Mashallah, Dawn Has Arrived IC (Septentrion)

by **Gauliscia** » Wed Oct 05, 2016 9:42 am

Dissent had, as if it were a pair of rabbits, bred in that new state. It's children ever filled with unquenchable rage and hissing hatred. For while those who ruled; the Marquess, the officers and all the chiefs were of Gauliscian blood, those who scrambled beneath them, sniffing and digging for scraps were of Wankan blood. Gauliscians raised their arms in supplication to many gods; with horns, tails, hammers, wings. The Wankans praised only one God. After they, the Shahids had refused to present burnt offerings to the shrines of Wodin, nor their communities adorn the horns of the sacrificial bull each year with a pattern of their own, though no law could condemn this, the citizenry took it upon themselves to mend the heathenish ways of their neighbours and offer the subsequent gore to the gods in appeasement. Shahid temples were sacked, their priests slain on their altars, blood drenching their holy books, minarets were toppled and the women unveiled.

The constabulary and gendarmerie, in the name of order, dragged many of the culprits, in chains to the gaols, and armed heavily, made perimeters around Shahid quarters. But their hearts were not with the cause, for these people had affronted their gods. In the tumultuous chambers of Auyadell, Shahid officials pounded their chests in rage and tore at their locks in devastated anguish. Indeed did they roar at their Gauliscian masters in fury, but, the power over the realm, those who uttered aye or nay to laws did not rest in the hands of a council elected by the citizenry, nor in those of the Crown but with those who bore the sword at the hil. The plight of the shahids was not heeded.

Stirrings in Ummayah had drawn many Wankan Shahids to its sandy shores, to take up arms in a holy war, that they willed would, one day, bring the world to prayer in the name of Allah. Such commotions in the camel-tread deserts of Ummayah did little to raise the eyebrows of those in the high halls of many turreted Clovisburg. For these were only desert peoples? But alas, they had garnered support from far and wide, and the Ummayad Councils had been caught with its sleeping blade in a drawer. Now, the bulging horde thrust barbed blades in the direction of Tuxlocia, the steaming islands held by the Imperial Crown. And it was now, the eyes of the boar narrowed at Ummayah, that the shahids condemned themselves to assault until the stars died and the sun withered, and all of Hades’ minions rose out of Tartarus to vanquish the world.

07:35 Verstoudzug, Zathuwe District, Ouëndaal
Gently humming, speeding as she went, the urban snake glided on the iron tracks, swiftly through the grey towers and lights of the city. It slowed as it neared a platform, thronging with travellers to board, all on their ever-monotonous paths to work.
“[i]Ladies and Gentlemen, the incoming station is.. Bochsthor.. Please take the greatest diligence when alighting from the carriage, be mindful of fellow voyagers and of the crevice, betwixt the carriage and the platform. Verstoudzug would..-” In amongst the heaving and bustling throng, deep in the tight thickets of arms and legs, a bearded man, like many of his Shahid brethren was jostling through, when he fell to his knees. The crowd parted as he raised his palms to the high heavens.
“Oh God, Oh Mighty One, Oh Reaper of the Infidels! Accept my offerings in appeasement for their transgressions, and grant me eternal joy and everlasting bliss! ALLAHU AKBARRR!”

A fireball burst out the carriage, it's roaring tongues licking the metal shell. Smoking babes flew through the thick black air, thrown by the power, limbs crackled, and skin cooked to a crisp. Men screamed like children as they roasted and women drowned in the flames. Blood ran thick on the tracks, foaming and bubbling, the thick gore painted the seats in the carriage. Those in attached carriages scurried away, wailing and gasping, gawping at the sight of their citizens dragging their legless bodies out of the flames or ruptured chests, the full rack of ribs protruding.

Othoucker Market, Othoucker Square, Auyadelle
No less was the slaughter in the marketplace, in amongst the lowing cattle and bleating goats. Four assailants burst into the square, spewing steady streams from their guns, cutting the shopping folk down like quails in the hunting season, rich and creaming was the crimson that swirled through the cobbled plaza. Indeed did many fall to the ground, clutching their dart ridden flanks as they pulsed out their sanguine essence in gushing torrents. Soon, the Shahids drew up with the fleeing market-goers in close quarters. Like lions in a sheep fold, they set to work, dragging and chewing at the flock struck dumb with fear, ripping them open, before roaring at the terrified onlookers with a blood stained mouth. They drew Ummayad blades and ruptured the torsos of many, leaving heaps of groaning citizens twitching on the saffron floor. One attacker, in a heated frenzy of death and ruin set upon a fleeing crowd at the square gates, the first of their number attempted to overcome the Shahid, but the attacker brought his ancient blade down hard, cleaving the man’s head open like a split log, the sap oozing out steadily as he sunk to the floor.

All the while sirens shrieked across the city, rotary birds hummed and swooped. One shahid warrior, facing now a wall of charging gendarmes took to prayer:
“Oh Allah, if these sacrifices to your name were truly delectable, and if the name of my family incites feelings of honour and servitude then grant me a final kill and a warrior’s death!” And with that, he hurled the sword into the advancing green lines, it's age old talismans swiftening its course as it made a cleft through the air, and finally through the neck of a gendarme who screamed as he crumpled in a heap and spewed out his soul in a cascade of deep red having heaved the blade from his neck as his dying action. The gendarmes, arriving from every path into the square, their birds of war hovering over. One by one, in blizzards of bullets and shafts, the Shahid warriors were cut down to the bloody cobblestone ground.

Kronstadtstraße (Chrœnstoudstraasse), Auyadelle
With hound and hawk did the forces of the High King, guardians of the realm and the citizenry track the friends of the insurgents. Truly with growing anger over the slaughter of their compatriots did they pound the door of their abode down to sawdust and splinters, and sallied forth with a roar. Every room was searched high and low, every hole and hovel with torch and blade. At last, cowering under a desk, the shahid allies were dragged out, all three, and with such force, sinews burst off and bones snapped. Paraded out into the streets to their vehicle, their was thick with abuse, and the gathering citizens threw both insults and fruit at the Shahids.

Bloodbath in Auyadelle! Scores dead, hundreds wounded!

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Around 84 people are believed to be dead, with over 200 injured at various levels as a result of a string of terror attacks in Auyadelle this morning. An intercity train in Zathuwe was subject to a suicide bombing, the dead are still being counted but around 12 died and over 30 seriously injured. At the Othoucker Market, a team of five gunmen opened fire on and stabbed over 1,000 people, killing at least 72 and injuring at least a further 170. Emergency services and law enforcement bodies have said that they expect these numbers to rise a lot more by the end of the day.

Gendarmes raided a property on Chrœnstoudstraasse, capturing associates of the attackers minutes after the attack. It is believed that security forces had intelligence of an attack shortly before it happened. Field Marshall and key military, emergency and civil service heads have convened for an emergency meeting, most likely at the Yperhous.

We will bring you more news as it comes

The Yperhous, Government Emergency Contingency Operations Initiative, Franconian Highlands
With the chief now at the meeting place, all rose to salute. Indeed was there sorrow and pain, for the loss of so many of their countrymen. The dead numbered at perhaps 90, with 250 wounded. The people bayed for the blood of the offenders.
“Ought we to give them blood? Take vengeance for the slaughter of our children? Or should we stay our blades and shrink into the tight groves and glens of our land?” Offered one minister, to be met with howls of indignation.
“Never! They must have rods put to their back! We must drown them in flames!”
“Gentlemen! All in due time. We will have our retribution, but only in good time, when servants of the crown and those in Xaarloë have wrangled in cunning to devise sneaky plans to lay waste to the murderous foes. For if we were to charge like a reddened bull, snorting clouds of hot steam and pounding the earth with hooves aching to dance in free flowing filth, our neighbouring kingdoms would scorn us with furrowed brows, and one by one hurl coloured javelins into our hide to bring us down through a slow death. No, indeed must we delay our righteous retribution so that it is more potent when indeed we notch poisoned arrows to the strings, they embed in their quarry and grant it a laggard despatch.” Thus spoke the Field Marshall, Elerich Jawœrkund to nodding heads.

Unknown Gaol, Somewhere...
Dragged liked rocks from a quarry, the captured Shahids were tugged by heavy chains through the winding maze of cells, their sullen inhabitants shaking their bony fists, gnawing at the bars and reaching out for the new, sun kissed flesh. Pale creatures spawned in these dark halls, scarpering around, hissing and grabbing. Indeed did they scurry between the legs of the Shahids, squealing in delight as the tugged at their shackles and pulled on their legs, piercing the skin. They were thrown into a chamber, damp and musty, a bloody mist lingering from previous subjects. Tied down fast and stiff to chairs, with great rods and blades were they beaten and slashed, the great chains bludgeoning their faces. Cables were punctured into their thighs and fast blue currents ran through their bodies, leaving them sprawling and smoking.

At last, with one shahid a sizzling heap of purple, the other two heaving out their last breaths, the agents of the crown heard what they had guessed all the while.
“Truly… we say… Al-Kebaab, it is.. they will lay waste to your.. pagan ways… your wives will be ravaged and your.. sons.. blade… Ummayah, there the jihad will… spread to your lands. There, Al Kebaab will… bring forth… your destruction..”

With mercy that was undue but perhaps the sight was too wrenching for the agents, one took his revolver and blew off their heads. There they rot, reeking and fermenting, giving great feast to the dark minions.

by **Murovanka** » Wed Oct 05, 2016 5:04 pm

OOC: https://forum.nationstates.net/viewtopic.php?f=5&t=390148

by **Murovanka** » Mon Oct 10, 2016 12:43 am

Alhalla
Perija Region
10th December

The new flag was raised with raucous cheers by the massive crowd; it seemed as though the whole city of a million people was out on the streets. Red, for the people, black, for the Ummayad Caliphate from where the name was drawn, and in white- the color of purity- the unquestionable statement in local abjadi: there is no God but Allah and Saladeen is his messenger.

Flanked by heavily armed militiamen, al-Gore, recently elected Sirdar (Commander) of the Free Ummayad Council, held his arm up for silence. The crowd obeyed, listening in anticipation. Al-Gore took a deep are breath, before speaking.

“People of Ummayah:
First of all, congratulations and a massive thank-you to everyone who helped free this great city, Saladeen’s birthplace nonetheless, from the vestiges of Muttalib oppression. For too long has the evil Muttalib government, no more than a puppet of greedy foreign colonialist powers, hold its people hostage and exploited them for their own personal gain, for too long have we slaved away!”

The crowd exploded in excitement, shouts of agreement and allahu akbar reverberating around the city square. Al-Gore held his hand up again.

“Together we have liberated this city. Together we will liberate Ummayah. Alhalla has fallen, and so will the rest of this holy realm, insha’allah. To tyrant Muttalib, we say this: your days are numbered. To the rest of the world, we humbly ask for assistance in our stand against this evil. We stand with those nations who value freedom, justice, democracy and tolerance…”

The last was a broad generalisation. For represented in the Council were, in addition to the peaceful, moderate rebels endeared to the international community, a load of ‘others’- Junud al-Kabaab (Soldiers of the Holy Rock), a Kharjii-dominated militia and the Ikhwan (Brethren), a Rashaida-dominated extremist militia which had already made its name as a global terrorist actor. Then there were extremist Mamluks desiring their own state- but which entailed ethnic cleansing of the majority of Shahids from where they wanted their nation-state.

Al-Haram
Capital of Ummayah
Samaria Region
11th December

Al-Kazbar nudged his ski mask to a comfortable position. The Junud al-Kabaab cell leader found it just slightly suffocating as his thick beard, traditionally worn by the Ummayad desert tribes, was crushed against his adam’s apple and the prickly hair didn’t go well with the heat, still very prominent at this time of the year. He raised and checked his G-47, an old but reliable Wankan import, as did the other men under his command. They numbered ten altogether, a few of them carrying bulky suicide vests. One of his men called out, “Three minutes!”. The alley they were in was just a few strides away from the New Tyran embassy.

Two and a half minutes later, a truck appeared and stopped by the gates of the embassy. At three minutes, it exploded, sending dust, debris and deadly shrapnel in all directions, impairing hearing.

ALLAHU AKBAR!

Al-Kazbar and his men appeared out of their staging area, chanting as they charged. Why the New Tyrannian embassy? For one, the NT government had become one of the main offenders and critics to the Shahid faith on international level and had been sheltering a collection of people, both local and foreign, who had one way or another insulted the religion. It was too difficult for al-Kabaab to smuggle in cells to far-away New Tyran as they’d done in Gauliscia and all other countries they’d bombed. So how to take revenge, prove their message true that they could and would hit anyone who insulted the great Lord above, wherever they were?

Al-Kabaab’s international terror campaign looked to be a huge success, on the surface at least. Across the world, the millions of Shahids, often disenfranchised through perceived inequality and social exclusion, eagerly jumped on the jihadi bandwagon; rich Shahids in Wanka donated huge sums and helped set up Shahid charities which raised money for the “the poor of Ummayah”.

It turned out that the attack on the embassy wouldn’t be the only affront to New Tyran. With several important oil companies operating in the region, the Tyranians for one desired stability, and so when the first protests had broken out (ostensibly about rising prices and neglect by the central government) they had quickly offered to mediate the dispute. It wasn’t easy. Following the Wanko-Gauliscian war, the Gulf of Wanka- the main trade route to all nations in central Casaterra, had been closed, halting oil exports to those countries and sending the economy in a downward spiral made worse by recent crop failures. The Muttalibs were at the lowest point of popularity as they continued crushing dissent in face of blatant embezzlement of the nations few riches. Nevertheless, New Tyran continued valiantly, its diplomats shuttling back and forth from Al-Haram to Alhalla even after government troops had opened fire on protesters, were chased out of the city, and now massed outside the rebel-controlled territories in the far west in preparation to quell the unrest.

The Free Ummayad Council leadership had been notified of the incoming NT diplomatic aircraft, in what was probably their last attempt at preventing a civil war. The al-Kabaab leadership, notably its leader, Mullah al-Harabi, was as such aware (not that it paid much attention) and would usually instruct its troops not to fire on the plane. Today however was the day that the Kharjii militia had launched a spectacular assault on Basra and its military base. The Kharjii-majority area in the Basra Governorate and was already under de facto control, its inhabitants largely sympathetic to the movement, and so it had been of little difficulty to smuggle in dozens of heavily armed cells in the days before. When the main force launched the attack on the city in the early morning hours, it was already in chaos; suicide bombers had targeted command and control centers, roadblocks were being fired upon from above, the police station had been besieged and captured with defectors joining the al-Kabaab ranks. A suicide truck rammed and blew itself up on the military compound just outside the city followed by hundreds of fanatic jihadis, many foreigners in their ranks; barely hours into the fighting, government troops were in full retreat from the city. The cities and towns of Mechili, Bir Hakim and Manara were next to fall as al-Harabi consolidated his territory in the inner Sozusa area.

The city as such had just fallen into complete control of the extremist militia when the NT plane had begun its descent toward the port city of Sarlum from above Basra. Defectors to al-Kabaab included numerous soldiers, most of them recruited from this area, who knew how to operate the anti-aircraft weapons in the captured base, and promptly turned it on the diplomatic airplane, the commander on the ground mistaking it for a government bomber on its way to conduct airstrikes. A missile streaked up, locked on, and there would be little doubt as to who fired it (al-Kabaab ended up claiming responsibility once they realised what they’d done, of course).

