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by New United States of Columbia » Tue Oct 25, 2016 12:36 pm
by The RODina » Tue Oct 25, 2016 12:50 pm
IIWiki
Puppets:
Aestralius | Patria Imperiala
This nation mostly represents my real views.
Pro: Gun Rights, National Sovereignty, Meritocracy, Democracy, Freedom, Equality of Opportunity, Capitalism, United States, Russia.
Anti: Islam, Mass Immigration, Socialism, Identity Politics, "Anti-Discrimination" diversity quotas and affirmative action, Forced Equality of outcome, Globalism.
Neutral: Christianity, Europe, Monarchy, Limited Immigration.
ISideWith
Political Compass
by The Grand Duchy Of Nova Capile » Tue Oct 25, 2016 8:59 pm
One of the many portraits of the Founding Fathers.
by Gotengo » Wed Oct 26, 2016 6:09 am
The Grand Duchy Of Nova Capile wrote:Appalachian Redoubt(Image)
One of the many portraits of the Founding Fathers.
Max opened the limo door, stepping out into the chilly Appalachian Mountains. Around him rose craggy foothills and distant rocky peaks, all devoid of life and dotted with scraggly bushes. A bitter, icy wind blew through the place, shaking the many bristles of the pines all around them. The officer shivered and looked forward; all he saw was a rarely used gravel trail, leading right up to a rock wall. He took a puzzled expression, wondering what they were doing here. This place was so isolated, so... What if we're here to kill someone? Some sickly display of power on Titus' part? It wouldn't surprise him. The monarch seemed deranged enough to commit something like this, if only to frighten his supporters into a new stage of fervent loyalty. But instead Titus stepped forward, followed by the huddle of military men who'd accompanied them here. The High King ducked behind a chipped wall and was gone. Cocking his head, Max followed. Clever, he thought, a smile etching itself across his face as he neared the rocks and saw their ruse. He slipped through the crack himself, entering a dimly lit, winding passage. The air was stale and artificial, unlike the crisp, cool atmosphere just a few steps away.
The Colonel-General followed Titus and his aides through a series of turns; he wondered where all of the rest of the corridors led. Perhaps this was one giant labyrinth, and with one slip-up the High King would doom them to be lost for all eternity in this place. Instead the group finally halted before a huge, cog-shaped door sticking out of the rock wall.
"Remember New York," Titus said suddenly. With a hiss the huge metal object moved. It seemed to drift back inside the cavern it was guarding, and then, suddenly, it creaked open, rolling aside and revealing the base they had traveled so far to hide in. Beyond this voice activated door was a long staircase, seeming to shoot down right into the depths of Earth itself. The complete lack of lighting didn't help. Five minutes later Riesch had trekked all the way down the stairs just to be greeted with another barrier. This time it was a blast door, made out of what Max imagined to be the thickest metal in existence. Nothing is impregnable, the Capilean thought, but this must be the closest thing to it.
The High King jabbed a few indistinguishable numbers on a keypad to the right of the door, and it jumped up for them to enter. The Colonel-General stepped forward, finding himself in a surprisingly well-furnished room. The gray walls were lined with dull paintings; Max recognized a few iconic Americans whose likenesses inhabited the corridor. George Washington stared down at them from the left, while Abraham Lincoln looked on from the right. Endless portraits of American patriots in powdered wigs and frivolous dress were hung up and down the corridor, with an occasional wooden chair and table under them. Titus mentioned something about a lack of creature comforts; Max shuddered.
Off Kingman Reef
"Herr Admiral, the Reds are launching missiles. We've detected-" The young officer was cut off by a sudden, deafening explosion. Franz von Haupt's ears ceased to work as he was thrown to the floor, along with the rest of the men in the bridge. A ringing sound reverberating through his head, Franz pulled himself to his feet, stumbling around as nausea overwhelmed him. The entire ship was still quaking, shaken to its core by some unknown event. It only took him a single glance to figure out what. The immense vessel Festung, one of the four sister-ships of his own Prinz Karl, was now little more than a floating pile of flames and twisted wreckage. The single missile had torn the battleship in half, instantly plunging thousands of men to watery graves and submerging one broken part of the ship. The other now rolled over, groaning and heaving and succumbing to its fate. The remainder of the Festung was pulled down by Poseidon, far down into the black depths of the Pacific, never to be seen again.
Franz paid his silent respects to Commodore Leonard Höhmann, the commander of that doomed ship, and his brave crew. They never knew what hit them. "Send out rescuers immediately!" von Haupt ordered as his subordinates scrambled to their feet. "Save every man we can." Suddenly he yelled out a curse, wringing his hands and burying his face in them. "Position the fleet immediately. Launch all air wings. We will make the Russians pay for what they have done here."
Royal Palace
Artur heard heavy footsteps on the wood paneled floor behind the door. His pulse quickened as his target drew near. A moment later the door was flung open and the hideous, scaled muzzle of Juvon Infernos stuck out, it's nostrils twitching and deep eyes glistening. Taking a sudden, deep breath, the assassin dropped his towel to the floor, revealing a nasty blade. In a split-second he was stabbing the knife into Juvon's exposed eye, twisting the blade and quickly pulling it out. As the wretched beast shrieked in surprise and agony Artur's partner did his part to subdue it. Producing a rag soaked in chloroform he draped it across the Fire Draconid's nostrils and mouth, smothering him. At the same time Artur had his knife ready again. He swung it down again and again on the Draconid's face; most of his hits bounced off of the creature's thick scales, but finally he broke through; he felt the knife dig into flesh and smiled.
