed in answer, reminded that no matter how far she traveled from the Grunewald Mountains, she never truly left the Game behind. She couldn’t say it was unpleasant, since she enjoyed being as good at it as she was. But she recognized that it should be. The humans weren’t entirely wrong when they lambasted her people as barbarians. But sometimes barbarity was required.

Kill one or two of the greedier ones, and the rest would fall in line. In the end, that saved more.

“Thank you, Llas.” Raab extended one hand to the sky, “Your services will no longer be required.”

Before Llas would even have time to comprehend the words, Raab jerked the hand back to her opposite shoulder. A sympathetic burst of wind above her inspired a slight smile onto her face. The cart hesitated a moment, and then dropped forwards until it slammed onto the ground. Raab herself was pushed forward, hitting her head on the wooden board at the front of the passenger compartment with enough force to sting quite dramatically.

Of course, that wasn’t much to complain about compared to Llas. His head couldn’t sting anymore. It was amazing how dangerous something as simple as wind could be, especially when focused around the neck.

Rising and hopping out of the cart, the dark-elf took a long breath. She smoothed her hair around the impact-site as she stared at the two parts of a single body before her. Llas had always been too ambitious for his own good, and now that had come back to bite him. The fact that he’d been honorable enough to plot overthrowing her violently rather than by some underhanded scheme had earned him the painless death he’d gotten. Much better for him to go that way than slowly and painfully.

Raab's small smile grew much wider. Slow and painful deaths needed to be reserved for the ones who tried to poison her or manipulate her into doing what they wanted.

Of course, the benefit of punishing Llas in private was that others would assume she had tortured him. For amusement, if nothing else. That rumbling whisper of her cruelty and sadism, combined with Llas disappearance, would quiet any rebellious or scheming sentiments in her underlings. For a little while, at least, it would make them fall in line and give her that much more time to secure a better position for herself.

Depriving Llas’ body of everything valuable, Raab rolled it to the side of the dirt path and let it tumble down the slight bank into the ditch. She repeated the process with his head a moment later. Llas would’ve treated her no differently had he succeeded. To the victor went the spoils. In this case, the spoils that would have come from killing her were much greater than those she earned for eliminating him, though. Such was the nature of things.

Even if she enjoyed the challenge, sometimes the Game could be dreadfully taxing. Some days, she fantasized about murdering every single one of the priests in the Grunwald Mines who organized it and putting an end to the whole practice. Then she would move on to fantasizing about more realistic things. Like going back in time, killing a dragon, and always having enough food.

Of course, if they had enough food, maybe the Game wouldn’t be necessary in the first place.

Raab shook her head at the meandering thoughts, throwing them aside as irrelevant. She was daydreaming again. Stupid. Silly. Immature.

Frowning at the all-too-familiar terms echoing in her head in a dozen different voices, Raab turned back onto the path and started up it again. She still had the goblins to find, to see if they’d uncovered something valuable enough to be worth her while. On the bright side, the sun was still shining, the company was better, and now she didn’t have to worry about a knife in the back at all.

At least until she returned to her clan.

If all else failed and she couldn't track down whatever treasure had kept her goblins from returning, she could probably scrounge up some gold and other trinkets that had been left at the holy site by wandering pilgrims. That would keep her from returning empty-handed. Nobody would like it, even among her people reverence for this silly holy site was almost universal. But they didn't have to know. It wasn't like food tasted any different if you bought it with money earned from blasphemy.

[Parcia]

Edward "Eddy" Mason, 2n Lt
UN staging point, Stockholm Sweden

The alarm went off and he was torn from his dream of calm and peaceful island paradise. With a groan he rolled out of bed and landed on the floor wrapped in his blanket. Reaching on to the small bed side table he hit the button on the alarm clock and sat up. The blond he had met and shared the night with was gone, thankfully, which meant he could get ready at his own pace. Getting up he shuffled in a zombie like trance to the head were he did his morning business.

10 years in the Air Force and despite being a PJ for 8 of them, he was still not a morning person. He brushed his teeth, put on his uniform, and made way to the mess hall. It was interesting to see so many different soldiers from so many different countries there at the UN facility. It made it a bit amusing to see the Western born ones snap to attention as he walked past, confounding the eastern ones give him a puzzled look. Being a Second Lieutenant had its perks and nonperks.

Finding the mess hall he really cared little for formalities as of now and just wanted to get his meal. Selecting a rather good looking Eggs and Bacon breakfast box thing, he got him self a hot cup of tea and sat down to eat. He usually like a hot cup of coffee, but he found that when in the field (or just before going in to it in this case) coffee caused his hands to tremble from the caffeine and shaky hands were no good for medical work. Hot tea gave him a boost while not making him hyper active.

Seeing a few eyes at his rank, he spoke to the other soldiers from his unit who were sitting at the table. "Take a pic, lasts longer. And yes you are getting an officer/field medic for this, but the commander." He nodded to the man, "And who ever he puts in control have operational control, i'm just here because they needed a combat experience medic."

[Monfrox]

March 31st, 2017
1201 Hours
United Nations Staging Area
Stockholm, Sweden

The flight in was fairly quiet. A quick stop off at Rammstein Air Force Base before the final leg to Sweden. Frances, or "Franky" as her close friends and family called her, had been able to get some easy rest on the flight in from the states and Germany. Unlike the others, who were assembled previously, Corporal Graves had been just at the tail end of a combat tour in Afghanistan. From one tour to the next, not like she didn't mind. Afterall, these orders came down from the top. After setting the story straight that no, Russia wasn't invading, more questions cropped up. Too many for the US to feel comfortable with. And so, her country chose to send a few of her soldiers on a joint UN mission whose official name had changed a number of times. The UN called it "Forward Until Dawn", but the official USSOCOM designation was "Venturing Spear", because America always had to be special and different and difficult. Franky didn't mind. She enjoyed it.