The government’s build-up in Basra thus neutralised, the rebels looked to their next target, Sarlum. This was perhaps the only Mamluk-majority city in Ummayah, and the Mamluk militias had declared their intention to lead the assault, while at the same time al-Kabaab looked to do the same, seeing as it was one of the main points of entry for foreign recruits and arms shipments.

by **The Soodean Imperium** » Fri Oct 14, 2016 2:48 pm

City of Su’Cheng, Capital of the Soodean Imperium
14th of December, 2004

Vice Director for Diplomacy and Foreign Affairs Wen Hongsung leaned back in his chair and stretched his shoulders, half-listening as the Ummayan diplomat presented his case. Even though the light curtains had been drawn shut, the midmorning light still flooded in through the thin white fabric, making the pale blue walls of the meeting room uncomfortably bright. To his right sat Hourin Mang, the Director of Diplomacy and Foreign Affairs, and on the Director’s other side sat Shogi Issam, the Supreme Commander of the Soodean Military. On the far side of the room were two diplomats from Ummayah – the ambassador to the Soodean Imperium, who had led the negotiations so far, and a second man Mr. Wen did not recognize, who had mostly been looking on in uneasy silence. Both of them wore olive-tan military uniforms, the type which was popular among the regime.

Soodean-Ummayan relations had long been ambiguous. The Democratic People’s Republic of Menghe government had long sought to win over Ummayah as a client state, supplying weapons and engineers in order to strengthen diplomatic ties. Ever since the 1987 “Decembrist Coup,” however, the new Soodean regime had tried to distance itself from the Muttalibs’ corrupt and oppressive rule. That had not prevented the Muttalibs from petitioning for increased supplies of aid, however, especially now that the country was gripped by civil war. This, Mr. Wen assumed, was the reason the new visitors seated across from him had come to Su’Cheng.

“His Majesty Emperor Su Dou has already made its position clear on this issue,” Director Hourin answered as the ambassador finished speaking. “Rest assured, we will continue our planned supply of development aid in the year to come. But we cannot make any troop commitments as long as the Ummayan government continues its current policies of targeting civilians.”

The Ummayan ambassador, clearly ill at ease, shook his head dismissively. “We understand your concern, Director. But you know as well as we do that a government led by Al-Kabaab would be even worse. Perhaps with your forces on the ground, we could direct strikes with greater precision.”

“This is something you need to prove before we can provide support. The Soodean Army that refused to turn its arms on civilians in 1987 will not do so in 2004.”

Mr. Wen watched the other Ummayan official take yet another drink of water. Thus far, everything was proceeding more or less as he had expected. But before the ambassador could make his reply, the other man firmly set his glass on the side table and speak.

“And that is the reason we come here today,” he said, his accent shaky but determined. Mr. Wen briefly sat back in surprise, but kept his expression subdued. It was the first time the newcomer had spoken; until then, he had assumed the man did not know Sukomun and would rely on the ambassador’s debriefing at the end.

“Would you care to go on?” the Director asked.

The Ummayan nodded, then continued speaking. “We understand your concerns about our government stability. Even back in 2000, stability and growth were not good. Everything outside the oil sector was stagnating, and unrest was rising. But during this same period, the Soodean Imperium has not had these problems. It has enjoyed prosperity without loosening the power of the regime.”

The three Soodean officials exchanged glances. This was not something they had been led to expect from today’s negotiations.

“Gentlemen,” the Ummayan continued, “the King has expressed his word to me in private that, if it is the only thing that keeps our country stable, he is willing to implement reforms. An end to torture and detention without trial. Equal civic rights for the religious minor sects. Sustained development that will spread wealth beyond the upper elites. But he is only willing to do this once he has assurance that the Soodean Imperium will support him in the war effort.”

Mr. Wen was the first to break the silence. “With all due respect, sir, it is the firm and stated policy of the Soodean Imperium that…” But before he could finish, the Director cleared his throat, interrupting him. The two locked eyes for a moment, Wen’s expression barely hiding his confusion and Hourin’s gaze steely and inscrutable. The latter jerked his head toward the door behind them, and Mr. Wen nodded. Supreme Commander Shogi took note as well, getting ready to stand.

“Pardon us, sir, while we take our leave for a moment to talk this over,” Director Hourin reassured the Ummayan delegation as his compatriots left the room. He exited last, giving a shallow bow just before he turned and pulled the door shut.

“Who is this man?” Mr. Wen asked first, as soon as they were out of earshot from the door.

“He is Mubashir Kazemi, the premier of the Ummayah Baathist Movement – the ruling party under the Muttalibs. He’s been making this argument ever since he entered the Party. But the Muttalibs have usually kept him shut about it, which is why I was surprised to see him turn up here.”

“The Baathist Party has long made this argument,” Shogi added. “ ‘Learn from the East, Force out the West.’ That was their slogan in 1965. They have long favored building a state patterned on ours, whether it was Communism in the 60s and 70s or Meritocratic Socialism up to the present.”

“Which the Muttalibs oppose, naturally, because that would mean transferring power from the ruling family to the party organization and allowing the state to break up their patronage networks,” Hourin Mang finished.

“So why is he here?” Mr. Wen asked.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out,” the Director mused. “Given how long the war has been dragging on, I expected the government would be willing to offer compromises. But I find it hard to believe that the Muttalibs would be willing to loosen their grasp after so many decades in power.”

Supreme Commander Shogi butted back into the conversation. “Either way, we can’t pass up this opportunity to support him.”

Hourin Ma stared back in shock. “Is… what… Isn’t it a firm tenet of our foreign policy that the Soodean economic model is not exportable? In a place like Ummayah, where corruption and patrimonialism are endemic, the same conditions that-”

“Of course I know this,” the Supreme Commander replied, his intense gaze hardening. “But if this is a signal from the Muttalibs and we turn back, we will lose this chance forever.”

“And what if it’s not?” the Vice Director asked. “What if he’s bluffing?”

“Why would an official government delegation be bluffing?”

“Well, the Baathists certainly stand to gain from our involvement. So does the regime. How do we know they’ll keep their word?”

“Mr. Hourin,” the Supreme Commander said, turning to face the Director, “This is an opportunity we can’t pass up. If he’s telling the truth, we get a strong ally, a trading partner, and credit for emancipating their people into Socialist rule. If he’s lying? Then we still get to knock down Al-Kabaab, end a horrible war, and finish it all with credit and leverage over the regime. All paths end in victory.”

Just as the Vice Director was about to speak, Hourin Mang gestured for him to step back. “The Supreme Commander has a point. This could be a valuable opportunity for us to regain favor with the Veldeburg Pact. Let’s pursue the deal for now, if something comes up while we’re working out the details we’ll be able to change course as needed.”

And with that, after another muffled protest from Vice Director Wen, the three officials walked through the door and back into the room where the two Ummayan diplomats were waiting.

“Well?” Mr. Kazemi asked earnestly. “You have decided?”

“We would like to contact King Omar Muttalib,” Director Hourin replied.

Mubashir Kazemi’s face lit up in surprise for a moment, but he concealed it by breaking into an awkward chuckle. “I’m afraid that won’t be necessary, sir. The King has already instructed me to negotiate on his behalf.”

“Then he won’t mind if I call him up to work out the details? This is a major offer on his part.”

Kazemi made as though to answer, but the ambassador spoke first. “What my friend means is, the King has decided to conduct all business on this matter through the two of us, because he would like to keep this matter as quiet as possible. Obviously it would look bad if news got out that he was willing to severely compromise on his power in exchange for help – especially with the recent saber-rattling coming from the VP. That’s why we turned to the Soodean Imperium. You’re an ally we can trust.”

“Then we are deeply honored by your support, and will gladly provide military aid,” Supreme Commander Shogi boomed before either of his colleagues could speak

“Excellent!” Mr. Kazemi cried out, a joyful smile spreading across his face. “We knew we could rely on your support.”

“Hold on, hold on,” the Director cut in. “This agreement still isn’t official yet. We still have to secure the Emperor’s approval, especially if troops are going to be involved. Once he reaches a decision, we will meet again to iron out the details.”

“Of course – take your time.” Kazemi grinned again, turning from host to host. “I wish I could stay for the parade and ceremony, but I have urgent business to tend to at home, and will leave on the 18th. After then, you must carry out all correspondence through the ambassador.”

Director Hourin smiled, though the expression was not as genuine. “I will do my best to make sure the Emperor reaches a decision before then, so that we can talk it over in person once more.” With that, the delegations exchanged bows, and the Hourin strode quickly out of the room with Vice Director Wen hurrying close behind.

“Sir, are you sure about this?” the Vice Director whispered as the two strode down the hallway. “This is a tremendous gamble.”

The Director smirked, easily maintaining his swift pace. “I have trust in the Emperor, Mr. Wen. He is a wise man. Whatever he says in the end, I place full confidence in his decision.”

BYANGSAN
“The Trumpeter”
Foreign edition * 17 December 2016

Emperor Su Dou Approves Expeditionary Mission in Ummayah!

In an unexpected announcement today, the esteemed and respected Emperor Su Dou declared that the Soodean Imperium will dispatch an expeditionary ground force to Ummayah, where a brutal civil war has taken untold thousands of lives. This news is certain to hang over the honorary ceremonies at Heroes’ Square in Tianzhengcheng, where Emperor Su Dou’s soldiers valiantly defended our timeless nation’s honor by overthrowing the corrupt Menghe government. Soon enough, our Emperor will be defending the honor of Ummayah as well, as the loyal soldiers of the Imperial Soodean Army march forth to foreign battlefields to beat back the radicalized forces of Al-Kabaab and restore peace and prosperity to the war-torn country.

While remaining silent on some of the major details, the Army has stated that the units involved in the intervention will include the 26th Regular Mechanized Division, the 48th Ginhang Mechanized Division, and the 121st Regular Mechanized Division. These units have already been called up for the severe duty of war, and will be transported to government-held ports in Ummayah to prepare at their staging grounds. The Second Fleet of the Imperial Soodean Navy has also set off to the foreign coast under the fluttering banner of justice, and is prepared to launch strikes against the foe.

Al-Kabaab’s bandits and killers are brutal and hardened foes with a thirst for blood, hypocrites who preach a religion of peace but twist its words in the name of war, and everywhere their black-masked murderers go the countryside is stained red with blood. But our soldiers shall not have fear as they ride out to meet them. No: it is the enemy who must know fear, for the heroic infantry and tankmen, pilots and sailors, of the Soodean Imperium shall show no mercy for the treacherous foe, and shall adhere tirelessly to their eternal duty: to protect justice and innocence in every corner of the world!

by **Murovanka** » Sun Oct 16, 2016 1:50 am

Atarot
Sozusa Region
17th December

Cries of ”allahu akbar” went up as government troops launched their assault on the town, tanks leading the way, accompanied by foot soldiers and to varying degrees armoured transport vehicles. It looked like a fearsome combination, but as seen at the Battle of Sarlum, when it got real, it all broke down for the King’s Army. They had not been very prepared for the intensity of urban warfare, and their morale could be determined by how many suicide bombers one sent at them. The vital port city soon fell; after holding their ground to the Mamluk paramilitaries, it was abandoned quickly once a contingent of al-Kabaab militiamen and suicide bombers arrived and charged their rear. Yet another load of heavy weapons, including tanks, fell intact into rebel hands (mostly al-Kabaab who moved in quickly to capture them).

The conflict showed no signs of stopping early, even as negotiations with the Free Ummayad Council leaders and the government went on, with the government apparently ceding priority demands by the FUC: Equal rights for all, in particular religious minorities, the end of detention without trial and torture, one which terrorised the population into submission, amongst others. It turned out however, that while the FUC leaders were interested in peace, the militias they were theoretically in command of weren’t. Al-Kabaab continued to call for Shahids abroad to launch lone-wolf attacks on foreign countries, using graphic videos of beheadings and torture, uploaded to the internet for all young angry Shahids (and the media) to see; their rival extremist Shahid group, the Ikhwan, ramped up their efforts with a wave of terror attacks on Achesia. The Mamluks on the ground were busy taking over the administration of captured villages, chasing out or killing its inhabitants on the grounds that they were “pro-government”, quickly replaced by Mamluk refugees fleeing government territory to the rebels side. Meanwhile, the government did seemed to misunderstand their own words for only days after they pledged not to target civilians, the busy central square in Alhalla was hit by an airstrike, a hospital levelled in Hamdah and a section of Sarlum firebombed in a wave of deadly attacks which unsurprisingly did not make it easy to put faith in the government’s measures of protection for civilians. In fact, long lines in front of the recruitment offices for the rebel forces were forming.

Al-Kabaab had meanwhile established itself as the premier rebel force to be reckoned with, storming and capturing the roads and cities of Manara in central Ummayah and reaching as far as Ayalet Ashahar in the south, advancing toward Al-Hamra, well inside the Fulani region. But the main surprise for government forces came when they seized Atarot, supposedly well-fortified. In the dead of the night, al-Kabaab troops had sneaked through the enemy defences, avoiding the roads and assaulting the city from the desert. For the umpteenth time it seemed, the local garrison fled in disarray, those staying joining ranks of the extremist militia in face of a painful execution. Suddenly, the flank of the army’s coastal forces were threatened; if al-Kabaab moved north-west toward Karala, they would encircle the government’s main forces involved in a counteroffensive which had successfully pushed the rebels back from Salmi to Antelat, where they were fighting now. As such, it was decided that levelling Atarot would be the best course of action and in the next hours, as the army built-up in the outskirts, a ferocious aerial and artillery bombardment reduced the city of formerly 20,000 citizens to rubble. Which for one sent hundreds of now homeless Kharjii men to the training camps of Junud al-Kabaab and for the other, taking the task of constructing defensive positions from the few al-Kabaab engineers.

Defending the town were really just a handful of militiamen, though reinforcements were being brought up in the rear, amongst them suicide bombers which due to their nature, they were falling short of. Skilled ‘martyrs’, as they were referred to, who could move up unnoticed to the target, then cover the trip to the center of the enemy heart disguised as a civilian or whatnot, were not easy to find. The 100% casualty rate was nevertheless well worth it as the already badly motivated government troops were shocked by the fanatic will and belief of the monstrous enemy they were facing.

They had done the usual of setting up barbed wire, booby traps, sniper posts and anything else to ensure that any assault would be bloody for the enemy at lowest cost to the militia, which did still not number more than several thousand fighters. The army formations were at first greeted by a wave of small arms and rocket fire which did cease after several rounds of return volleys from their tanks, but started again as they encountered the first line of IEDs. When the army troops finally reached the small city itself, a high-rise building, already teetering on the verge of collapse following the air strikes, was brought down by well-placed dynamite which trapped an entire armoured column as the main entrance was blocked. Six tanks, five APCs, five humvees and a hundred troops had to fight off fire and assaults from all sides until their comrades managed to blow open and enter via another entrance south of the city; by the time they were rescued three hours later, barely half of them were still standing. An al-Kabaab counterattack led by reinforcements and suicide bombers pushed the army troops back but contrary to the leadership’s expectations, failed to knock the enemy out of the city. Displaying how crucial the city was, the Air Force, directing all its attention on this sector, bombarded the counterattack flat and by the end of the second day of fighting the regime controlled most of Atarot. Only three jihadi strongpoints continued to stand, refusing to give in, its defenders strapping explosives to their body, readying to fight quite literally to the last man. For all who served al-Kabaab, surrender was not an option.