Hans jumped back in surprise when the creature called his name. His face paling, the Grand Duke brought both of his hands to his chest. His wrinkled face growing whiter and whiter, the monarch slumped over in his seat, fainting on the spot. Foley witnessed a flurry of activity on the screen; it blurred as servants rushed over, desperately trying to revive their leader. Gradually the screen faded to black as the connection was lost...
by The Grand Duchy Of Nova Capile » Sun Oct 30, 2016 1:57 pm
The Capilean missiles are launched.
by New United States of Columbia » Sun Oct 30, 2016 2:51 pm
New Unionist and New England troops battle in the streets of the Big Apple
Kaiser,
I know you've seen the broadcast and have undoubtedly heard the Italians. We did not intend to sink that luxury liner to kill civilians but we had assumed they were Duchy of New England troops trying to either get onboard it to get out of NYC or were using it as a way to ferry supplies elsewhere. After all the report we got was that it sunk in one torpedo shot and, supposedly, exploded into a massive fireball.
I wish to also ask, if you will hear me out, that the German Reich stay out of our Civil War. Why send your young sons of Germania to die in some foreign land that hates and despises them? Why risk angering the public when you should know that to take all of America or (assuming we can get the Canadians and Mexicans to rejoin, Columbia, is a foolish move that would require a long drawn out war lasting decades and costing much in blood and treasure?
Please think this over.
Signed,
Able Hancock
POTUS
by Gotengo » Tue Nov 01, 2016 5:18 am
The Grand Duchy Of Nova Capile wrote:Off Kingman Reef(Image)
The Capilean missiles are launched.
Admiral Franz von Haupt watched nervously as dozens of Capilean aircraft shot off from the decks of their motherships and darted, like swarms of angry hornets, towards the enemy fleet. As the first squadrons set out more and more joined them, until the sky was blackened out with hundreds of Capilean warplanes. "More missiles incoming!" a startled young officer exclaimed. "Intercept them!" Franz ordered, eyes widening as he searched the air frantically. The sheet of projectiles appeared in the horizon. A few unlucky pilots caught one with their planes; many more dropped to the ocean as they petered out. Still more were slammed in mid-air by one of the many anti-missile systems outfitting one or another of the strike force's warships. Only a handful survived to ram into their targets. Von Haupt watched in horror as the munitions crashed into frigates, corvettes or other smaller ships. A few sunk into the black waters, and the others were steaming. Thankfully none of the capital ships had taken any damage from the hail of missiles.
"Respond," Haupt said shakily. "Ballistic missile submarines, respond." His words silenced the room, but Franz knew that his orders would be carried out. Several minutes later, as the charred survivors of the Festung were being plucked from the icy Pacific, a dozen warheads zoomed out of the ocean, shooting up and quickly readjusting to shoot towards the enemy. A ways ahead of them were the Capilean air wings, who were now beginning their assault on the enemy fleet. The fighters looped in and out of the enemy warships, engaging in fierce dogfights with their despicable Communist enemies. It seemed the best of the best were fighting each other; these Russians were clearly the pride of their military, as the Capilean aircraft and fleet were to them. The Capilean airmen had been handpicked for their abilities in the skies, as well as their loyalty to the throne. The pilots fought with a fervor not matched by their average Russian opponent. Behind them came more jets, these equipped with rockets and missiles that they quickly launched against the Soviet flotilla.Streaming through the sky in the dozens they crashed into Russian anti-aircraft batteries, turrets, bridges and hulls, beginning a merciless slaughter.
Meanwhile the Capilean fleet was maneuvering into position, ready to engage in case this conflict progressed beyond a long-range missile and air battle. The fleet's commanders on the Prinz Karl had been informed that Wheeler Air Force Base, currently locked down by a joint Capilean-Columbian force, would be launching aircraft to come to their aid. The local Air Force commanders on Hawaii were also negotiating the scramble of additional Capilean air wings from as far away as Burma, Indonesia and Australia.
Raus, Nova Capile
Terry Blücher leaned back into the ratty seat of the airplane, sighing as Eugen Herzog sat down next to him. The wiry man held his briefcase close in his lap, looking around nervously at the other passengers. "Relax, Eugen," Terry whispered, taking a handkerchief out of his breast pocket and dabbing at his red forehead. The paranoid young man scowled at his commander. "I'm still skeptical that all this will work. If customs opens this briefcase we'll probably be executed!" "We will be executed," Blücher said gravely, turning to stare out of the window. "Don't think about it," he said, a little less quiet. "Soon we'll be safe in Belize, and in another few hours we'll be right in front of the American Communists and delivering this to them." Eugen, still pessimistic, closed his eyes and shrunk back into his weathered, flea-bitten chair. Terry looked back out of the window. Raus' small airport was all but deserted, much like the plane they were in. No Capilean, especially in this area, had business in Belize; the only people who lived in Raus were dirt-poor factory workers. Terry relaxed as the plane's engines turned on and the pilot announced something over the intercom.
