Xiānguó - Mizrad War [SEMI-CLOSED|RP|IC|MT]

[Xiangshu]

Xiangshu and Mizrad productions presents

RP Theme
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pw-0pbY9JeU

Chapter I - Sudden Moves
24th August, 2015, 9pm.
Khairraat

Sunset, darkness had started to encroach on the great city of Khairaat, capital of the Socialist Republic of Xiangshu. Just as the sun was to disappear over the horizon the city burst into life with the soaring skyscrapers being lit up as bright as the stars themselves. The bustling city that never sleeps, the sound of cars, people and music roared through the night sky. During all of this spectacle the biggest political event was about to unravel itself in the capital. A black car was speeding down the streets of Xiangshu, escorted by police on the front and on the back. It was heading for the Palace of the Dragon, the largest palace in Xiangshu, former home of the great Xiangese Emperors but now the home of the leader of the Socialist Republic, Nuan Qing. The lady of steel, fierce and ruthless.


The car parked outside the palace, the grand gates opened and out of the car stepped a man draped in gold and navy blue, medals covering his chest. His name was Admiral Zhen Péng one of the most famous naval commanders in history, he was old and grey but still proud and remained the most celebrated living memory of the communist revolution that lead to the modern state of Xiangshu. He was known specifically for crushing the Republic fleet just off the coast of Xiangshu during the Communist revolution only 46 years ago when he was only 26. He had come out of retirement by the request of Nuan Qing herself, however, this information had been kept confidential from the public.


Zhen made his way into the palace which was regarded around the world as a architectural marvel. The building was twenty stories tall, red bricked and had a sparkling black roof; a typical Xiangshu architectural style of building. The path to the front doors of the palace had huge fountains and hedge sculptures. It was a dazzling place. Zhen was escorted into the grand palace through the front entrance and made his way along the long red carpet and up an elevator to the very peak of the building, Nuans quarters. As the elevators door opened a dark red room lay infront of him with a small, quaint desk and a huge portrait of the communist revolutionary Xu Xia, an old friend of Zhen. Sitting at the desk was the woman of steel herself. As she noticed the admirals arrival she stood and gave polite bow of the head while gesturing to the chair on the opposing side of the desk. The admiral obliged and took a seat. He looked around the room, it was red, mostly plain in terms of decoration, far from what he expected it would look like compared to the pageantry of the outside or other corners of the building. Even Nuan Qing herself, Premier of all Xiangshu wore a simple black outfit.


Both Zhen and Nuan smiled at each other;


'Welcome to the capital Admiral, it is an honour to see you again' Nuan said.


'The honour is mine, madame premier. What do I owe your summoning to the palace?' Zhen retorted.


A silence took hold as Nuan sat back on her chair, crossed her legs and reached for a glass of wine just within her grasp. She took a sip before exclaiming 'You are one of the greatest war heroes in all Xiangshu, we need your help. What I am going to ask of you is more than I could ask any other man. Only you have the popularity and vigour to carry out this task'


Zhen, trying to hide how he was flattered by the compliment leaned forward, placing one arm on the desk. 'What is it you would have me do?' he asked.


Nuan said nothing. She handed Zhen the orders that had been assigned to him.


'Do not tell anyone of this, do not show anyone the envelope and once you have read it... destroy it' Nuan commanded.


'Do I have your loyalty, Admiral Péng?' She further inquired.


'Now, and always' Zhen responded.


With that both esteemed leaders stood, bowed and admiral Péng made his way out of the palace. Nuan watched him leave the palace courtyard from her window and as he did she remarked to herself 'I feel the weight of history on my shoulders, and it is heavy'.
She stepped back three paces to look again at the portrait of the revolutionary leader of Xu. She had done so before but this time she felt a strange aura coming from it. Almost as though his hand was on her shoulder, helping her to guide her way. Xu was a strong leader, went from battle to battle, a great general and an inspiration to his people. This is the shoes that Nuan wished to fulfill.

Zhen got back to his car, as soon as he sat down he ordered his driver to take him back to his home in Guangying. As the car started to move Zhen pulled the envelope out of his pocket and looked up at the driver who was paying attention to the road. He pulled out a piece of paper which in big bold letters said 'Top Secret'. Zhen put on his glasses and as he read down the page his eyes widened. He looked up in shock and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his forehead. He then turned to his driver, who was still driving,
'Better not go home, take me to the Admiralty' He said with a slight stutter.

The Helian ocean,
25th August 2015. 4am

Out on the Helian ocean was the 1st Fleet of the Xiangshu Navy. They had been there for two days and were waiting for orders as patrolled the Helian ocean. The skies were engulfed in darkness and the sea was as still. It was a particularly cold night, and disturbingly quiet on the decks of the fleet. The first fleet looked menacing as it patrolled the north of the Helian ocean, they were a pack of wolves looking for its prey.