The Air Force C-17 Globemaster III touched down and taxied in a Malmen Airbase to let it's new arrival off. Swedish military regulars with their Ak5s were there to meet and escort her to Stockholm. A nice, quiet drive, full of words being spoken in a foreign language not her, but between the men in the jeep with her. It wasn't long until she was at the staging area. She had all her gear with her. Even two different uniforms. Her standard Army Combat Uniform and her new combat uniform. She wore the former, as there wasn't any combat to be had yet. Her patrol cover sat on her head as she dropped her gear off where she was told and then went about trying to find the CO. She had opted for the patrol cover rather than the Ranger beret, feeling the need to be modest though she was a Ranger. Her uniform had her jump wings and her Expert Infantryman Badge on it, not to mention the 1st Ranger Btn. and Ranger tabs.

After getting local intel that the CO was in the mess hall, it wasn't too hard to see where. Between a lot of the occupants, there was the same Swedish M90 pattern camo uniforms, but there was a mix off somewhere. She walked over there with purpose in her stride as she took her cover off and held it in her off-hand.

" 'Scuse me, I'm lookin' for a Major Wiking?" She asked, pronouncing it like "wicking". Her face seemed stone in the same expression, rarely moving to anything outside a small grin to small frown. She waited and looked among the table at the others. She was the new face, but she wasn't green. That, she took comfort in.

[Parcia]

Edward "Eddy" Mason, 2n Lt
UN staging point, Stockholm Sweden

He saw the younger women walk up and couldn't help but look her up and down. Despite the obviously new uniform she had most likely come from another assignment based on the look in her eyes. That was another thing about being a combat doctor, you tell a whole lot from a person's eyes.

"You lost ranger?" He smiled and tipped his cup of tea towards the commander. "Come grab a bite to eat corporeal, I'm Lieutenant Mason, your field medic and resident combat certified surgeon."

His tone was meant to be friendly. He never got to eat with enlisted men much and the fair corporeal was an opportunity to do so. "Also, don't salute me, A the CO is right here and B I'm not awake enough to return it."

[The Tophat Empire]

March 31st, 2017
1201 Hours
United Nations Staging Area
Stockholm, Sweden

The flight in was fairly quiet. A quick stop off at Rammstein Air Force Base before the final leg to Sweden. Frances, or "Franky" as her close friends and family called her, had been able to get some easy rest on the flight in from the states and Germany. Unlike the others, who were assembled previously, Corporal Graves had been just at the tail end of a combat tour in Afghanistan. From one tour to the next, not like she didn't mind. Afterall, these orders came down from the top. After setting the story straight that no, Russia wasn't invading, more questions cropped up. Too many for the US to feel comfortable with. And so, her country chose to send a few of her soldiers on a joint UN mission whose official name had changed a number of times. The UN called it "Forward Until Dawn", but the official USSOCOM designation was "Venturing Spear", because America always had to be special and different and difficult. Franky didn't mind. She enjoyed it.

The Air Force C-17 Globemaster III touched down and taxied in a Malmen Airbase to let it's new arrival off. Swedish military regulars with their Ak5s were there to meet and escort her to Stockholm. A nice, quiet drive, full of words being spoken in a foreign language not her, but between the men in the jeep with her. It wasn't long until she was at the staging area. She had all her gear with her. Even two different uniforms. Her standard Army Combat Uniform and her new combat uniform. She wore the former, as there wasn't any combat to be had yet. Her patrol cover sat on her head as she dropped her gear off where she was told and then went about trying to find the CO. She had opted for the patrol cover rather than the Ranger beret, feeling the need to be modest though she was a Ranger. Her uniform had her jump wings and her Expert Infantryman Badge on it, not to mention the 1st Ranger Btn. and Ranger tabs.

After getting local intel that the CO was in the mess hall, it wasn't too hard to see where. Between a lot of the occupants, there was the same Swedish M90 pattern camo uniforms, but there was a mix off somewhere. She walked over there with purpose in her stride as she took her cover off and held it in her off-hand.

" 'Scuse me, I'm lookin' for a Major Wiking?" She asked, pronouncing it like "wicking". Her face seemed stone in the same expression, rarely moving to anything outside a small grin to small frown. She waited and looked among the table at the others. She was the new face, but she wasn't green. That, she took comfort in.

March 31th | 1202 hours
T -23:58:-- to OP launch
Stockholm, Sweden

---

Wiking looked up from his food when someone asked for a "major wicking", and he cringed internally. For while he was proud of the name he had been given, he was a bit touchy on that topic. He rose from the chair and walked over to the Ranger, and extend a hand in greeting to the woman. Normally she would receive a salute, but wiking was not carrying anything no his head, so a handshake it was. "I assume it's a Major Wiking you are looking for?, Emphasis on the first syllable, not the second one. What can i do for you Corporal" he said in a respectful, if friendly tone, reading the nametag on her uniform he added "Graves. Ranger, if i am not mistaken?".

---

March 31th | 1202 hours (Earth time)
Special region

---

Alnus Hill, sacred ground of the Empire, and much of the continent. Considered the origination of all of the different races on it. In almost all mythologies. Usually it would be open for worshippers to leave treasures, that the empire then "safeguarded". But not for over five months, when a large army made camp around it. Three months ago the Gate opened, and the army, consisting mostly of Imperial soldiers and auxiliaries hired or conscripted from all over the continent entered it. Since then, smaller parts of the army had remained. At times a few men would enter the gate, but that would be it. No news of what was going on had been leaked. Anyone trying to approach without official business would be shown the door, so to say. A small miniature gate had been built to temporarily act as sacrificial altar outside of the military encampment that was located in a half crescent shape in front of the gate. A few hundreds of meters separating the two.

Up on the sky clouds had started to gather, for now they were white and fluffy, but only time could tell if that was to remain...

