2nd Great Division (IC)

by **New United States of Columbia** » Tue Oct 25, 2016 12:36 pm

Appalachian Redoubt

After experiencing the brutal and humiliating defeat of the German Invasion Foley and the Columbian High Command knew that, no matter how much funds and focus was put on bringing Columbian military tech to make a Columbian soldier be able to, theoretically, go toe-to-toe with a German soldier, they were no match in a head on fight. Rather, they figured, they would have to put focus on two things: Superweapons meant to wipe out armies in one or two attacks and well fortified positions for troops and commanders to retreat to and organize resistance. That was what the Appalachian Redoubt was. It was a place where resistance could be coordinated and a government could be set up should worse come to be.

The convoy drove up the winding mountain road and soon they were at what appeared to be a camouflaged entryway. Up close, of course, the camouflage didn't seem all that effective. Then again a blizzard wasn't happening and they knew exactly where to go. The armored car hatch was opened and, one by one, the Columbains and their Capilean ally filed out of the armor car. Other guards and staff were doing the same and soon the massive number of people entered. They went down a fair ways in the dark and, thankfully, no twists or turns were needed. They then found themselves in a rather plain room. Titus held his hand up, signaling everyone to stop. He then approached a door of sorts and spoke to it:
"Remember New York."
"Password accepted."
The door slide up revealing a metal staircase. Titus gestured for everyone to follow him and soon they found a heavy and thick blast door. Titus headed to they key pad on the side and entered a code. The blast door slide up and revealed a long grey hallway lined with chairs and paintings on the sides of it.
"We'll be staying here for a while," He said to the Capiliean Colonel-General "so I hope you don't mind a lack of creature comforts."

Unknown Location

Foley beamed at the sight of Hans, accidentally revealing his razor sharp teeth.
"HANS!" His voice boomed in a very happy sounding roar "It's good to see you again old friend!"
He then noticed Hans demanding to know "What sort of elaborate prank is this?". Foley frowned slightly.
"This isn't a prank, Hans," Foley replied, sounding slightly bitter "and I'm surprised by your reaction. I'm assuming that bastard Gladium didn't boast about me to you? The 'Eternal High King Foley'? I'll be surprised if he didn't."

Philadelphia

The door slowly creaked open as light slowly began to fill the room. Hancock strode down the aisle leading to the altar. He had seen the World Federation's broadcast. He knew he needed help from the divine if he wished to withstand them. He got to the altar, knelt before it, clasped his hands together, and began to pray.
"Father... I pray that you can hear me. We are in dark times and... Right now I need guidance. I pray that you can lend me your courage, so that I may face our foes with not a hint of fear. I pray you can lend me your wisdom, so that I may govern this great land effectively should we win. I pray you can offer me these things, Father, for we need them more than ever. Amen"
He then got to his feet and sighed with relief. If the Father was listening, he knew he would be able to win. As he turned to leave he couldn't help but mentally congratulate the sculpture of the statue that was behind the alter. They got Father Washington's likeness quite well.

Royal Palace

Juvon Infernos wasn't enjoying his time in Columbia.

For one Paul was missing and presumed dead. For another he and Abigale weren't married and for the ultimate reason Titus, the eldest son and heir who hated Draconids, was made High King.
The cramped, though luxurious, room didn't help. Nor was his requirement to wear clothing helping much. Really, now, did they find their forms THAT disgusting?

He was sitting on the bed, reading one of the palace'a books, when he heard a knock on his door. Laundry, apparently.
He got up, stretched his long red scaled legs, and crossed the room in three strides, he opened the door and bent low to see E two men.
"Can I help you?" The young Draconid asked.

by **The RODina** » Tue Oct 25, 2016 12:50 pm

35 km south of Portland, Oregon
Köz. Gard. Karabélyos Viktor Romanov
44th Köz. Gardosztály, Amerika Hadsereg

Viktor Romanov was part of the relief team for the team currently pinned down near an overpass near Portland, Oregon. In the task force was 10 Jaguar III tanks, which fired an 92mm Railgun, firing either High Explosive shells or APFSDS rounds capable of penetrating any armour, as well as Anti-Air Laser Cannons capable of engaging ground and air soft targets.

In addition to the glorious tanks were 60 Republican Guards, with the K114 Rifles and M41 Machineguns, travelling in IFVs which mounted the same laser cannon as the Jaguar III in armoured housing, as well as a number of laser guided Anti Tank Guided Missiles. The platoon was an armoured fist, capable of bashing through communist lines with hilarious ease.

They got within visual range, and immediately, ten railguns fired, a number of explosions could be seen on the horizon as Communist tanks went up explosively, they kept moving, and withing 100m, the Infantry jumped out of their IFVs, taking cover by the sides of the road, half advancing on the overpass while the rest lay down covering fire on the Communists.

Romanov clutched his K114 tightly, rushing over to the Overpass. They picked up the wounded and loaded them into the IFVs, quickly taking them back to Newport and field hospitals.

by **The Grand Duchy Of Nova Capile** » Tue Oct 25, 2016 8:59 pm

Appalachian Redoubt

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 **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...

Approximately 590km from Capilean Fleet near Kingman Reef

'All combat pilots to the flight deck, prepare to engage oncoming hostile aircraft. I repeat.....' the ringing voice over the loudspeakers continued to blare even as the first couple of Mig-35's were rising into the sky, though that was the Russian way. Ram the message in so it is not forgotten.

For take-off of fixed wing aircraft, Admiral Padorin uses a ski-jump at the end of her deck. On take-off aircraft accelerate toward and up the ski-jump using their afterburners. This results in the aircraft leaving the deck at a higher angle and elevation than on an aircraft carrier with a flat deck and catapults. The massive aviation cruiser had the ability to launch aircraft from three points and it was currently using that ability to get as many air superiority fighters airborne as possible as quickly as possible. Both the Admiral Padorin and the Volga were putting planes in the sky.

In one of these was Flight Lieutenant Anastas Mouraiden whom was currently climbing into the clouds quick as he pleased with his two wingmates. Anastas wasn't quite an old salt veteran but he was no rookie, he'd flown from carriers in the old Mig-29's, and he much preferred the new 35's. Though this would be the first time the aircraft was used in live combat against an enemy as opposed to drones. Anastas was on constant lookout for Capilean aircraft, with a pair of AA-12 Air-to-Air Radar Homing Missiles ready to fire if a target presented itself to him.

Just then one of his wingmates, Vladimir Zorin, radioed a message over. "Get ready Stas. Fleet's launching more missiles at the reactionaries so they may send up fighters as reprisal." Stas thought on that. The two Admiral Padorin Carriers, the four Admiral Kuznetsov Carriers, and the five Kirov Battlecruisers were all armed with the same P-700 Missiles used to devastate the Capilean warship. They were currently moderately within the operational range for the cruise missiles, so they could do a good amount of hurt to the Capilean's. But would they all launch or only some.

His answer came moments later when two blips from five different locations appeared on his screen. So the Battlecruisers had fired a ten missile salvo at the enemy. Here's hoping they hit something important.

by **The Grand Duchy Of Nova Capile** » Sun Oct 30, 2016 1:57 pm

Off Kingman Reef

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 United States of Columbia** » Sun Oct 30, 2016 2:51 pm

Appalachian Redoubt

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

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.