This would be a long flight.
by New Decius » Wed Nov 02, 2016 12:30 am
New United States of Columbia wrote:Appalachian Redoubt(Image)
New Unionist and New England troops battle in the streets of the Big Apple
Titus noticed Riesch's apprehensive look as the High King mentioned a lack of creature comforts. He sighed, annoyed, and walked away from the Capilean, barking orders to the staff to get the mountain facility up and operational. As he did so Samantha looked at Riesch, admiring his form. Foley's upbringing and moralism meant she rarely got to be around men other than the guardsmen, aristocrats, or her family. And he was quite the looker, she noticed. Perhaps Titus wouldn't mind... Then again, he probably would.
Abigale, meanwhile, looked at Riesch nervously. She had not a singe bit of lust or love for him as her heart belonged to someone else. Someone who didn't get out of the palace as they needed to leave someone behind to make sure they could report what was going on in Omaha...
Someone named Juvon...
Imperial Palace, Omaha
Juvon couldn't react fast enough. Within seconds his left eye had been gouged out and he had inhaled chloroform. His vision became hazy, his sense disoriented, and he felt something sharp pierce his muzzle. He knew what to do.
He quickly spun around, doing a "leg sweep" with his tail while he shouted for someone who, while not a friend, could help:
"GLADIUM!" The young dracoind's voice boomed "HELP! ASSASSIN'S!"
He then focused on his would-be attackers, fixing a harsh look on them.
"I'd suggest, sirs," he growled "you surrender while you still can."
Hawaii, Wheeler Air Force Base
The joint Capilean-Columbian air base was on full alert. The bright sun and hot tropical air was filled with the fumes of jets being warmed up or launching fighters screaming down the runway. Massive numbers of pilots, army guards, and various base workers were running and driving their vehicles everywhere. Fuel trucks were being sent to the various fighters, hoping to get them fueled up as soon as possible. Jeeps and trucks were being driven everywhere, rushing pilots to their aircraft or to the main admisitative buildings on the base, getting them alerted to what their mission was: To assist the Capilean Pacific Fleet by providing air cover and, if possible, performing attacks on Russian ships. The Columbians were hesitant. After all they didn't want to drag yet more foreign powers into this mess but it was quickly escalating from a Civil War to them being chess pieces for foreign empires. Or ripe fruit waiting to be plucked from their tree by these foreigners.
Perhaps these New Unionists had a point...
New York City, Duchy of New England
"GET ME OUT OF HERE! I DON'T INTEND TO STAY AND BE KILLED BY THESE UNION NUTTERS!"
The Duke of New England, a foppish Donald Jackson, was berating his chief of security, a certain Henry Kilgore, as things went to hell.
Vertibirds bearing the old Air Force symbol, were flying overhead, dropping off New Unionist Power Armored troops and regular soldiers. These troops were indispensable but capturing the massive city was key. If they lost New York then they would lose a massive trading hub as well as the massive amounts of money from tourists. Unfortunately things weren't going to plan.
Nobody expected Italian tourists to be desperately trying to flee. And, unfortunately, the sides with access to ships had been using Cargo Ships and Cruise Liners as ways to transport supplies and personal from one place to the next. And a New Unionist submarine had the cruise liner in it's sights...
Independence Hall, Pennsilvania
"YOU DID WHAT!?"
"I swear, Mr. President, I didn't-"
Hancock threw his bottle of scotch at General Bradley, who ducked sending the expensive glass bottle into the massive oak doors, shattering it and sending glinting shards of glass and reflective golden yellow liquid everywhere.
Hancock's blue eyes were fixed in a harsh, icy glare, at the Columbian General. His temples were throbbing and he looked red as a tomato, his teeth bared and making him resemble a pissed off bull. He certainly was feeling like one.
"Thanks to this we have effectively made the German Reich VERY angry! If their Italian allies go to war with us than the German Reich will get involved, not like your antics when you Fascists were in Canada weren't helping!"
Bradley looked equally irritated and angry.
"We were sending a message that we DON'T want foreign parties involved! And we were trying to show the world that-"
"That us Columbians are not just the laughing stock of the World Federation and World Assembly!" Hancock roared, jumping to his feet sending his wooden chair crumbling and slamming his fsits on the desk, shaking it's occupying pencils, glasses, and various books and papers "But that we are the Germans to their Romans! Brutal, primitive, idiotic barbarians! Thanks to you we are screwed and we shall once more see the mongrel banner of the Germans fly above this blessed land!"
The angry President then grabbed his chair, roughly stood it back up, and dismissed his counterpart. The General quickly left, his brown dress shoes clicking against the floor as he walked past the Liberty Bell.
A few minutes later, after thinking the idea over, Hancock risked something. He called over the radio for a secretary to arrive and send this message to the Kaiser:Kaiser,
I know you've seen the broadcast and have undoubtedly heard the Italians. We did not intend to sink that luxury liner to kill civilians but we had assumed they were Duchy of New England troops trying to either get onboard it to get out of NYC or were using it as a way to ferry supplies elsewhere. After all the report we got was that it sunk in one torpedo shot and, supposedly, exploded into a massive fireball.
I wish to also ask, if you will hear me out, that the German Reich stay out of our Civil War. Why send your young sons of Germania to die in some foreign land that hates and despises them? Why risk angering the public when you should know that to take all of America or (assuming we can get the Canadians and Mexicans to rejoin, Columbia, is a foolish move that would require a long drawn out war lasting decades and costing much in blood and treasure?
Please think this over.