[Monfrox]

Corporal Graves observed the flyboy on the other side of the table. Spoken like a regular officer. She didn't like it, but she had also learned to deal with it over the years. A butter bar with the PJs. With his words, she assumed he had a little bit of an ego. Then again, it was hard not to in that line of work, what with all the "Chair Force" talk. And yet, they had more Special Forces units than the Marines which were the lifesavers of other SOF units since the hard-ass days in 'Nam. Life was ironic. She turned her attention back to the man who stood and addressed her. Swedish names were hit and miss with pronunciation, but at least the Major didn't seem offended by it. She took his hand, as customs and courtesies in the US military was not to salute indoors unless reporting in, and grinned. There was a calm fire in her eyes as she spoke.

"Corporal Graves, First Ranger Battalion, Seventy-Fifth Ranger Regiment. I'm your new squad pointman, sir."

While technically not part of the package, the Corporal sought to step up, as was one of the two Ranger mottos: Sua Sponte, or Of Their Own Accord. She volunteered for that dangerous role of the point lead because it wasn't anything to prove, but to put a little more experience out to buffer the lead element. Of course that went hand-in-hand with the other motto, but that was beside the point. Better to put the best foot forward but not show your whole hand. Afterall, she was only a Corporal, but still trained in raid and assault tactics. She just hoped that there wasn't going to be anything waiting to kill her immediately after going in.

[The Tophat Empire]

Corporal Graves observed the flyboy on the other side of the table. Spoken like a regular officer. She didn't like it, but she had also learned to deal with it over the years. A butter bar with the PJs. With his words, she assumed he had a little bit of an ego. Then again, it was hard not to in that line of work, what with all the "Chair Force" talk. And yet, they had more Special Forces units than the Marines which were the lifesavers of other SOF units since the hard-ass days in 'Nam. Life was ironic. She turned her attention back to the man who stood and addressed her. Swedish names were hit and miss with pronunciation, but at least the Major didn't seem offended by it. She took his hand, as customs and courtesies in the US military was not to salute indoors unless reporting in, and grinned. There was a calm fire in her eyes as she spoke.

"Corporal Graves, First Ranger Battalion, Seventy-Fifth Ranger Regiment. I'm your new squad pointman, sir."

While technically not part of the package, the Corporal sought to step up, as was one of the two Ranger mottos: Sua Sponte, or Of Their Own Accord. She volunteered for that dangerous role of the point lead because it wasn't anything to prove, but to put a little more experience out to buffer the lead element. Of course that went hand-in-hand with the other motto, but that was beside the point. Better to put the best foot forward but not show your whole hand. Afterall, she was only a Corporal, but still trained in raid and assault tactics. She just hoped that there wasn't going to be anything waiting to kill her immediately after going in.

March 31th | 1202 hours
T -23:58:-- to OP launch
Stockholm, Sweden

---

Well then Corporal, Welcome to the team. Wiking replied, bringing out a small black booklet from his left breast pocket he opened it and quickly skimmed a page. "You seem to be missing your Special Region bage, i take it you just arrived?" he asked, somewhat rhetorically. before keeping speaking "But there is time for that later, you must be hungry after all, and even if you are not, eat, who knows when you can enjoy a hot meal once we set out" he said in the same friendly tone. Had not his rank insignia shown a star with the crown above it, indicating him as a major one could be forgiven for thinking he was an enlisted man. Wiking carried little of what was often seen as characteristics of an officer, not to say that he could not bring forth them if he wanted to.

"Go join the line, get some food and drink, once you are done with that report down to the quartermaster to receive your badge, and beret." Wiking finished by saying, still remaining to hear the corporal's reply, or if she had anything further to say.

[Monfrox]

"Yes sir." Frances replied almost immediately. She wasn't exactly hungry, but you never passed up hot food. Even if it was just base food.

The Corporal was there and back with some schnitzel, wheat toast with butter, and a glass of milk. Light, but effective. She sat at an open space on the end of the squad and, in the usual soldier fashion, began to eat at a speed between normal and inhalation. It had been a long flight, but she slept through most of it. She wouldn't tell the Major that she'd not being wearing the beret, if it was the UN beret she was thinking of. Too much of a proud American to do that. Even so, she would only be required to wear it with the Army Service Uniform, and she already had her Ranger beret for that. Then again, not like she'd need it. She figured she'd be spending most of the time in her combat uniform. Still, it was better to be prepared, which went hand-in-hand with her eating.

[Shyluz]

Traugott, Wilkin A.
1st Special Region Company, Korporal
Stockholm, Sweden

The papers rustled as he read through them, the mug of coffee steaming in his hand. It was quiet in this part of Stockholm, he realized, and he cast a sidewards glance at a silent team of troopers quickly loading a small field gun into a truck just outside the mess. Usually, the joint force was abuzz with dozens of languages, and in the scant few weeks he’d had prior to this particular day, he’d picked up functional fluency in a fair few of them. But, that was what he had been brought in to do. He was first and foremost, a communications specialist and his impressive linguistics were precisely the reason he had been sent into the UN peacekeepers, and from there, into the Swiss contingent of the 1st SRC. Was it still SRC?

He couldn’t recall.

He gave a minuscule shrug and sipped the bitter liquid. If anything, he hoped that once the operation was underway, he’d have a chance to get something better than the char they served him now. Militaries were never known for their skill in brewing. Around him, the familiar clicking of boots alerted him to a new arrival, and he stopped reading momentarily, peeling his bespectacled eyes from the text to steal a glance at the newbie. She introduced herself with heavily-accented sentence in English, and by butchering the current commanding officer--a Major Wiking Björnsson--’s name. He gave a deep sigh as she introduced herself as a “Corporal Graves.” He gave a sigh as the two briefly conversed, before folding the paper and looking up at the American, giving a slight nod of welcome before speaking.

“Korporal Traugott, linguistics and communications specialist,” He stated in near-perfect English, “If you would like, I could give you a quick crash-course on Swedish before we depart. In any case, Corporal Graves, it’s good to meet you.” He concluded, adjusting his UN-blue garrison cap on the mop of hair that violated almost every military regulation regarding the subject.

