Tales From the Elvarya [Elvarya Only]

Where nations come together and discuss matters of varying degrees of importance. [In character]


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Founded: Jun 13, 2018

Postby Valcorya » Tue Jul 03, 2018 10:50 pm

July 3, 2018

Today the President addressed the nation;

"Valcoryans, with the world watching and with generous support from the international community, our nation has industrialized more than ever, our military has become mighty, and our diplomacy has gained weight. As the world watches, our nation will become a power that will match others and work with others to overcome the problems in our world.

From a former colony to a mighty power.

But, we must work harder than ever; to fully industrialize, to further grow our armed forces, and to become a beacon of diplomacy in these hostile times. Let us not give up in the face of difficulty and unrest, we must continue to tackle our goals - to face our challenges.

I believe in you, my fellow Valcoryans, and let us work together to build the greatest nation in Elvarya."

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Founded: Dec 06, 2015
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Aventhia » Sat Jul 28, 2018 11:24 am

"1988 is a pile of bullshit."

Those are the words told by Ex-Special Operations Justin Gallagher, who was one of the men involved in the nation's tragic history about Flight AU107, where stories of heroism, drama and dozens of sprawling tales that occupied the youth today. Although reluctant to partake in the interview that includes four of his former colleagues, Gallagher took this opportunity to speak his version of the hijacking and the events after the crisis. The government's side of the story in the aftermath of the events definitely calmed the public's fear about the nation's vulnerability towards international terror groups, and that Aventhia is always ready for this scenario as they have stated that they have done anti-terror training and operations in and out of the country. That the crisis in the hijacking spared the remaining passengers and crew on board, gave its usual sympathies and support to the loss of three operatives and fourteen passengers, and congratulated the men that ended the situation. Aventhia would go on to repeat its process of sympathies and complements to the public and its military respectively for the next coming decades.

For Gallagher and his ex-colleagues, the government and the military were in chaos. They have never anticipated such threat to come this close at home, especially that its happening right towards the government's doorstep in the airport in Bellux. Seven of the fourteen hostages that were killed would've been spared if they gave the word for their team to come in the second they confirmed its hijacking, and the assault would've been bloodless as they were provided equipment to make this whole affair come to a quick close. But the top brass couldn't take such risk, and Gallagher admitted that they were never trained in a specific scenario such as this, as assaulting an airplane is much more difficult than a bus. All they get was the schematics of the plane and work from there, with each passing hour provided by their logistics team the position of the people inside, the arsenal of the hostage takers and possibly bombs that they have placed inside the airplane. Despite the lack of practical training towards this situation, the teams were ready to make the assault, but the government forced them to wait for five days that would eventually lead to the execution of seven hostages, including an eleven year old child, whose death enabled the government to proceed with the assault on the seventh day, and the media squeezed through in an already crowded airport tarmac. Gallagher and his team were disgusted, as the government would allow them to do their own way if a child was executed rather than six adults that could have been spared from their way of handling it.

And so the assault went on, four teams entered the airplane through the hatches underneath and the plane's doors. The first shots of the crisis began with one of the team's operatives being shot, followed by a storm of gunfire from either sides of the plane. The entry each team made was ruthless, if not dangerous with hundreds of passengers already engulfed with tear gas inside that caused dozens of fatalities inside the plane. It was unavoidable that some of the passengers were shot and or killed in the crossfire. Eighteen minutes was all it took for this bloodbath to end, with the gas already dissipated from its use, cabins coated with bullet holes and blood, and bodies scarring the eyes of the many terrified passengers and crew on board. The next thirty minutes was the paramedics storming in and bringing the survivors into the city's hospital, the politicians playing hero as they announced the crisis to be over in front of the media, and the operatives involved were left neglected as they watched the aftermath unfold with their weapons locked, equipment bagged and the bodies of the fallen taken in by the medics. All the teams involved were given honors and medals by President Fuller days later, while censoring to the public about the suicides of some of the operatives involved in the crisis for decades. Gallagher soon departed from his military service four years later, citing that he could no longer see the Aventhia he used to protect.
Last edited by Aventhia on Thu Jul 11, 2019 4:28 am, edited 1 time in total.

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Founded: Aug 05, 2018


Postby Lozny » Sun Aug 12, 2018 3:51 pm

December 22nd 2018 / 03:00 / Lozny Royal Palace.

The whole palace was in shambles, expensive family portraits torn off the wall and burned, upperclassmen, women, and children laying against the walls reduced to bloody corpses, with whoever was left alive being brought to their knees as men armed with rifles dragged them out to the streets, one of which was the former King of Lozny, ready to be brought to trial before the people for his tyranny.

In the great hall of the palace, Stannes stood by and watched as his fellow party men wrapped up any loose ends, cutting the throats of any nobleman who was left alive and watching as others took down any expensive looking artifacts, decore, ETC to be melted down and used for something which would serve the people.

"Comrade Stannes," A red party member said as he approached him, "We have finished sweeping the entire palace, everyone is accounted for an any and all upper-class pigs not already dead is currently awaiting their fate."

"Excellent work, comrade," Stannes congratulated, "Now all that is left is to bring the 'good king' before his people and address his crimes. Then we will finally return this once great nation to its people, and make it one for everyone and not only the inbred filth of the upper class. Have the men prepare a chopping block, I want to make the king's death a memorable one."

"At once, Comrade," The red party member said as he went to do just that.

Stannes meanwhile went back to what he was doing, sitting back and smiling as he watched the last noble plead for his life, only to receive a bullet to the brain, destroying whatever legitimate claim there was to an and all noble houses in Lozny, one step closer to securing the nation for that of the people.

'Now, time to tend to 'his majesty'.'

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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Varumia » Wed Mar 13, 2019 11:59 am

[The following is a transcript from a ISB raid on a suspected rebel supply cache, in the outer slums of Nancy, dated December 29th, 2018]
[Recording starts, footage identified as combat recording of Unteroffizier Karl Rieda, Internal Security Bureau]