Battle of Kingman Reef

Unfortunately for the Capilean's they were about to have a truly shocking realization. Hardly any of their air-launched missiles or rockets hit the six Aviation Cruisers, in fact Guidance Disruption equipment cause most to either fall into the sea or hit the smaller ships of the Russian fleet instead. Another frightening reality about to hit them was that Russian Aircraft Carriers were in fact classified as Heavy Aircraft Carrying Cruisers. These warships, both the older Kuznetsov-Class and the new Padorin-Class, were outfitted with swaths of Anti-Aircraft and Anti-Ship Missiles, the AA Missiles were best when operating at close range. And the Capilean's had closed range just as their enemy had hoped.

As Anastas weaved in and out of friendly warships with two enemy fighters on his tail, all of a sudden those two aircraft exploded in balls of flame and fell into the ocean. At first Stas thought one of his fellow pilots had saved him, for nearly three-fourths of the Russian fighter compliment was now airborne, but then he saw more enemy aircraft exploding in the sky and streaks of exhaust leading trails back to the Aviation Cruisers as dozens of guided missiles shot out to eradicate their targets. They were aware of friendly and hostile IFF's which made the 3K95 Kinzhal SAM even more effective.

Stas whooped triumphantly as he put his plane into a climb and, using the cannon-machine gun in the nose, blew a hostile craft to pieces........

.........Onboard the Volga one of the operators bolted out of his chair. "Comrade Admiral Valynki! We have detected Submarine launched ballistic missiles aimed at us!" Admiral Grutl Valynki frowned as he looked out of the windows at the air battle taking place outside. "So that's the game is it. Well two can play at that. All Battlecruisers fire off all missiles at enemy fleet!"

The first salvo had included only ten missiles, each ship had launched two, but now the five Battlecruisers were unleashing the remaining eighteen missiles they all possessed in their bays. Thus a total of ninety Anti-Ship warheads was now speeding towards the Capilean fleet as retaliation. Of course the fleet would have to make for friendly waters soon to refuel and resupply before returning with a marine contingent. Their objective was simply the destruction of the Capilean fleet.

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

SMS Grauwolfe, Near the Entrance to New York Harbor

On the deck of the Supercarrier, SMS Grauwolfe were swathes of crew and engineers prepping aircraft for launch, specifically Ju-107's, the same kind of advanced ground attack aircraft which had blasted the Fascist missiles in Canada to pieces. Now the Carrier's full compliment of thirty of said aircraft were going to be used for blasting New Unionist troops on the ground. They were also going to be backed by Destroyer-based Anti-Air support and Carrier-based Fighter's. All of which would be in support of Monarchist troops belonging to the Duke of New England, so long as the Duke still backed the monarchy under Titus that is.

For now, German ground commitment would be confined to Carrier-launched Special Forces for the extraction of high value individuals and such. Public opinion was still massively against a full on ground campaign and the Populists whom currently had the Chancellorship couldn't afford to hand the Reactionary, Social Democrat, and Conservative parties such a big win so close to the next elections. However, hardly any German's were opposed to the use of German air and naval firepower in Columbia and since the government had chosen to follow Nova Capile's lead and consider Titus as Columbia's legitimate sovereign, it was against the New Unionists, the Communists, and the other factions that Germany flexed her might.

As the first four Stuka's ripped off the runway of the Carrier, they could see New York City burning and ruined before them, the harbor littered with the burning hulks of civilian and military craft alike. And then.....the air was suddenly alive with chatter from both sides which were being picked up by German equipment. With this chatter, the Abwehr detachment on the Bridge of the Grauwolfe were able to make an approximate map of where each side was positioned, this was also being done through visual sightings of large numbers of New Unionist power-armored troops gathering at several areas before heading out into the city. This first group of Stuka's was also witness to the sight of twelve Me-621, Carrier-Launched High Altitude Air Superiority Fighters racing past them to engage the Ventibirds over New York. They were followed by ten MC.360's, an Italian knockoff of the 621 and being launched from the RMS Cavour, a Fleet Carrier that had accompanied them.

Within moments these groups of Stuka's, divided into three groups of four, were dropping laser-guided bombs down on the New Unionist troops in the city below. Making pin-point strikes and then scampering back to the air shield being projected over the harbor to acquire a new target. It must have proven shocking for the Duke of New England's forces to see German aircraft bombing their enemies but not them.

As the air strikes were now commencing, another assault was on its way; German warships were hunting through the Harbor for the submarine that had torpedoed the Italian ocean liner. Two L-Class Anti-Submarine Warfare Destroyer's, one Saschen-Class Multipurpose Frigate, and one Bremen-Class Guided Missile Cruiser, about a fourth of the total fleet currently accompanying the German and Italian Carrier's, were handling the matter. The ships moved separately in zig-zag patterns about the Harbor, dropping sonar sensors and depth charges to smoke out and destroy the New Unionist submarine. A pair of Ju-122 Naval Attack aircraft were loaded up with Homing Torpedoes and waiting to launch from the Grauwolfe once the submarine was found.

Meanwhile one the Bridge of the mighty Supercarrier, the communications center was trying to get hold of the Duke of New England. "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 the New Unionists as we speak and our warships are hunting the barbarian submarine which ruthlessly sent eight hundred citizens of our Italian ally to a watery grave." Then they would repeat the message.

Former UN Building, New York City

When Germany handed the East Coast back to Columbia, one of the conditions was the usage of the former United Nations building in New York as the German Imperial Embassy. As time went on, Germany established other Embassies in Columbia to represent each member of the German Confederation. By the time the new Austrian Empire became a reality, the former UN Building was like a joint-embassy of sorts. Hundreds of diplomatic and security staff were employed there year-round.

Hence why it was shocking to see how few were left alive in the building when Hauptmann (Captain) Hans Günsche and his team stepped foot inside the building after departing from the Carrier and being transported here.

From what Hans could see, the front steps were riddled with bullet holes both from machine guns and an Anti-Personnel Cannon, it was also littered by more than a dozen dead Embassy guards. Some were still alive yet in so much pain they could not even speak or scream. Whenever Hans came across one of these poor souls, a bullet to the head put them at piece, he gave orders for the other fifteen members of his unit to do the same if they found such pained defenders of the Fatherland.

The inside was even worse, if the outside had been cruel then this was barbaric. It looked as though whomever attacked this place had taken to the job with some kind of three pointed blade. If Hans didn't know better he might even call them claw marks.......

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

Off Kingman Reef

"I tire of missiles!" Admiral Franz von Haupt shouted at his officers as they informed him that yet another salvo of enemy projectiles was inbound. "How are our air forces fairing?" "Not well, sir," a junior officer answered. "The Red fleet is incredibly well protected." The Capilean commander slumped back into the command chair of the bridge, burying his face in his hands. "The mission is complete. I desire to lose no more men or ships to these apparently invincible Communist bastards!" He looked up. "Fall back." Shocked expressions overtook his crew. Before they could speak he rose up. "Retreat!" His voice echoed across the bridge. "But sir," a young officer began meekly. Franz quickly cut him off with another bombardment of yells. "I am not admitting defeat! I am simply leaving before these insolent Red lunatics cause any more damage to my fleet!" Chest heaving, von Haupt fell back into his seat. "Now get us out of here," he said, his tone returning to its normal level, "before we lose another damned soul." Reluctantly the crew set about its task.

Unexpectedly the entire fleet began to high-tail their way out of the battle, seeing as there was still a long distance between themselves and the Russian fleet. The Capilean air wings were quick to follow, although they lingered for as long as their fuel caches would permit, so as to harass and occupy the enemy fleet. Soon the fleet would be under the protective German and Capilean air umbrellas based out of Indonesia, Indochina and Australia, and the Reds would find pursuit untenable.