[Tracian Empire]

United Nations Staging Point
Stockholm, Sweden
Alexander Mikhailovich Sokolov, Senior Lieutenant

And well.. this was pretty weird. Only a couple of weeks ago, Alexander would have never imagined that he would end up in such a place.. definitively not. Life had been pretty normal. Together with many others of his unit, Alex was assigned to a pro-Russian separatist unit near Donetsk, helping the so called Donetsk People's Republic fight against the governmental forces of Ukraine. Of course, officially he was here as a civilian, having nothing to do with Russia.. but that's how stuff went on. Despite so many discussions for some sort of an armistice, it was obvious that nothing was going to happen too soon.. so well, he wasn't expecting much but to remain there. But then.. the Stockholm Incident happened.. and much changed.

He was called back to Moscow, and put back in official active duty, before his superiors in the GRU informed him that among the soldiers the Russian Armed Forces were going to send in the UN Force that was going to scout the other side of that weird gate, he was going to be there and join them as a Spetsnaz member. Of course, that if the entire gate monsters thingy was true.. which Alexander didn't exactly believe. But Russia was going to prove that it had nothing to do with those attacks.. whether the West was going to like it or not. And then of course.. if there was actually something on the other side of the gate.. Russia wasn't going to mind trying to get an advantage too much. And that's why the young man took an airplane from Moscow..ending up in Sweden. How weird.

Eventually arriving, an unfriendly Swedish officer told him that he had to go and report to some sort of a Major Wiking.. how a weird name it was. Of course, not many of the Westerners were going to like the existence of Russian troops among the UN force, but they couldn't ignore a permanent member of the Security Council. And he was going to do his job, whether the others would like it or not.

After some going around the place, Alexander managed to find another Swedish officer to tell him that this Major was in the mess hall.. and once he entered it, he stopped. This was pretty confusing. The place was filled with people wearing Swedish uniforms, so quite obviously, a blonde and red eyed man wearing a clearly Russian uniform was standing out. He ignored the weird way the others were looking at him though, as he noticed a place with some non-Swedish uniforms, a weirder mix. That was probably the way to go. And luckily for him, he got there just in time to hear what an American corporal had asked, and to see the man he was supposed to find. Finally.

"Major Wiking?", the Russian asked in an English with a vague Russian accent, although it seemed that the young man was trying to follow the Major's advice, putting emphasis on the first syllable of that weird name."Guards Senior Lieutenant Alexander Mikhailovich Sokolov of the Special Purpose Forces of the Main Intelligence Directorate of the General Staff of the Armed Forces of the Russian Federation, 22nd Guards Spetsnaz Brigade, reporting. It seems that I am supposed to join your squad, sir."

[The Tophat Empire]

United Nations Staging Point
Stockholm, Sweden
Alexander Mikhailovich Sokolov, Senior Lieutenant

And well.. this was pretty weird. Only a couple of weeks ago, Alexander would have never imagined that he would end up in such a place.. definitively not. Life had been pretty normal. Together with many others of his unit, Alex was assigned to a pro-Russian separatist unit near Donetsk, helping the so called Donetsk People's Republic fight against the governmental forces of Ukraine. Of course, officially he was here as a civilian, having nothing to do with Russia.. but that's how stuff went on. Despite so many discussions for some sort of an armistice, it was obvious that nothing was going to happen too soon.. so well, he wasn't expecting much but to remain there. But then.. the Stockholm Incident happened.. and much changed.

He was called back to Moscow, and put back in official active duty, before his superiors in the GRU informed him that among the soldiers the Russian Armed Forces were going to send in the UN Force that was going to scout the other side of that weird gate, he was going to be there and join them as a Spetsnaz member. Of course, that if the entire gate monsters thingy was true.. which Alexander didn't exactly believe. But Russia was going to prove that it had nothing to do with those attacks.. whether the West was going to like it or not. And then of course.. if there was actually something on the other side of the gate.. Russia wasn't going to mind trying to get an advantage too much. And that's why the young man took an airplane from Moscow..ending up in Sweden. How weird.

Eventually arriving, an unfriendly Swedish officer told him that he had to go and report to some sort of a Major Wiking.. how a weird name it was. Of course, not many of the Westerners were going to like the existence of Russian troops among the UN force, but they couldn't ignore a permanent member of the Security Council. And he was going to do his job, whether the others would like it or not.

After some going around the place, Alexander managed to find another Swedish officer to tell him that this Major was in the mess hall.. and once he entered it, he stopped. This was pretty confusing. The place was filled with people wearing Swedish uniforms, so quite obviously, a blonde and red eyed man wearing a clearly Russian uniform was standing out. He ignored the weird way the others were looking at him though, as he noticed a place with some non-Swedish uniforms, a weirder mix. That was probably the way to go. And luckily for him, he got there just in time to hear what an American corporal had asked, and to see the man he was supposed to find. Finally.

"Major Wiking?", the Russian asked in an English with a vague Russian accent, although it seemed that the young man was trying to follow the Major's advice, putting emphasis on the first syllable of that weird name."Guards Senior Lieutenant Alexander Mikhailovich Sokolov of the Special Purpose Forces of the Main Intelligence Directorate of the General Staff of the Armed Forces of the Russian Federation, 22nd Guards Spetsnaz Brigade, reporting. It seems that I am supposed to join your squad, sir."

March 31th | 1204 hours
T -23:56:-- to OP launch
Stockholm, Sweden

---

Wiking had just finished his lunch and he now sat with a cup of tea, he never was much of a coffee man, preferring tea. Even tho it did mean that he had to pack it himself, a small price to pay in his mind. The wristwatch on his arm informed him that he had finished his food in less than 5 minutes. His body was already preparing for the field, and ate with the speed of light. As he was addressed he looked at the young man looking at him. Wiking listened as he introduced himself, before opening his breast pocket and picking out the balc booklet again, he skimmed a page before closing it and placing it back, closing the pocket. "That is one hell of a title Senior Lieutenant Sokolov, and yes, you are joining my company that are to pass into the gate tomorrow. Welcome to sweden. I read over your file this morning, as i did all the others, you have a interesting resume, and i respect your experience, even if i do not agree with the moral of them. I shall keep myself short, from now on, you and evry other soldier that is under my command are no longer russians, swedes, finns, ex-cetera, you are my comrades. Is that understood Senior Lieutenant?" wiking said in the same friendly, official tone, offering the man his had as he did.