UFKR: We have the go ahead from mission control, breach on my signal. Breach.
[Explosion, followed by ISB personnel entering the structure.]
UFKR: Hands in the air and weapons away! Hands in the air!
[Two individuals appear come into view, disheveled and unfocused. Gefr Hans Ulmer approaches them.]
GFHU: Weapons secured sir, moving to secure suspects.
UFKR: Understood Alpha Two, remain cautious. Three and Four, check the staircase and upper level.
[Commotion from staircase as Beta team breaches through roof of housing structure. Footsteps heard.]
UFKR: Staircase, potential hostiles!
[Two more men come down the stairs, armed. Gunshots, Gefrs Chris Andersun and Jakob Gelmung preemptively fire at the men.]
GFJG: Hostiles neutralized!
UFKR: Secure that damn staircase, and watch your fire. Beta's going through the fourth and third floor.
[Gefr CA & JG exit room.]
UFKR: Damn it, this was supposed to be a clean op, in and out with no complications. Two, what's the status of the suspects?
GFHU: Suspects secured sir. Breach charge must have shook'em up good.
UFKR: Alright, start sifting through here, Command thinks we can nab some good intel on the rest of their cell. Alpha Three, this is Alpha Actual, progress on the sweep?
GFCA: Almost finished sir, Beta radioed in, they're almost done with the third floor. Linking up at the second story stairway.
[Seconds pass in silence. Three more gunshots heard, followed by a woman's scream, then silence and sobbing from upper stories.]
[Recording ends.]
[Per the official mandate of the ISB, Internal Security Bureau personnel are authorized to use lethal force in security operations against suspected hostile elements to the Varumian government. The Moureau Adolescent Orphanage was found to have housed two known terrorists, now KIA, and two citizens suspected of terrorism, as well as a stockpile of weapons and electronic data in the basement of the orphanage. The death of one Joannes Kleurice, now determined to be innocent of treason and terrorism charges, is a tragic but acceptable casualty in the war against unconventional insurgency in Varumia. The charges of murder and failure to meet ISB standards pressed on behalf of Joannes' sister Maria are found to be invalid after review of evidence presented. Unteroffizier Karl Rieda and Gefrieters Chris Andersun & Jakob Belmung are found innocent and will return to active duty as soon as possible. Case closed.]

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Founded: Dec 30, 2013
Corrupt Dictatorship

Postby Razoria » Sat Jun 29, 2019 6:16 pm



The Imperial Palace, Northern Outskirts of Haemia

The Grand Ducal convoy halted at the closed black steel gates of the former Imperial Palace, the center of Razonican royalty and power, Walther's first home. From the second vehicle in the line of four, the back door opened before the Duke's security service could open it for him. Grand Duke Walther emerged, followed by Prime Minister Daeron. Four members of the Ducal Security Service followed behind him, their eyes scanning for threats to their Duke. Slowly, Walther Lussengarde approached the massive gates, bearing the ancient Coat of Arms of House Lussengarde. Walther witnessed the two guard boxes on both sides, windows smashed out and debris strewn out on the entrance door. They hadn't been manned for a long time, since the dying days of the Empire. He'd imagine they were pulled from guard duty once the remaining royal family was shuttled to Lussendale and sent to reinforce the crumbling Razonican defense of Haemia. His uncle, Daeron Lussengarde surpassed his nephew and arrived at the gates, thumbling with the three iron chains locked around the gates, each with keyed padlocks. Despite the lack of entrance guards, Daeron instructed Haemia Police to keep the front gates secured at all times, even going so far to establish a security camera system around the entire complex that was linked directly to the Police Service's headquarters. Any who tried to breach the gates of the Imperial Palace were set upon by policemen within five minutes. Walther flanked his uncle, staring at the barred gates. Beyond the gates, Walther saw the half-mile long black tar driveway that led to the Palace itself, he could see the familiar blue dome of the Palace and on both sides were wild grasses, which were kept neat and tidy under the reign of Empress Faenia. "Get this gate open!" Ordered the Grand Duke as he made his way back to his limousine.

Breaking open the locks and throwing the chains aside, the Ducal convoy progressed through the gates, leaving two DSS guardsmen behind to keep the area secured, wearing their familiar black suit with tinted glasses. The grass on both sides of the road had grown so high, Walther couldn't see the fountains on either side, though he was quite confident their water spouts had stopped and their once glimmering pools of crystal blue water had grown green with moss. The last time Walther was at the Imperial Palace, he was being evacuated shortly after he found his sister's body hanging from her chambers as the Siege of Haemia had begun. It had been that same situation that kept Walther from visiting ever since. He still saw his sister, the Empress's, dead eyes opened wide and mouth agape as she swung ever so slightly in front of her elegant king-sized bed in his dreams, ever so often jumping awake at night and disturbing his wife Viktoria's slumber. But now, years later, he would face his trauma and step within the halls of his former home once more. "Sir, I must instruct you to wait inside of the car until we've secured the grounds." Ordered Captain Loraena, an old friend of Walther's and, embarrassingly, former lover. In the days of the Empire, the much younger Walther would slip off with then Private Loraena Tarakian of the Imperial Security Service. It lasted until his father caught wind of it, putting an end to it by transferring Pvt. Tarakian to the coldest region of Northern Razonica. He hated his father for the decision, but the love would fade and once the Empire had fallen, they remained good friends, with him going so far as placing her in command of the Ducal Security Service. He and Loraena never spoke of the romance since, and considering he was now married to the cousin of Kaiser of Germeria, he would never speak of it again. Walther looked at Captain Loraena in her passenger seat and nodded. From his window, he witnessed the lampposts dotting the road every ten yards, some of them rusted and their black paint chipping away from the weather. The Limousine pulled halfway off of the road and allowed the three black SUVs to pass and park in front of the Palace first, agents jumping out, walking up the steps with their sidearms pulled from their holsters. The Limousine pulled up behind them and as Captain Loraena opened her door, so did the Grand Duke. "Sir, I said to wait in the vehicle!" Ordered the Security captain once more. "Yeah, I heard you." Loraena's face scrunched up in anger as the Duke openly defied her and as she opened her mouth for a rebuttal, the Prime Minister raised his hand as he followed behind the Duke. "That'll be all, Captain. The Palace is secured enough." He stated as he closed the door behind him. The six agents rushed through glass doors of the Palace, with the two Lussengardes and Loraena following close behind. Walther slowed his pace as he examined the front of the Palace. The once bright white pillars were now gray, one side covered with moss and in need of cleaning. The normally staunch silver color of the slabs under his feet were now discolored from the normal rains of the area. The Palace had seen aging but, luckily, no looting damage or broken windows. Walking inside, memories flooded Walther's head as he entered the large ballroom of the center complex. Aside from heavy dust, the interior had survived the effects of weather and time, though the brighter colors of the tiles had turned duller. The air smelled fresher, a hint of an old library. To the right, he saw railings that led to a slightly elevated level, cluttered with tables and chairs, burned out candles at the center of each one. Beyond that was a small set of stairs that led to the Emperor's Chair, where the current leader would sit and look down upon their subjects as they danced, drank, laughed and flirted with one another. The chair was quite simple as the only decorations on it was the royal family's coat of arms above the headrest and the purple silk cushion. On both sides of the chair still hung the green and white flags of Razonica, more outfitted for a vertical hanging as the wreath and cross weren't sideways. He could still hear the shouts and singing, dancing and drinking and how rowdy these walls would get once the older nobles and dignitaries would slip out to their bedchambers, sometimes alone, but usually with another. "Walther! Drinking contest, right here!" He heard echoing in his head, the voice of another close friend, Norin Caldwell, son of Lord Caldwell. They were both killed in the fighting in the latter parts of the Razonican Civil War. "In the realms of fire, in the reign of the Lion, eclipsed in the eye of the Empire, of we Razonicans!" He and his friends would sing into the early hours of the morning, slurring in their drunken bliss. Walther inhaled the stale air deeply as his uncle placed a hand upon his shoulder. He grasped his uncle's hand and closed his eyes, regaining his composure. In this moment, they were not Grand Duke and Prime Minister, but only uncle and nephew, only family. Walther opened his eyes and continued onward towards the Grand Hallways. As they walked through the Grand Hallway towards the Royal Chambers, they were amazed to see the state of the ancient and expensive paintings of former Lussengarde rulers. None were ripped or molded or damaged in any way, as perfect as the day Walther last saw them. As they progressed from the first Lussengarde emperor to his father Addanus, Walther stopped cold at the witness of his sister, Faenia, standing strong and defiant. Walther's chin quivered and the quiet mutters of his nephew drew Daeron to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Not here, Walther. Come." Said Daeron solemnly. He pulled his nephew to him and escorted him to the Royal Chambers. As they entered the Royal Apartments, where only the wealthiest and most influential nobles would stay, Daeron turned back to Captain Loraena. "Stay here, Captain." The Security member wanted to protest, but understood the look in his eye. Daeron was not a man to be crossed with.