Appalachian Redoubt

Riesch watched Titus leave wistfully. He was at an utter loss as to where to go- or where this place even was. He noticed that the High King's sister was looking over at him. Smiling he took a step towards her. "Excuse me, your highness, but you wouldn't happen to know your way around here, would you?" He had to be careful; this was the King's sister after all, and Titus had quite a short temper.

Imperial Palace

Capilean aircraft turn to leave
with their motherships.

Artur smiled cruelly as he saw Juvon's expression slide from cheerful, to confusion, to mortal terror in seconds. Before the beast's eyes had clouded over and he had slumped over, he bucked back, swinging his tail through their legs. Artur fell to his feet, his calves stinging from the might of the demon's plated tail. In an instant he was up and Juvon was shouting bloody murder to the guards. "Block off the door Rudolf!" the would-be assassin ordered, taking a step forward and pulling a silenced pistol from his pocket. He trained it between Juvon's eyes. "Stop right there! This is not just a normal bullet, or an armor-piercing round either. This was specially designed to pierce even the thickest of your people's infernal scales. Don't move, or put a bullet in your brain. Behind him came the screeching of wood on wood. "It's done," Rudolf said, drawing up beside his partner. Artur didn't take his eyes off of the creature.

Suddenly there was banging and shouts on the door. "We've no time. I'm afraid I'll have to shoot you now."
Artur's finger began to pull the trigger...

by **New United States of Columbia** » Sun Nov 06, 2016 4:01 pm

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, Juvon'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 forces in California or the Pacific, 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 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.

Former U.N. Building, NYC

Hauptmann Hans Gunsche stopped when his ears picked up a noise of some creature moving along the halls. He tensed and turned in the direction of which the thing was moving from and from which the sound of gunfire was being emitted. He pressed his ear-piece. "Circle around to the secondary lobby and kill anyone striking down German personnel. Use your skills." Then he dropped his ear-piece and crushed it underfoot so the noise from the return message would not give him away. He grasped a low-hanging statue and used it to swing himself up onto the upper banister and coming around to stand over the doorway through which shortly his foe emerged.

It was twelve foot tall and reptilian and, taking this in mind, Hans summarized that its snout was a weak point for it like most reptiles. So he leaped forward and landed on the back of its neck, wrapping his powerful legs around its throat and using the momentum to swing around and land a glancing blow to its snout before disengaging. He jumped back, landing skillfully on a desk that had not been overturned. The blow did not seem to have done much damage to the creature but like any reptilian creature it was dazed and Hans used this to his advantage. He pulled out his two elongated barrel Luger P12, 12mm, Anti-Personnel Semi-Automatic pistols and noticed then the creature was charging. It destroyed the desk but Hans was already on the other side of the room firing away, though the rounds could not penetrate its skin. Hans also realized he had been too slow.

First its claws caught him across the stomach and then he was picked up and tossed against the wall. He coughed up a little blood but already the wounds on his stomach were starting to heal, an advantage of the genetic experiments he was party to. Hans got up and pulled something from his jacket, a blood packet. Bringing it to his mouth, he bit into it and drank deeply. He tossed the now quarter-full packet aside, briefly distracting the creature. Thus the beast did not notice as Hans eyes began to glow a bright red, and his teeth all became sharpened into fangs, his nails grew into claws. The KSK Hauptmann gave out some akin to a roar and charged the creature, using the force of a kick to throw the beast back into another desk.

by **New United States of Columbia** » Mon Nov 07, 2016 12:57 pm

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 **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.

Former U.N. Building, NYC

Unfortunately for the platoon leader, a 12mm Heavy Battle Rifle round slammed into the side of his helmet, which as is common in all armor designs, both body and vehicle, is a weak point. It turned everything inside his skull to mush with the force of the projectile as the KSK commando's continued to lay down death upon those whom had slaughtered their defenseless countrymen here at the German General Embassy. One of the Commandos even shouted out. "And you bastards wanted us to not intervene even after you slaughtered our countrymen posted here for diplomacy!"

Hans meanwhile got up and cracked his knuckles as blood continued to seep from his wounds though they were already healing at an advanced rate, the great skill of German science and genetics. The man turned to a nearby flagpole bearing the German flag and which had a sharpened, spear-like point to it. It was made of solid aluminum. Hans picked it up and tested its weight before spinning it experimentally and then holding it in two hands and observing the creature for a few moments. Then he moved.

With speed that was inhuman, he darted forward and did something...different. He used the flag still attached to the pole and used some quick movements to wrap it tightly around the creatures face causing it to back up and hiss and snap and claw at its own face to remove the offending cloth. Inadvertently using its own claws to snatch its snout and eyes at the same time. Hans's eyes glowed red as he hefted the pole back like an American baseball star and then swung, striking the creature at its knees and bringing it down as the force of the heavy metal rod had shattered its bones. As this happened, Hans then pulled back with the pole and plunged it forward and down into the beasts tail, pinning it to the ground. The KSK man was however mawled again with the beasts claws, and this time it would take his wounds longer to heal but he got away in time before any of his vital, less-regenerateable organs were hit. He growled and snapped at the creature "And stay there" before heading off to assist his men.

The first New Unionist soldier he came across was from behind, and, before the man knew what was happening, Hans had grabbed him and ripped open the armor around his neck. The modified human bit forward with his fangs and tore out the mans throat, loving the screams the poor dying soul began to give out as he chewed happily on the pieces of flesh he had torn away. Following that was a simple action to break the mans neck. He looked back to see that the creature was still firmly stuck to the floor by the flag-pole turned spear, but that wouldn't last for long.

New England Duchy Headquarters, NYC

It took some time for a response to come though one finally did. "Duke Jackson of New England, this is Vizeadmiral Wolfgang Stalder, I command this task force. Your extraction shall be undertaken in the quickest fashion we can manage. On the condition you reveal all knowledge of Columbian Nuclear, Chemical, Biological, and Bacteriological Warfare research and development you possess to a joint-Capilean German Review Board at a later date."

by **The Grand Duchy Of Nova Capile** » Wed Nov 09, 2016 8:09 pm

Appalachian Redoubt

Max fixed the Princess with a welcoming smile, and had taken a step forward when she turned to her sister instead. The two siblings stood next to each other and had a hushed conversation while Riesch looked on with heavily disguised impatience. His ears, fine-tuned to the slightest noise, managed to pick up a few words. It sounded like Juvon. Max suppressed a frown. He wasn't about to share his opinion on the matter, at least publically, but it was well known that the Grand Duke looked upon that marriage with disapproval. It had been amusing to have the Draconids romping about at first. The aristocrats had seen them as their zoo animals, and had come out to Columbia on long trips to pester them with irrelevant questions, trying in desperation to understand Dyste's complex culture and customs with their narrow minds. But once the engagement of Abigale, a Columbian Princess, to one of them, it had caused an uproar among the upper classes in the Duchy. It was an abomination- and "clearly" it was a sign of Columbia's decline from a stern yet benevolent monarchy to a dithering socialist state. Which could be supported by the current state of things over here.

The Colonel-General turned as a familiar voice called him. The High King wanted to get in touch with the Capilean government. Max frowned. That's why I was sent, wasn't it? To negotiate on behalf of the Duke? Ignorant Yanks.

"Of course. Although I'm sure I could answer your questions and resolve your issues as well as the cabinet in Saxtonberg. I was appointed to this post, after all." Despite his remarks he stepped towards Titus and smiled icily.

"Lead the way."