"Now, go and grab some food, and if you have any questions, take a seat once you have your grub and ask away, i am still off duty for another twenty-five minutes. If not, pleasure to meat you" wiking added.

[Elysian Kentarchy]

Constantine

I honestly spent most of the flight from Athens to Stockholm sleeping but when we arrive, the young boys and girls sent as part of Greece's contribution look at me like I am insane for being able to sleep when we are being prepared to be sent into the unknown. But I am at peace with what we are going to do, how could I not be? Honestly the air here, the tension one can say, is exhilarating. I love my nation despite its faults but I would rather be up here doing something. Monsters. What an interesting idea, thanks be unto God for he leads my hands to war an battle. When we arrive we are directed to various places with my grandson and myself being directed to speak with a Major Wiking, as he is our commander, to simply inform him we are present. We are able to find and he is speaking to another soldier, who we over hear as being a soldier from Russia. Thank God Russia is no longer enslaved to communism. I can't help but think that, after having seen the effects of such evil I can only be relieved things are different, thought not too much.

I am really only passable in English but I know enough to get by if the accent is ignored and we walk up to introduce ourselves. "Pardon us for interrupting but Major Wiking I presume?" I give a salute to him. "Lochagos Constantine Solomon, sniper in the Supreme Military Command of the Interior and Islands, 98th National Guard Higher Command, 2nd National Guard Armored Reconnaissance Battalion of the Hellenic Republic. I am looking forward to working with you all."

My grandson on the other hand is quite good with English and gives a salute himself speaking in perfect English. "Dekaneas Anastasios Solomon from the Supreme Military Command of the Interior and Islands, 98th National Guard Higher Command, 98th National Guard Artillery Battalion of the Hellenic Republic. My expertise is with explosives and much like my grandfather I am looking forward to working with you." He thinks for a moment and adds. "Translation of our ranks to NATO standard would be OF-2 for grandfather and OR-4 for myself."

[The Imperial Warglorian Empire]

Afghani War, 2005, somewhere around Al-Qaeda Controlled Afghanistan
Adler along with 4 other KSK Commandos sneaked into the camp. Their mission: cripple the Al-Qaeda defences to let a battalion of UN soldiers through. They had planted bombs by about 5 artillery positions, and 4 bunkers, and the main ammo rack they were approaching the last artillery gun, where they would then go to a safe distance, and blow them sky high. Adler sliced the neck of the single guard at the artillery gun, "Schnell, pflanzen die gebühren (Quickly, plant the charges)." Adler whispered. The commandos planted the charges, with one of them putting a thumbs up. "Gehen wir, bevor wir entdeckt werden (Let's go, before we get discovered)" Adler said

Suddenly, they were ambushed, however, unlike when it happened, these weren't Al-Qaeda militants, instead they spoke German.....and appeared to wear Waffen SS uniforms. Leading the charge was someone Adler thought looked familiar "Großvati? (Grandpa?)" Adler said. Suddenly, what seemed to be an SS soldier stabbed him in the leg with a bayonet, Adler shot him. Suddenly, Adler heard a distant voice. Monsieur Adler? Monsieur Adler?.

UN Staging Point
March 31, 2017
Stockholm, Sweden
KSK Hauptmann Klaus Adler
Suddenly, Adler woke up in a Boeing Vertol CH-46 Sea Knight Cargo Helicopter, on a seat, where a French UN soldier was talking to him. "Monsieur Adler, nous sommes arrivés au point d'arrêt (Mr Adler, we have arrived at the staging point)." He said. Adler pushed him away, saying a quick "Verdammt Französisch (Damn French)". He stood up, along with the rest of the soldiers in the helicopter. The back opened, where the soldiers then marched out in an orderly fashion. It was cold, nearly midday, well, was midday technically speaking. Adler walked out of the helicopter, he had grown tired of serving about 15 or so years in the middle east, so he transferred to Sweden, where they was a supposed portal or some thing like that.

Adler saw 2 nearby German UN soldiers, who were playing cards at a box. "Steh auf, du fauler Bastarde! (Get up you lazy bas**rds!)" Adler shouted to them. The 2 soldiers stood to attention. "Sie!" Adler said, pointing to a felwebel (staff sergeant). The Sergeant ran over to Adler. "Jawol Herr Hauptmann? (Yes Captain?)" He said. "Bringen Sie mich zum Führer dieser Basis, ich muss ihm meinen Dienst melden (Bring me to this base's leader, I need to report my service to him)." Adler said, pulling out a cigar and lighting it. "Jawol" The sergeant said.

The Sergeant brought Adler to Wiking, who was drinking a cup of tea, bumping into a Russian while getting inside. He never liked Russians that much, Germany and Russia have had a long sour history together. Anyways, Adler walked up to Wiking, stomping his right foot and saluting "Guten tag Herr Viking" Adler said, in a distinct accent. "Ein mean...Wriking.....or, Wiking, verdammt, entschuldigung, Herr Wiking, speaking another language ischt one thing, pronouncing is another, I have been transferred from Syria to serve under you."

[Occupied Deutschland]

The Special Region

“What in the name of Efer are all of you doing here?”

Raab glared at the post of Imperial soldiers that blocked the road as she rested against a tree. They weren’t supposed to be here. Or, at least, weren’t supposed to be here in these kinds of numbers. The Empire might post a ceremonial handful of guards at the top of Alnus Hill, but she had never seen them block the roads leading to the holy site and plant an entire army on top of the place.

She absently scraped her teeth with the fingernail of one thumb, certain there had to be some kind of explanation. She might have assumed her goblins caused enough of an uproar to bring down the wrath of the Empire, but that gave far too much credit to the things. They couldn’t have drawn such a massive force in response. They weren’t enough of a threat and they were far too stupid. Which meant the army was here for something else. But what?