Cheng-Emil
Soodean Imperium
20th December

Hussein was twenty five years old. His family lived in Darisant Province, but originated from Ummayah; decades ago, his grandparents had fled with their children the endemic violence and poverty in their home country to find refuge in the Soodean Imperium, where they were greeted with no little hostility on the locals part as they started off their new lives in a grey zone between legal asylum-seekers and illegal immigrants. Nevertheless, because of the Imperium’s large existing Shahid population, some took pity in their fellow believers and through less-legal means they became legal residents in the wealthy(er) regional power.

But by Hussein’s generation, little had improved for his family status. Granted, the Imperium itself went through its periods of strife and instability; in the eyes of Hussein and many young Shahids his age, regardless of religious sect, the country had progressed on without them. No doubt did they live more prosperous, comfortable lives- at the price of their identity. Disgusted by the generation preceding them, one that was thoroughly brainwashed by the infidel Soodean authorities, leapt into bed with them, drinking, eating all sorts of forbidden food, allowing their women to walk practically naked around the streets without guardian; all in all, disregarding any and all obligations to God. And it was unfortunate that really, the vast majority of Shahids had abandoned the soul of the one true belief, instead only superficially observing it as some fun, alien custom whose practices and rituals could be cherrypicked from. Of course, this could be traced back to the century-old efforts and encouragement of apostasy by the central government ruling far away in Su-Cheng. And the vast majority of humans were stupid, easily enticed by promises of wealth and power. But not me Hussein thought as he strode down the flight of stairs. People glanced at him disapprovingly, at his beard, his traditional Ummayad thawb and headdress. And I am not alone. For the man who dropped out of school, was living with his parents and working for their kebab eatery, this was what he was waiting for.

Indeed he wasn’t. By that he didn’t mean the idiots of the Brotherhood who ran their spiel in Siyadag province. It wasn’t that they were Kharjiites, or what their aims were. He himself was raised and belonged to the Rashaidan branch of Shahidism; Rashaida meant “righteous”, Kharjii “divergent”, and why they split remained confusing and differed depending on who you asked. The esteemed theologians at the Silesian University of Shahidism in Wanka, the largest educational institution dedicated to the belief, would say that the Kharjiites rebelled against God, diverged (as their name suggests) from his true teachings, created their own illegal prophets and messengers and other divine figures and continue to mislead the people today; meanwhile, the Mullahs at the Masjid al-Dhahabi in Al-Hallah would say that it was the Rashaidans that diverged from the true word of God, became corrupt and oppressive, their leaders using their positions for their own greedy, personal gain, which was why the Kharjiites split to be able to follow the purest path of the Lord. Then came mutual accusations of waging illegal wars on each other and killing innocent Shahids, something absolutely forbidden in Shahidism. But of course, if asked publicly, these “experts” would continue to say that all who were Shahids were closest to the right path and it was important that they all worked together, regardless of differences, to uphold their virtues and values and support each other in development (some having been recorded saying things like “defeating the infidels”, which was quickly defended as ‘taken out of context’). All in all, in some parts of the world the Rashaidan-Kharjii split was more pronounced, in others, nobody really gave a damn. And they were far from the only branches; as far as Hussein knew, the Rashaidan branch split off into at least three more schools of thought.

But back to the Brotherhood of the Eight-Pointed Star. He didn’t like them, and so felt most upstanding Shahids, for while their intentions were well-meaning, they too quickly spiralled into nothing more than a crime syndicate, running drugs, prostitutes and protection rackets, dealings which often further negatively impacted their own people in Siyadag province.

No, he wanted something grander, purer, righteous, as written down, black on yellow, in the Hadayya, the holiest of holy books. Jihad: war against the infidels which ruled the modern world. Sharia: way of life as mandated by God. The Caliphate: a global Shahidic state under God, like the Ummayad Caliphate which ruled in the 17th-19th Century, but greater. He himself ascribed to yet another sect of the Rashaidan branch, originating from the Madhab school of jurisprudence. He and friends called themselves Sarfis. They looked to live, as far as possible, like the Prophet Saladeen, abstained from the many pleasures of life, wore what the Prophet wore, prayed diligently. Others called them fundamentalists, often in a derogatory manner. Junud al-Kabaab was like a godsend- or maybe it was. That they were Kharjiite-dominated didn’t matter much. Rashaidans fought for al-Kabaab, Kharjiites fought for the Ikhwan, their international jihadist counterpart. What al-Kabaab had in mind was near identical to the Sarfi movement, apart from the name and the branch they were sorted under.

Wearing the garb in public, in addition to that beard, was a difficult decision to make. The authorities hated it, and one stuck out like a sore thumb. There were enough gangsters and toughs around who were just looking for an excuse to beat you up, and something told him that the police wouldn’t have too much sympathy for him. But it was the visibility, the attention, the more prevailing his style, the more people would join the movement. Like the terror attacks by al-Kabaab and the Ikhwan: the more bloodshed, the more attention, the more people joined, realising that indeed, there was truth in what the so-called “terrorists” were doing.

He was in little position for a fight, although he’d begun training himself; he knew he’d have to build some bulk if he were to travel to Ummayah, something which became more possible by the day. It was always good to be prepared, he had thought, since he was close to being on the wrong side of the law either ways. But perhaps he’d come to regret it. In the subway, nobody seemed to hide their disgust for him. It didn’t help that there had been several attacks of his type worldwide. A father hurried his family, a wife and two children, away from his carriage. An older woman frowned at him, a rough-looking man brushed past, pushing him on purpose. Even a fellow Ummayan looked disapprovingly. Infidels. Anger welled up inside him. The next half a minute passed in a blur. He attacked an elderly man reading a newspaper, pulling out the kebab knife hidden in his clothing, lunging repeatedly, relentlessly. Someone grabbed him from behind, and he pivoted, slashing, slicing, stabbing. People screamed and blood gushed as he fought blindly the overpowering enemy coming in on all sides; he hacked down a little girl, cutting through a women through her back. Finally, he felt a blow to his head, then another, a kick, he was on the ground, the blows kept coming, he released the knife to protect himself to no avail, his nose cracked audibly.

”Saladeen… I have avenged…” he whispered before it all went black. In his clenched left fist, held so tightly that his knuckles went white, was a piece of the newspaper from the elderly man he’d attacked. It was a small issue of little fame, and on it, one could make out a caricature of the Shahid Prophet. The following day, al-Kabaab claimed responsibility for the attack, celebrating Hussein as one of its soldiers, hailing him for defending the Prophet’s honour and punishing the Imperium for their decision to support the Muttalib regime in Ummayah.

by **Gauliscia** » Thu Oct 20, 2016 3:23 pm

Xaarloë, Headquarters of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Kingdom of Saxonia
Harried by men, like eager ducks awaiting their dues from a park goer, the field marshal kept them at bay.
“Gentlemen, thank you! Such did he boom, silencing the agents and generals.
“Indeed is it now certain that the bloody assault on our nation was on the command of Al-Kabaab, from far Ummayah.”
“Indeed it is.” All concurred.
“Thus, we have given our demands to the council that rules Ummayah with a time, they have a sun and a moon to respond… before we take action on our own accord, settle our blood with the blood of Al-Kabaab. Admiral, what forces can we marshal to draw the first blood?”
The Admiral, Lord Ottochaar-Ulfwech, 19th Earl of Thaxenhuÿs coughed, clearing his throat.
“Field Marshal, if you nod assent now, I can have the sturdy hulls of our fleet, weighed down by men, arms and birds of war cutting through the surging foam of the deep blue, on course for Ummayah, the crews on deck hungering to deliver terrible retribution in three days. In addition, we have the locations of certain characters who spurred these attacks on our shores… and in Tuxlocia our birds of war scratch the dust in agitation and squawk in eagerness to let loose steaming droppings on them. Also in Tuxlocia, the Legion awaits your orders, they stand to on the beaches at full arms, officers prowling the ranks, ready to storm up the opposite coast in fury and lay waste to those held accountable for the devastation of Auyadelle. So indeed, certainly, Field Marshal do we have an abundance of forces to wreak satisfaction on our behalf.”
And so, Field Marshall Jawœrkund nodded assent to the assembling of the High King’s forces.

His Excellency Aarnulf Swassen, Courir of the Crown to Ummayah|Al-Haram
With no urgency did the Courir swiftly marched through the halls of Al-Haram, seat of the Ummayad councils. Having demanded an audience with a senior minister, with no undue flourish did Aarnulf produce the ultimatum of the Gauliscian People.

Offiziëleche Verchlaaring de Bœndesréich d’Waalischië
Official Statement of the United Realm of Gauliscia

Fathers of Ummayah,

Irrefutable is the compliance of your tribe in the sanguine and depraved butchering of the Gauliscian people in the marketplace and wagons of Audalia; for your warbands sit in their dull camps making idle jests and picking at the long felled carcass of a desert beast, when rather they ought to be up in arms, laying waste to the positions and columns of the Al-Kabaab clans. Thus on account of your pitiful and typical indolence we hold the Ummayan people as an entirety blameworthy for the savage assault. Already Al-Kabaab cowers, they dare not face our fury, just as fleeing the armed pursuers, a wolf, having plunged it fangs into a shepherd or prize ram, makes for the high mountains and the tight pines that lie on them like blankets, avoiding the beaten tracks and the logging trails, to hide in a damp hollow, knowing full well what it has done. But when we, with hawk and hound uncover them from their den, we shall heap on them obliteration until they lie prostrate before the High King begging for their undeserved salvation and the most base of entreaties.

As for you, the Gauliscian Boar snorts in fury and pounds it's hooves in outrage whilst it's eyes betray devastation at the loss of its compatriots, you, as the culprits now for such hideous slaughter, must;

Gather all the gold and jewels in your towns and villages, sacking them up and with these lain before the High King, you must drop to your smudged knees and beseech for the pardon of the Crown. Also offer the fruits of your land; a thousand camels, thrice that of figs and coffee beans. Then, you must surge in force to do battle with the renegade factions, grounding them to a thick paste. We graciously grant you a moon and a day, or else we, seething with blood lust shall storm your beaches in order to quench our insatiable desire for retribution.

Such is your forewarning…

Osswueïck Docks, Duchy of Frisia
With the nodded assent of the High King, the battle horns bellowed throughout the land, calling to arms the marines and sailors and the sea nymphs were stirred to the surface ready to lessen the toil of the oarsmen. The bellies of the ships were stuffed with bolts and armour for the war, golden crisp hay for the beasts of burden and for the warriors, boundless heaps of flesh and flowing sweet wine for the feasts to come after the enemy lie strewn in rotting piles, and trophies of their victories are erected on the pulsing bed of gore. In trekked heaving columns and beasts of war, armour clanging, weapons clanking as the whole host was assembled in full order for a long voyage into the mysterious waters of the orient. Birds of war sat upon the decks, resting their wings for later, scraping their talons on the decks, keening them for the heavy slaying to come. At the helm of the crowning jewel of the fleet was Lord Admiral von Thaxenhuÿs, his noble chest puffed with pride as one of the sea’s finest fleets mounted it's surging tides and cleaved it's white froth.

Task Force Sails out of Osswueïck for Ummayah!

Also Trending:
-Ultimatum to Ummayah proclaimed ‘ridiculous’
-Anti Shahid sentiment fuels more attacks
-All parties to support the war in the coming elections

SWB Hœchkœning Théodrich III, leaving Osswueïck

Crowds cheered away the departing Task Force this afternoon as it left its bases for Ummayah. Under the command of Lord Admiral Ottochaar-Ulfwech, 19th Earl of Thaxenhuÿs, the fleet and it's accompanying units will be sent to Ummayah to pacify Al-Kabaab; the group responsible for the attacks a few days ago. Whilst officially the Gauliscian government is waiting for an Ummayad response it is generally seen that the fleet will operate in the region regardless of the Ummayad response.

The Task Force, part of Operation Vengeful Phoenix comprises the aircraft carrier HT III, a helicopter carrier; SWB Thueringië and the escort ships in addition to troop carrying ships and supply tankers. Travelling with the fleet are a brigade of marines ready for a beach assault action. Also part of the task force is the Gauliscian foreign legion ready on Tuxlocia and several air assets to support operations. Sources reveal that several army formations here in Gauliscia are preparing for an overseas combat deployment.

by **The Soodean Imperium** » Sun Oct 23, 2016 4:39 am

Zhihui
“The Search for Knowledge”
Evening Television Broadcast * 20 December 2016]

For more than seven hundred years, the city of Cheng-Emil has represented the harmony of the Southwest with the remainder of the country: a gate in the boundary where Mengherin and Shahadians come together in a diverse mix of culture. This legacy of coexistence was alarmingly shattered at around 1 PM today when a man wielding a knife brutally attacked passengers on the Line 2 metro, leaving five dead and eleven injured. Among the dead were a mother and child from Lujou Province, who were in Changzha for the annual winter holiday, and a recent university graduate from Kaphua Province who had moved to Cheng-Emil to work as an engineer. Other passengers on the train eventually managed to subdue the attacker, preventing the death toll from rising even higher. Among those was Miraç Kundakçı, a local steelworker who claims he pushed past the fleeing crowd and struck the attacker on the head, sustaining a severe knife wound to his hand in the process. We have footage of Mr. Kundakçı being interviewed by police after the event:

“At first I didn’ know what was goin’ on, but as soon as I heard screamin’, I pushed by to the middle of the car. First I tried to take the knife from ‘im, but ‘e was movin’ too fast. ‘e lunged at me and I felt a bad sting on my ‘and,” [gestures to right hand, wrapped in a makeshift bandage] “so I swung my fist around and hit him in the head, ‘ard as I could… he fell down and the rest of us pushed forward kickin’ to keep him down. Someone saw the knife on the ground and pulled it away. It probably wen’ down in… thirty seconds? Ten? But it felt like forever.”

The city police department stated that it will issue civil service medals to Mr. Kundakçı and other citizens who helped subdue the attacker, and has warned citizens to remain vigilant about suspicious behavior elsewhere in the country. The city director of internal security, Yang Dankum, has said that he will press forward to install metal detectors and baggage checks at all other metro stations in the city and encouraged the central government to do the same elsewhere in the country. In the meantime, additional officers have been posted outside of station entrances, and the Cheng-Emil metro system was temporarily shut down in case there were other conspirators planning a follow-up attack. The culture planning committee in Tianzhengcheng has stated that the annual Revolution Day ceremony will proceed as planned, but security at the event will be stepped up to prevent a copycat attack. Mr. Yang concluded his remarks by referring back to the 9/22 attack in Nürnberg where Junud Al-Kabaab militants armed with assault rifles killed at least seventy people, and warning that if the attacker had been armed with a firearm the loss of life could have been much worse.