Royal Palace

A smile stretching across his scarred face, Artur squeezed the trigger on his silenced pistol, blinking as the armor-piercing round- or was it scale-piercing round?- shot through the air and towards the demonic beast before him. A flash of blinding light suddenly stabbed at his exposed eyes, and the hitman wilted, lifting his arm across his face to block out the intense glare. When he removed it, he found that his target was nowhere to be seen. There was only a gaping hole in the wall where the creature had once stood. Artur whirled around. No sign of the thing. A flush of rage coming upon him, he shouted a string of the worst curses he could think of, damning that infernal Draconid. He had been told that their kind knew a little Satanic witchcraft, but he hadn't expected Juvon to simply vanish. Behind him Rudolf yelped.

"They're breaking down the door!" he shouted to his compatriot in his native tongue, backing away from the door as chips of wood started to fly from it. True enough, the Palace's evidently woefully incompetent security forces were hacking at the door with fire axes. Artur began pacing back and forth, his hands at his temples, desperately hoping for a way out. He finally decided. There wasn't one.

"Rudolf! Be ready with the submachine gun. I'll take out anyone that has power-armor, and you provide covering fire." He spoke in German, confident the others would be unable to hear, much less understand, what he was saying over the loud thump of the axes, the wail of alarms, and the shouts of both sides. Rudolf nodded and positioned himself behind the four-poster bed, pulling out the SMG and clicking a fresh clip into place. Artur ducked under a couch, clutching his pistol tightly. Heart pounding like a drum, he whispered a quick prayer, begging for eternal salvation and for a quick, painless death- a warrior's death. Reopening his eyes, the Capilean silenced all his nerves, managing to calm himself.
He was ready for death- and just in time.
The door fell down upon the chipped dresser just as Artur jumped up with his pistol in hand.

Los Angeles, Communist Columbia

One of many propaganda posters in L.A.

Terry Blücher and Eugen Herzog managed to blend right in, thanks to the sprawling mass of Communist Columbia's capital. Thanks to their esteemed leader Stahl, people were now off the streets and working in factories. More accurately, sweatshops. Toiling there, without air conditioning, bathrooms, or any real requisites of a civilized society- all to build bullets and shells for the army of the state. An army which was still reeling from its complete and utter defeat at San Francisco. Where as Pearl Harbor had managed to reunite a country with a common hatred, the Bombing of San Francisco had only served to further divide the Communists, entrenching a personal resentment of Stahl in many of his countrymen's' hearts. Terry and his companion tried to ignore all of those glaring downsides and instead focus on the benefits of this society.

There were certainly no people loitering on the streets. Except for the trench-coated, beady-eyed agents of the Party which kept a vigilant watch over anyone and everyone who happened to be about today. Thankfully none of them took interest in the two Capileans. But anyways, everyone here had a purpose. Every individual was simply a cog in a heaving machine, and they knew it. They marched onward, all with set goals and determined to reach them. And another positive which was staring them right in the face! One could simply stroll right up to the Workers' Hall and meet with Stahl and his cabal- provided they could get past security. Which was- Terry didn't even need to think about the dozens of layers of defense the Communists had propped up around the Workers' Hall.

The two men finally strolled up the steps of that building, away from the peeled propaganda posters and the barely concealed graffiti of the urban sprawl that was L.A. They marched through the sliding doors and up to the front desk, where a pretty young secretary was.

"I have a meeting with Stahl." He didn't even use the man's title. Clearly he was a close friend, and he could visit him anytime he wanted. Hopefully the secretary would buy it.

by **New United States of Columbia** » Thu Nov 10, 2016 2:06 pm

Appalachian Redoubt

Just as Titus was about to lead Max to the radio room to get them in contact with the Capilean government, a pop could be heard followed by bright light along with a soft rap of claws touching concrete.
"There you are!" Samantha shouted at a familiar red scaled Draconid "Abigale's worried sick about you!"
As the Fire Draconid returned her smile and asked for directions to Abigale's room Titus glared at him.
"Ignore him," The High King said to Riesch, "He's not exactly important. Sure he knows magic but he isn't a fighter and Dyste won't support us. They can't even if their King didn't despise my views on faith and their kind."
He then headed over to the radio room, leaving Riesch to decide what to do.

Royal Palace

As Artur and Rudolf got ready, the door and dresser were turned to splinters as a Power Armor trooper sprinted through them. He was then shot, tearing into the metal suit and turning his guts and chest into a gore smoothie. More troops flooded the room, rifles firing and filling the fine furniture and tapestry with bullet holes. Artur, because of his Anti-Draconid pistol, was their main target in particular.
"Kill them!" Gladium shouted as he last entered the room, Plasma Defender in hand, as he fire blue plasma at Rudolf, a fierce and fiery anger in his eyes.

Former U.N. Building, NYC

As the Platoon Leader's head exploded from the force of the shot, the rest of the religiously fanatical New Unionist troops only doubled their effort at killing the Germans. Some of the troops, who's energy weapons or rifles ran out of ammo, charged them with Bayonet, Knife, Tomahawk, or with their bare teeth and hands, ready to rip into the Kommandos. A few were successfully gunned down but the rest of the charging New Unionists got to their target, forcing the Kommandos into a brutal and inhumane Close Quarter Combat. They rolled onto the dirty and dusty ground, teeth tearing into flesh, their knives and tomahawks tearing into the Germans armor and stomachs.

Meanwhile the Deathclaw succeeded in tearing off the German flag from it's muzzle, it's efforts redoubled at Hans. It looked at it's own tail, seeing that it was pinned by the flag pole, and pulled. Nothing happened. It pulled away again. Still nothing. It tried a third time before it gave up in frustration and decided to claw away it's own tail, solely hoping to tear Hans apart. A sickening squelching sound could be heard as it's long claws tore into the flesh of it's tail, getting worse as it roared in pain but kept going. Finally it was free. It stared at Hans and charged.
It pinned him to the ground, it's Wolf-like teeth bared as it's Bear-like claws were raised ready to strike.

New England Duchy Headquarters, NYC

Jackson was about to reply when his chief of security, Henry Kilroy, appeared suddenly.
"Your Grace!" He shouted, blue eyes filled with a joy and happiness that had previously been missing "we've found a way out of New York! Follow me!"
Jackson looked at where the Security Chief had just been standing, the radio to his right, back to the door frame, before his mind settled on the choice he was about to make.
He stood up and briskly headed to the lobby where the National Guardsmen and the Duke's own security guards were waiting for him. He fixed the blue sash that was across his ivory uniform as he approached them.
"What's this way out of New York you've found, Kilroy?"
Kilroy unfolded a map of the New York Subway. He pointed at the station nearest to them, one of the many confusing lines that were now a more confusing route, and then to the station nearest one of the many bridges leading out of New York.
"The New Unionists are coming mostly by air or sea. They've yet to come after us by land. And if they have they certainly haven't reached New York yet." Kilroy explained.
Jackson nodded, indicating he was following along. It was risky but it could work.
"Alright," Jackson said after several minutes of thinking "let's get the hell out of the rotting apple."

by **The Union of Greater Brittania** » Fri Nov 11, 2016 12:50 pm

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".

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"."

"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...

by **Cesopium** » Fri Nov 11, 2016 2:25 pm

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.

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.

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.

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 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...

German Embassy, London
Union of Greater Britannia

The German Embassy at 23 Belgrave Square/Chesham Place was essentially a shadow operation for the Abwehr, German Military Intelligence. The last genuine diplomatic relation between the German Empire and a Fascist state was the 1989 non-aggression pact between Germany and Argentina shortly before the joint German-Italian assault on the nation. When it came to the Union of Greater Britannia, Germany's embassy was solely meant for agents of the Marineabwehr, the Naval branch of Military Intelligence, to snitch about British naval activities back to Abwehr-Hauptquartier in Berlin who in turn reported it to the Kaiserliche Marine, the German Imperial Navy, who then made naval maneuvers accordingly. Of course though the German Imperial Navy hardly had any difficulty since it possessed more than eight times as many Carriers alone approximately a thousand more surface warships and submarines than the British.