Imperial soldiers weren’t exactly known for being friendly. Even less so with non-humans. So just walking up to the outpost and asking them what they were doing didn’t seem the best option. Trying to kill them all and find any orders they may have been issued sounded like a lot of fun, but also a lot of work. Besides, it wasn’t like she’d actually be able to read any written orders they may have been given, so that was two points against the idea. Sparing people to interrogate would be even more difficult, especially if you were outnumbered and it made you feel so much more accomplished—not to mention entertained—to just kill them.

Had Llas been able to read? Someone in his family could, of that she was sure. But had it been him or his son? Perhaps she should have waited to kill him so he could have helped here? Or brought the son along to have him read anything she found? But how was she supposed to have known she might need to read something? This was just supposed to have been a simple matter of tracking down some errant goblins.

This always happened when she killed someone! She ended up finding a use for them moments later. It wasn’t fair! It just wasn’t fair!

Raab grunted and smacked her free hand against a nearby tree-branch. She felt only moderately better when it broke. Latching onto the stick, she slapped it back against the trunk it had come off of, trying to imagine the bark was Llas’ body.
"This is your fault. You should be the one getting hit with a switch.” Raab grunted, cracking the branch against the tree more forcefully. What was she supposed to have done? Not kill him? That was ridiculous. Not to mention it would end up with her getting a dagger in the stomach herself. No matter how useful they might be, nobody else was worth that.

Going back and burning his body or impaling it against a tree-branch in retaliation might make her feel better, but she didn’t want to backtrack. Besides, what the Imperial soldiers were here for was more important than punishing one of her dead underlings. The army only got deployed when there was something worth conquering.

Though what could be worth conquering on Alnus Hill was a mystery. The Empire already owned the place. Why come back? It wasn’t like they were going to conquer the Gods just by sitting on the Hill, were they?

Raab smacked the branch into the tree-trunk so hard it snapped in two. She’d just have to find some way to figure this out. As usual. She always did everything herself! It wasn’t fair. She was always the one doing all the work. Being Marchionissa was supposed to mean not having to do all the work. But where were her underlings when she needed them? Cozily sitting around doing nothing but plotting new ways to try and kill her most likely.

At least she now had a fair idea of what happened to her goblins. They’d probably been impressed into service in the Imperial Army. Just like the army to take things that belonged to her!

Raab tossed the broken branch away with a disgusted huff. It was the Imperial’s fault she was being inconvenienced this way, so they would have to be the ones to make it up to her…Somehow.

The best of her bad options was to investigate after the sun went down. It wouldn’t be too difficult to sneak past the soldiers blocking the roads if she was careful and used the occasional spell to make her less noticeable. While she was doing that she could listen in to what rumors and complaints the men had. How they felt about why they were standing around on holy ground could tell her as much—or even more—than what their leaders might say.

Pulling her cloak tight about herself, Raab walked further off the road she had been traveling on.

[Parcia]

Eddy

"Well, aren't we just a prime example on how small the world is, we have a Russian, a kraut and I mean that as a term of affection more then anything, herr Adler, another Yankee like my self, two more Swedes to add to our dear commander, a pair of Greeks, which is surprising to say the least, and if my memory of the medical list serves, yet another American and a Turk." He held his hands up and shrugged. "I really mean no offence towards any of you, wit and sarcasm are my main ways of dealing with life as a Pj. Speaking of which, I am 2nd Lieutenant Mason, your medical officer for this escapade." He saw back in to his chair and enjoyed his tea.

[The Imperial Warglorian Empire]

Eddy

"Well, aren't we just a prime example on how small the world is, we have a Russian, a kraut and I mean that as a term of affection more then anything, herr Adler, another Yankee like my self, two more Swedes to add to our dear commander, a pair of Greeks, which is surprising to say the least, and if my memory of the medical list serves, yet another American and a Turk." He held his hands up and shrugged. "I really mean no offence towards any of you, wit and sarcasm are my main ways of dealing with life as a Pj. Speaking of which, I am 2nd Lieutenant Mason, your medical officer for this escapade." He saw back in to his chair and enjoyed his tea.

Adler was about to slide out a dagger when the American called him Kraut, but then he's quick apology stopped him in his tracks. "Very well, but If you call me Kraut again, I swear you will find a few of your joints that need reattaching." Adler said, smoking a cuban cigar, while taking out a flask, "Und remember, I outrank you Herr Leutenant Mason, anyways, ja, ein agree, das ischt weird ze fact zat we have all these soldat, 6 of them European."

[Fascist Republic Of Bermuda]

United Nations Staging Area
Stockholm, Sweden

"Nej! Nej! You move up, then the truck! Ja, ja! Like that! Wasn't too hard, was it?" The Swedish MP yelled as he struggled to direct traffic. A Terrängbil 20 and Bandvagn 410 were both convinced they had the right of way, the MP was doing his damnedest to resolve the issue.

Specialist Mark Briggs of the United States 1st Infantry Division wandered around the staging area. He needed to find Major Wiking, apparently he was in command of the task force heading to the other side of that portal. He'd introduce himself, wasn't like he had much else to do. All his gear was packed up already, all his weapons under lock and key. Briggs spotted the MP. There, that guy might know where Major Wiking was!

"Hey, MP!" Briggs called out, rushing to beside the Swede, "You wouldn't happen ta know where Major Viking is, would ya?" The MP turned his head and looked indignantly at the American who interrupted his traffic control. "What are you doing, Amerikan?" The MP exclaimed, "I am in the middle of trying to control this madhouse!" Briggs rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm lookin' for Major Viking, that's what!" He replied, looking around at the two columns of traffic, "Busy day, huh?" The Swedish MP nearly choked. "BUSY DAY?" The MP all but yelled, "IT IS ALMOST H-HOUR, DIN JÄVLA AMERIKAN!" "Alright, alright, calm yourself, Christ," Briggs said, putting his hands up defensively, "Just point me to the Major and I'll be on my way."