The large ornamental doors creaked as Walther opened them, revealing the exquisite interior of the Royal Chambers, bedroom of Empress Faenia. Much like the rest, the Imperial Military did not have the time to evacuate the Palace of all the furnishings. Despite the stale air and the shattered wine glass on the floor next to Faenia's desk, it was left relatively untouched for years. Daeron closed the doors behind him just as Walther fell to the ground beside Faenia's bed and proceeded to let out the stress, anger and sadness the Grand Duke had built up for so long. Ever since his arrival in Lussendale after the Fall of the Razonican Empire and his coronation of first Grand Duke of Razoria, Daeron never allowed Walther to express his feelings openly. He had so much control of the young boy that Daeron's son Arsene, who was older than Walther, had to give him advice on many things pertaining to ruling and good etiquette. Now, as they returned to where he witnessed the Fall, Daeron comforted his nephew for the first time, showing real humanity to the young Duke. Tears poured onto the ground as Walther weeped for the loss of his sister as well as much of his family. Faenia, Rheio, even Ymira, all gone, all dead. He wished his mother and father were still here. He had no doubt that Addanus would have turned the tide for the Empire, kept it standing and kept his family from dying gruesome deaths. "I want her back, Uncle....I just want her back!" Exclaimed Walther as Daeron placed his arm around him. "I know, Walther....I know." This return had been difficult for Daeron as well. Daeron grew up here as well, back when he and Addanus were but boys and his father Aaeron ruled. The Fall of the Empire was something Daeron had been trained to prepare for, as his own father was paranoid, suspicious of his allies and kept his family in a constant state of preparedness for all scenarios. Training like that was why Daeron stayed stable minded through it all, but he couldn't say the same for his nephew. The boy was a Duke and ruled the Northern Provinces of former Razonica, but he was still just a boy. He never agreed with his soft-handed, pacifistic policies, but he loved him. "It's in the past now, Walther. It pains me to say it, but the past cannot be changed. The struggles of leading can take a heavy toll on a person, just as it did on Faenia, my boy. You're stronger. Never forget the past, Walther, but don't let it trap you so that you may never see the future." Daeron said as he helped pick Walther up. "Remember Faenia. Remember Rheio, and remember Ymira. and let their memories guide your hand as you lead us." Walther nodded and wiped the tears from his eyes. "Th-thank you, Uncle. I just need a moment." Said Walther has he walked over to Faenia's old desk. "Of course, Walther. Take as long as you need." Daeron said as he opened the doors to where Captain Loraena had been waiting and closed them behind him.

Walther's mind was engulfed with sadness as he blamed himself for her madness, kicking himself for not playing a more vital role in helping his sister rule. "If only I'd been there more. If only I would have made her feel like she wasn't alone. But she was alone, and you made sure of that, didn't you?" He thought to himself as he fumbled around with the worn papers whose letters had faded away. A sparkle caught his eye as he saw Faenia's old jewely box in the corner of the room. He walked towards it and examined the hexagon shaped mirror on the top, surrounded by purple jewels and the name "For my sweetling Faenia" inscribed within the mirror on the bottom portion. He unclasped the small golden lock on the middle of it and opened it, triggering a little tune that filled the room. Inside, a small worn note laid with a pewter colored chain and a Razic Cross on it. Walther picked up the note and opened it. The words had been worn but were still recognizable as he read it off in his mind.

"My Sweet Daughter,

It seems only yesterday we were wrapping you in little diapers and watching you crawl across the carpets, listening to your little coos and sweet cries. Time never halts and now I'm wishing you a happy 9th birthday! I know that it hasn't been easy between me and your papa, but know that we love you always! You've filled my heart with joy and love and your bright eyes have never failed to make every day better. Each time I look upon you, I see true love, true happiness. My Sweet daughter, You've made each one of my days better with you in my life. I know it isn't everything you've ever wanted, daughter, but I made you this music box and there's another little surprise inside for you!

I love you, my sweet daughter, and I hope you have an amazing birthday!

Love, Mama"

Tears ran down Walther's cheeks as he pressed the note against his chest, feeling the love of both his sister and mother. All of the pain rushed back to him, now. Not because of the note or the sweet tune playing in the background, but because it was written the day their mother died in a car crash while coming back from Haemia International Airport. The three Lussengarde children weeped as one and suffered their father. Now, all that remained was him. As the tune continued, Walther folded the little note back up and placed it beside the box and reached within to grasp the necklace. Made of brass and pewter, the Razic cross hung heavy. He turned the cross around to see small letters on the back. "For Faenia, my sweet daughter. From Mama" He never saw Faenia wear this necklace and assumed it had been sitting in the box for a long time. With the music box in the corner, he'd imagine it would be too painful to hear the tune and see the last item their mother made for her. Walther wiped the tears from his eyes and regained his composure once more, placing the note and necklace into the box and picking the box up. He walked to the door with the box and whispered. "I love you, Faenia, and I'll never forget you." he turned to look at the room once more as it had been, so perfect and untouched, before opening the doors and walking out. Captain Loraena saw Walther's red and puffed eyes and she felt immediate care for him. "Walther.." She said as she placed her hand on his arm. "I'll be okay, Loraena. I needed to do this. I've found some peace, now." He said, staring down at the closed box. Loraena looked down at the box. "Good." She said as she stroked his arm a bit, trying to comfort him in such a trying time.