Now something was up, and the Embassy staff could tell because men in trenchcoats kept walking in, and dropping them to reveal military uniforms. The guards on the premises, part of the elite Abwehr Operations Force, were much jumpier than normal when it came to checking papers. All non-German personnel, such as vendors allowed inside, or receptionists hired locally, were roughly searched and then forcibly removed from the building. These clues meant one or both of two things; Either the British were up to something big or the Reich was up to something big.

One man in particular, a Oberst Hans Hoffmann, strode through the halls of the Embassy towards the Ambassadors office with a folder in his hand. The secretary, after a thorough pat down by the special operations soldiers outside the doors, allowed him through to see Ambassador von Ansbach. The Count of Ansbach, Ulrich-Juge von Ansbach, was in fact a Vizeadmiral (Vice Admiral) in the Kaiserliche Marine and not a diplomatic official though his aristocratic lessons as a younger man helped him along in the diplomatic world. Formerly he was in command of the SMS Wismar, the first Nuclear-Powered Supercarrier to enter German Naval Service in 1977, and served during the German-Soviet War (1979-1986).

Von Ansbach looks up at Hoffmann with a stern look. "Alright Hoffmann, oddly enough I am in command of this post and I've been kept out of it. What are the limies up to?" Hoffmann looked grim as he put the folder down on the table and Von Ansbach opened it to read. "They've deployed or are planning to deploy an aircraft carrier and a battleship possibly to Columbia, possibly New England. Why didn't this go straight to the North Sea or Northern Atlantic sections of Naval Command?" Hoffmann took a remote to a screen in a corner hooked up to the German television stations back in Germany, it was always on the military news channel. 'And exercises continue by the Nordseeflotte and the three carrier squadrons assigned to the North Sea this week in an attempt to deter recent threats by the People's World Union which recently struck at the Capilean fleet which liberated San Francisco and was later forced to withdraw to German-Capilean safe areas.'

Hoffmann stood at attention for the Count. Though Ulrich-Juge was a member of the Peerage, a veteran naval officer, and a high-ranking member of the Abwehr, Hoffmann was his liaison with His Imperial Majesty, Kaiser Wilhelm Augustus III. "Your Excellency, High Command is tied down with the World Union however it does have ships deployed to the Atlantic including three Supercarriers and eight Fleet Carriers with accompanying escorts. However it would be tedious and difficult trying to manage our naval air campaign in Columbia making strikes against the anti-monarchist factions and trying to handle the small, easy to slip away British Navy. So they wish for you to try and tie down the English in political circles to allow us to strengthen the Duke of New England's position as well as Titus' and support our Capilean allies."

Von Ansbach nodded but then frowned. "We must keep the monarchy alive in Columbia to save Monarchies around the world. Besides the Foley line, there remains the Capilean Royals and our own Imperial bloodline as among the last remaining true monarchies in the world. I shall do my best."

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

This message in essence, gave the British the knowledge that Germany was willing to absolutely ignore any assault on Communist elements but only would ignore a limited amount of attacks against the Duke of New England. There was the reminder of German air and naval forces directly across the Channel.

OOC:
*-The Republic of Denmark requested entry into the German Empire in 1968 following total economic collapse and rebellion within and Germany took over and declared it the Grand Duchy of Danemark in 1969 as a constituent German State.
**-The Republic of the Netherlands entered a civil war between the homeland and its colonies in 1970 and following the collapse of the government, Germany marched in, formally annexed the territory, and placed the old noble houses in power.
***-The Kingdom of Belgium applied for peaceful annexation in 1974 following a referendum.

Former U.N. Building

By this point only several commando's remained but the New Unionists had been reduced to similar numbers turning it into a small firefight across the lobby while in the side hallway, Hans and the creature were at the pivotal moment of their confrontation. Hans stared into the creatures now scarred eyes and observed its claws raised to strike him down into mincemeat. This creature was fueled by pure bloodlust, as opposed to any form of strategic thought, an advantage for Hans, whom did possess full strategic thought in combat.

Hans did the only thing he could to handle the claws, he sent his own hand forward to intercept its clawed hand. It was a horrible decision even for a super soldier, but a survival choice. Hans could feel his bones straining to hold back the creatures claw and the sharpened nails were creating a number of cuts on his arm. However, it gave Hans the chance he needed to pull his legs back and then snap them forward, striking the creatures already injured left knee and the beast gave a yowl and near collapsed. In that moment he rolled out and over onto the creatures back and wrapped his uninjured arm around the beasts neck, the already formidable muscle strength, augmented by chemicals and genetic modification, being used to crush the beasts windpipe. As this was yielding limited results, he rolled about again and instead wrapped his legs around the massive creatures neck, squeezing with all his might.

After several minutes of violent thrashing which Hans suspected resulted in his breaking three ribs, possibly some internal bleeding, and shattering a kneecap, the lack of oxygen began to take its tole on the Deathclaw and after another three minutes, it collapsed out of lack of air, an opening Hans exploited. There was another flag pole nearby, this one tattered and what looked to be burned by the makeshift spear that was the pole was intact. With a few final words including "Its been so long since I've had such a challenge. A beast you may be, but you die honorably." and thus he plunged the sharpened pole down and through the beast, watching it spasm wildly for a moment before falling still, Death having come to collect.

Following this, Hans noticed that the building had fallen silent, all the others must be dead. The super soldier slumped down against the wall and simply waited, for what, he did not know.

by **The Grand Duchy Of Nova Capile** » Mon Nov 14, 2016 8:00 pm

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.

Cabo minutes before the assault.

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.

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?"

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.

OOC: Just a note. Those Grisha's and Mirka's are not very effective in how your using them. They were designed for coastal anti-submarine warfare so the blue water application your employing them in isn't really quite what they were made for.

Peenemünde, Duchy of Pomerania
Germany Proper, German Empire
Greater Confederation of German States

Generalfeldmarschall Rudolf Eïsner, Commander of the Reich's Strategic Missile Forces as well as all orbiting German-state satellites, gripped the railing tightly as he watched the various screens on the massive wall monitor showing the large formation or rather formations of ships crossing the Atlantic and headed for Columbia. This was a bold move by whoever was making it; the Abwehr was unable to confirm if these forces were backing the Loyalists or not but either way, precaution was key. This unknown element had everyone hopping; the Abwehr, Naval Command, and of course the Strategic Forces.

Also listed on these screens were the locations of the seven Ballistic Missile Submarines which were currently on deployment in the Atlantic. Had he known for sure these strangers were hostile, Eïsner would have ordered those captains to pick their targets and send them all to the bottom. But he didn't know they were hostile.

The operators began searching for any large warship groups close enough to intercept, but no Carriers appeared to be in range. The Field Marshal gritted his teeth. Over a hundred warships deployed to the Atlantic and none were close enough. Then a blip showed up with the signature SMS Ludendorff within several dozen nautical miles of the mass of ships. The Hindenburg-Class Guided Missile Battlecruiser was on the last leg of a routine three week Atlantic patrol and not attached to any of the Kaiserliche Marine's currently active operations.