Signed,
Able Hancock
POTUS
From His Imperial Majesty's Office of Foreign Affairs
This message, is one I take great disdain in penning forth, for I am loath to speak with the ilk of terrorists whom use Cruise Missiles against a sleeping city and whom torpedo ocean liners at random. The German Empire and its European Allies, the Kingdom of Italy, Tsardom of Bulgaria, and Hungarian Empire respectively, continue to recognize the monarchy under the Foley dynasty as the sole legitimate government of Columbia and as such will not treat with rebellious upstarts. We, alike our Capilean allies, recognize Titus Foley as sole sovereign in Columbia. For the senseless attack on both German territory and upon citizens of the Kingdom of Italy, you may consider all relations between your extremists and our great nation to be fully hostile.
Yours,
Arno Jost, Foreign Minister
by The Grand Duchy Of Nova Capile » Sat Nov 05, 2016 4:17 pm
Capilean aircraft turn to leave
with their motherships.
THE GRAND DUCHY OF NOVA CAPILE
Encryption: Extreme Subject: Diplomatic Conference From: The Capilean Foreign Ministry Recipient: Victor Farkas
Greetings.
Cooperation between our states is of the utmost importance, especially if war is to be effectively waged in Columbia. We have worked together before to defend that bastion of liberty, and we can do so again. We would be honored to send a delegation of military officials, as well as a Royal personage, to discuss such cooperation, at a location of your choosing.
Sincerely,
Kalvin Englebert, Minister of Foreign Affairs
Grand Duke Hans Wilhelm XVII
by New United States of Columbia » Sun Nov 06, 2016 4:01 pm
by New Decius » Sun Nov 06, 2016 7:28 pm
New United States of Columbia wrote:Appalachian Redoubt
"I do know my way around here," Samantha replied, smiling warmly "I could take you to the living quarters, if you'd like. I have a feeling you should rest before din-Abigale?"
The younger princess walked over to her older sister and sat down next to her, looking puzzled. Abigale was looking at the floor and playing with the skirt of her dress absentmindedly, a worried look on her face.
"Abigale? What's wrong?"
The princess sighed.
"Nothing."
"It concerns Juvon, doesn't it? Please, listen, Jevon'll be fine. Gladium and a platoon of guardsmen are staying in the palace to keep an eye on the fighting before eventually heading here. Besides, while he's a softie on the inside, I doubt anything the Reds or Fascists have will harm him."
Abigale shook her head as she got off and walked to her room briskly. Samantha then looked at Max and, as she was about to offer to show him to his room, Titus approached him.
"General," Titus addressed the man, his hazel-green eyes fixed on him "I don't suppose you know the frequency to get to your government in Nova Capile, do you?"
Former U.N. Building, NYC
The platoon of New Unionist troops kept moving as they gunned down and killed any remaining German or German-Ally official in the building, their headlamps providing light after they had plunged most of the building into darkness by destroying the generators down below. As they did so they kept an eye on the New Unionists rare but useful "weapons": A biological killing machine. It stood twelve feet tall, it's claws being several inches long and capable of tearing into most forms of armor, it's jaws capable of tearing into a man and ripping limbs from the body, it's eyes capable of a natural night vision. It's long tail dragged behind it, slithering over dead bodies as it looked around, a low growl coming from it's throat.
The platoon commander returned his focus onto the task at hand, readjusting his grip on his 5mm minigun, as his power armor boots clanked onto the tile floor beneath him, his light reflecting off the polish. He tried to keep his ears open for any sounds of movement not belonging to his platoon, all the rest wearing regular fatigues and plated polymer combat armor, their laser rifles and battle rifles held up to their shoulders, their approach a slow walk.
As they kept searching the building they heard movement coming from behind them. The whole unit stopped, spinning around and getting themselves psyched up for combat. The platoon commander gave an order over his radio, sending it to the built in radio in the "Urban Combat Shock Weapon":
"Kill."
New York City
The New Unionist troops looked up at the German fighters and interceptors. At least they did until they started having to dodge rockets and bombs falling from the sky as best they could. It didn't scare them though. They heard the stories. Read the history. This time there was no retreating. Not one step back. They would fight till their last breath.
Immediately the New Unionists changed targets. The New England National Guardsmen would still be attacked in hopes of getting after Jackson but, for now, they had to get those fighters out of the sky. The few power armor troops attempted to shoot them down with their Laser Gatling Guns, thinking the lasers would be able to pierce or burn through the fighters armor. In the meanwhile the Vertibird VTOLs were ordered to pull out of the area while Anti Air guns and vehicles would be moved into position. Not all managed to get out as a good deal were shot down but it wasn't for lack of trying.
Jackson paced nervously as Kilroy and the other guards he had attempted to erect a hasty barricade. The hotel lobby already was filled with New England National Guardsmen and the Duke had been moved to the security office. Kilroy was outside, guarding the room along with a squad of guardsmen. Just as Jackson sat in the seat near the computers he heard the radio crackle to life:
"I say again, this is the Imperial German warship Grauwolfe calling on the Duke of New England. Do not fire on our ships or planes. Our aircraft are making strikes against New Unionists as we speak and our warships are using the barbarian submarine which ruthlessly sent eight hundred citizens of our Italian ally to a water grave."
Jackson immediately dashed over to the radio set and attempted to contact the Grauwolfe.
"This is Jackson! I need to get out of New York! I'll give you whatever you want if you can get me out of here!"
He then waited for a response.
Imperial Palace
"Break it! Break that Goddamn door!"