The Grand Duke and Captain Loraena approached the Security entourage at the front steps of the Palace. Daeron walked forward, seeing the music box in Walther's hands. He recognized it immediately, as Elena had him give her advice on what the box should look like. Silence enveloped the three of them. "What do you want to do with the Palace, Your Royal Highness? You already have a Palace in Lussendale and we can't let this place rot in history anymore. We could tear it down, start a new era?" Walther immediately reacted to Daeron's words. "No....No, I want to see it renovated. I want it cleaned up, throw out the rot. I believe it's what our family would want. We have too much history here, Uncle. Make the preparations, uncle." Ordered Walther as he looked back to see the elegance of the Imperial Palace. He would not see an heirloom of House Lussengarde be destroyed. Daeron frowned at the Duke's request. What he was asking would cost an extravagant amount of money and their coffers weren't as limitless as the Empire's was. Much of that wealth was used to rebuild the country after the Civil War and was paid as war reparations to the other nations involved. But Daeron would give the Grand Duke what he wanted. "Of course, Your Royal Highness. I'll make the arrangements at once." Walther nodded and thanked his Uncle before walking to his limousine. Walther opened the music box once more as a DSS agent opened the door for him. The tune brought him comfort as he climbed inside, his uncle on the other side sat down. They listened to the tune as the convoy packed up and moved out, watching the Imperial Palace grow smaller in the distance. "I'll call the Police, have them put a posting out here until the movers come in." Walther nodded. The two Lussengardes looked at one another, smiled and nodded. Daeron grabbed his nephew by the shoulder and squeezed tightly. "I love you, boy." Said Daeron. "I love you too, Uncle." Said Walther back. "Back to business, it would seem." Said Daeron as he smiled. "Yes, back to business."
Last edited by Razoria on Sat Jun 29, 2019 6:17 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Founded: Mar 29, 2013
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Futrellia » Wed Oct 23, 2019 9:25 am

Futrellian Historical Society Excavation Site #14 "Agelopa"
8 miles north of Verona, Irsatus
11:32 am

"Anything so far?"

The excavation supervisor Lillian Monroe said as she shuffled through a folder labeled "District of Irsatus Historical Guidelines", looking for anything she could use to avoid Irsatus conservational authorities from shutting down the site of a massive ancient city that had once been devoted to nothing but the dead. She'd spent three months here so far, and she'd be damned if some upjumped local government hotshot was going to push her off of this dig.

"Uh, well..." The lead archaeologist, Bryan Bruner, said in a hushed, near embarrassed tone.

"Don't give me that, Bryan! Look, if we don't find something useful in this city, we're getting shut down and our government doesn't care enough to back us up. We're on our own so please tell me you found something?" Lillian said as she collapsed down in her folding chair in a tent she called her "office".

"Lillian, c'mon, give me a break! I've got fifteen guys working day and night to dig up a city that's supposedly the size of Del Rekorsta. It's not something that's gonna be found in the First week."

"It's been three months! You don't know this but I've had the district twats breathing down my neck ever since we got here! They'd rather keep it buried and let this history die. There's nothing that says they can't just kick us out right now. We've been here this long because I've got friends in the local government, but it's getting to the point where they're drained. They're tired of this, so we have to find something soon." Silence filled the room as Bryan lacked an answer to give her that wouldn't immediately piss her off such as "I don't know what to tell you" or "There's nothing I can do about it" so he resorted to silence.

She scoffed and shook her head.

"Just get back out there. Don't stop until you find anything. Hell, even if it's just a clay pot! Just give me something to throw 'em." She said as she waved the archaeologist off and returned to flipping through pages of Irsatus District law. With a sigh and a rub on the back of the head, Bryan stepped out of the tent, right in the middle of the excavation zone, sitting against an ancient wall made of green bricks and bright golden mortar that shined against the cold Irsatus sun. Bryan approached a group of diggers that had been working to unearth the ruins of an old temple's door frame, adorned on it were glyphs of coffins, priests, warriors and the dead.

"Kal, Zoe, how much farther you got?" Said Bryan as he stepped over a trench dug to give the diggers more room and angles to cut away the earth from the ancient structures.

"'Bout two inches today. Give us another day and we should be able to get inside of this." Said Kal Morrow, one of the locals hired to assist in the process.

"We really don't have another day to work with. Apparently, Lillian's madder than a nest of hornets because Irsatus is about to kick us off. Don't stop digging until we get into that temple. Eat while you work, if you can." Bryan said as he walked to another group, leaving Kal and Zoe with sighs of frustration and the shaking of heads.

"Hey, Bryan! Come look at this!" Yelled the voice of Tom Skald, another local hired by the F.H.S. Bryan's head spun to the other side of the excavation site, so far down that Tom's voice was barely a whisper.

"Coming!" Screamed Bryan as he carefully traversed his way down to Tom, taking care not to trip over the top of a buried wall sticking up from the ground. As he approached closer, he saw Tom and two other diggers standing around a wide hole in the ground, so dark on the inside of it that you couldn't see it's contents. By the signature pattern of the fossilized thatching, crude shingles and mud, it appeared to be a roof. "Bring some flashlights! And a ladder!" Yelled Bryan as he tried to see within, bringing his face down to look within. He saw nothing but darkness.


Lillian had been alerted to the find, flares and lanterns had been roped down to the bottom of the intact building, though the light hadn't been bright enough to give them enough detail. Bryan needed to get down there. The diggers surrounded the hole, anchored a rope to the ground and tied it around Bryan while two others lowered an extension ladder, which had to be extended all the way to touch the bottom.

"Bryan, shouldn't we excavate this more before we try to-" Lillian had been interrupted.

"Do you want to find something or wait another month? Because that's what it's gonna take to get this whole thing dug up. This is as good as it's gonna get." Bryan responded while climbing on the ladder and strapped a big flashlight to his helmet that he tied on to his head.

Lillian couldn't respond to his question. He was right, they needed to find something soon and this would be it if they found anything.

"Alright, going down." Said Bryan as he began his descent on the ladder. Two minutes went by before Bryan was heard from again.

"Got alot of coffins down here! Lot of jars and..." The room was lined with coffins stacked one on top of the other and butted up against each other. What caught his eye were the dusty bones of skeletons laid around the floor. They seemed to wear crude armor of some kind, decayed terribly.

"I've got skeletons on the ground, too. Creepy." Bryan said as he looked around with his flashlight. At the end of the room was a set of doors, made from ancient wood and covered in what looked to he the remains of animal pelts, two massive bars strewn across the door to keep it from opening. It drew Bryan's attention and he approached it. The bars seemed to be bolted on and prevented the door from opening at all.

"Got a big door, barred. Gonna need some tools down here."