Less is known about the attacker himself. Mr. Kundakçı and other witnesses described him as a Siyadagi separatist, but an identity card found on his body identified him as Hussein Bin-Ali, born in Darisant province to immigrants from Ummayah. Police speculate that the attack may have been linked to the Soodean government’s decision to intervene in that country. Little more is known about the attacker, who was unconscious when carried off the train and died while a police van was carrying him away from the scene. The Internal branch of the National Intelligence Service has launched an investigation into his history, family, and activities. The radical group Al-Kabaab claimed that Bin-Ali was one of its “martyrs;” the Brotherhood of the Eight-Pointed Star did the same on its illicit website, but deleted the post after the attacker was identified as a second-generation Ummayan. As yet there have been no reports of evidence linking him to known terrorist organizations, but the investigation is still in its very early stages.

As more information filters in, we will try to keep you updated on the details of the case, which is still unfolding. Until then, we conclude by reporting the names, professions, and ages of the victims of this attack, and urge citizens of all faiths to remember their lives and their sacrifices as we approach the seventeenth anniversary of our nation’s rebirth.

Haluk Uzun, male, 76, pensioner
Fen Chyungyun, female, 31, mother and consultant
Fen Jingmei, female, 6, schoolchild
Safiye Mataracı, female, 43, mother and accountant
Gensui Sungtao, male, 24, engineer

Northwestern Ummayah
24 December 2004

In the early afternoon of December 23rd, three days after the first aircraft began arriving in Ummayah, elements of the Imperial Soodean Air Force launched their first airstrikes against insurgent forces. The total expeditionary force consisted of the 52nd Fighter Regiment (fifty-four FD-5Es) and the 53rd Tactical Bomber Regiment (thirty-six SL-6Bs), as well as additional reconnaissance and logistics aircraft. From the government-controlled military airbase outside Karala, they were in a position to conduct strikes as far south as Ayelet Hashahar.

Due to the ISAF’s strong desire to avoid civilian casualties, Major-General Gin, in charge of the aerial operation, agreed to concentrate his strikes on rural areas, interdicting convoys of rebel and radical-Shahadist militants moving through the countryside. On the night of the 23rd, this proved to be a critical contribution; having been driven from the city a few days before, Al-Kabaab forces had regrouped outside Atarot and were beginning a fierce counterattack. For hours in the evening and into the night, tan-winged Feidous descended on the oncoming force one by one, beating back the militants with barrages of aerial rocket fire. By morning on the following day, the counterattack had been repelled and government forces were preparing to move onward. But the next major cities were still a fair distance away.

Unfortunately for the beleaguered citizens of Ummayah, government forces were not as discriminating with their attacks. Already, their light bombers were an increasingly regular sight over Mamara, freely targeting residential districts. Ignoring the protests of international human rights groups, they continued to use cluster munitions around civilian areas, as they had done in Atarot. It did not help Major-General Gin’s case much that Ummayah operated the same types of aircraft, albeit in earlier variants – before long, rebel newspapers would claim that Soodean aircraft had been involved in strikes on the cities and towns.

Moreover, due to a lack of good intelligence, Soodean airstrikes further inland were unable to meet their full potential. The Ummayan military was generous in sharing what little information it had, but this was often limited to areas where its ground troops had been conducting reconnaissance, and even then reports were patchy and inconsistent. Consequently, while Soodean bombers could easily reach nearly any site in rebel-controlled territory with a full payload, they lacked any reliable information on where Al-Kabaab’s local headquarters were. Even on open roads winding through the desert, convoys of technicals and suicide trucks heading for the front were hard to tell apart from groups of civilian cars fleeing Al-Kabaab rule, and Major-General Gin preferred to err on the side of safety. In the days to come, some pilots would joke that the Karala airbase was no more than an open-air hotel, where pilots spent hours waiting for orders as rows of fighters and bombers sat baking in the sun.

The expeditionary troops of the Imperial Soodean Army were still at home ports or in transit, and would not arrive in Ummayah for another few days. But already the operation was off to a worrying start.

Diplomatic Message to the United Realm of Gauliscia
24 December [2004]

Esteemed gentlemen,

We understand and sympathize with your concerns in the wake of terrorist attacks which have left many dead and many more injured; after years of war, our own homeland has been shaken by even graver abuses, especially on the part of our common enemy, the so-called Junud al-Kabaab.

Nevertheless, we are deeply alarmed by your government’s current response. Our army has been fighting without rest for over two years to defeat the so-called Junud al-Kabaab and restore peace and order, and many of our brave young soldiers have already laid down their lives in this struggle. To even imply that they have sat idly by this entire time is to gravely insult the sacrifices we have made. To demand that we defeat the remaining rebel forces in a single day defies all comprehension. And while we again stress our sympathy for the victims of the disaster, to demand massive reparations from a still-developing country already stretched thin by a surging rebellion is a patent reversal of justice.

That much said, if your government wishes to assist us in our struggle against the so-called Junud al-Kabaab, we are willing to permit Gauliscia to conduct limited airstrikes against rebel groups on the western coast, provided that they do so in coordination with our government authorities. At a minimum, this would include submitting targets to our air force command for approval before commencing a strike, alerting us beforehand to the flight plans of strike missions, and sharing intelligence your forces collected on the location and disposition of enemy forces. These conditions are similar to those we agreed on with the Soodean Imperium, which currently operates aircraft on our soil and has provided vital assistance in turning the tide against the so-called Junud al-Kabaab and their allies in the Free Ummayad Council.

Lufti Saqqaf
Minister for Foreign Affairs

by **Erquin** » Mon Oct 31, 2016 2:56 pm

The Erquinian Telegraph - 25-Biticent - 7/26/16
Erquinian Government demands Ummayan government to better police shipping lanes, threatens to respond with force.

Editor: Jerry Keravel

E.S.S Byk on ErqNav 2016 Exercises, naval exercise performed every September.

Yesterday, the Erquinian Parliament has issued an ultimatum to the Ummayah government, demanding that its navy deal with the problem of the country's pirate problem or else it shall do its]\

The country of Ummayah is in a crucial geographical position in which any ships going through the lanes that go past the tip of the country, towards countries like Maracaibo, Innominada, the Soodean Imperium, etc, are within range of most motorboats people in Ummayah have access to. This allows criminals to go towards cargo ships passing through the channel, armed with assault rifles, pistols, and in the worst cases, rocket propelled grenades, and hijack the ship, taking merchandise to sell or more often taking the crew hostage and demanding ransom. While many ships have countermeasures to this, many, as much as 200+, boardings and hostage situations are seen within this channel.

To effectively counter this, a country would have to mobilize its navy to patrol and prevent this from happening. Should they be competent, their patrols and busting of piracy should keep the shipping lanes safe from harm. However, the Ummayan navy and therefore the government aswell have been increasingly incompetent, with some cases having been reported on in the past describing some Ummayan Naval patrol boat captains taking bribes from organized pirate bands to turn the other cheek when hijacking.

To this, the Erquinian government has had enough. While others have been rather lax with their demands regarding Ummayan incompetence in the past, the Erquinian government has sent numerous messages to Ummayan officials regarding the issue and now has sent the ultimatum, stating that, quote, "the Ummayan Government will stamp out corruption in its naval officer corps" and "facilitate a more efficient and competent system of dealing with piracy that has devastated international shipping for decades.".

It has threatened action by stating that it will send its navy to take over the job, ripping control of the sea lanes from Ummayah. While many support this decision, especially frustrated shipping companies, some say that this may be too much, stating that not only could it be a burden to the economy, but that this is a move of imperialism and it may damage Erquin's reputation as a generally neutral country. However, many state otherwise, saying that this will allow shipping to go along smoother and allow Erquinian shipping to help the economy in a more efficient way, aswell as prevent loss of Erquinian life and state to the world that Erquin will not tolerate incompetency from other countries that result in the disadvantage of countries like Erquin.

On a rather unrelated note, some far left movements have labeled this ultimatum as an "attempt at controlling the way of life of colored peoples and imposing imperialistic, rascist standards onto the country and its people.", to which a federal politician who wishes not to be named says, "If we did not do something, Erquin would not exist as a nation, and to say that we are doing this because they are colored people and we are paler than white paint at a hardware store is so stupidly farstretched its not even funny."

- Jerry Karavel

In other news
Man eats radioactive potato, no harm done...Page 2
New nuclear power plant constructed near Amadar being protested...Page 3
OT-11 declared to be among the best tanks in the world... Page 4
Small tornado ravages nothing but fields in Erquinian Northwest... Page 5

by **Murovanka** » Sat Nov 05, 2016 7:06 am

Northwestern Ummayah
27th December

The Mechili-Atarot road was littered with wrecked armour, technicals, trucks, cars, and strewn around, sometimes barely recognisable as to what they once were, human remains, still fresh and stinking to hell. Al-Kabaab had learned its first lesson, a lesson which had cost them several hundred fighters. The counterattack on Atarot had failed spectacularly, but the militant group had to move on, switching to the defensive in northern Ummayah and letting the militias of the Free Ummayad Council take the brunt of the government assault.

Meanwhile, at Antelat, with the help of the modern Soodean aircraft, the FUC forces were in retreat. In response to the global condemnation against the al-Kabaab terrorist attacks across the world, FUC commander al-Gore had to break and deny any relations with the Kharjii extremists, though cooperation to a certain extent was impossible to stop as they had long decided to face their common enemy, the King, first before resolving their own differences, and the situation on the ground was such that the FUC, which was possibly weaker than al-Kabaab itself, needed them to fight alongside, and al-Kabaab needed access to the port of Sarlum through which donations and foreign volunteers were flowing in.

But they were losing ground. The rebels and militants could not hold their ground in face of the relentless air strikes of the enemy air forces, some more indiscriminate than others. However, that was only one reason for their withdrawal; another was the Mamluk commanders’ decision to solidify their control over Sarlum and the surrounding area and to recuperate their forces, letting the other rebels of the FUC take to fighting the government forces.

A complex conflict was about to get even more complex. For that evening, in a completely unexpected manner, the town of Menachema, on the other side of the country where the war was raging and just a hundred and thirty kilometres from the capital Al-Haram, revolted, taking control of the provincial police headquarters, the court, radio station and raising the flag of the FUC over the government house. At the same time, in El Arica- this just some ten kilometres from the outskirts of Al-Haram itself, a deadly ambush was carried out on a military checkpoint, killing and wounding fifteen army troops. Sporadic gunfire was heard as the local police headquarters was besieged, and armed men set up barricades in some parts of the city.

What had happened was that the indiscriminate bombings, exaggerated and emphasised by rebel news with rumours spread eagerly amongst a populace disenfranchised with the King, had turned much of public opinion against the Muttalibs, though few dared to risk their lives to take up arms and risk their lives and their families. But there always remained some who thought otherwise, and to those the rebels and al-Kabaab had spent the last week delivering arms to. A major conduit was the second largest city in the Samaria region, officially Madina al-Qarjii, or City of the Divergents. As the name suggests, it is a city with high symbolic meaning to the Kharjii population, it being where their split from the Rashaidans started, and today still it was one majorly Kharjite city and one whose populace looked favorly upon al-Kabaab. Which was also why the government had taken care to heavily increase the police presence and reinforce the army garrison there. Nevertheless the city was big and did not prevent communications and supply lines from reaching from one end of the country to the other.

Yarmuk District
Saladina
29th December

The plans of al-Kabaab to strike and operate deep within the enemy logistics were still in motion. The massive port city of Saladina would be their trump card against advancing Muttalib army; since before the uprising, al-Kabaab had stockpiled weapons and supplies within the city, making use of its vastness and population numbering 700,000 to conceal their activity. And they were well supported here, having been in de facto control of the piracy business which had drawn the ire of nations whose shipping were held to ransom at the docks of Saladina, and had been testament to the Muttalib’s weak hold on the country. Granted, even developed nations had their problems with gangs and mafia, but here they controlled quite openly multiple areas, and a few of those groups swore loyalty to al-Kabaab. Criminals didn’t make the most reliable fighters, but in truth these were more often than not the impoverished simply looking to make a living for themselves.

It was done quite subtly, how they turned Yarmuk District, the militants stronghold, into a fortress overnight. One day all seemed normal, the streets deserted, the occasional army patrol wandering around disinterested, knowing that there was nothing special to look for. Gangs were gangs, and that was nothing new.

Then the next day, those army patrols had vanished, replaced by armed men wearing black ski masks. Roadblocks controlled the entrances to the suburb, machine guns poked out of windows, barbed wire was strung around and situated on high-rise buildings, sniper nests, well concealed. That day, the first raid was carried out on a practically unprotected supplies convoy which was unlucky enough to wander near. The contingent, numbering three hundred men, knew that soon the enemy would turn and crush them; what they hoped was that they could tie down and grind down the fight to a brutal urban battle which would distract and severely hurt the government forces ability to conduct operations further south. To this end, they had been provided with a hoard of explosives and instructors on how to prepare them; mortars and suicide trucks would, with any luck, make the government flatten part of their own city and thus drive more people into the extremists hands, as was the pattern until now.

Meanwhile, this coincided with the shifting of al-Kabaab’s efforts toward the west of the country, seeing as the north had bogged down in face of concentrated infidel hordes. The entrance of the Soodean Imperium into the war had been greeted well by the al-Kabaab leadership who had promised the foreigners a “bloodbath of attrition”. It was turning out to be a rather interesting situation, with everyone appearing to unite against al-Kabaab, but those on the ground knew well that each of the foreign actors would likely pursue their own interests- the FUC, which was being combatted by the Imperium, was receiving aid and weaponry from nations who had pledged to “help” Ummayah get rid of its terrorist plague. The foreign help made all other factions look like foreign puppets, further increasing Junud al-Kabaab’s standing, and if they could play the two sides against each other, victory could well be in the hand of the Kharjiite extremists.

Still, a war, which would certainly be long- hell, it had been waged for years already- had to be fought. In a frightening cloud of dust, caused by camels and cars alike, the militants crossed into the Fulani region, descending upon the poorly guarded Malhamiyah and with the help of several “martyrs”, expelled regime forces from the village in cover of darkness. The distances that they had to cover through the desert was immense, but to that came the aid of local tribesmen who had allied themselves to the extremist group. Next stop: Al-Hamza. If they could secure the entire inner Ummayan regions, they could threaten and raid the entire government supply line which ran along the coast.

by **Gauliscia** » Sun Nov 20, 2016 8:40 am

Kwazirsha Souks, Alhalla, Ummayah
From far and wide had all come, for the markets. Goatherds driving their bleating flocks, spice merchants guiding their goods-laden camels through the dusty and tight streets. Fishermen came in from the sea, hauling in their heaving nets and weavers grabbed passers by to caress the soft garments, the fruits of their handicraft. The women, never alone, all veiled wandered the bustling markets, baskets under arm, to buy bread, flowers, rice and perhaps a chicken or rabbit for the stew. Long faced soldiers, Mameluqs at arms watched over the citizens as they went about their shopping, keen eyed and weapons swift to launch should any undesirables seek to disturb the proceedings.