Gladium was busy ordering the other Imperial Honor Guard troops in breaking down the door to Juvon's room. He heard the would-be Prince scream for help but now it seemed the door had been barricaded. Eventually the power armored troops from the squad he had ordered to follow him gave up and instead grabbed any nearby heavy objects (including a fire axe) and began to try and break the door so they could help Juvon.
Juvon, in the meantime, was surprised to hear about these rounds that Artur informed the Draconid about. He took a deep breath and concentrated.
"We've no time. I'm afraid I'll have to shoot you now."
He hoped those lessons at the Academy back in his homeland of Dyste would work...
In a flash of light he was gone.
by New United States of Columbia » Mon Nov 07, 2016 12:57 pm
by New Decius » Mon Nov 07, 2016 9:49 pm
New United States of Columbia wrote:Former U.N. Building, NYC
The "Urban Bio Weapon", much like the platoon leader, was caught by surprise by the KSK operative's new abilities. All it did, however, was stun the creature. The creature quickly got back to it's feet, roared loudly, and charged the man before grabbing him and tearing into his stomach, pulling out a long cord of his small intestine. The platoon leader looked away, not wanting to see such gore, before he heard shouts and gunfire from elsewhere in the building. He stomped off and caught sight of a firefight between his platoon of soldiers and the KSK commando squad.
"WE NEED HEAVY FIRE SUPPORT!" One of the New Unionist troops shouted as he ducked behind one of the overturned tables.
The Second Lieutenant nodded and began to use his 5mm Minigun to suppress the KSK commandos.
"Bring it on! Columbia will NEVER fall to you!" He roared through his headset as he slowly advanced forward, tearing one of the commandos in half with his intense volume of fire.
by The Grand Duchy Of Nova Capile » Wed Nov 09, 2016 8:09 pm
One of many propaganda posters in L.A.
by New United States of Columbia » Thu Nov 10, 2016 2:06 pm
by The Union of Greater Brittania » Fri Nov 11, 2016 12:50 pm
by Cesopium » Fri Nov 11, 2016 2:25 pm
by New Decius » Fri Nov 11, 2016 10:42 pm
The Union of Greater Brittania wrote:Buckingham Palace, London, Union of Greater Britannia. 10 DAYS BEFORE THE INVASION OF NEW ENGLAND
It was a rainy day in London, the Palace of the Royal Family and Government was busy, around the streets policemen patrolled left and right, people are rarely seen, it was a special day indeed.
Below the palace lies the imperial war room, a dark and large boardroom, with a long central table with chairs around it, lit by a spotlight. On the walls it can be seen full of maps and eletronic machines working. A meeting is about to start, a group of generals and other government officals are reunited on the chairs when suddenly everyone stands up, a man comes to the meeting, he's dressing a military uniform, he wears a Peaked cap, chest is full of medals and on his shoulder is a military patch with six stars,two swords and the flash-in-the-pan insignia of the BUF.
All on the table stood up, raised their arms ina roman salute and shouted "RULE BRITANNIA", as the man went to the table he shouted back: "RULE BRTIANNIA".(Image)
The man in question is Samuel Campbell, president of the British Union of Fascists, prime-minister of the Union of Greater Britannia,Duke of Windsor and Generalissimo of the Britannian armed forces. Sometimes he was the prime-minister, other times the president, but now he was more than ever the man that was going to change millions of lives.
"Gentlemen, we have a good opportunity here" - Said Campell
"As you can currentely see, New United States of Columbia is going on a sucession crisis and we can take our opportunity to limit their power and get a friendly government on our side. A faction of fascists and nationalists just joined together in a a faction called "The New Unionists" and it's our duty to help them. We will also support the separatist canadians forces on the north and we'll reinforce our control on the caribbean possesions"
After the small speech, a General stood up, his name is Field Marshall Alasdair McDonald, a veteran from the Indian war and the Mercenary wars, known for it's high prestige on the nation and in the party and one of the heir apparent to the leadership of the BUF.
"Thank you my lord" - Alasdair started speaking - "We must notice that we don't currentely have a power base stabilished on Columbia, our allies the unionists hold strong the eastern coast. However we need to clear the resistance of the Duke of New England."
"According to the MI-3. He is one of the strongest Dukes in terms of power, both in political influence as the control of troops inside the Kingdom" - A voice of an old woman came, known only as "M" and head of the Military Intelligence. "But his military power is weak outside the old estabilishment is weak".
"I Agree with M" - Alasdair retook his speech - "With contacts from MI6 we estabilished contact with the Unionists, we formulated a plan, codename "Operation Reveere"."(Image)
"In the north, the 1st New England army under the Control of General Ian Jonhson will Invade Massachuchets, Rhode Island and Connecticut"
"In the east we have General Joshua McArthur with the 23rd Unionist legion, he is the current leader of Unionist forces in the East and one invaluable ally. He will advance with Tanks, Troops and Power Armor to Retake New Jersey and New York, the two most well defended states that the Duchy Currentely has. I will provide air support and naval attacks, we have also britannian division deployed on their ranks currentel. Our final objective is New York." - Alsadair finished speaking
A young man stood up after the Marshall's speech, it was Prince WInston, one of the son's of the king and Captain General of the Royal Marines.
"The Royal Marines will advance through Long Island, attacking the city trough the eastern side and flanking it." - Said the young general
"The Island has a somewhat advanced fortification system, we must be careful on not having another Gallipoli" - Said Grand Admiral Joseph Fear of the Royal Navy, an old bearded man with an Welsh accent.