The MP sighed and thrust a finger over to the mess hall. "The Major is over there." The Swede announced. "Thank you," Briggs said, "Your assistance is appreciated." The MP turned back to the traffic, muttering something about "damn Yankees" before the traffic clogged up again and the MP had to go on another yelling session.

Briggs entered the mess hall and scanned the room. He eventually some who seemed rather important, surrounded by a profoundly colorful (both literally and metaphorically) group of people. That must be Major Wiking. The MP had been correct. Briggs was about to head over when his stomach grumbled. He hadn't eaten since the flight into Stockholm.

One trip through the meal line later, Briggs made his way to the table where the Major sat. "Major Viking." Briggs set his plate down and saluted, "Specialist Briggs, AT Infantry! Ready to blow Mordor to hell, sir!"

[Ormata]

Something had opened.

Yet, Chag decided, things opened all the damn time. The High Elves were like parents, going to work and back from, every single day, and they never stayed long. To them, the webway between worlds was like a bothersome road. It was an annoyance, but nothing more. To the humans, whenever one pierced the web, well...the elves used a fine, silver blade to pierce it. The humans used a hammer. Those who pierced it rarely did so with finesse; to them, the webway was a border.

To the darker, older beings, the webway was a friend. They had stared into the abyss, as the saying goes. They saw it as a thing to be respected, much like how others viewed nature. The trees gave their bounty; to those beings, so did the webway. It gave up its bounty far, far harder, however, and few ever reached the golden fruit that lay on the branches. Yet something had opened. Perhaps that was the issue. Something had opened, and far, far too many had run through that opening. Everything has mass, and the more mass, the larger the strain on those webs. There was a lot of strain, at that moment; Chag could tell. He was like a tightrope walker, feeling the disturbances in the taut wire. The wire was taut, most definitely.

The web was opened differently, too. It was not torn through. It was not cut through. It was as though, instead of breaking through the wall like humans do, or opening a hatch like the elves, one simply used the door. A different way. A strange way. Chag didn’t recognize it.

He scratched an arm, sending little gray flakes off into the wind. They burnt, somewhat, little red embers as the dead skin burnt itself away. That was one of the things a pyromancer had to worry about. If you didn’t release, your fire was shit. If you always did, you set yourself on fire. Chag saw it happen once; it had been an experience, as the teacher stated. The ashes were used for a recipe, or something to that effect; the eggs had been good. Yet, he stopped. Chag needed to go there; perhaps there was something to be learnt. Perhaps. Getting up from his crafted chair, he moved about the room, picking up what he would need. His cloak, his Katzbalger, a small book. Then, he stood, in the center of the little room.

Just a word. That’s all he needed. Just a word, and he flew. Chag knew the approximate location, of where he was going. Approximate. He didn’t want to go there, no; that was a way one died. Instead, he dropped himself off, perhaps a mile from the site.

He felt the grass on his cloak, on impact. Looking-about, Chag paused, then waited to feel some more. He wanted to wait; if he went now, he would see little. They would feel his coming. He did not want that, not at all.

[Tracian Empire]

"Well, what can I say. Mother Russia is enjoying its pompous titles. In the NATO standard, the rank of senior lieutenant is the equivalent of OF-1c, and the Guards part comes there because my former unit is a Gvardiya unit.", Alexander answered, smiling. Even if he usually highly disliked any kind of Westerners, this guy, Wiking or however he was called, didn't seem to be such a bad guy. The Americans were going to be the problem though, he hated them.. but hey, a mission was a mission. "I suppose. Although as a fair warning, I will always and always place the orders of Russia above everything else, when necessary.", the Russian told Wiking, shaking his hand. "But for the time being, yes.. we'll be comrades."

Finishing what he had to say, Alexander went and took some food, before taking a seat next to others. The food wasn't bad, of course, it was much better than anything he had eaten in Ukraine.. but well, some vodka would have done wonders.

"Yes, it is interesting to see such a multinational group over here. It is good that the Americans haven't taken over everything like they usually try to do. ", Alexei answered to the comment of the American officer. "You should get used to nicknames though, Kapitan Kraut. We're all comrades, aren't we?"

[Vahltunskhja]

Sergeant Césaire Arsenault
UN Staging Point - Stockholm, Sweden
March 31st, 2017 - 1132 Hours

His finger gripped the trigger, pressing it down as he carefully slid the bolt and slide assembly into the receiver with a click. After checking it was all in place, the return rod and transfer mechanism went into their housing in the piston, the lugs moving into the receiver groove. He swung the butt up, slapping the retaining pin in and lowering the freshly cleaned cover assem- "Sergeant Arsenault?"

Césaire looked up in surprise. He hadn't heard the officer come in, but smiled when he saw who it was. "Lieutenant Singh. They didn't tell me you'd be here too - haven't seen you since Panjawaii."

"How you holding up old-timer?" The younger officer grinned as Césaire set down the C9 before getting to his feet and shaking his hand. The lieutenant raised an eyebrow and looked past him. "Jesus, Jean-Pierre. You must have stripped and cleaned that gun twenty times by now. You do that when you're worried, you know."

"Eh... j’ai des montonts dans l’estomac, oui." The forty-year old soldier furrowed his brow as he leaned against a stack of crates. "They don't pay me enough to go into parallel-fucking-universes is all."

Singh snickered and handed Arsenault a sheaf of papers, the look of which elected a groan from the sergeant. "Hey now, inter-dimensional multilateral military operations have a lot of paperwork, vous ne savez pas? And before you ask- I know as much about what's through that gate as you do. Even if I did know more, I doubt I'd be able to tell you. You've got the front row seat." The lieutenant shook his head and tapped on of the papers. "As you probably know your company commander is Major Wiking Björnsson. Get that machine gun back to the armoury, get those forms signed, and get acquainted with him and the rest of your company. It's last minute, but I know talking with new squadmates gets your mind off things. H-Hour is coming up, so fais–le au plus sacrant. They're going to need you ready, right?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine Harjit. It's just... this isn't exactly something we've seen before."