But in amongst the pulsing throng, there was a man of fair skin, of fair hair and not in robes but trousers and a shirt. Yet, he was not alien to the markets nor the people, for he was held in high esteem. He could barter for his loaves like a local, he knew all the herbs and the best coffee houses. He was Marchomann Zwaluwe, or known here as Mirkoum al-Farans’ard. A student of Ummayad Literature at Wéidentroucht College, Clovisburg University, and having served as a young officer in the gendarmerie he had come to Ummayah that he may write volumes on their history. Marchomann came to a low-roofed coffee house, quiet and strong smelling. For here he was to meet chieftains of the Mameluqs, a warrior people, fearsome in battle but gracious in hosting, they ruled over the western lands, having subjugated all those in the sandy villages and dusty towns. He sat down with them, all the their great turbaned leaders; Quyyad, Barquq, Dawud and many more.
Marchomann, pouring each a foaming cup of coffee, began.
“Lords of the Mameluq, The United Realm applauds your heroic deeds to seek self rule and cast away the tight shackles of the Ummayad jackal, who cackles into the dark night at your abject subjugation. And indeed thus, in recognition of such brave ventures, we come with arms bearing heaps of weapons and with great armies. Indeed shall we leap into storm of war, our steeds riding beside each other, our blades embedding in the same foe.”

Quyyad, claimed from battle’s heat by age, he had the scars to prove him a warrior and the grey beard to affirm his sage counsel. Quyyad stroked the silvery hair that fell from his wizened face.
“Such kindnesses payed to our people, surely, your masters want recompense?” The chieftains shifted and muttered. What would they lose? The precious green ribbons of land by the sea in which they grew their coffee and herded their sheep? Perhaps their steel bearing mountain mines, deep fountains of metal that plated and armed their warriors. Or even would they demand tributes of gold and men.

Marchomann gave smile, for he was expecting this question.
“Dearest Quyyad, Gauliscia, my verdant realm, does not give to receive but gives out of love. But, in order that the rule of law be set in stone, in order to safeguard your liberty, Gauliscian men must join you in the marches, patrol the borderlands and seek out insidious treachery. And for this, such cost to the bloom of our youth, we ask that you bind yourselves by oath, swear loyalty to the High King.”
All stared at Marchomann, who gripped tightly his tunic.
“You cannot expect us to-”
“Peace Dawud.” Said Quyyad, stilling the brewing tempest. “Mirkoum, what you ask of us is, heavy on my people. For many might think we are trading their lives, one regime for another. We cannot simply swear in bended knee our soil to an foreign emperor. But, if you drive the Ummayads from our borders and mount patrols to keep them afar, we will come before your High King in supplication.”

Valkyrie Group, Gauliscian Expeditionary Fleet, 2,500 km from Ummayah
Swiftly the fleet sailed, mounting crashing waves and braving the snarling perils of the deep, for not all the sea spirits favoured their cause. Birds of war, rotors whirring set out on patrol all the while, scanning for a submerged foe. Lord Admiral von Thaxenhuÿs paced the length of the ship, the salty sea spraying in his face. He knew the losses to come. And not through great battles like they young men hoped, but in ambush and traps. There would be little glory, only the gore of youth.

Down in the belly of the great ship, men feasted on pork and mead, persuading themselves to an excess of japery and lust. One such warrior, wiping the foam from his mouth, staggered to where he could be seen and heard by all.
“Truly does my axe itch to rive agape their oily heads, and my bow to fling shafts into their weak and rank flesh! My heart aches for our fallen, whom they so violently slaughtered in the market place. We shall herd them to their deaths like swines to the slaughtering hut.”
The men cheered, raising their drinking horns, snapping off limbs from the feasting carcass and roaring with a bloodstained mouth.
“Herd them like swines?” Sergeant Othmaar Gietschwa gave question. “The men at arms who rally under the dark banner of Al-Kabaab are zealots, unwavering in their faith, their only relief from their duty is death. They thirst for our blood and they will be relentless to seek it, their fanaticism is only halted in death; in their final breaths even will they strive to deal you destruction. Like mountain lions, they prowl and slink on craggy ridges, watching the prancing deer in the dales below, waiting for a forlorn fawn to fall behind the flock, before seizing it swiftly and carrying up to its cavernous den. So, Private, keep sealed your filth gap lest I sew it up for you; the slaughter will not be to our favour.”

Offiziëleche Verchlaaring de Bœndesréich d’Waalischië
Official Statement of the United Realm of Gauliscia

Esteemed within,

Thus have our own agents in Ummayah noticed your renewed offensive against Junud, and owing to this, for indeed must it be a great strain to muster such forces under your banners, grasping herdsmen from their ever bleating flocks and putting them to march, we shall accept this as due reparation, especially in light of the matter being that it was not the blades crafted in your smithies that devastated the flesh of our people.

Bearing this in your minds, and indeed in ours, the paths of war that our keen and vengeful birds shall take to deliver due slaughter to the perpetrators of such violence must be kept in a misty place, lest the slippery paws of the recipient drop them, and before he can stoop to gather it up, thieving scoundrels whose pockets bulge with promised plunder by their masters scurry past, carrying it off, snickering as they go and as a result, soaring high, our war birds shall plunge from the clouds, shrieking on account of their wings torn and torso pierced by barbed shafts. Whilst we shall indeed make you alert to the presence of Gauliscian warbirds, the particulars of each undertaking must present themselves to as few as possible. We hope you find this agreeable. For ancient as this land may be, all roads and passes are truly treacherous, roamed by mobs of brigands, whom no doubt will set upon couriers of such information, taking the message, jewels and essential items, leaving the sorry messenger for the vultures.

Indeed does a full fleet sail at great speed towards your war-stained shores, the oaken bows groaning under the weight of our retribution, the oarsmen stirred on by promise of plunder and the birds of war which sit upon the creaking decks ache and pine to run their talons through the thick enemy ranks.

Let us pray for a swift war in which justice is achieved for all, that your citizenry may return to their flocks and market stalls without the reeking stench of death from the jaws of war breathing on them. Likewise, our own people may return to their farmsteads and mills to toil the land and smelt it's fruits in the sweet harmony of peace.

Gott zieg liefern!

by **The Soodean Imperium** » Sun Nov 20, 2016 12:30 pm

Zhihui
“The Search for Knowledge”
Foreign edition * 25 December [2004]

Death Toll Nears 200 as Ethnic Rioting Escalates in Innominada

Earlier this week, Innominada was shaken by ethnic riots, many of which are still in progress. The violence began Thursday morning, as Christian demonstrators in the city of Nueva Meridia led a religious parade on a route that cut through an indigenous neighborhood. Accounts of what happened next remain unclear. Marchers claim that Shahidist “sectarian thugs” attacked the Christians by throwing stones and bricks from buildings on either side of the street. Local residents claimed that members of the Creole Democratic Alliance, a nationalist political organization, had joined the procession when it entered the contested neighborhood, and deliberately provoked retaliation by shouting offensive slogans and demanding the expulsion of all native Uzeris and Shahid-practicing immigrants from Innominada.

What both accounts agree on is that at around 11:30 AM, the procession broke up into violent clashes between marchers and locals. As news of the event spread, violence spread soon behind it. Outraged at what they saw as an unprovoked attack on a civil procession, bands of nationalist Creoles elsewhere in the city armed themselves and ventured into other Uzeri neighborhoods, attacking locals and looting Uzeri-owned businesses. City police apparently did nothing to restrain this rioting, and by some accounts they encouraged it, threatening with arrest any Shahidist locals who attempted to defend their property.

The following day, it appeared that the worst of the rioting had died down, but after news spread that a historic mosque in Nueva Meridia had been defaced, several prominent imams used Friday prayers to condemn the riots and, in some cases, call for retaliation. The response was swiftest in Sumqayit, deep in the majority-Uzeri Northwest, where local mobs attacked the city’s largest church but were driven away by police. News of this event sparked an even larger wave of violence, which by Friday evening had even spread into schools. Several factories were forced to close early for the weekend due to fears that fighting would break out between Creole and Uzeri workers. Official records place the current death toll at 67, but local civil society organizations suggest this number far underestimates the scope of the violence, with many groups suggesting that the real figure may be closer to 200 and that it is likely to climb as scattered rioting continues.

The Soodean government was quick to condemn this outbreak of violence, with Emperor Su Dou personally issuing a televised speech denouncing the Innominadan government’s failure to step in and end the violence. He also contrasted the situation of Uzeris in the Innominadan Northeast, where discrimination and systematic inequality remain long-standing problems, and in the Soodean Southwest, where the government has worked to promote their social standing and strengthen their sense of national unity.

The Innominadan Foreign Ministry responded with a statement asserting that the government had done its best to contain the riots and stressing the two countries’ shared Socialist history. But only hours later, footage surfaced online of several prominent Innominadan politicians praising Creole rioters as “defenders of the Republic and its values” and calling for further attacks on Shahid populations. While these are not the largest ethnic riots in Innominada – fighting after the 2001 terrorist attacks exceeded these in scope and damage – this marks the first time that national (as opposed to local) politicians have openly endorsed violence against the Uzeri minority. It also comes just days after the Innominadan government expressed its willingness to support a Gauliscian military intervention in Ummayah, something the Soodean government opposes.

As of yet, the sometimes strained relationship between Innominada and the Soodean Imperium remains stable, but there is widespread speculation that it may deteriorate further if events continue along their present course.

Mechili
30 December 2004

A scorching sun sat high in the cloudless sky as the forward elements of the 26th Mechanized Division neared the outskirts of the city. After unloading the last of their vehicles and supplies in Saladina on the 25th, the bulk of the Soodean intervention force had covered the distance to Atarot by the 26th, and they were now pushing onward to their next objectives.

The 264th Tank Regiment must have made a formidable sight as it rolled across the plains toward Mechili, for it met only sporadic resistance on the way. Apart from a handful of anti-tank missiles captured from government stockpiles early in the war, Al-Kabaab’s insurgent forces had few weapons with which to resist the Soodean tanks in open terrain, and five days of aerial reconnaissance and airstrikes had inflicted heavy damage on any light defenses they tried to set up. As a result, Soodean morale was running high, especially within the armored units. This was some of the best tank country they were likely to ever see, with vast, level plains allowing a wide field of view. Any unfortunate pockets of insurgent fighters they did meet, once marked by the dust plume of a missile launch, were easily dispatched by a high-explosive shell from range.

So easy was the advance across the open plains that upon reaching the outskirts of Mechili, the commanders of the 1st and 2nd Tank Battalions decided to press onward into the city. Their original orders were to pause outside Mechili after sweeping the countryside and allow the second echelon, composed of infantry in APCs and IFVs, to catch up. Yet after covering the last 50 kilometers without so much as a single missile launch to oppose them, the battalion commanders were feeling confident. It appeared as though Al-Kabaab’s forces, battered by airstrikes and terrified by the oncoming wave of armor, had fled in disarray, leaving the city undefended. By sweeping through Mechili before enemy forces could regroup and reinforce it, the tank units would be able to secure a foothold without the sort of prolonged, bloody fighting that had taken place in Atarot – allowing them to minimize civilian casualties and speed up their advance. There was also the matter of prestige: the lower-level commanders in the Soodean tank forces had expected to spend the war divided up piecemeal in support of infantry units, or sitting idle in bases as patrols elsewhere searched the civilian population. Now was their chance to win recognition for a decisive victory, and the promotions this was certain to bring.

Unfortunately for the intervening force, the lack of resistance just outside the city was not the result of a disorganized enemy withdrawal. Increasingly aware that they could not stop the enemy onslaught in the open, Al-Kabaab fighters had withdrawn into the city to concentrate their defenses there. Waiting quietly for the enemy to arrive, they had at first expected to be pummeled by artillery and airstrikes, meeting the same violent martyrdom as their compatriots who had not returned from Atarot. And indeed, government airplanes had already struck several neighborhoods of the city, though with no clear targets in mind. One can only imagine the insurgents’ surprise, then, as the Soodean tanks proceeded to line up in narrow columns outside the city and proceed at full speed into its narrow avenues.

The first column of tanks had already penetrated fairly deep into the small city when an RPG rocket soared out of an upper-story window. Jets of orange flame ripped open the vehicle’s hatches from the inside as its ammunition cooked off, incinerating the crew inside. The tanks behind only had a few seconds to steer aside before another, further back, met the same fate. Many of the shots came from the sides or the rear, often from windows high in the concrete apartments on either side of the street, and hit the tanks where their armor was thinnest. Unable to elevate their main guns high enough to reach the upper stories or low enough to fire on the basements, the tanks were unable to resist effectively. Damaged and destroyed tanks became obstacles on the road, preventing their comrades from retreating the way they had come.

The second column met a similar fate, but only after it had reached the small city’s main square. In this more open area, they were able to fight back more effectively, but amidst the confusion on the radio net some of the company commanders were forced to rely on shouted orders to coordinate their forces. Only adding to the confusion, one of the logistics platoons that had followed the combat force into the city was hit by suicide trucks, setting the diesel and ammunition transports ablaze and shrouding the northern areas of the city in a cloud of thick black smoke. Lieutenant-Colonel Ulan, the commander of the 2nd Battalion, called for air support, but the order first had to be relayed up to the divisional headquarters, which then relayed it to the airbase in general. The Imperial Soodean Air Force did not have strike aircraft in the area, however, and by the time their first sorties did begin to arrive, the thick smoke on the ground made it difficult to provide air cover. Concerned about hitting civilians and friendly units in the close-quarters fighting, the Major-General in charge of the aerial forces forbade any airstrikes within the city limits, and advised his Ummayan counterparts to do the same.

Inundated by a flood of desperate radio calls, the 4th Battalion carrying infantry in IFVs hurried to reach the city and open a breakthrough from the north. By the time they arrived, the sun had already set, adding to the darkness from the smoke. Exhausted from a long road march and acting on conflicting radio reports from the battalions inside the city, they only pushed forward slowly, and their advance soon stalled out in the face of similar resistance. The 262nd and 263rd Regiments arrived in the morning of the next day, bringing a larger contingent of infantry to clear a path to the center of the city. This time, the advance moved faster, but it remained a chaotic endeavor, peaking when panicked tank crews fired on approaching friendly infantry. In the afternoon, the infantry units made a second push and linked up with the remaining tanks, most of which had regrouped around the main square. Under covering fire, what little remained of the two exhausted tank battalions withdrew from the city, as the infantry worked to solidify their perimeter and begin pushing onward.

By the end of New Year’s Eve, 21 of the 32 tanks in the two battalions had been destroyed or abandoned. Casualties were still coming in, but the death toll was estimated at well over two hundred, including the commander of the 1st Battalion. The 2nd Battalion Commander, Lieutenant-Colonel Ulan, had survived – but, ashamed at his role in the costly mistake, he committed suicide the same evening. Only adding to the humiliation, Al-Kabaab announced the same evening that they had captured over a dozen Soodean soldiers and tank crew alive. A video released on January 1st would show these soldiers beheaded and burned alive, their mangled corpses paraded through the streets of the insurgent-held neighborhoods. Only ten days had passed since the first Soodean aircraft arrived in Ummayah, and already the situation was off to a worrying start.

Near El Arica
1 January 2005

Originally, the 121st Regular Mechanized Division was supposed to support the other two Divisions in the country, which were driving into the interior in an effort to push Al-Kabaab forces out. But news of recent events on the 27th had forced them to change course while still on the road to the front. If terrorist forces captured the capital – for the unit’s Ummayan intelligence contacts referred to the Free Ummayad Council and Al-Kabaab indiscriminately as “terrorists” – then the remaining government resistance might collapse outright, or at least suffer a major blow to morale. As such, the 121st Division was tasked with first setting up a defensive perimeter between the capital and the opposition-held zones, and then pushing outward with selected Regiments to retake Menachema and any other towns under “terrorist” control.