The fleet comprised of mainly destroyers, 40 of them. There was also 4 aircraft carriers and the capital ship, called the Blue Dragon. Leading the fleet was Admiral Shen Fāng, a tall man who was exceedingly stubborn in nature. He was young however, and well built. His greatest skill was his ability to inspire soldiers with his good looks and charm, not so much for his actual tactical or strategic abilities.
He stood on the captains deck of the Blue Dragon, his hands on his back doing some stretches to keep himself awake, when new orders from Admiralty head quarters in Khairraat.

Code: Select all

'The first fleet is ordered to sail for Destinado Tierra, blockade it and demand the Islands government to surrender within 12 hours of the message being sent'.


Shen was plagued with questions of why and what purpose it serves for Xiangshu however he did his duty and commanded the entire 1st fleet to make sail for Destinado Tierra.


Shen, now on the deck of the ship, was looking out over the horizon and as the sun started to rise in the early hours he could see a spec in the horizon.
'And so it begins' He muttered to himself as he held his hand around his back. As he looked outward on the vast expanse of sea he almost lost himself before being alerted by the captain of the ship that they had arrived at the optimum distance to begin the blockade. Admiral Shen turned to the captain and said 'send this to the government on the island' as he handed the captain a letter that read;

Code: Select all

Government of Destinado Tierra, the Socialist Republic of Xiangshu has encircled your clutch of islands and have begun a blockade. Any ship that attempts to make port will be sunk, any  aircraft that attempts to land will be shot down. Our demands are simple; yield the islands to us. You have 12 hours from when this letter is sent to meet our demands. If you fail to meet our demands we will take it by force, regards, Admiral Shen Fāng of the First Xiangshu fleet.'

The captain ordered a group of 6 soldiers to land on the capital island to deliver the message to the government.

As the blockade settled in, minutes went by and the events that had only just taken place went viral on the internet. The age of the internet meant stealth and blocking communications was impossible. From the far west in Naybra all the way to the far east in New Tyran news was coming in about the event as it began to unfold. Social networking sites exploded with the hashtags #XiangBlockade and #TerraTerror It had already been tense enough without the entire worlds eyes on Xiangshu and Destinado Tierra. The question that still plagued not only Shens mind but now the entire world was; why this is happening? And much more importantly, how will other nations react?

Khairraat, The palace.
25th August 2015. 9am.

Khairraat was still alive at 9am. The sound of the eternal living city still boomed louder than ever. However the weather had started to turn. In the early hours nobody saw the sun rise. There was only a chill followed by a heavy rain storm and the piercing sound of thunder before the flashes of bright lightning.
Back at the palace Nuan was sitting in her desk, she was wearing a black dress, makeup covered her face and she decorated herself, not with medals or a variety of fabrics; but a pin, the symbol of the communist revolution. She gazed into thin air with her teeth digging into her nails as she was in deep concentration. It was as if she could not hear the rain storm that pelted her window furiously. She looked down on a piece of blank paper that lay before her. The threat of Mizrad haunted her. She knew that Mizrad have and invested interest in protecting this small archipelago, the prospect of going to war with Mizrad was all too real in her mind, she was prepared for the worst. She respected the Mizradian armed forces. But she gambled on the speculation that they were too weak to interfere in the conflict. Nuan knew the consequences if Mizrad dared to send a fleet southbound for Destinado Tierra and the chaos it would cause.

Nuan began to write her statement on the blockade of Destinado Tierra, it read;

My fellow Xiangese people, Your government today has initiated a blockade of the clutch of islands in the Helian ocean. They are ours by rights, we claim them and we will oppose anyone who refutes these claims. We insist that the fellow governments of the world that you no longer insult us with the name 'Destinado Tierra' and you refer to it as 'Xiangese Baowei'. We wish no aggressive or military action to take place. However, if it is warranted our armed forces will act to defend Xiangshu's claim to the island. May Xu's light shine upon you all.

The stage was set and Nuans plans were becoming reality. As she finished writing her announcement she sat back in her armchair. The board had been set up and now the great game was about to begin.

1) No Metagaming
2) No OOC talk
3) Hemithea or Panessos community ONLY
4) Post regularly
5) No godmodding
6) Eh, you know the rest, y'all have fun now.

[New Tyran]

August, 25th 2015 | 05:13 a.m. Tyrannian SMT (Standard Mean Time)| Over the Helian Ocean, near Destinado Tierra.