SMS Ludendorff, Mid-Atlantic

The Hindenburg-Class was the first series of Nuclear-Powered Battlecruisers to enter German service. They went into production in 1996 and the first two were launched in 2001. These massive warships were outfitted with enough defensive countermeasures to fend off the average air or missile attack, not to mention the arsenal of 26 of the V-3.09 Anti-Ship Cruise Missiles, just one of which was powerful enough to destroy an 80,000 ton Aircraft Carrier. These missiles had a range of 600km which did in fact put a good portion of the mystery flotilla in this warships crosshairs.

As the warship altered course for intercept, the following message was transmitted on an open frequency for the unidentified force to pick up. "Attention unidentified naval flotilla! You are entering the boundaries of the naval shield maintained by the German Empire to protect the rightful Columbian monarchy. Identify yourselves or be fired upon."

by **New United States of Columbia** » Tue Nov 15, 2016 1:12 pm

Appalachian Redoubt

Titus smiled when he noticed Max having joined him and the radio operator.
"Good. Well I need you to get in contact with your High Command or whatever your senior most military official is and get their warplans for us. If we can coordinate our forces all the better."
He then turned his attention to one of the large glass monitors adorning the rocky wall and pointed to it. It was a large map of the North American continent with several areas light up on the orange glass. Titus explained what they were.
"Those light up areas are the Vaults or Bunkers we plan on using if Safehouse should come into effect. They can be used for other emergencies if the need arises such as the occupants who locked themselves in their Vaults around the Washington Metro area when Fort Perry exploded thanks to the efforts of the fool named Quisling."
He added a hiss of venom to the last word he said before he continued.
"Anyways we found more and more Vaults are being used as the fighting heads to the cities or more foreign powers join such as these-" he pointed to several light up areas around the Rocky Mountains "as your and Rodina's forces push on in Communist controlled territory."
He went on for another minute or so before he then remembered the whole point Max was there. Titus walked back over to one of the larger radio sets and gestured for Max to take a seat.
"Just try your best to get into contact with your nation's military officers. We need to know what your next moves are so I can try to get what little forces I have into positions to provide support. Assuming the New Unionists act like the best unintentional buffer they can be."

Abigale sat in her room and sighed. She looked over the wedding ring she had but wasn't allowed to wear as her father, the former High King Paul Foley, had been killed before she and Juvon got married in the Omaha Cathedral. If he hadn't been killed Juvon would be known as Prince Juvon Foley and she would probably be nurturing her and his love's fruit. But then of course her elder brother just had to ascend the throne and he just had to get the 2nd Great Division started with his policies!
She grabbed her glass of water and threw it against the concrete wall, screaming in anger all the while.
"Abigale!"
She stopped when she heard that voice.
"Juvon!"
She ran towards the door, flung it open, and embraced the scaley body of her lover and would've been husband, beaming all the while. She then noticed something and gasped in shock.
"What happened!? Who did that to you!"
She noticed he was missing his left eye and seemed to have several wounds on his muzzle. The Fire Draconid sighed, not wanting to explain for fear he'd get her overly concerned about himself.
"It's nothing serious. All I need is to remember some healing magic and I should be fine. But, I was wondering, do you know when they'll be serving dinner? Fighting off two assassins-"
"ASSASSINS!" Abigale shrieked, her face flushed red like her lovers scales.
Juvon mentally chided himself for letting it slip.
Boy is Titus or Gladium gonna get it when they show up the Draconid thought to himself.

New York City, Metro system

Jackson looked out the window of the subway car and watched the lights fly by. His security detail had managed to sneak him out of the hotel and to one of the few running subways, going through with the plan to get him out of New York. They'd reach the bridge, hitch a ride somehow, and then speed off to Albany or get to one of the other New England Baronies, assuming they still owed allegiance to Jackson, of course. New York was lost. The New Unionists ground troops and the Riech's Air Campaign and Naval fleet were tearing it apart and leaving it a more mangled mess than the Columbian's and Reich did the last time. He sighed, irritated.
If only those idiots listened to me, the Duke thought to himself as he tried to clean his monocle with his ivory uniform then this wouldn't be happening. But not hey just HAD to think I was insane for suggesting we abandon Columbia seeing as the Empire is impossible to save.
He sighed again, irritated and annoyed, before he returned his attention to the tunnel lights, his guards sitting or standing in the subway car clutching their rifles and shotguns and with worried expressions about what was going on not several meters above them, wondering how the escape from New York by the civilians and National Guard was going...

Former U.N. Building, New York City

The Deathclaw was caught by surprise by Gunche's attack and couldn't resist as easily as it did last time now that it was exhausted and finally got it's bone's broken from Gunsche's kick to it's knees. It was soon killed in a Greek Epic fashion by the German Super Soldier and soon was still, dead in a growing pool of it's own blood.

The firefight died down and only three New Unionists troops were left standing by the end of it. They carefully raised their rifles and examined their KSK counterparts, cautiously kicking them in the groin to see if they were playing dead or actually were dead. If they reacted they soon got a face full of 30-06 rounds or lasers to the face, something they couldn't exactly survive easily. If they didn't then they were searched for anything useful: weapons, I.D., ammo, rations, anything.
After their search was done the three Columbian troops returned to the lobby where they found Guncshe standing victorious over the dead Deathclaw. Upon seeing him the three troops ran, trying to stay quiet in the hopes the German Ubermensch didn't hear them or see them.

Royal Palace

Gladium snarled at Rudolf as he stood over him, internally smiling evilly as he saw the stump of what was once Rudolf's arm, bits of radioactive goo dripping off from where he and some of the other guardsmen shot him. He then turned and found Artur dead from a cyanide pill.
"Get rid of this garbage!" He snapped at one of the Imperial Honor Guardsmen as he gestured to Artur's dead body.
The guardsmen nodded and began to move the corpse out of Juvon's room, probably so they could search it later.
Gladium then returned his attention to Rudolf, a glint in his eyes. He knelt down so he was closer to Rudolf.
"I'm gonna have some fun getting information out of you, pretty boy..."

by **New Mushroom Kingdom** » Wed Nov 16, 2016 8:55 pm

Imperial Palace, Toad Town
It was known by know that the Canadians hadn't responsed to the messages previously sent by the Minister of Foreign Affairs. While this was undesirable, it was by no means a blocker - it just meant that the plan would be more difficult due the lack of cooperation with any local governments or armed forces. However, today was the planned date for the plan to officially begin and before this could happen the Regent wanted a meeting to ensure everyone knew everything and that any new information could be fully accounted for.

Vince opened the meeting and said "Greetings, gentlement. As you already know, we don't have the cooperation of any local governments or armed forces, so this is not our best-case scenario but we must press on. There are definitely threats that are located in Canada, and we must also back up the Columbian government. Of course, every operation has a silver lining and the one here is a nice potential territorial expansion should Columbia as a nation fall. So that this is quick and orderly, the Foreign Affairs Minister wil speak first, followed by Defense."

Minister Kandi then stood up and said "Well, there's at least one new piece of information that I have obtained. It would appear that Fascist and Nationalist factions have merged, creating a new larger combined faction known to use as the New Unionists. Current information as to their policies and ideology is unclear, but I'll leave their handling up to the Minister of Defense. As this is a covert mission, I will not be making any form of announcement when we commence it, but I would expect our allies will find out rather quickly. If we are discovered, I already have a plan in mind for what we're going to say that should deal with most objections. With that said, I will leave the rest to the good Minister."