Yet this job would not be an easy one, a realization which became all the more urgent when news came that insurgents had set up an area of de-facto control inside Saladina itself. This news had prompted frightened reactions from the Expeditionary Corps headquarters, which had its temporary headquarters inside the city and was using it as a key conduit to import supplies. The Lieutenant-General in charge of the operation was negotiating with High Command and the Ummayan government for permission to bring in a brigade of [urp=http://iiwiki.com/wiki/Gunchal]Gunchal[/quote] to restore order and patrol the streets. Even if the request were approved, it would take perhaps another week to ready the formation and ship it over, maybe a few days if the lighter units were sent by plane. Until then, one Motorized Battalion held in reserve was tasked with keeping the area around the headquarters and the port secure, and each supply ship heading in or out was escorted by Navy vessels to deter pirate attacks.

For the soldiers now nearing the outskirts of El Arica, the fate of their headquarters was one among many problems weighing on their minds. High Command had tried to suppress news of the debacle at Mechili, but the rumors still spread like smoldering wildfire, all the more frightening for their lack of clarity. The officers in charge of this operation had been told to proceed with extreme caution, on the basis that government and police units in the city had been ambushed before. The combat units entering the city outskirts were already dismounting from their APCs, frightened at the thought of being trapped inside under RPG fire from above. Nearly everyone in the formation anticipated a battle, even though the city was officially under government control.

Not all, however, felt uneasy about the recent turn of events. Mubashir Kazemi, the premier of the Ummayah Baathist Movement, was deeply relieved to hear that Soodean troops were on their way to the capital. Unbeknownst to all but a few in his inner circle, the secret promises he had passed on to the Soodean diplomats were all part of a carefully manufactured lie. For decades, the Baathist Party had been merely a tool of the Muttalib ruling family, part of a rubber-stamp parliament designed to add legitimacy to their clientelistic reign. But soon, at long last, the Premier and his close allies would have an opportunity to reverse that situation. With Socialist troops dispersed around the capital, government forces demoralized by difficult fighting, and Al-Kabaab and the FUC beginning to lose ground, the conditions would soon be ripe for a coup that would turn the Baathist Party into the true rulers of the country.

by **Nova Sylva** » Sun Nov 20, 2016 1:58 pm

"Good god, Philip, do you really have to light one up now?" Serrano remarked, casting a nauseated look over at the Minister of Defense. Usually he didn't partake in a good smoke during emergency cabinet meetings, but there is a first time for everything. At first, he only heard the click of a lighter from his colleague.

"Given the subject comrade, I wouldn't make it without one," the Defense Minister replied. Just to make his point, he defiantly puffed a few smoke rings in his direction. "Ah, much better...you wouldn't know when a beauty like this could come in handy."

At least he knew how to break the ice, everyone else gave a small chuckle. The Commerce Minister, simply sighed as she opened the bay window, still wafting the latent fumes. The bright sunlight and refreshing air brought out the gloom in the Cabinet. She noticed the same serious, depressed expression on every face. Even the Secretary General, the master of optimism, appeared distracted. Everyone awaited the presentation. Returning back to her seat, she continued.

"As...ahem...I was saying...Comrades, we cannot afford to ignore this latest announcement. I'm afraid we risk further violence in the Southern Soodean Sea."

His valise included a press release from Karviná: "Port Authorities Encourage Armament of Merchant Vessels". Everyone knew that, if handled improperly, the situation spelled political disaster for the government. In the beginning, the various parties in Ummayah guaranteed safe travel for merchant vessels around the island. Sylvan, moreover, Valencia and Altagracian, ports relied on the security of these trade routes running along Karaman's northern and western borders.

Both routes were equally important: any disruption threatened the Sylvan economy, itself dependent a high volume of trade. Everyone at home believed that with such a large invasion force, commercial threats were minimal. At the time, why get involved? Now, with emboldened pirates stalking the waters, no ship was safe.

"Ah yes, one of the more 'sensitive' issues in the election," Serrano muttered as he scanned the file. "...at the time most of the attacks were small raids or close encounters. Ummayah was part of a stump speeches, but nothing serious. Now," he sighed, "the press is non-stop about seized cargo and sunk vessels. What was the name of that ship in the recent attack?"

"The Mirak I believe," the Defense Minister puffed, before producing a security file. "50,000 Metric Tons, Crew Compliment: 25, Final Destination: Capistrano; The ship was originally scheduled to go around the southern edge, but heavy storms convinced the company to switch routes. A distress call was issued at 04:41 AM about 100 km west of Immodia. By the time the nearest ship arrived, all that remained of the Mirak was a debri field: there were no survivors."

"...reports of hostages?" Serrano remarked, and the Defense Minister simply stuffed the cigar back into his mouth. "Good god."

"I believe that we have to act," the Foreign Minister, finally interjected, his bold tone uplifting the room. "Just after the Consulate Attack, everyone involved said our concerns about piracy were justified, but unnecessary. We decided to wait, and look where we are now. Erquin, Gaulicisa, Soode, even the Septentrion League failed to deliver. Each sought our support for this or that government, but not a single one appears to give a damn about us. And guess what? Our own people believe we don't give a damn either..."

"What are you proposing?" Serrano interjected, now intrigued by this latest announcement. He looked around the table for a moment, and seemed flustered: he hadn't thought of what to say next. After muttering a bit of incoherent blather he suddenly blurted "I don't know...Send a fleet!"

The entire cabinet lost its decorum on the suggestion, descending into a whole host of heated arguments. All of course except for the Minister of Defense. He appeared rather amused by the situation while slowly puffing away, toying with the smoke in the room. In the midst of this contentious debate, Philip Castel quietly pulled out a random government document and deemed its worthless. He stabbed the paper with his cigar, igniting a small portion. The smell of burning paper caught the notice of the cabinet, who turned to Ales.

"Excellent, now that I have your attention..." he retorted, blowing out the paper cinders. "I'd like to sugge- oh fuck!" Castel tried relighting his cigar, but to no avail. Furious, he rolled it into the crisp paper and threw it down the table.
"...Anyway," He restarted, "I'd like to support the Foreign Minister's suggestion: we can send a fleet. As you know the MoD draws up all sorts of contingency plans for these kinds of events, last month High Command drafted a Special Action Proposal regarding Ummayahan piracy."

Ales reached into his bag once again, pulling out a series classified files. The whole room edged on its seat, listening intently to the size, scope, and magnitude of the mission. "...we plan to successfully eliminate piracy along northern Ummayah, and substantially reduce its precense in the west. With enough luck we can blow their asses out of the water and not worry about arming every Sylvan dingy. We can begin operations in as little as 48 hours with our Altagracian Squadron."

The cabinet voiced their collective approval for the plan, and in one stroke, the meeting adjourned.

National Syndicalist Republic of Sylva
Department of Foreign Affairs Communique

To: [OPEN]
Subject: Operation Gulf Shield

Following recent attacks on several merchant ships, of which there was a significant loss of life, the Republic must officially move to quell the rising tide of piracy afflicting the international waters around Ummayah. The constant, unrelententing assault on international commerce can no longer be tolerated. Countless civilian vessels, whether Sylvan or otherwise, are in constant danger of reprisal from vile criminals without any means of protection. This situation has, for long enough, threatened the high volume of trade running into and out of the Republic. Altagracia's close proximity to Ummayah ultimately means many of our commercial interests are in jeopardy. This unending piracy has already severely damaged the Sylvan economy, costing hundreds of millions of dollars.

The Republic's previous petitions and overtures to the governments of Soode, Erquin, and Gaulicisa have sadly all either been ignored, or forgotten. Previous diplomatic efforts to encourage anti-piracy operations have resulted in false promises. The Republic is disheartened to see individual intervening nations are propping up hostile positions towards one another, rather than upholding pledges to peace and stability. The lack of concern for global trade has been astounding. We would like to take this opportunity to offer fresh military resources for the international mission to Ummayah.

It is to this end that the Government of the Republic, will send a task force of the Sylvan Navy to Karaman, to coordinate Operation Gulf Shield. The goals to which are:

To facilitate the free-flow of maritime commercial traffic along shipping lanes, specifically such traffic flowing in international waters along the northern sea border of Ummayah.

To facilitate the free-flow of maritime commercial traffic along shipping lanes in the Southern Soodean Sea, specifically such traffic flowing in international waters along the western coast of the island.

To punish such acts of piracy and other offenses on the high seas, confined to the above listed international waters. Specifically punishing such offenses categorized in the Sylvan Admiralty Code of 1931, and in multilateral Anti-Piracy treaties to which Sylva is a signatory member. Also, if necessary and able, to bring said criminals to trial in Sylvan courts.
To aid vessles, whether Sylvan or otherwise, whether commercial or military, in repeling hostile attacks against people or cargo as undergone by pirates originating from the island.

The Government of Sylva believes that through these measures under Operation Gulf Shield, acts of piracy and threats against commercial shipping activities will be severely reduced if not nullified. With enough action, the Republic plans to drastically diminish the loss of property and life on the high seas associated with the calamitous situation on Ummayah. The Government of Sylva cordially extends an invitation to all involved nations, m particularly those involved in the ongoing mission, to aid the Republic in Operation Gulf Shield. We would honor the chance to team up with international partners and stabilize the volatile situation off the coasts of Sylva.

As per previous communiques, the Republic officially restates its neutrality in the political conflict on the island. The government shall continue refusing to recognize any Ummayahan government until all international parties agree to a road-map for peace. The Republic shall neither interfere nor take part in any land based operations. The Government and Navy of the Republic shall continue to abide by the restrictions of the current arms embargo, in the hopes that this will lead to a swifter conclusion of the conflict.

Signed,

Stefan Serrano
Secretary General of the Republic

by **Westervelde** » Sun Nov 20, 2016 5:18 pm

Chatuari-Batavian Empire,
Kingdom of Batavia,
Summer Palace

The Sun continued to rise over the city of Veldeburg as His Imperial Majesty’s Government talked in hushed tones in quiet back rooms of the Summer Palace of His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor of the Western Realms by the Divine Mandate of Sol and Terra, Maurice von Veldeburg (may golden sunlight and silver moonlight forever bless the ground he walks on). By the time the sun had risen over the Eastern fringes of the Empire their tones all of the Empire was celebrating the dawn of a new year with all the joy and boisterous awe they could muster, oblivious to His Imperial Majesty’s Government scheming as they passed reports with ever growing numbers of notes between conference rooms, offices and drawing rooms, endlessly tailoring different response proposals to the situation in Ummayah. The Soodean Imperium could not be allowed control of both sides of the strait, who knows what kind of havoc the Emperor Su Dou could cause to international trade if he alone controlled it, after all, the Imperium’s relations with the globalising trade powers of the Veldeburg Pact had always been dubious at best, but the Empire could not afford to go in guns blazing. They weren’t friends, but they sure as hell weren’t enemies either. The Sylvan involvement was perhaps the most unwelcome, throwing annoying naval task groups around an already cluttered shipping lane was indeed a pain, and their condemnation of all sides involved and deployment of forces could be seen as a move towards attempting to gain control of that side of the strait for themselves. Letting Gauliscia or even the Imperium control that side of the strait was seen as far more preferable. Sylvan involvement would have to be watched carefully, and sufficient force put in place to deal with them if the Gauliscian or Soodean forces failed to force the Sylvans out if they made a move.

By the time the Sun had passed its zenith and most Imperial Citizens were preparing to go out with their families to the evening processions and fireworks, His Imperial Majesty had two proposals sitting on his desk:
The first, to dispatch a naval task group centred around the aircraft carrier ZRMS Willem-Alexander to immediately begin strike operations against Al-Kabaab, and possibly Soodean and Government forces within Ummayah to support Gauliscian and Mameluq forces, and to prepare to strike the Sylvans if they make any predatory moves. Overall this option would support Gauliscia and the Mameluqs, with the Soodeans being neutral at best. It would hand little direct control of the straits over to the Empire, but was the less costly, less involved option.

The second, to dispatch a naval task group centred around the aircraft carrier ZRMS Willem-Alexander and ZRMS Wilhelmina (which would arrive a few weeks later) to begin strikes against Al-Kabaab, and to clear the way for Imperial Marines to get ashore and establish a beachhead near Saladina and then to secure it against Al-Kabaab, and slowing force them out of the nearby areas. Overall this option would allow the Empire to support both Gauliscia, the Mameluqs and the Soodean Imperium. Hopefully this would allow the Empire a place and a strong position when the inevitable discussions of how to split the fractured land occurred. In the possible scenario of a Government-Soodean split the Empire could even possibly create a state around Saladina. This would hand far more control over the strait to the Empire, but would cost far more, in both lives and coin.

As the old man that was the Emperor of the Western Realms debated these proposals in his head over a glass of wine, he a message to the Gauliscian Embassy requesting urgent high level talks on this most pressing matter, a second, and less urgent message was sent to the Erquinian Embassy requesting cooperation on the matter of crushing piracy coming out of the Ummayan peninsula, but by far the most important, was a message sent to the Soodean Embassy requesting similar high level talks and a plea for cooperation on creating a united solution to the Ummayah Crisis.

by **Nova Sylva** » Mon Nov 21, 2016 10:14 am

"Anyhow...it was just a bit of paperwork, talking to the right people, and arranging this was easy. You don't mind anyway, right Admiral?"

"On the contrary, I've enjoyed this"

Alicante rolled his eyes, all of his colleagues gushed praise for Captain Jakub Barataza's coup de grace: getting top officers in the fleet on the Silestria, the pride of the Sylvan Task Force. Instead of work everyone had a bit of a vacation. For a day everyone sat around a fold-out table on the bridge, drinking, chatting about politics, and playing cards whenever they had the chance. All decided it was far easier to push the monotonous, dull work off onto the shoulders first officers, still hard at work on captains' ships. Barataza probably used his family connections in the Navy, and a touch of flattery to win the higher ups approval.

It's always the same story for Barataza, he was at least 10 years younger than everyone else his rank, and already circles talked about his promotion. Was he really as talented as people said he was? No, Alicante couldn't believe it, there had to be something else. In fact, Captain Hernandez planned on not even showing up as a form of protest, finding the whole getaway repulsive. But, he could not refuse a formal invitation from Admiral Varapraiso, who went along with the idea. Friendly but deeply reserved, Hernandez supposed the elderly Admiral enjoyed advising and tempering the next generation in the Sylvan Navy, and keeping them out of trouble.

Hernandez and his fellow officers deeply respected Varapraiso: a veteran with a lengthy career, and a distinctive reputation without parallel. The Admiral was also famous for a peculiar habit: he spoke in iambic pentameter, or in less than 10 syllables. Why? No one had a damned clue.

"Do you think the war on Ummayah will conclude any time soon Admiral?"

"Mmm..It's a sad case Captain Bronke..."

"So many people have needlessly died already, if you believe the press reports coming out of the country. If we intervene we have to inevitably pick sides, it's a bloody choice any way we look at it"

"You're right Hernandez, as usual"

"Excuse me sirs..." a navigation officer interrupted. "We are picking up a distress call from a ship named the Rederi."