"I know what i'm doing" - Replied the prince
"Very well then, the Royal Navy is already prepeared, we have one air carrier ready and we have the battleship too. We shall provide a blockade on the ports of the Duchy and destroy any navy they have."
"Very well" - Generalissimo Campbell said
"We start operation reveere now. RULE BRITANNIA" - Shouted
"RULE BRITANNIA" - as the crowd on the table shouted, the opration was about to start...
From the Office of the German Ambassador to the British Nation
From His Excellency, Graf Ulrich-Juge von Ansbach, German Ambassador to the Union of Greater Britannia
For the attention of the office of Samuel Campbell, President of the BUF, Prime Minister of Greater Britannia, Duke of Windsor, and Generalissimo of the Armed Forces
Your Excellency and Your Grace,
I bring a message direct from Berlin, direct even from His Imperial and Royal Majesty, Wilhelm Augustus III, German Emperor, King of Prussia, President of the Greater Confederation of Germanic States, and Honorary Grand Duke of the Italian Royal Court, for your attention. It is in regards to the Columbian situation. His Imperial Majesty bids me convey that we are currently involved in the affairs of this divided state in support of the rightful sovereign of Columbia, Titus Foley, High King, in place of his fallen father High King Paul Foley. There have been mutterings of the British Nation's possible involvement in the affairs of this state, of which we are deeply concerned. We entered the Columbia situation due to our tripartite alliance in which the Grand Duchy of Nova Capile and the great nation of Columbia are also part.
Though I am sure, as I am a military man and can make estimates in such affairs, you are already aware we have a Carrier battlegroup operating in the New England area, to which our Italian allies have also contributed, following a New Unionist submarine sinking multiple civilian ships carrying fleeing tourists away from Columbia. Therefore I must stress caution as your actions, depending on their magnitude may affect the relations between the German Empire and Greater Britannia. Do remember our air and naval bases in the Grand Duchy of Danemark*, the Kingdom of Holland**, and the Kingdom of Belgium*** as well as the fact that relations are tense as is. Though this thinly veiled threat/warning may result in your storming our embassy with military troops, I still give it.
Keep in mind that a much larger, much more powerful military power lies right across the channel, should you attack the main faction of Titus Foley directly. We have yet to confirm the full loyalty of the Duke of New England, read into that as you will. However, we would not object if Communist and similar radical's in the area took casualty.
His Excellency,
Ulrich-Juge von Ansbach, Count of Ansbach, German Ambassador to the British Nation
by The Grand Duchy Of Nova Capile » Mon Nov 14, 2016 8:00 pm
Cabo minutes before the assault.
by New Decius » Tue Nov 15, 2016 6:40 am
Cesopium wrote:Somewhere in Myctria, the Headquarters of the 8th Army
General Benjamin Drescher, Commander of the 8th Army sat at his desk doing paperwork, but suddenly a aide knocked on the door outside his office.
"Come in."
"Sir, I have brought you classified plans regarding a operation taking place in the North American Continent, things seems messy there."
Handing him the papers, the general motioned him to leave, the aide saluted, saluting back the general sat down to look over the papers, the aide stepped out of the room.
Reading over the papers, the general looked over the operation carefully and the summary which accompanied it.
"There has been news of quite a huge amount of conflict taking place in the New United States of Columbia, many factions are vying for the control of the nation as it has now divided. Many foreign powers have joined the fight and aiding their own parties for their own ambitions. We have chosen to back the largely ignored Confederates and restore the baronies in the south and southwest. First we must remove local rebellion and the loyalists remaining to defend the nation. The 8th Army has been called upon as the most ready and able force to be the vanguard for further incursions, the XXIII,XXIV, and XXV Corps will be used in this operation.
(Image)
The 3rd and 4th Airborne Divisions of the XXIII Corps will land in a amphibious assault into the rebel state of North Carolina, landings will occur in Onslow County, in the towns of Surf City and Swansboro. Forces will then push inward capturing rogue military camps and establish a government with the individual most qualified to be the baron in the state.
(Image)
The 5th Airborne and 6th Cavalry Divisions of the XXIV Corps will land in the rebel state of Texas. Landing in the Aransas County, the forces will push inward overthrowing local resistance and establish communication with the Confederate forces at the border to the north. A baron will be selected from the most qualified individual.
(Image)
Landing in Florida, the 4th Light Infantry and 6th Armored Divisions will be the tip of the spear and more than likely land first. Small battalion sized forces will establish control of the Key West islands while the rest of the troops will focus in landing at Broward County and seize Fort Lauderdale from the loyalists and continue to push inward to Florida into communication is reached with the Confederates. These forces as they are Loyalists are suspected to be the most difficult to push over but will fall with enough troops and time. A baron will be selected after control is established.
10 Grisha-class corvettes, 2 Mirka-class frigates, and 1 Kashin-class destroyer will accompany each armada.
These troops will act as a vanguard for the rest of the armies already detailed on this operation to be launched into the fray along with a few Legions prepared as necessary.
Understanding his orders, Benjamin Drescher began to call up the necessary officers aboard their battle barges, over the heavily encrypted communications line. The assigned commanders set full sail ahead toward the states they had been issued to attack. XXV would arrive first, XXIII second, XXIV last. The ships accompanying the armadas sat upon their routes, any satellites viewing down on the seas surrounding the Atlantic Ocean could not help but notice this large mass of movement toward the Americas.