4:52 pm

Floodlights had been established within the temple and two other archaeologists were allowed in to examine the skeletons and coffins. Diggers were allowed in to begin work on removing the bars from across the doors, which had baffled Bryan after some time. Deadbolting heavy iron bars across a doorway seemed advanced for the ancient civilization that dwelled here 4,000 years ago.

"We've catalogued forty-three coffins, twelve of which have remains still in them. Fourteen perfect skeletal sets on the ground, six spears, eight helmets. There were a few pottery pots in the corner, filled with old coins, most likely tribute to the dead. Other than that, all we have left to find is what's behind that door." Said Tuvi Narfolk, one of the other archaeologists, licensed by the F.H.S.

It took alot of muscle and tools to pry the bars from their ancient hinges, but the two fell to the ground loudly, breaking apart upon impact with the soft dirt below. Bryan became ecstatic as the diggers pulled the doors open, loud creaking filling the room as flashlights shined through the crack between the doors as it grew larger and larger. Inside, it was shocking. The room was filled with pots lining the wall with a single, massive ornate coffin in the middle, markings and stone tablets surrounding it.

Bryan was the first to enter into the old chamber, approximately thirty feet by eighty feet. The flashlights darted across the room, shining onto the tan-colored pots, covered and strapped down by heavy iron lids. In front of the ornate coffin made of stone, a single vase sat on the ground, encrusted in gold, lined with diamonds and carvings on its side. It's lid did not match the rest of the vase. The lid was made of stone and strapped down around the vase with leather straps that had surprisingly survived well.

"My god...." mumbled Bryan as he walked deeper into the room, closer to the stone coffin. His eye caught the vase on the floor.

"Tuvi, take plenty of pictures and document everything. This is what we need.....its all we need." Said Lillian, just as amazed as Bryan was.

Bryan knelt down in front of the vase, taking a brush and gently dusting off the side to reveal a clearer picture of the carvings on its side while Lillian instructed the diggers to return to the surface to retrieve more floodlights and baskets to carry things to the surface.

"Bryan, don't touch everything too much until we can document everything." Stated Lillian as she continued ordering around the other staff.

Bryan grumbled and continued to examine the side of the vase, which looked extremely important. The carvings seemed to show scenes of ultra-violence, figures hacking away at other figures, though the hacked figures were colored red. There was inscriptions above the pictures, but there was no-one on location that could translate. Once the rest of the historical society would get word of this find, they would be arriving in droves and the entire site would be dug up within the month. Bryan couldn't wait to see what this important find would contain, even if it would get him kicked off the site. This was obviously the most important relic so far, and he wanted to know. He pulled out his pocket knife while looking back to see if Lillian was watching him closely, which she wasn't.

He cut the leather straps and moved aside the lid, shining a flashlight within. Inside, he found a knife, an overly jeweled and ornate one, tiny holes covering the bone handle. The blade was sparkly, almost as if it had been put in there yesterday. He reached within and pulled the blade out. This is what he lived for, what he arrived for. This is why he became an Archaeologist. On the top of the knife where the handle meets the blade, a button was present. He knew better. Picking up a relic is one matter, interacting with its features are a completely new one. If it broke, it would be useless. He knew better.

He pressed it anyway.

"Gaah!" He exclaimed, dropping the knife as little pins slid back into the holes on the handle.

Bryan looked at his hand, blood poured from the dozens of little picks in his hand from the knife.

"Oh shit." He said as he got up and quickly walked out of the room. He needed a first aid kit to clean and bandage the wound. Tetanus was something he didn't need right now.

"Bryan! What happened?" Said Lillian as she watched him rush out of the room and up the ladder.


Bryan stumbled to one of the many vehicles on the outskirts of the dig site. His vision became blurry and he felt hot. He looked over to see two diggers taking a smoke break, the same ones tasked with finding floodlights and baskets.

"Hey, you alright?" Said one of the workers, slowly walking towards Bryan.

"No, no, I'm not...." he said weakly as he stumbled away from the truck and fell to the ground. He felt confused, very hot, and weak. "Hey, we need some help here!!" Yelled the concerned worker as others noticed Bryan's fall.

"Should we get him to the hospital?" Asked the other worker from behind.

"Well, yeah! C'mon, let's pick him up."

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Founded: Mar 29, 2013
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Futrellia » Thu Oct 24, 2019 5:52 pm

New Hope Memorial Hospital
City of Verona, Irsatus, home to 23,677 people
5:36 pm

Bryan convulsed on the stretcher the EMT crews brought out to bring the ailing man into the Hospital. Three young nurses rushed out of Triage to escort Bryan inside, checking his vital signs, temperature, blood pressure, heart rate, respiratory rate and oxygen saturation. Lillian, Tuvi and two other diggers followed closely behind before being stopped at the triage doors by two security officers, who then instructed them to wait in the waiting room while Bryan was being worked on. As the nurses called out their respective results from the initial triage, Lillian could tell from their faces that none of it was good. On the drive to the hospital, Bryan's condition dropped rapidly. His skin became eerily pale, his cough grew worse, he began to sweat. The convulsing didn't start until he had just reached the Hospital's Emergency Room drive in section. Lillian was still in a state of shock and confusion as she and Tuvi sat down in the empty waiting room, a lone receptionist sitting at her desk, typing away on her computer.

"What...what could have caused this?" Asked Lillian as she tried to determine how Bryan could have gotten so ill so fast. He seemed like he felt fine, wasn't sick in the least. He looked healthy two hours ago and none of the other workers or archaeologists were feeling any sort of down or sick.

"I dunno." Said Tuvi, her eyebrows raised and head shaking slightly, seemingly confused about what was happening. The two women could hear commotion from inside the triage wing, the indescribable sounds of some yelling and commanding. The two security officers that had previously stopped Lillian and Tuvi from entering were called inside, closing the double doors behind them.

"Did you see his face? It was grey, Tuvi. What kind of sickness drains you of color? How the hell-" Lillian's words were suddenly cast away as she heard a loud female scream from within Triage followed by male yelling and slamming of things. It caught the attention of the receptionist, who quickly turned around to the direction of the noise. She got up to investigate, walking through the door leading from the reception area to the emergency room. The Hospital's intercom system activated, a female voice resonated over the speakers on the ceiling.

"Code Grey in progress, Code Grey in progress. All CPI/MAB trained personnel please respond."

"The hell's a code grey?" Said Tuvi as she got up from the chair and walked towards the triage doors, peeking through the wire-glass rectangle windows on the doors. She could see a puddle of blood on the floor below an empty stretcher bed Bryan was previously on. Beyond the bed was a security officer convulsing on the floor as a nurse tried her best to do what she could.

Tuvi busted in, followed by Lillian.