Everyone lept from their warm seats, but Hernandez was the first to dash to the comm. Glancing over for a signal of approval, Admiral Varapraiso simply nodded and let him take the lead.

"SS Rederi, this is Captain Alicante Hernandez from the Sylvan Navy Frigate Silestria, what is your present situation. Over."

"Navy? Oh thank god! We were chased by a couple of armed skiffs for about five kilometers. And now these looters are on board the ship...heavily armed, we are attempting to resist as much as possible. Over....Fire on our main deck....we can't hold out forever. Over. Please send assistance. Over!"

The crew checked the position of the Rederi: they were no more than a few km from the fleet. They had, in fact, been in the vicinity for some time.

"SS Rederi," Hernandez started again "..keep your present position, we are moving to intercept. Over. Stay in radio contact for as long as possible. Over."

"Good lad..." Varapraiso smiled as Alicante handed off the comm. "...the rest of you sound the alarm..."

Sirens soon blazed across the ship, disturbing the once tranquil fleet. After consulting with the other officers, the Admiral authorized visual confirmation of the attack. In under 10 minutes a chopper from the Silestria's helipad flew off in the direction of the distress signal, overtaking the bridge as it flew off. The panicked captains made themselves useful by staying out of the way, or in Alicantes' case assisting the regular officers on watch.

The aerial team radioed in immediately: the Raderi's crew were exchanging rounds with the pirate invades. The situation appeared dire for the struggling civilians. Everyone was on edge, wondering what would happen next. The Silestria reached visual range within twenty minutes, the bridge crew thus seeing pillars of white smoke on the horizon. The units in the helicopter again radioed back, signaling they had no clear line of fire or way to evacuate survivors.

"Admiral you are going to want to hear this," the radio officer called out "...we've confirmed with the Rederi that they are carrying a full load of natural gas to th-"

The officer could not finish. In a flash everyone realized the danger of a burning tanker, the men in the helicopter were in harms way. They did not have a chance to contact the chopper, for just seconds later the vessel's gas tanks ignited. Hernandez saw the ship explode in a giant flash of light, sending out shock waves the rattled every window pane and free object on the bridge. Everything disappeared behind a cloud of fire and smoke, including the helicopter.

Hernandez didn't quite recall what happened next, but he knew someone swore. Then... utter silence on the bridge. Everyone knew the men in the helicopter would, in all likelihood, represent the first casualties of the operation. This grim reality hung over everyone; Admiral Varapraiso kept his characteristically straight face.

"Radio the Krishna," Varapraiso told the com officer. The smaller vessel could get in closer than the Silestria. "...tell them the news."

Another round of silence. Hernandez hated it. Everyone just watched, hoping the figures of a merchant vessel and helicopter would reappear. But the black cloud continued to expand, engulfing everything. After a minute, Admiral Varapraiso again broke the silence.

"Gentlemen, you should return to your ships."

"Uh, Admiral, where are you going sir?" one of the men asked.

"I'll be in the mess, drinking to the dead"

That was the last anyone heard out of Varapraiso. Though he disappeared from the bridge, everyone else continued to stare at the firestorm. Yet they stayed, watching as the fire drew ever closer. At times they observed the Krishna's rescue teams sifting through the burning wreckage. The wind blanketed the field with dense, black smoke. This new graveyard smelled only of fire and noxious gas; more queasy officers swore the air carried a whiff of melting flesh. This brought up fowl and paradoxical images, burning alive in the ocean.

Alicante only shuddered at the thought. He like the others, did not pray for survivors: there was no hope. They thus sailed in the sea of death, to clash with the shadows.

by **Murovanka** » Fri Nov 25, 2016 1:59 am

Northwestern Ummayah
2nd January

Outside Sarlum, the commander of the “Martyrs Brigade” grimaced as his officers gave him their sitrep. He cursed. Soodean airpower was overwhelming, and they didn’t know whether the foreign international forces would be on their side or not. On the ground, the regime army had regrouped and were pushing hard toward the one critical city for both the FUC and al-Kabaab. He cursed the Mamluks, whose forces were nowhere to be seen, despite being so prominent in the initial advance along the coast. Government forces were too numerous and too well-armed; against the Soodean-manufactured tanks they had little to counter with.

He had just been about to give the order authorising a full withdrawal to Sarlum proper, his unit decimated, and the only one holding the front, when one of his adjutants burst in.

“The Mamluks are moving, Sir, their attacking from the south, and their moving fast, they’ve already taken Sidi el-Caro, and are moving to encircle Ummayan forces.”

“Allahu akbar, we are saved.”

“They have new weapons; I saw them take down a Soodean fighter jet with some special missile. Their antitank weapons are amazingly effective. That’s how they managed to push back.” the adjutant said.

“I wouldn’t trust them.” one of the officers said bluntly. “Where’d they get it from? Why haven’t we seen any of it? We’re fighting the same enemies for now, but what they say rarely corresponds with reality; the two-faced bastards will turn on us before too long.”

“I will raise the matter before the Council.” the commander said.

Al-Hamza
Fulani Region
4th January

“Cease firing, cease firing!” calls rang out amongst the al-Kabaab ranks. The last of the government forces in the city- a combination of military and paramilitary police forces, were being besieged at the local police headquarters. It looked as though once again the government had been outsmarted and surprised. Not expecting al-Kabaab to extend across the vast deserts of the inner region, al-Hamza, a vital town and gateway to the eastern coast, had been found relatively undefended.

A messenger carrying a white flag approached the besieged enemy, carrying with him terms of surrender. Not that they were many terms. Capitulate, and you may not be massacred.

Theres not much more to add. The enemy had only let the messenger approach to give them time to reload their rifles, before a burst of fire rang out, and the messenger fell, dead. With a scream the violence exploded, gunfire, mortars sounding, a suicide truck ramming into the enemy from each direction followed by the entire mass of al-Kabaab fighters streaming in.

Casualties were heavy on both sides; but what followed was worse. Not one of the resisting enemy troops was spared; each was first mutilated, torn apart before being killed. And the whole episode was videoed and uploaded to the internet.

Hefaz District
Saladina
5th January

Emboldened by the “victory” they had achieved over the Soodean troops in Mechili, the Yarmuk al-Kabaab contingent looked to repeat the success here in Saladina, the enemy heart, quite literally, the place where men, tanks and munitions landed to be brought to bear on the jihadis on the front. And al-Kabaab had little choice but to give it all to disrupt the enemy supplies and slow their advance, because even as the al-Kabaab leadership rejoiced over the heavy casualties inflicted in the Battle of Mechili, and the international community shocked at the defeat of modern technology by a bunch of ragtag psychopaths, regime forces had in that time period methodically cleared and secured the city. Only a few suburbs remained in insurgent hands; the well-trained Soodean infantry, backed by their flying artillery and government forces had done well to clear it of the militants. Even if the carnage of several days prior was still fresh on their minds.

So all that stood between the enemy coalition and Basra, the al-Kabaab’s capital and headquarters, were only some fifty kilometres of sand. In addition, with Mechili gone, so went one of their main supply and logistics centers- their forces around the Ghardi Lake and inner Fulani were cut off from the capital.

A counterattack to retake Mechili was judged as impossible. Large formations stood little chance against the allied air forces, with government aircraft striking targets whether or not they were sure it was a military convoy or not. Movement could only happen at night, and even then it was risky and had to be done as discreetly as possible.

While they might be fanatical religious extremists, years of warfare meant they were also pragmatists, and the leadership knew that the time would come to evacuate Basra and continue the fight from the desert, as they had done prior to the sudden offensive that they had managed to conduct together with rebel forces.

But that did not mean they would give up; their primary weapon would be striking the enemy supply lines. As convoys moved through the streets of Saladina, dozens of pairs of eyes followed them, watched them, judged. Whether or not the convoy could be taken on by the limited weaponry that the Yarmuk al-Kabaab unit, still in strong control over the district they had silently seized.

And when it was possible, the plan was elaborate. As happened in Mechili, the first vehicle would be taken down by an RPG, IED, whatever could stop it- even a felled tree. Then from both sides, perched on high-rise buildings, bullets and more rockets would rain down and try to cause as much damage until Soodean attack choppers arrived to methodically silence the elevated al-Kabaab positions.

Samaria Region
6th January

From the initial flurry of FUC activity and its presence in and around Al-Haram set in, it quickly died down when reality, or the advance of Soodean forces, set in. Following several skirmishes with the enemy at El Arica, and a few problems here and there as regime forces advanced southward, the first tanks arrived at Menachema, which was when many citizens who had taken up arms abandoned them almost immediately and the communities tried to melt itself back into an image of innocence, people betraying one another, accusing each other of being FUC fighters and being responsible for flying the flag over the town.

It did not look good for the rebels as the civil war approached its fifth week. Thanks to the terror and pirate attacks by al-Kabaab, significantly more foreign countries were becoming interested in the happenings in Ummayah, and that (mostly) not to the benefit of the rebel forces. For all it was worth, the international coalition arrayed against the Kharjiite extremist network would consider the FUC part of the problem too, and they were all already on the retreat.

by **The Soodean Imperium** » Fri Dec 09, 2016 11:50 am

Off the west coast of Ummayah, near Sarlum
5th January (2005)

The aging aircraft carrier ISS Sinbukgang made its way slowly down the coast, keeping the tan mountains of Ummayah just above the horizon as it neared its new area of operation. Rear Admiral Hŏ stood on the upper balcony of the carrier’s island, looking out at the vast blue sea around him. The carrier was escorted by two cruisers, ISS Gangjin and ISS Samganju, both of them veteran ships from the Great Conquest War which had been pressed back into active service for coastal bombardment. Four ‘60s-vintage destroyers sat further out in the fleet, also for the shore bombardment role. Two more modern destroyers also followed along for air defense, but these were mostly for show; Naval High Command anticipated a one-sided battle for the seas, and was deploying its ships with this outcome in mind.

Down below the Admiral’s walkway, the flight deck was buzzing with activity. DS-5 multirole fighters lined the deck on the starboard side, and flight deck personnel rushed to and fro with carts of air-to-ground munitions. For the last few days, his air wing had been launching strikes against Al-Kabaab forces on the coast, supplementing Air Force units based in Karala. The fighting had been fairly one-sided, much as High Command had expected, though on the 2nd and again on the 4th he had lost fighters to anti-air missiles. The latter fact troubled him, as his pilots were on orders to fly above the effective engagement ceiling of all MANPADS in the Ummayan arsenal, and most of the latter were older models easily distracted by flares.

What troubled Admiral Hŏ the most was news that other navies – including several associated with the Veldeburg Pact – were also sending carrier battlegroups into the area. High Command had not anticipated this development, and their responses to his communiques were still ambiguous at best. In part, this was because the ISN’s mission was itself ambiguous. If the official objective was to uphold the Ummayan government by defeating militant forces, what would the Navy’s response be if foreign militaries began to launch airstrikes without approval? Or if they expanded these strikes to include government targets? Would Hŏ’s own fleet come under attack in such a scenario?

If the answer to the last question was yes, then even the Admiral himself knew his chances were poor. His warships were almost all aging gunboats, adequate for coastal bombardment against militants but ill-suited to protect the carrier against a conventional foe. Worse still, High Command had switched out the air group’s AWACS aircraft for additional strike fighters back at Emil-Si. Hŏ’s only option was to send out fighters using their surface-search radar, which put even more strain on the number of aircraft he could send on strikes at any given time. And it was only a stopgap option, even with the upgraded radars on his fighters.

The Rear Admiral breathed in, trying to catch the sharp tones of ocean salt over the smell of jet fuel and turbine exhaust. He longed for his desk job at Navy Headquarters, or even for the days spent docked in port. At least back then he could take comfort in the boring certainty of formality and routine.

Saladina
7th January (2005)

Lieutenant-General Baek looked over the map spread on the table, pondering the situation. It had already been two weeks since his force had started moving out, and already the original plan was beginning to go awry. The 26th Division had suffered heavy casualties in a premature attack on Mechili, and the losses in tanks were only outweighed by the losses in morale. The unit’s Motorized Infantry Regiments had arrived on the 2nd, and with their help, the city had been mostly retaken. A number of neighborhoods remained under Al-Kabaab control, but by now they were surrounded, and the 26th Division had taken the open land around the city.

With the city effectively knocked out, two regiments of the 26th Mechanized Division were now driving to the southwest. Soon they would reach the outskirts of Basra, the enemy’s de-facto capital. And they were not alone: the 48th Gyŏngjol Mechanized Division, staffed by the best commanders and troops, was moving in close behind, ready to reinforce them. Among this unit were a number of SuChŏng-6 tanks, the latest armored vehicles in the Soodean arsenal, ready for their first trial by fire.

This time, Baek was determined not to waste his nation’s latest tanks in a repeat of Mechili. At his orders, the division commanders in charge of the operation would first send their tank forces to circle around the city from the north, cutting it off from rebel forces in the West. If the operation worked quickly enough, he reasoned, they might even be able to trap the enemy leadership inside the city. After this, the two Divisions’ mechanized and motorized forces would begin to advance into the outskirts, steadily pulling the noose tighter. Given the religious fanaticism his forces had encountered so far, he expected to face even fiercer resistance closer to the enemy headquarters. But as long as the enemy attempted to put up a conventional line of defense, his troops would have skill and training on their side.

Further east, the 17th Mechanized Division was engaged in battle around Timmi, and appeared to be nearing success, at least according to Major-General Ro. Baek had hoped to push east fast enough to relieve the siege at Al-Hamza, but the latter had fallen to terrorist forces on the 4th and it seemed there would be no government forces left to close off the other flank. Nevertheless, given the rate at which his forces were already advancing, Al-Kabaab morale would have to crack soon, and local morale would have to improve. Reports trickling up the chain of command suggested that local civilians were greeting their liberators energetically, but Baek had been in the Imperial Soodean Army long enough to know that there was probably more than a little exaggeration at work here. He wished the reports were a little more reliable; unpleasant truths were one thing on the Home Front, but they only made a commander’s job harder. That said, if Al-Kabaab’s fundamentalist interpretation of religious law was as brutal as some said, even an army of foreigners would have to be a welcome sight to those recently freed from its rule.

Only in the far east did Lieutenant-General Baek seriously worry about the uncertainty of the outcome. After receiving reports that rebel forces had risen up in several major cities near the capital, he had sent the 121st Division racing along to Samaria. News that the rebels had laid down their arms was reassuring at first, but now the entire province had become a question mark, an unknown variable. If the 121st Division got up and left, would insurgents gather their hidden arms and retake control? Morale among government forces was weak enough, and Baek seriously doubted that they would remain in any good fighting order if the capital fell. As a result, a quarter of his intervention force was dispersed around the region of Samaria, patrolling the streets and reinforcing checkpoints along the main highways but otherwise detached from the fight. It was a sitting war – a waiting game – and one that the Lieutenant-General wasn’t comfortable playing.