The Minister of Defense then began to speak "Right. We've spent a good while selecting exactly which parts of our armed forces will be deployed on this project. Both the Navy, Army and Air Force are obviously involved. I have planned for most of our conflict to on Canadian soil rather than sea, so the selected Naval forces are primarily logistics-oriented with armed support for escorts and limited naval conflict. For tactical and operational reasons we are not deploying a substantial faction of our troops. Accross all 3 branches, approximately 100,000 personnel will be involved - A good fraction of this will be first-line combat personnel, but there is also the support groups both here and in the deployed force. Once we've established a firm foothold, expanding our presence will be much easier. On arriving within commnications range, we will first attempt to act very nicely, in the hope that we can occupy the region under the guise of being protectors from the Columbian chaos. Our actual goal is of course to prepare the area for either future absorbtion back into Columbia or the NMK. Covert-ness and the element of surprise is rather important to keep information from the other factions, but otherwise I've covered everything."

After everyone said their bit, Vince closed the meeting by saying "Gentlemen, after we leave this room you should both be both doing whatever needs finishing off and otherwise doing before the deployment. We all know that all of the ships should have set off by 5PM or earlier, if at all possible."

Everyone left the room, ready to put the long-planned project into action.

by **The Grand Duchy Of Nova Capile** » Wed Nov 16, 2016 10:47 pm

Appalachian Redoubt

The Vault-Tec seal of approval.

Max watched the High King smile when he saw him. Apparently, their icy start had been thawed by recent events, thought Riesch couldn't tell which. He soaked in Titus' words. First he said that he needed him to get in contact with the OKR- easy enough. They had obviously left him with means to get in touch with them, and they would be cooperative enough to give him the information he would need. Next, the monarch pointed at a digital map stretched across one wall. It depicted the entire continent, down from Yucatan to Miami and from Deadhorse to Boston. It was also dotted with hundreds of glowing dots, which Titus explained were the locations of Vaults. Max knew them well enough as a Colonel-General in Capile. Early in the 21st Century, his country had contracted Vault-Tec, a massive Columbian conglomerate, to construct nearly a thousand state-of-the-art underground fallout shelters to shield the Duchy from atomic obliteration. If that ever happened it would probably only be the rich who would be able to retreat to the Vaults before the bombs fell and everything was flattened.

The High King elaborated; apparently, he planned on evacuating the battered remnants of the Loyalists into those shelters if he should feel it necessary to launch Operation Safehouse. Max grimaced. He had only been a small-time pilot during the days of the Columbian Wars, but once he had advanced along the command chain that little tidbit of information had come his way. It was unnerving to think that Columbia's government had conspired to blow its own people, not to mention Max and every other Capilean there, to kingdom come. Riesch shook those thoughts from his head. Titus was talking about how other factions(primarily the Communists) were realizing the potential of the Vaults and using them as strongholds, complicating any initiation of Operation Safehouse as well as Capile's eventual campaign into the Rockies.

After finishing his lecture Titus led him over to a small desk, on which set a bulky radio set. Max sat down and began fiddling with the knobs after he'd received his marching orders from the High King. The Loyalist stood behind him as Riesch finally found the signal and got through several layers of passwords before he was on the line with Hermann Winser- the Marshal of Nova Capile and nominal commander of the OKR. Max sat for several minutes deciphering the garbled static into words before he put the set down and turned to Titus.

"They've begun an assault on Cabo. They plan to use that as a launching pad to land multiple invasion forces all over the Mexican coast, crippling the petty Nationalists there. Afterwards mass paratroop and marine assaults across the Pacific Coast will bring the Communists to their knees and send them scampering back to the Rockies. From there we'll unite with Rodina, liberate the West Coast, and bring in reinforcements from the homeland while raising and training as many locals as we can to prevent Communist insurgencies and relieve our own troops. Finally, we'll prepare a massive armored assault to swing through Texarkana and into the heart of the so-called Confederates- cooperating if possible. We'll leave the Communists to fester and rot in their holes instead of wasting lives in brutal assaults. And then from there into the East Coast, the core of Columbia, to liberate D.C. and restore order and your right to rule."

Royal Palace

Rudolf gazed up at his tormentor in horror. His tongue felt the cyanide tooth implanted in the back of his jaw.

No. I can't. Rudolf had bought into the propaganda of the Order and fused it with the teachings of the Capilean Lutheran Church- which believed suicide to be a grave sin. He'd been foolish to even allow them to stick that tooth in his jaw. He cast a glance at the lifeless corpse of his partner, Artur. He hadn't grown to know the man yet, but he was still torn up about it. Before all of this nonsense Rudolf had just been a lowly security officer for the Capilean Embassy. He hadn't signed up for any of this, just a job and a chance to explore a faraway country. But he'd gotten sucked into all of this treachery that had spawned from the Quisling scandal, and now he was here. The Capilean bit down on his tongue to stifle the pain, taking care to keep his fake tooth as far away from contact with it as possible. He groaned as two power-armored men tugged him to his feet and wondered bleakly where they would take him...

by **New United States of Columbia** » Thu Nov 17, 2016 10:15 am

Appalachian Redoubt

Titus nodded as he listened to the Capilean war plan. It seemed sound but would require the Loyalist troops to hammer the Communists from the East to prevent them from simply packing up their northern units and swing south to their "Capital" of Los Angeles or further south to Cabo. However those details didn't matter. What did matter, at the moment,was keeping Max pleased. If he was displeased who knows what the Capileans could do to leave him at the mercy of the other factions.
He gestured for the Capilean Colonel-General to follow him as he told him that dinner would be prepared for them and a few of the other Loyalist officers and few remaining Loyal aristocrats when he, quite literally, bumped into Juvon and Abigale. Titus gave Juvon an irritated looked and mouthed "No funny business," before Abigale tugged at Juvon's arm, indicating she wanted him to join her in her room. The seventy year old adolescent gave in to her demands and soon the two were out of sight though not out of Titus' mind.
"They were supposed to be married by now, you know," Titus began as he exhaled before resuming his walk to his quarters where Samantha would be waiting to escort Max to his residence "and probably..."
He scowled at the thought
"probably... nurturing something in my sister's womb!"
He then became silent, soaking up Max's reaction before he decided to change the subject.
"It's not easy being forced into the role of family patriarch. Especially when you have other large problems to handle. Like trying to handle a massive Civil War or various foreign invasions."
But, realizing this would go nowhere, he then abruptly shut up and resumed his walk in the cold concrete halls in silence.
They then found the hydraulic door labeled in bold Titus Foley and, as Titus entered the code to open the door he looked at Max with a thankful look.
"Thank you for coming to our aid. Even if we seem to have nothing to pay it back with. I'll think of something."
And with that he entered his quarters and had the door land shut behind him while Samantha approached the Capilean officer.

Los Angeles, Communist Columbia

The young secretary looked over Terry and Eugen before she pressed a button on her desk, activating the General Secretary's intercom.
"Someone wants to see you, sir." She said into the microphone.
"Who is it?" Stahl's rough voice asked.
The secretary looked over the two ragged men, her green eyes scanning them.
"A Terry Blucher and Eugen Herzon, Premier."
Silence followed. For a minute Stahl said nothing until he replied:
"Never heard of them."
The Secretary gave a surprised look at Terry.
"But the man, Terry Blucher, seems to insist that he knows you."
"I've never heard of the man and I'm a bit busy with paperwork right now. Send him away!"
A crackle followed soon after. The young woman gave them an apologetic look.
"I suppose you could wait here. Though I'd suggest you leave and see him some other time."

Oak Alley, Confederacy

The large greek revival mansion stood near a canopy of large might oak trees, it's white pillars having been lovingly maintained by various groups that dedicated themselves to preserving the memory of the American Civil War and to the "Old South" as some called the Antebellum era of the 1800s. However, the mansion that was once home to parties, slaves, and many fine families, was now home to an urgent meeting of government officials.