The tip of the spear regiments of the XXV would be arriving in the next couple days.
by New United States of Columbia » Tue Nov 15, 2016 1:12 pm
by New Mushroom Kingdom » Wed Nov 16, 2016 8:55 pm
by The Grand Duchy Of Nova Capile » Wed Nov 16, 2016 10:47 pm
The Vault-Tec seal of approval.
by New United States of Columbia » Thu Nov 17, 2016 10:15 am
Dear President Davis Jefferson,
I, President Able Hancock of the United States of Columbia, wish to inform you of a better option than trying to split off and form your own country. While I do admire the traditions and culture of the Southerner, it is foolish to assume you can survive the coming onslaught from Germania. You do not have the industry or machinery to make the war machines necessary to fight them off and you do not have enough bodies to throw at them compared to our mighty New Union. I also doubt these barbarians from across the Atlantic will be tempted to spare you by offering them cotton, tobacco, and sweet tea.
Please think this over.
by Gotengo » Thu Nov 17, 2016 11:16 pm
The Grand Duchy Of Nova Capile wrote:Cabo San Lucas, Mexico
Cabo had become an especially popular tourist site after Mexico's incorporation into Columbia, and by the time of the Second Great Division it had built a reputation as a flourishing city on the tip of the Baja Peninsula. But once that cataclysmic conflict had begun Cabo was consumed in fire, as marooned elements of the Columbian military fought a destructive battle against the swarms of ragged Mexican militants who rose up to win back their country. The entire province of Baja had fallen not to the Mexicans, but to the cancerous Communists, who had stretched their slimy tendrils southwards in order to completely secure the Pacific Coast. The raid and burning of San Francisco had alerted the Communist leaders to the grave danger their state was in, and they had proceeded to hastily fortify their shores lest a joint Capilean-Rodinian forces bring them to their knees. But it was only natural for the rich lands of California to receive the lion's share of the available funds. And the local Red commanders not only had to contend with a paltry number of troops and defenses but also with the lurking threat of an uprising amongst the Mexican people, who had not been swept up by Communist rhetoric and longed to join their countrymen in their revolution.As such Capilean commanders had deemed the peninsula, specifically Cabo, as a necessary city to capture. At the very least it would provide a staging area for Capilean fleets and serve as a jumping off point for invasions all over the Mexican coast. Under the noses of all Communist intelligence services, whose eyes were particularly hazy in the South Pacific, a Capilean battlefleet had traveled across the ocean and were now in place to launch a devastating assault on the city. Meticulous planning had gone into this battle and the following phases of the invasion; victory was assured by the OKR, and the soldiers were confident that pitiful Communist resistance would flee before them. The flotilla included the sole other super-battleship of the Capilean fleet, the Bravour, which was also the flagship, and a plethora of aircraft carriers. Accompanying them were the usual assortment of various cruisers, destroyers, and smaller ships which composed any solid naval force. Leading them was Fleet Admiral Vidkun Reuter, an up-and-coming naval tactician who had led the fleet to many victories in the Mediterranean against the Swedes. In charge of amphibious and subsequent land operations was Field Marshal Walther Nemetz, who had worked with Reuter before and had only just won his Crown and Eagle in Italy.(Image)
Cabo minutes before the assault.
The assault began in the wee hours of the morning, before the sun had fully risen and the moon had disappeared. Silently hundreds of assault craft were launched from their motherships, and buffeted by the waves they began to cut through the smooth waters of the Pacific and towards Cabo. Each was packed with men, most of them crack troops who were expected to secure the city in an hour or less. They were also surrounded by crates of equipment; ammunition, grenades, flamethrowers, machine guns, and various other arms went with them so that the attack force could quickly shatter any immediate resistance. Additionally, a few companies of mountaineers were dispatched to the craggy rock arches and cliffs surrounding the city, so as to quickly capture them and prevent the enemy from using those strategic positions to their advantage. The first wave of craft were greeted with frantic shouts and isolated bursts of fire.
The assault had begun.
Sergeant Jochem Jansson paced the back of the amphibious landing craft, his pace quickening as enemy rounds began to clip the boat. Before him was a horde of Capileans; the first few rows were hardy marines, the next sturdy Stoßschutz men, and finally a line of infantry grunts, support personnel, and officers. All of them were packed like sardines in the cramped ship. Around them the shrill screams of whistles sounded; the first landing craft were reaching the shore. Next the air was pierced by shouts and yelps as men dove for cover or were cut down by the merciless guns of the enemy. A whistle blew in his ear, deafening it. Jochem cursed and turned to call out the man who'd blown it when he realized that the ramp of the ship was lowering.
"Get ready men!" he called over the cacophony of the newborn battle. With a groan the metal ramp gave way and crashed into the foamy tidal waters, exposing the Capilean force to the enemy's guns. And they seized the opportunity, tearing through the first rank. The second charged over the flayed corpses of their comrades, throwing themselves behind what limited cover was available. Jansson scurried forward as the craft began to empty. He had been in amphibious assaults before, and this was nothing compared to the vicious, hard-fought battles of Italy. Now it was time; the boat was empty save for a few wounded men who were wallowing in their blood. Stepping over the carnage which had already carpeted the beach, Jochem whipped out his submachine gun and crouched behind a bloodied boulder. Suddenly there was the crunch of heaving treads on feeble sand; sure enough massive Capilean tanks were surging out from transports and lobbing shells at the fortified positions the Reds were holed up in. Gathering his courage, the Sergeant peeped over the rock.