Maya Crawford shaded her eyes against the morning glare, squinting as the light flashed from the waves. Fifty or so meters below her, the downdraft of the helicopter rotors churned the water. She leaned a long way over the edge of the helicopter's open side door and took several pictures with her camera. Her auburn hair fluttered in the warm breeze, catching on the upturned collar of her uniform.

"Had enough yet?" asked Kennith Bryan, an old grizzled Sergeant from the Marines.

Maya carried on clicking. "It's just so beautiful! I've always wanted to see these waters." she said, beaming with joy.

Kennith looked at her wearily. She was so young. Her freckled skin looked healthy in the sun, almost translucent. Perhaps, once, he'd been as enthusiastic in his work.

For the first time since joining, he felt too old. Almost thirty years of service to the military, rising steadily through the ranks, had taken its toll. He felt the skin of his jawline sag a little and his stomach starting to bulge out over his heavy belt. Watching Maya only made him feel worse. It reminded him of what he had been, and low ago that was.

"Go ahead," he said. "Just try not to fall out of the bloody helicopter, and where the fuck are these scumbags."

He was referring to why they were out here in the first place. Pirate attacks in the Helian Ocean has increased by a steady level this past year, with over a hundred attempted hijackings in the year, growing concerned over the increasing number of reports the Tyrannian government has pledged extra funding and support to anti-piracy operations in the Helian Ocean. A fishing vessel belonging to New Tyran was recently attacked several miles from the coast of Destinado Tierra and the perpetrators were currently being hounded by the Formidable-class frigate HMS Grafton, from where Kennith and his teammate Maya lifted off from.

Kennith looked out aimlessly, keeping his hand over his eyes. The curve of the ocean ran unbroken across the horizon, deep and smooth. The pale rose sky shimmered above it, warmed by the diffuse of the sun. It was indeed a beautiful sight.

"Sergeant." came an urgent voice over his earpiece, it was the pilot.

"Go ahead." Said Kennith, welcoming the distraction.

"It's Grafton. Ordering us to immediately return. Before Kennith could object the pilot pulled the helicopter around hard. Kennith fell back into his juddering seat, quickly buckling himself in.

"Why what's wrong?" Asked Kennith.

"A large fleet of ships, warships, belonging to the Xiangshu Navy are currently enacting a blockade around Destinado Tierra, but we're not sure."

Kennith felt his heart miss a beat. He didn't know whenever that was born of fear or excitement. Probably a bit of both.

"We're not sure? What are we not sure about?"

"We're not entirely sure of the details and reason for the blockade, but they're refusing hails from Grafton and other Royal Navy ships around Tierra."

The link broke. By then Maya had long stopped taking pictures and was looking at Kennith intently. Maya's freckled face was wide-eyed. "What's going on Sergeant?"

"Fuck if I know Maya." He smiled. "Listen, we're heading back to the Grafton as there is some communication issue with the Xiangshu Navy. I'm sure it's nothing, I wouldn't worry about it."

[Treneria]

Trenerian Defense Control Center
0340 Hours.

It was early morning, and the T.D.C.C. had long cleared out, with the exception of third-shift employees. They were the backbone of the T.D.C.C., ensuring that throughout all hours of the night, Treneria was aware and safe. Clerks walked back and forth between rooms, their shoes clicking off the white marble floor patterns. Technicians installed software updates and administered remedies for any security threats. The security technicians were seated in front of the mega-screens, watching the virtual maps that lie in front of them. The mega-screens were holographic maps that were projected up onto a huge wall in the T.D.C.C.'s main gallery. They were displayed through means of a live feed, constantly keeping watch on the globe. There were two particular maps that displayed constantly, twenty-four hours a day; the map of Treneria, and the regional map of Hemithea. The technicians entrusted with safeguarding the region sipped coffee and exchanged small-talk. These nights were consistently long and boring; not much happened anymore. For a long time, peace seemed to blanket the region.

Tonight, unbeknownst to the technicians and the rest of Treneria, that would change.

The hazy blue image constantly changed as satellites, traveling airliners, and floating ships continued onward towards their respective destination. Out towards Destinado Tierra, one of the mobile satellites skimmed across the water-bordered archipelago. Instantaneously, a wave of red triangles appeared on the mega-screen. It was enough to startle the young technician, who had been nose-deep in his smart phone. The triangles glowed, like the embers of a once raging fire. The technician and his partner both seemed to swallow at the same time. Unidentified ships outside of Destinado Tierra, and a lot of them. The technician grabbed the red-handled phone, quickly punching in one of the speed-dial buttons.