The elaborate dining room was as well light as could be, with the chandeliers electric lights providing a nice amount of vision to the twelve or so men seated in their fine wooden chairs, and a few other lamps having been light around the room in case it wasn't enough. Fine food greeted these men's sense with the mouth watering smell of roasted pork, fine custards, fresh greens, and other delights such as tropical fruits like oranges or bananas greeted them. As they were about to eat, however, a sharp ringing of silverware upon glass stopped them. They all looked at the head of the table to find a man who appeared to be in his mid-late forties looking at them, his hazel eyes drilling into them.
"Before we begin tonight's festivities we have a serious matter to discuss. Yes it is great that the South as retaken her position in North America and has risen up against the Yankees and Mestizos but it is clear this whole affair has more than just them involved."
He produced from his grey suit pocket a letter that bore the seal of the President of the United States. He unfolded it and read it aloud to the various aristocrats and generals.

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.

Jefferson then folded up the letter and took his seat.
"What should we do?" He asked, brown eyes going from one man to the next.

Royal Palace

Gladium grabbed Rudolf by the collar of his clothing and dragged him out of Juvon's room and towards the staircase. He harshly brought him to his feet and aimed his plasma pistol at him, glaring at him all the while.
"Hancock send you?" The Captain hissed.
Before Rudolf could answer one of the guards shouted to Gladium, requesting they head over to where they had been searching Arthur. The Captain decided to listen to them and took Rudolf with him, shoving him infront of the two as they marched over to Artur's corpse. One of the guards was holding a thin plastic card of sorts and handed it over to Gladium. The dark haired man read it before looking confused and annoyed at Rudolf.
"The hell's the 'Holy Order of Saint Antony'?"

Cabo, Mexico

The Communist forces retreated as soon as they saw the Capilean assault tear apart their beachhead troops. They pulled back into Cabo itself and set up a hasty defense. Machine guns and snipers in old church and cathedral towers gunned down or picked off advancing Capileans while Communist troops attempted to slip around using the sewers (with varying degrees of success). Every building seemingly teemed with Communist troops and if not them then the Mexican Secessionists who decided to pounce while the Communists were distracted, advancing into the town with captured Columbian tanks and IFVs.
The Communist troops appeared confused. No one said anything about the Mexicans attacking! Or that they had secured Columbian weapons! And yet they were now sandwiched between the Secessionists and the Capileans. To the Reds' slight relief, however, it appeared the Mexican's didn't take much better to an "ally of the Crowned Tyrant!".

Near the city square a large cathedral had been built early on in Foley's reign as a sign of goodwill to the Catholics in Mexico. It was large and grand, considered by many to be a rival to the Cathedral that was in Omaha, the Columbian Capital after Washington had been hit with Radiation from the Fort Perry explosion. It had fine red granite bricks on the outside and used lavish amounts of marble and fine oak wood for the floor and pews in the interior. However, it's greatest feature, was undoubtedly the bells. Large, made of brass, and operated by hand, these bells acted as a new "rallying point" for the citizens of Cabo, acting as a way to tell time and when important events happened.
However none of that mattered as the cathedral was being torn apart by a fierce firefight by the three armies. Inside several squads of Capileans, Communists, and Mexicans were busy shooting at each other, their bullets and grenades smashing apart the pews while a Capilean was chased up one of the bell towers by two Communists, who were busy cursing his faith and nation as they did so.

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.

(Image)
Cabo minutes before the assault.
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.

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?"

OOC: This first part is the immediate aftermath to San Francisco

San Francisco, California
Communist-Occupied Columbia

The World Politburo was certainly turning the liberation of San Francisco into a great spectacle. The streets were lined with Socialist citizens cheering and screaming with joy as the local Communist militia and partisan forces marched through the streets like actual soldiers. Here and there were work gangs of imperialists and reactionaries being made to clear the rubble from the Capilean attack, guarded of course to make sure the dogs kept at their work. Political Commissars watched them closely and with no mercy, if you slowed up, they dragged you into an alley and shot you. After the Capilean air massacre of the city, no one cared what happened to these 'traitors to Columbian and world Socialism'. Oh here and there some monarchist forces still fought, but now that the 395th Independent Naval Brigade had landed, they had been pushed to the suburbs due to the 395th being much better trained and equipped than their militia allies.

Boris Vlasov downed the rest of his beer happily in this bar on the wharf which had somehow survived the air attack. Boris wasn't concerned with the how, merely that it, and it's beer, were still here. Alongside him were some of his shipmates and a couple militia fighters. As they were enjoying their drinks, a rating had to ruin it. "I hear there's a big fight brewing up out East." And like that everyone was off.

As Boris was fuming at the rating for ruining the mood, one of the partisan's started off. "Yeah, we've mostly stuck to the West Coast but the fascists and imperialists along with their allies are running amok out East destroying the place. Rumors are coming in from Los Angeles that we might be making a big offensive with you guys backing us." To which one of the officers at the bar, a Senior Lieutenant replied. "Well as far as I know the Military Command is going to be sending supplies and ground troops in through San Francisco."

Boris chose to pose a question now. "And with the Capileans and Germans surely steamed at us, how do they plan to get troops across. Long-range aircraft is certainly possible, but that would be quite difficult to manage flying those planes out of hellish Siberia and Kamkatchka. Logistically that is." The Senior Lieutenant looked around for a moment and then leaned in close.

"You didn't hear this from me but off the record, I've got a cousin who works in the NKVD and he says their going to put as much of our fleet and the Chinese fleet into the Pacific as possible for a massive sea and air transport convoy. Obviously the city cant sustain such an influx so some of these troops will just be parachuting into empty desert and some will land at coastal towns." Now that was interesting news.

OOC: And now we catch up

Supreme Forces Command, Beijing
People's Republic of China

The dozens of high ranking officers in the assembly hall could only watch via satellite and drones as the Capilean's launched their thrust into Mexico. The local fraternal Socialist partisans were putting up a good fight, but they were hardly a match for professional soldiers and vehicles. The World Union had so far deployed only the Carrier Battlegroup to San Francisco in Columbia, plus its accompanying Naval Brigade; several VDV Divisions were in transports flying over the Pacific right now but no Mexican airfield possessed facilities capable of unloading the VDV troops completely and efficiently. The strongest military forces of the World Union (Russia, China, India, Britain, France, and Iran) were all too far away to grant immediate assistance to the Columbian Socialists, in fact, only Brazil and Venezuela were close enough to provide support.

Brazilian and Venezuelan troops were being mobilized for support but it would take time to amass enough troops to properly repel the capitalists. For now, strategic bombers were being prepped to go from the two in the event carpet bombing was needed, and Brazil had deployed a considerable portion of its fleet to the Caribbean, including its sole aircraft carrier, the São Paulo, along with five frigates, a corvette, and the Sovremenny-Class Destroyer, Sazanov which had been refueling in Brazilian ports. Though given that the Carrier was a relic of the 60's bought from France a decade ago, its usefulness was fairly limited.

These assembled officers were having a massive deliberation about what should or rather what feasibly could be done to make sure the Columbian Socialist cause wasn't simply gobbled up by the oncoming imperialist dogs. Though for the moment, it seemed all they could do was provide the Communists with logistics about enemy movements until Union forces arrived to support them.

Encryption:	Extreme
Subject:	Diplomatic Conference
From:	The Capilean Foreign Ministry
Recipient:	Victor Farkas

2nd Great Division (IC)

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