"What the fuck is going on?!" Yelled Tuvi as she approached a nearby Doctor who helped a bloody nurse sit down in one of the many rooms. Patients from across the E.R. rose from their beds to investigate what was happening.

"You need to leave!" Said the Doctor as he grabbed some gauze from the pantry of the room while the Nurse's eyes became weak, an obvious bite mark on her arm, dripping blood. It caught Tuvi's eye and it frightened her. "Wh-what happened to her?..."

"I said leave! Go!" The Doctor shoved Tuvi and Lillian out of the room and closed the double glass doors of the room behind them. Both Tuvi and Lillian turned around to see three Verona Police Department officers enter the E.R., their attention drawn to a panicked nurse that pointed them towards a closed heavy wooden door, blood splatter on the small rectangular wire-glass but no figure visible. They were followed by two Emergency Medical Technicians with medical bags who had their sights on the injured security officer, still sitting by the nurse. The nurse yelled for them to hurry and as she did, the security officer rose up and bit her on the neck, a gnarled wet sound emitting from his mouth as he sat up. Both Tuvi and Lillian screamed as she fell back in pain. The security officer threw himself up from his prone position and sprinted to the closest EMT, emitting an unsettling screaming noise as he tackled the EMT, burying his teeth into the technician's left cheek, causing him to release a blood curdling scream from the pain. By this time, with weapons drawn, the three Police Officers opened fire on the security officer, dropping him fast as chaos erupted within the E.R., patients scrambling to get out, pushing and knocking others over. A loud knocking sound was heard from within the room the doctor had previously kicked them out of. Both the Doctor and Nurse were pounding on the glass, blood dripping from their mouths and a wild look in their eyes. Their skin looked the same as Bryan's when he first arrived to the Hospital.

"Let's go!" Yelled Tuvi as she grabbed Lillian's hand, narrowly avoiding being the target of the infected Technician, who instead settled on a larger woman in a hospital gown. More gunshots rang out in the confined room as they ran opposite of the main exit of the triage, aiming to use the emergency exit on the other end of the building that was much less crowded.

They smashed through the emergency door, ignoring the "Alarm will sound when Opened" sign next to the door. Loud ringing buzzed about on every floor of the three story building. Two more Police cruisers arrived with an Ambulance in tow, flagged down by the dozen or so patients from Triage that escaped whatever was happening.

"What the fuck was that?!" Screamed Tuvi as the two walked away from the Hospital. Lillian breathed heavily as she rubbed her head in confusion. The sound of yelling drew their attention again as they both turned their heads to the direction of the Emergency Room Entrance, the view blocked by a concrete wall that separated the lower parking area from the emergency room section. More gunshots. "We need to leave." Said Lillian as they made their way back to their car.

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Founded: Mar 29, 2013
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Futrellia » Mon Oct 28, 2019 10:26 am

Futrellian Historical Society Excavation Site #14 "Agelopa"
8 miles north of Verona, Irsatus
7:19 pm

Lillian pulled her car off the lonely road onto the short dirt driveway that led to the other vehicles of the site's workers. None of them had continued working instead standing by their cars, waiting for Lillian to return with news of Bryan's condition.

Still visibly shaken, she pulled in behind one of the digger's old 1998 Pathfinder pickup truck and put it in park. Both Lillian and Tuvi had no words for what they had seen. It looked like something out of a movie. They had been lucky to get out when they did. When they left the hospital, the two spotted a Verona Police Riot Control truck hauling ass past them towards the Hospital, followed by two more red and blue patrol cruisers and a single fire engine. As they left the city, a single plume of smoke rose up from where they figured the hospital was. They couldn't believe they left Bryan but considering how chaotic it got, they most likely would have suffered the same fate as the doctors, nurses, EMTs and police officers in the Hospital. The situation had deteriorated very quickly. The two sat in Lillian's vehicle for a moment, Tuvi searched around for any news coverage of what was happening in Verona. Nothing. No updates, no website activity. The last post from VLQS Channel 7 was a sports report on the undefeated Verona Highlanders football team winning District last night.

A knock on the window made both women jump as they turned to see an older man with a salt and pepper beard and wrinkly face standing by the door. Lillian rolled down the window, a look of lasting fear on her face. The man noticed immediately and grew very concerned.

"Ma'am, what happened? What's going on with that guy?" The worker said, implying Bryan. Lillian had no words for him only muttering out "I don't know".

"Wha'da'ya'mean you don't know? Is he gonna be alright?"

"Somethings happening in Verona. It's..its fucking crazy. People killing each other." Said Tuvi, visibly handling it better than Lillian.

"What? The fuck you mean killin' each other? Like terrorists?" Asked the man, growing impatient and worried. He didn't wait for an answer and instead walked away towards his truck at the other side of the makeshift parking section. "Hey, everybody! Apparently somethin's happenin' back in town. Go check on your families or stay here. I'm headin' back to see what's going on. Zen, you stay here and I'll call you when I get there." He said, jumping into his newer model truck, a 2016 model Ringer Hauler.

"Alright! Said the younger kid, most likely his son. Just as he started his truck, the sound of sirens grew louder and louder from the road. They all stopped and turned around.

Zooming past were seven District Constable patrol cruisers and a single heavy transport van, marked "IRSATUS DISTRICT CONSTABLE SERVICE, SPECIAL RESPONSE UNIT". Things in Verona were growing worse by the minute if the Constables were already inbound.

Lillian turned back around a turned on the radio, tuning it to a local station, 102.5 FM, a station dedicated to rock that the local workers always listened to. Nothing of note, only playing music.

"Why is nobody saying anything about this yet?" Said Tuvi. Most of the workers followed the white truck and headed back to Verona, following a plume of smoke that had since grown much larger.

Both women emerged from the vehicle, looking out over the archaeological site. Lillian knew she had more important things to worry about, but couldn't help but feel disappointment that this ancient city full of mystery would be put on hold for the moment.