Fort Bushwire, Southern Treneria.
10:00 A.M.
Petty Officer Neil Beier spit into the sand that the earth around him was composed of. The large wad of dipping tobacco he had packed in earlier didn't seem to deter the blistering heat of the hazy sun that was housed in the southern region of Treneria. The heat delivered from the sun, combined with the dryness of the desert territory, felt like a large blanket that enveloped itself around the men that were stationed in Fort Bushwire. The Trenerian desert set up the perfectly sweltering environment that could put an individual to the real test to see what he was made of. He wiped a few beads of sweat off his forehead and leaned forward onto the old table that he was using as a spotter's rest. Lining his eyes up with the spotting scope, he looked downrange at the paper targets that were being impaled by .308 rounds. Slightly in front of him, lying on a tan tarp that had been pitched down onto the ground, fellow Petty Officer Mack Hestle was adjusting the sights on his rifle. The TAC-308 was a beautiful rifle, one Mack cherished dearly. It had been his personal rifle since his entry to the Special Warfare Tactics Group. McMillan's brand of firearms were definitely a favorite; the TAC-338 was another favorite, more suitable for very long range targets. Technically, Mack was still a "boot"; a newbie to the SWTG. He had only been in for about eight months, enough time to get his training in and his feet a little damp. Mack was a great sniper by all means. He knew what adjustments to make, and how to get in a precise, effective shot. However, he had yet to be tested against the mind-boggling conundrum of a real operation. Scenarios, simulation rounds and training dummies could only prepare one so much. "Ready?" Beier questioned, breaking the silence. Mack grunted in response, and pulled the butt of the rifle against his shoulder. His clean-shaven cheek rubbed up against the stock, getting into position. Beier locked his eyesight down on the target, waiting for the shot. A calm wind blew over the prairie, the cacti and brush waving warily in the direction of the air. Mack inhaled prior to squeezing the trigger. The rifle's stock thumped back against his shoulder. Yet another spent shell casing fell down beside his stockily large body onto the terrain. "Left."The reply came firm and bored. Fuck, he spoke subconsciously. "You're not shooting blanks anymore, boot." Beautiful. More hazing. Somethings cease to change in a timely manner. Mack smirked and adjusted his sights. Leaning back down to the scope, he pushed all sense of fogginess of forethought from his mind. He blinked once, then ceased. Fully concentrated on the task at hand, he inhaled smoothly, relaxed his muscles, and squeezed the trigger. The rifle popped off another round as it had before, this time with two exceptions: Mack failed to hear the pop, and the round hit straight where he had been aiming for. "Good. Now two thousand more, and you'll be getting near decent." A grin emerged on his wood-like face. "Screw off," Mack retorted.

Field Officer Josh Harver joined the duo on the range, slightly under-dressed as he donned PT shorts and a black skin tight shirt. He was slopping on a rose-red apple, crunching his teeth into it. "Damn, how many shots it'd take you to hit that damn thing?" Beier smirked, Hestle chuckled. "You too," he replied in a snark manner. Hestle racked the empty casing from his rifle, and picked himself up from the tarp he had been lying on. "Enough for today?" Heier inquired. "Yeah, 'least for now. I might come back out later." Heier nodded in response. "Not bad shooting today, keep up the good work." The men dispersed, Beier joining Harver in heading to their bunks. Hestle checked to ensure his rifle was empty, then strapped it to his shoulder. The rifle was a feather on his massive body; not that it was very heavy in the first place. Hestle visited the mess hall before joining his comrades in the bunks.

In the barracks, Harver was popping the top on a new bottle of premium Vodka. For regular troops, alcoholic beverages were forbidden on installations. However, the men were out by themselves in the remote Trenerian desert. The nearest town was over six klicks away. Not to mention exactly who they were, and the nature of their job. The men of Special Warfare Tactics Group, Team 4, were the men. They were the wardogs, the big badasses that could overturn small nations in less than a few hours; or, so it was said. They were the top of the top, and thus liked to drink and enjoy themselves overly top when the situation allowed. Harver took a pull back on the bottle, then offered it to Beier. Beier denied; he hated having his mind clouded by recreational substances. Harver didn't offer the bottle to Hestle; not that he would have accepted it anyways. Though his probationary period was technically over, Hestle knew all to well that he was still on the brass' radar.

The men kicked back on their cots and relaxed, awaiting the next drill or call-out for a training scenario. They all reached for their gear when Commander Kallum entered the bunks. To their surprise, he motioned for them to cease.

"Men, listen closely. All drinking, recreational activities, and leave are hereby revoked. We have a situation currently brewing near the Mizrad peninsula. Specifically, Destinado Tierra. The details are sketchy and nothing is solid yet. However, you are all to be in top shape and ready to move at any moment. I want you all geared up and ready for briefing by thirteen-hundred hours, where you'll be informed on the situation. Get moving." The Commander abruptly left with that, leaving the men anxious and curious as to what was occurring. As always, kept in the dark.

[Mizrad]

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