He held his SMG at the ready and looked for a target. Suddenly a trio of Red conscripts rushed out from a caved-in shack. Squeezing the trigger, Jansson rejoiced as he riddled each with bullets and they fell to the ground in crumpled heaps. Suddenly a bullet collided with his rocky shield and ricocheted back towards the town. Chips of shattered rock flew into his eyes, and the Capilean slumped to the ground as yet another bullet slammed into his shoulder. Blinded and dumbfounded by the throbbing pain, Jochem struggled to come to his senses. Around him the second wave of troops were flooding onto the beach, reading to refresh the depleted numbers of their allies. One crouched beside him.
"Sir," yelled the private over the din, "I can get you back to one of our craft before they leave. You'll get treated and-" he was cut off as a Commie bullet crashed into the side of his head, splitting his skull open. The poor man foundered as blood and viscera began to pour from his fatal wound, until finally he fell to the ground and was still. Watching in curious horror for a moment, Janssen finally renewed his valor and stood up, holding his SMG at his hip as he offered himself to the enemy.
"For throne and Reich!" he shouted, beginning to walk forward and gun down any filthy Red scum in his path. A round stung at his foot. Jochem laughed it off and raised his gun at the lad who'd fired it. With a single bullet he ended his life, and kicked his mutilated body aside. Clicking a fresh clip into his weapon, Janssen began to bay laughter as he sprayed the enemy with lead, gutting a few of them. They began to scatter and a resounding cheer lifted from the Capilean lines as they began to advance. The Sergeant was vaguely aware of the blood oozing from his multiple wounds, and of the dozens of rounds which began to fly past him every second. One clipped his arm, another his hip, and another planted itself deep inside his stomach. Jochem didn't care, either for the pain which was slowly killing him or the feeble attempts of the Reds to halt his onslaught. Before him he saw a bloodstained banner billowing in the gale; on it were a fist, a hammer, and a sickle. He had a new target.
Just as he planted another foot in the sand a powerful shot connected with his hand and threw his SMG away. Not glancing back he took two grenades from his belt and undid their pins. Raising them high above his head he shouted his sacred oath one last time before launching himself towards the flag and the mass of enemies guarding it. Jochem Janssen disappeared in a cloud of ash and flame, taking many a man with him.
Royal Palace
Artur grinned in animalistic glee as the first of the power-armored soldiers met his end. A single round pierced his thick chest-plate, shattering the once impregnable armor and splitting open the man's chest. He stared down in horror at his gouged stomach as viscera, entrails, and blood began to pour out of it. Disgusted but not perturbed, his comrades pushed past him as he fell and opened fire. Rudolf let loose, showering them with lead but not able to do any damage to the hulking metal behemoths he opposed. Artur ducked back behind the couch, trembling as plasma blasts caught the expensive furniture and burned through it. The smoldering thing looked more like swiss cheese now. Hooking the pistol though one of the gaping holes, the agent squeezed off another shot. The gun bucked and its bullet shot towards the enemy, catching one of them in the head and popping it like a balloon. Gore spilled out and splattered on the walls and rich curtains, while the headless corpse of the unlucky guardsman collapsed in a mangled titanium heap.
The Capilean risked a quick glance at his partner- just in time to witness a tragic event. Rudolf howled in agony as a plasma bolt stuck to his left arm, quickly evaporating the flesh as if it was water. The young man screamed out again and again as he suffered even more pain and his limb was turned to ash. His remaining arm caught hold of the singed stump; his dark blue eyes filled with a sickly horror, and he fell to his knees and let out a final, miserable cry. The proud agent collapsed and curled up, cradling his burning wound and whimpering to himself. Artur's heart stopped. What if that happened to me? What if it were to hit me in the chest, or head? He trembled just imagining the terrible consequences. His tongue probed the cyanide tooth that had been attached to the back of his mouth. Better than that, or torture, he reasoned. Grimacing he bit down hard, and coughed as the substance slipped down his throat. Suddenly a blackness consumed him and he wilted to the hardwood floor. The mission had been failed.
Appalachian Redoubt
Max started as a ringing noise split the previously silent room. He wheeled around to see a massive scaled beast rearing up before him. Desperately he tried to keep his cool in view of Samantha, but inwardly he had fainted. Stifling a gasp- or was it a scream?- the Capilean officer looked the Draconid up and down. His plated scales shown in the dim light like rubies, the reflections of some red-hot fire deep within them. His eyes were piercing and stupendously intelligent. They looked as if they had been hewed from a precious jewel or stone and not of human matter. His huge, jagged claws tapped on the smooth flooring like a telegraph.
"Ignore him," Titus huffed into his ear. The disdain he held for his soon-to-be brother-in-law soaked through in each word. "He's not exactly... important. Sure, he knows magic, but he isn't a fighter and Dyste won't support us." The High King snorted; clearly he didn't hold that race of scholarly pacificists in high regard. "They can't, even if their King didn't despise my views on faith and their kind." The monarch turned and walked away. Riesch cast one last curious glance at the collapsed, seemingly mythical creature before turning to follow him. Max wasn't the religious type; sure, he showed up for Church on Christmas and Easter, but that was all. He paid nothing more than a few minutes of lip service. And so he guessed that Titus had some profound reason for sticking to God despite the clearly otherworldly properties of the Draconids. Faith. That was what they always said.
Max entered the communications room and scanned it quickly. He found Titus bent over a station and came up behind him.
"So, what is it that you want me to do?"
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