8 Hours Later

While Lillian, Tuvi, and Zenan remained at the dig site's camp ground, the situation in Verona had gone to hell. The virus that had infected Bryan had now spread to much of the town, sowing destruction and chaos as hundreds fled the city. Police and First Responders were among the first to be infected. The assistance from the Constables did nothing to improve the situation but before they were overwhelmed, they sent word of the state of the city and it's "zombie" population back to Irsatus Constable Headquarters, Sector Four. The Irsatus National Guard would be deployed from New Edgar Air National Guard Base thirty miles south of Verona and establish a twenty mile perimeter around the city. 12,000 National Guardsmen would be mobilized to secure all roads and patrol forest around the city while employees from the Federal Disease Research Center would be dispatched to study and find a cure. Amateur videos of rabid-like people running at the uninfected with reckless abandon, savagely tackling them and spreading the disease. The videos captured by teenagers at Verona High School captured the violent acts being inflicted on the football team at practice were especially gruesome. The President and Congress held an emergency session to discuss additional ways to prevent this horrific virus from spreading and to assist the FDRC in accelerating study, identification and cure of this. Scientists of the FDRC have deduced that this virus is a highly intelligent, mutant form of rabies that has evolved to be transmitted to humans. Patient Zero's whereabouts are currently unknown.
Last edited by Futrellia on Mon Oct 28, 2019 6:54 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Founded: Mar 29, 2013
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Futrellia » Sat Nov 09, 2019 10:48 am


January 19, 2020
Urban Meadow Apartment Complex
2340 (11:40 pm)
Del Rekorsta, Taro

This was it. The mission the Secretary of Defense, the entire Congress, and the President were waiting for. After a considerable amount of time tracking down leads, squeezing informants for information and riding the O.S.I.'s ass like it was a friday night drunken romp, they had found those responsible for orchestrating the December 23 Massacre. In the time between the Massacre and now, this terrorist organization known only as "the Revolution", had moved safehouses eight times, two of them were in Aventhia. They were quickly picked up by Aventhia's special operations forces and after several nonsuccessful raids conducted by them, the Revolutionaries knew they weren't welcomed and returned to Futrellia. Outward appearance gave off the hint that the Federal Special Operations Command was still trying to figure out who did the attack but it was all a lie. FSOC knew where to go and who to find by this point. An elderly man known by his followers as "the Ghost" but known to the Office of Security and Intelligence as Yusuf Alabajari, a Vacroayean "refugee" that also happened to work for the Sultanate Intelligence Service during the Avarice War. Alabajari was responsible for bogging down Federal Army forces in multiple battles and three attempted assassinations on field officers. After the defeat of the Sultanate of Vacroaye and the total collapse of the country, Alabajari was easily able to slip into the flood of refugees into Razonica. For a year, Alabajari kept a low profile and even had a fake identity that allowed him to keep from raising suspicions. The Raz Crisis was the perfect opportunity for "The Ghost" to get into Futrellia. Since his arrival, he has kept a tight knit group of his top operatives, best informants, and former political motivators. The terrorists who executed the Massacre were the most devout and obsessive of Alabajari's downhome resistance group. When they died, OSI believes they lost their biggest weapons. Now, intel pointed towards Yusuf being at the Del Rekorsta hideout to meet with Revolution leaders to plan another attack. FSOC was prepared to ensure that would never happen. The Federal Army's 1st Special Response Regiment, or the Rangers, would take lead on this grab-and-go. Two teams of five, callsigns Hitman and Raider, would do the heavy lifting. Hitman would land on the roof by an SOC EC236 while Raider would enter through the ground level.

"Hitman 1-1 to Overlord, target building in sight." Commander Hyland said over the secured comms over the significantly quieter propeller blades of the SOC-edition of the Federal Army's workhorse of a chopper, the EC236.

"Roger, 1-1, standby. Raider 2-1, this is Overlord. What's your time on target?"

The five man team rolled up to the front apartment entrance in a black PZ-42 LAV, all exterior and interior lighting off.

"Overlord, this is Raider 2-1. Standing by on target." Said Commander Swarzen as he double checked his C7 rifle and P42 sidearm, both suppressed.

"Roger that, 2-1." The EC236 approached the apartment building, the only visible lighting from the ground were the green and white flashers on the bottom and rear.

"All teams in position. Mission is green. Repeat, Mission is green."

Raider team climbed out of their LAV and stacked on the entrance of the apartment complex, a long narrow hallway with P.O. boxes on both sides that led to a door on the right wall labeled "STAIRS" and an elevator at the end of the hall.

Hitman team dropped their ropes and began sliding down, holding in a defensive pattern until all five operators were on the ground, suppressed C7s pointed at the door leading from the roof to the stairways.

"Overlord, this is Raven 1-1. Hitman is on deck, we're RTB." Said the EC236 pilot as the helicopter turned sharply to the left and moved out of the combat zone.

"All teams, get to your set point." Said Overlord over the Comms.

"Raider set."

"Hitman set."

"Push in." Said Hitman 1-1 to both teams. The door on the roof slowly opened, revealing the bright white lighting of the stairwell.

"Keep this on a tight loop. We cannot afford to lose Alabajari here." Said Commander Hyland over the synced comms of both Raider and Hitman.

"Bet he's got scouts reporting back. We might have no surprise element here, 1-1." Said Raider 2-1, Commander Swarzen as his team pushed up the stairs.

"We do what we gotta do, 2-1. Dead or alive, we're getting him."

"Hitman and Raider, this is Overlord. Intel suggests Alabajari is on the third floor. He owns that entire level so all third floor occupants must be treated as hostiles."

"Copy, Overlord."

As Raider moved up the stairs, the smell of cigarette smoke grew stronger.

"Hold." Said Raider 2-1. Commander Swarzen had his eyes on a fighting age male of seemingly Central Aldesian descent. Sitting on the stairs one flight above Raider, playing on his cellphone, a cigarette in the other hand and a submachine gun sitting in his lap. He wore the red bandana around his right arm, the symbol for the Revolution. With a single "PITH" noise, the man fell backwards limply, the submachine gun clambering down the steps.

"One target on the stairs. Lookout. He's down, moving up."

"Same here. Lookout on the fifth floor, target down. Hitman moving up." The sound of foreign music grew louder as Raider opened up the door, stacked behind one another, Raider 2-1 leading the way.

"Room to room, Raiders."

"Moving into third floor." Said Hitman 1-1.

Raider stacked up on the first door, two on one side and three on the other. Raider 2-3 nodded to the other side and slowly twisted the door knob. Unlocked. The door opened, Raider 2-3 leading the way, the sound of suppressed shots filled the small apartment. "Four targets down. No Ghost."

The sound of a machine gun unloading rang out through the third level. It subsided soon after but the sounds of orders and screams replaced it.

"Hitman 1-3 is down." Soon after, the whole level was filled with the sounds of submachine guns firing off and chants of "For the Revolution!"

"Take 'em down!" Yelled Raider 2-4 as two quick shots to the head of a young male wielding a machete dropped him to the ground.

"Room clear!" Said another voice from Hitman.

"Protect the Ghost! Get him to 34!" Yelled the voice of a man from down the hall as he unleashed a full 30-round clip from his submachine gun into the farthest wall where he thought Hitman team was.

"Apartment Thirty-Four, that's our target. Raider 2-5, stay behind and cover the exit. If he runs, he's going that way!" Said Commander Swarzen.

As Hitman and Raider converged on Apartment 34, three more hostile targets, young men barely aged 25, emerged from the room. They were floored with a sea of 5.56x45mm rounds.