"You're preaching to the choir, Jean-Pierre." The lieutenant began to walk off, Césaire looking up from the papers to shout after him - "Hey, how's Mireille?"

"She's pissed at you. Wanted to be first wave." Singh grinned before waving and leaving him to deal with his C9 and a half-dozen forms.

UN Staging Point, Mess Hall
1207 Hours

Stepping out of line with his hot meal, Césaire gazed around the reconfigured bistro and quickly picked out a cluster of international uniforms in the sea of M90. Tucking his blue beret under his arm, he made his way over to the Swede in the congregation. "Major Björnsson?"

The Canadian offered him a friendly smile and a handshake. "Good afternoon sir. Sergeant Césaire Arsenault, please to meet you."

[Parcia]

Eddy

He eyed the Russian as he sat down with his food. Perhaps it was the medical officer in him or maybe the JSOC training kicking un but he couldn't help but pick up a sense of hostility from the man. He flashed the man the trade marked Air force smile. "You know, I ran a few ops with a few Russians operators buck in 2013, mainly classified joint ops. I couldn't help but notice that the particular Russians in question were probably some of the best men I served with."

He took a sip of his tea. "Now if I had the choice I would take a Seal team ir maybe a Ranger squad rather then them, but they always seemed to work in a pinch, made a hell of a team though, they could have been PJ's them selves were it not for the whole "Russian" thing."

Granted he was testing the man, it was meant to just get a response.

[Zjaum]

The air was beautiful-smelling, and the pines were strong and tall where Haapsalu strolled on one fine morning. He had a dead buck on his back and a heart full of joy. He decided to pause and enjoy a brief meal. Tomorrow, if he calculated correctly, was going to be a big day, after all. Striking up a fire by the side of the road, he stuck the deer and began to roast his bountiful feast.
The forest started to shake. Trees started to bend in the distance, and a large giant came stomping through the woods. "Of all the times..." muttered Haapsalu, as he lazily got up and meandered to the middle of the road. "What business have you here?" shouted the dwarf, his hands gripping his spear.
The giant finally came close enough to show her face through the branches. "Lord Argyrix, sir!"
"Yes?" He lowered his spear.
"I've come from the Gahnospinel Mines. First off, I must say, it is an honor to finally meet you. I've searched far and wide, and I've finally found you! All of my coworkers could not stop singing your praises. You have truly made our company an economic powerhouse in Unterritory."
"Compliments are worthless; my time is valuable, even if yours is not."
"We have an issue that requires your help."
For a moment, Haapsalu was to angry to speak. "I am enjoying my retirement! Have you no one that can take care of this?!"
"Just a matter of advice. See, we have a group of elves that refuse to let us cut down their forest. We have the rights to the land, but they've been sabotaging equipment. Perhaps your presence might make a difference."
"Look, Okoya... you are Okoya, right? The new governess of the Tizenque District?"
"Yes, sir."
"Okoya, I've heard great things about you. You're smart enough. You can handle this."
"But, Lord Argyrix-" She reached out her hand to pick him up, but Haapsalu responded by gripping and displaying his tomahawk. She retracted, and her face grew somber. "Things have been so hard for the company. We've been trying to live up to our legacy of industry and honor and-" Her eyes got misty. "We don't know how we can keep up with those standards! I don't even know how you did it! Please, at least lend me some of your wisdom."
Haapsalu sighed. "Take a deep breath. First off, I am not the legend you have heard about. I never was, and never will be. As for your job, life will always be, and has always been, hard. You will get through it all, Okoya. The first days of the company were a bit of a stumble as well."
He paused in contemplation. "Have you tried mining under the forest, and then having the forest collapse naturally?"
"Well, that would be futile; there's too much foliage under the ground."
"Yes, but then you use the tree roots as support for the mine. It's an old trick that I used when I was a miner. You'll see when it starts to give way, and then you evacuate and leave the elves to their ruined forest. They'll leave, and then you can start to clearcut. If that doesn't work, just set the forest on fire."
"Thank you, sir. It is good to finally meet you." She reached out her hands to hug him, without resistance this time.
"You'll do well," he said.
"But sir, where do you plan to go? You are almost at the border of the Zjaum Empire!"
"Yes, yes, but there is a magical artifact in a neighboring country, and, if my hunch is correct, it should be activating quite soon." Haapsalu used a bit of magic to bop Okoya on the nose. "Success and Prosperity, my dear lady."
"Success and Prosperity, my lord!" Okoya cheered as she bounded back through the forest.
Haapsalu returned to his now-burnt dinner. Perhaps it was the last time he'll see any of his friends back at the company. Only time will tell.

[Tracian Empire]

Eddy

He eyed the Russian as he sat down with his food. Perhaps it was the medical officer in him or maybe the JSOC training kicking un but he couldn't help but pick up a sense of hostility from the man. He flashed the man the trade marked Air force smile. "You know, I ran a few ops with a few Russians operators buck in 2013, mainly classified joint ops. I couldn't help but notice that the particular Russians in question were probably some of the best men I served with."

He took a sip of his tea. "Now if I had the choice I would take a Seal team ir maybe a Ranger squad rather then them, but they always seemed to work in a pinch, made a hell of a team though, they could have been PJ's them selves were it not for the whole "Russian" thing."

Granted he was testing the man, it was meant to just get a response.

"Well, the general atmosphere in the Russian Army might not be liked by every American, but it is nice to know that you liked them..", the Russian answered, seeming to smile. "Of course, I do not know from what branch the Russian operators you fought with were.. but of course, in my own humble opinion, the Spetsnaz can beat the Seals of the Americans anywhere, and at any time... but well.. these opinions are subjective, aren't they? An American would always like his own armed forces more than the Russian, and a Russian would always like the Russian Armed Forces more. Even if of course, I'm not fully Russian."