"Flashbang." Said Hitman 1-1 as he tossed it in. A loud boom and powerful flash followed. Both Commander Hyland's and Swarzen's hearts dropped when they saw what was inside of the living room of Apartment 34.

A massive stack of C4, Tannerite, and frag grenades strung up like christmas lights around the apartment.

"You're too late." Said The Ghost, whose face was smeared on the television in the living room and kitchen.

"It's a trap, everybody out! Get off the floor!" Hitman 1-1 said as both teams moved as fast as they could away from Thirty-Four.

"Hail, the Revolution."

The explosion stretched across the entire third floor, blowing out windows along the entire floor, shaking the foundation and causing car alarms a mile away to ring out. The video feeds from the nearby MP6 Unmanned Reconnaissance Helicopter momentarily shorted out then returned. The flames would soon engulf the fourth floor as well.

January 19, 2020
Special Warfare Complex, Allison Air Force Base
2357 (11:57 pm)
Dal Varesta, Nostani

Special Operations Command Chief Alexander Andros placed his hands on his head as he watched the live feeds from the Urban Meadow Apartment Complex. The feed from the URH was still strong, watching the bright flames grow brighter. All helmet-based footage from Hitman and Raider teams were black with red letters in the center, "OFFLINE".

"Raider 2-1, this is Overlord, do you copy?"

Hitman 1-1, this is Overlord, do you copy?"

"All teams, this is Overlord, does anyone copy?"


"Fuck, fuck, fuck. This is....whooo.." Said SOCC Andros as he made circles in the room, his hands stiffly on top of his head. This mission was supposed to be a success, the Office of Security and Intelligence said this would be a success. All Intelligence gathered for the past few months pointed to this being a successful mission. Now, ten 1SRR Operators were dead, an Apartment complex filled with civilians was burning, and the President was watching.

Then, the sound of coughing on Raider 2-5's activity feed.

"Raider 2-5, this is Overlord, are you there?" Said SOCC Andros.

"Chief Andros, we've got first responder traffic inbound." Said one of the many support agents responsible for Operation: Strong Step.

"This is 2-5." He continued coughing. "What the hell happened, Overlord?"

"Standby, 2-5, we're getting you out of there." Said Andros as he looked at the feed from the URH. Three Fire Department engines arrived followed by EMS and Police vehicles.

"That's gonna be hard, Overlord. I can't see shit and I'm crushed under......alot of stairs." He coughed harder as he began to wheeze.

The URH captured civilians beginning to rush out of the front as Firefighters pushed through to get into the building. Large hoses began to soak the third floor as ladders stretched up to the second floor.

"Chief Andros, URH is on bingo fuel, we got to bring it back." The feed from the URH cut off as the unmanned helicopter returned to it's nearest fuel depot.

"Raider 2-5, you still there?"


"2-5, come in. Are you there?"


"2-5, respond."


"He's gone."

"Chief Andros, the President is asking for an update."

January 21, 2020
Special Warfare Complex, Allison Air Force Base
0932 (9:32 am)
Dal Varesta, Nostani

"In other news, after extensive investigation by both the Taro District Fire Marshal and the Federal government, it's been reported that the explosion and subsequent fire at the Urban Meadows Apartment Complex was caused by a gas leak in the center of the building. Built in 1972, Taro District authorities have discovered more than thirteen unsafe hazards and has issued citations in the hours after the fire was extinguished by Del Rekorsta Fire personnel. No residents were killed in the fire. Next, a Tyderius man discovers the secret to-" the television in SWC Office 4 shut off abruptly, an old man in a black and white suit with gray hair and plenty of wrinkles walked in to the room filled with everyone involved with Operation: Strong Step. Sitting in the first seat to the right was Natasha Belkin, Director of Intelligence for the OSI. Next, was Thomas Newton, Director of Support, OSI. In the next seat was a larger, bulkier man, Special Operations Command Chief Andros, who directly hosted STRONG STEP. On the other side of the table was Maria Cenzhov, Director of Operations of OSI, General Leonard Carter, commanding officer of the Army's 1SRR, and Command Chief Master Sergeant Alvin Demara, senior enlisted leader of FSOC. The room was deathly quiet as the old man introduced himself. The old man stared down each man and woman on the right side of the table.

"For those who don't know me." He said in a low, serious tone as he stood with his arms on his sides.

"My name is Bryan Wilson and I'm the Deputy Secretary of Defense." This rose some eyebrows in the room, both of why the Department of Defense decided they needed direct involvement, and why someone so high-ranking in the branch of the department was here.

"What you just saw on the television......was not easy. Covering up a failed FSOC operation was....not.....easy. A lot of favors cashed in, a lot of arms twisted, and a lot of don't ask, don't tell. I know what you're all thinking and seeing as how General Clarke oversees FSOC, he should be the one telling you this shit but..." He stopped, walked to the table and placed his hands on the table.

"Secretary Ridgeway wanted me to really hammer it home how big of a fuck up this was. I've got ten dead Operators." Deputy Secretary Wilson stared long and hard at Directors Belkin, Newton and SOCC Andros.

"STRONG STEP costed 800,000 credits to execute and by the end of it, we've wasted ten million credits worth of training and weapons and that's on each one of you." Said Deputy Secretary Wilson.

Director Belkin felt the need to interject, try to defend her position in the operation. "Deputy Secretary, with all due respect, our intelligence was-"

"I didn't know I was done speaking, Director Belkin. I also didn't ask to hear your bullshit excuses. You fucked up just as much as the others. All those contacts, those informants that gave you this information. They've fallen off the map. Can't find any of them. Alabajari played you like a fucking fiddle and in the process, made FSOC look like a joke." Wilson moved his hands from the table and cleared his throat.

"Director Newton. You've been with the Directorate of Support for eight months now. Because of that, you're being given another chance. Get out." Newton looked shocked, bewildered as he got up from his seat and quickly left the room.

"Director Belkin, SOCC Andros, in two days, on January twenty-third at 5 pm, you're both fired. The reason you're both not packing your shit now is because you've both got a list of others to fire within your departments. I'll email the lists within the hour. Secretary Ridgeway wants the house cleared because President Masters is fucking livid. After tonight, all documents and footage pertaining to STRONG STEP are to be burned. Not shredded, burned!" He said with more flair and anger in his voice. General Clarke, commanding officer of the Federal Special Operations Command entered the room, nodding to the Deputy Secretary.

"I've said my piece, General. I'm done with them." He said as he walked out.

"Master Sergeant Demara, you're the new SOCC. Congratulations. General Carter, meet me in my office. The rest of you are dismissed." Generals Clarke and Carter shook hands.

"Let's talk about Hitman and Raider teams. I'll do whatever I can to make up for this loss."
Last edited by Futrellia on Tue Nov 12, 2019 6:27 pm, edited 1 time in total.



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