Outside, a muffled explosion rang out in the distance, not far enough to pose a real threat but close enough to rattle the windows in their panes. Another followed soon afterward. Mortars again, Baek thought. The presence of insurgent forces in Saladina was also unsettling, but in a more immediate way. When the task force first arrived, he had been concerned that the city was too far back for a Corps headquarters, but now the front lines were just a few kilometers from his building, sometimes less. Elements of the 506th Gunchal Brigade had arrived two days ago, and more were on the way; these elite military police were trained in urban fighting and search-and-destroy missions, and he trusted that they would be able to keep the situation under control. Already, it appeared that they had managed to cordon off the insurgent-held neighborhoods, but his convoys out of the city were already coming under occasional attacks, and he didn’t have many more rear-line troops to use.

Over the open desert, the risks were also great, less because of ambushes and more because of roadside bombs. Many of the vehicles at his disposal had only minimal anti-mine armor, especially the rugged but unprotected Gangwŏn supply trucks. And with the ground forces pushing further and further inland with their fuel-thirsty tanks and IFVs, the corps’ supply lines were stretched to the breaking point. Pirates were also a threat. On the open waves, the Navy had given him its guarantee that every supply ship bound for Saladina would have at least a frigate escorting it, and no motor-skiff would last long against a few bursts of 30mm gunfire. But once in the harbor, things were riskier. Just a few days ago, a panicked sailor manning one of a destroyer’s mounted machine-guns had opened fire on a boat of curious fishermen that had strayed too close to his ship, wounding several civilians on board. The Navy was still sorting the matter out in some kind of tribunal, but it was a bad event for local support, Navy morale, and domestic media all in one.

Earlier in his years, when he was an idealistic First Lieutenant, Baek would have stood firmly behind the Navy’s decision to harshly discipline an enlisted sailor who fired on civilians without orders. Even as a General on the home front, he would have backed that decision, albeit on procedure rather than principle. But after just a few weeks in this haze-shrouded country, he was already coming to see that war was never a clear thing – especially this kind of war, where the enemy wore no uniforms and crept easily behind the lines. All he wanted now was a swift victory, a final push at Basra and then a westward drive to Sarlum. The sooner he could get his soldiers out of this country, the better.

by **Nova Sylva** » Fri Dec 16, 2016 3:49 pm

Peering through his binoculars Captain Hernandez saw the little craft explode in a ball of fire, confirming another hit from the forward battery, which deafened the ship only moments earlier. The burning flames engulfed the little patch of debris; the remaining skiffs, knowing they would miss the plunder, dashed for the distant Ummayahan shore. Out of the corner of his eye, Hernandez spotted a missile boat, the SS Trigger Finger attempted to take off after them. Her captain, Garcia, was certainly ambitious, if he and the Trigger Finger wished to capture the pirates and reap the glory, that was his priority. Hernandez smirked, he just wanted a chance to show off the big guns. He remained impressed: his crew performed admirably so far.

"This is most excellent," Alicante smiled, looking at the bridge crew. "Radio the OS Freighter, let them know that we will escort them at a safe distance for, oh, another 10km."

"Yes Captain," an orderly replied, promptly returning to the com.

"I've downgraded us to level 2 sir, all stations are reporting in at standby." The XO interjected. Alicante gave a short nod. "This is the third attempt they've made on merchant ships the past week. Do you think they will get the message now?"

"Presumably yes Commander, if not we can always test out the Navy's latest Anti-ship missiles. I'd love to see that sight-" Captain Hernandez quipped. XO couldn't help but crack a small smile. "But in any case, I assume the Trigger Finger will try to chase down a few of the craft. Maybe get a few prosecutions in- I don't know."

"Sir, one of our military helicopters is approaching," the radio officer announced. "They are asking for clearance to land, and are transmitting code AA3."

AA3? Captain Hernandez was definitely intrigued. What could a non-combat official want with his ship? Whatever the case, he could not turn down the request. After signaling his approval, Alicante decided to walk the length of the deck, confirming that, indeed, a Navy helicopter was an a fast intercept course with their task force.

Hernandez arrived at the helipad just in time, from a distance he spotted a lone passenger disembarking the craft.

"You picked one hell of a time to arrive Agent Franc!" He shouted at the top of his lungs, giving his friend a strong handshake. "We just chased off a few militants back to the shore, I hope you have an excuse for interrupting our operations."

"It's good to see you too officer, or should I say skipper!" His friend bellowed, motioning for the two of them to travel along the starboard railing. "Now Alicante," Franc began, slowing his walk, "you are probably wondering why I, and by extension, the Naval Crime Unit is here today-"

"Yeah Marcel, I want to know what a military cop is doing on my ship." Hernandez smirked. "Are you here to see if I'm properly disciplining my crew?" He saw his companion shake his head. "Oh, then I can only assume you are here to keep tabs. You know how I feel about red tape. . ." Again, his companion shook his head. "Then what brings you here Agent Franc? Bribery?"

"Arms dealing. . . don't scoff Alicante" Franc snapped. "You gave me that same face when I proposed to your ex-girlfriend." The pair stopped, now squared off against one another. "Anyway, this is serious. We've evidence that someone, or someones, within the fleet is smuggling arms through the Gaulicians."

"And, NCS believes this why?" Hernandez asked, dumbfounded.

"We uncovered a whole bunch of missing money in select procurement accounts. Traced it to arms purchases across the globe: Wanka, Organized States, Westervelde, hell, anyone with even a pop gun to sell. Someone in the Sylvan Navy, someone with high enough clearance, is actively supplying the militias. All the while defrauding the Navy and possibly triggering an international scandal. We've narrowed it down to vessels active in Operation Gulf Shield-"

". . . You think I'm the one playing mafioso?"

"Please skippo', you are not clever enough to pull this off." France quipped. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. But that is beside the point. Andrew, someone in this Navy Task force is committing treason. And it's not some staff clerk: it's one of your rank. I'm not kidding-"

Hernandez leaned out over the railing, staring off at the distant coastline. For almost a minute he proved unable to respond, the mere thought of a fellow captain, a man of honor, capable of betraying the Republic? It's values? Impossible. The evidence however, forced him to consider otherwise.

"Alright Marcel, what can I do to help?"

"Excellent. This is strictly on a need to know basis, no one outside of your immediate senior staff is privy to this information. Here you go, all our intel. . ."

by **Murovanka** » Wed Dec 21, 2016 2:52 am

Gowan
30km west of Basra
9th January

Though al-Kabaab propaganda said that the Battle for Basra was to be the final, apocalyptic fight between good and evil (or something along those lines which the Hadayya prescribed), reality was that there was no way the jihadists were going to simply give up following their inevitable loss of territorial control.

Reality had set in, and the al-Kabaab leader Mullah al-Harabi was not going to believe that some miracle of God would clear the skies of Soodean aircraft or send a rain of fire to obliterate their tanks. Therefore, as the enemy neared, seizing village after village, overcoming the IEDs in their way, most of the al-Kabaab leadership was ready to leave Basra. They would return to their old headquarters deep in the Great Ummayad Desert where they had easily managed to evade capture and detection from Ummayad forces for years.

That did not mean al-Kabaab was not going to put one final conventional effort to defy the infidel invaders. The town of Gowan was one of the last few crucial spots on the map where, if lost to the Soodeans, Basra would be completely surrounded. Junud al-Kabaab could do little against the armoured formations pitted against them in the open desert; anything which resembled a tank could expect to have a squadron of angry Soodean fighters ready to blast it to oblivion within minutes of being spotted.

But there was one last chance. Here, in anticipation of the necessity of defending the town, preparations had been made which would be the one last time to strike back at the enemy. Some 300 fighters had congregated here, as well as a 25 fully operational tanks, stolen in the initial advance, which had been camouflaged well outside the small town. Facing them was a party of a company of Soodean tanks as well as three IFVs carrying a platoon of mechanised infantry. Likely a reconnaissance unit carrying out more the role of the spearhead of the advance.

The Soodeans were allowed to move into the town center before the jihadis engaged them in a typical ambush-style attack from positions atop buildings. The enemy had adapted, however. As soon as RPGs were spotted a barrage of small arms, auto cannon and tank fire suppressed the position. The infantry had dismounted and the armoured vehicles formed a mobile stronghold of sorts, though as was easiest, the unit reversed its way back out of the town to wait for the air force to flatten the jihadi positions.

Which was when the al-Kabaab tank battalion appeared over nearby hills at the Soodean’s rear. The plan was simple. Pin them in the town so their artillery and air force wouldn’t be able to strike without significant risk of collateral damage, and then overwhelm with sheer numbers at close quarters. To that end, seven al-Kabaab tanks provided cover fire as the other 18 rushed, they too firing, at the Soodean recon unit which stopped dead in its tracks in this new form of ambush. A shell smashed into the turret of a Soodean MinChong-5, destroying optics, mangling the machine gun and shutting down the electronics. That tank and two more MinChong-5s, as well as one IFV, swivelled around to meet the new threat. The battlefield lit up with smoke and fire as the war’s first and likely only tank battle unfurled. The damaged Soodean was the first to retaliate, blowing the turret off a fast-moving al-Kabaab tank. Soodean soldiers ran for cover as the wild fire of the al-Kabaab force sent shells detonating around them, but barely any registering hits, with smoke thrown obscuring the vision of the al-Kabaab gunners. The Soodean tanks replied with accurate fire, taking one tank out after another. Shells that hit the Soodeans detonated the reactive armour, or often glanced off the front. The IFV launched an ATGM, flipping one of the sniping enemy to its side. By the time they came within 150 meters however, there were still fifteen al-Kabaab tanks remaining, coming in from a wide angle, some of the Soodean’s weaker side armour exposed. Then another MinChong-5 was struck in the turret, by the gun mantlet, knocking the gun out of action. The one that had initially lost its optics had received another five more frontal hits, one of them finally getting through, killing its driver and damaging the engine. The gunner however kept firing, manually operating the gun.

The mechanised infantry finally came into action, antitank missiles at the ready, sending swarms of wire-guided rockets at the al-Kabaab tanks, finally defeating the assault. One jihadi tank managed to break right into their position, one Soodean soldier who couldn’t get clear dying in gruesome manner, before it came to a stop by ramming the IFV. The Soodeans climbed atop the tank, forced open the hatch and shot the crew to pieces with a hail of blind gunfire.

The battlefield was littered with the hulks of the former metal beasts, surviving crew helping themselves to escape. Four more surviving tanks continued the firefight, but a sortie by Soodean ground-attack aircraft soon finished them off. Soon enough, surviving militants fled, either heading for Basra for the final battle or deserting back home. The capital of the al-kabaab Caliphate was now surrounded.

by **Gauliscia** » Thu Dec 22, 2016 2:18 pm

2nd Strategic Bomber Squadron, Nuyadiq Air Base, Viceroyalty of Tuxlocia
“Warriors of the sky, drivers of the cloud chariots, behold! The reeking huts and hovels wherein the enemy nest and rest: Hujjaqom. It is from the walls and roofs of this town that Auyadelle was assaulted, where they learnt to hurl shafts and wreak slaughter. Indeed, what is more… delectable… the preacher who incited them to such carnage resides there now, our scouts picked up his stench from the hills. Level it! Hurl balls of flame into their hollows, make crisp their skin and transfigure the straw on which they slumber to ash. So go! Take to the skies! Your winged mounts squawk and screech to fly through the ascending smoke and gore. Fly!” So ordered an officer of many ranks, as they scrambled from the plotting chamber to the birds of war, presently being fed sustenance for the flight, sharpening their talons.

With a roar and great swoop, half of a dozen great grey birds of war took to the starry skies, soaring as they went. Through the wispy clouds, passing great winged beasts they came over the barren expanse of Umayyah. Guided by vengeance and bloodlust their wings cast a shade over Hujjaqom. Indeed, with great cawing did they release great black pellets onto the forsaken village. Like an awesome scaled serpent of Thyrfann Highlands, the birds circled, leaving blazing pyres in their terrible wake, the screams of the townspeople, the crackling and snapping of the straw roofed huts and the wretched odour of charred flesh blackened by the flaming tongues. And they delighted in the despair and havoc delivered by their shafts and flames. The Boar of Gauliscia, formerly maimed by a brutal assault, has swung it's tusks in retaliation, dealing death and paving a gore stained oath for its people. The Bœndesréich would prevail.

Imperial Court of the Chattuari-Batavian Empire
On bended knee before the emperor did the High King, Amalrich II indeed drop. Behind him, gifts of the realm, fruits of the earth and industry. A great high antlered stag, pelts of great beasts, heaps of ancient weapons: bows of willow, swift flying javelins, shining blades and thick shields. Baskets of bread too, strings of sausage and casks of mead.
“Your Imperial Majesty, gatekeeper of the Gulf and Marshall of Your immense Host; I have come to discuss matters concerning Ummayah, a land of dust and camels far across the deep blue in the land of the rising sun. We despatched a fleet of many sails, which bears into their waters soon, their hulls weighed down by arms and men. Ummayah must be, like a wild steppe stallion, broken and tamed. It must be tethered to a sturdy post until it becomes docile and no longer rears its legs in wild fury. A village from whence those savage assaults on our soil were launched was overturned in fire and lead early this morning in vengeance. The Mameluqs will aid us in these efforts and for this, they shall be rewarded lavishly. A Mameluq State. But Ummayah will not let the green coasts in the west slip from its grasp so easy. We may find our blade clashing on theirs….”

Valkyrie Group, Gauliscian Expeditionary Task Force, entering Ummayad Waters
Nœrji, Lord of the North Winds, delighted by the offerings in his name by Admiral von Thaxenhuÿs swelled the sails of the fleet, guiding them south and on course to retribution. Birds of war were now especially keen lest they fail in their sentry duty and render the fleet and its burden the feast of deep ocean beasts.

Admiral von Thaxenhuÿs pondered over the matters before him, for indeed did these things concern him greatly; the fresh flesh that would be savaged, the local people; guilty of no crime and the matter of supplies; how to keep the soldiers well armed and fed even when having ventured far from the oaken hulls of the fleet. They were to land on friendly shores, where Mameluqs roamed the land: there would be no forced landing and the ensuing shattering of keels and bloodied sands. Verily now was it time to address the fleet.
“Warriors of the High King, defenders of the Realm, oath-sworn men! Harken to and heed my word! The misty shores of Ummayah will soon be seen by the crow’s nest of the advance guard. Hold it close in your minds that we are here as allies and liberators -not as a conquering horde. There shall be no salting of their furrows, no ravishing of their maidens, no looting of their settlements and no murdering. Men who disgrace the banner under which they were mustered: they will be punished with a savage death. As for the Ummayad foes however, yield no mercy. Streak the desert with their blood and strike terror into their cores. The gods smile on Gauliscia, on our cause and on you. We are righteous and favoured above all else. Ensure our fallen have not perished in vain. Forth, Warriors of Gauliscia!”

A sun of deep orange rose above the sea. Almost crimson. A crimson dawn.

by **The Soodean Imperium** » Fri Dec 30, 2016 6:34 pm

Public Statement by the Government of the Socialist Republic of Innominada
7 January (2005)
“Forward Together Under the Banner of Revolution”

The Innominadan government is deeply angered by the situation in Ummayah, where the government remains unable to restore order to the country. This is not only a matter of internal dignity; it is also a matter of international security. Only two weeks ago, rioters and criminals sympathetic to Shahidism led unprovoked attacks on our people, turning Christmas into a bloody affair. We will not forget this atrocity, nor will we allow it to happen again.

As such, we have resolved that the best way to prevent further attacks on our people is to take the offensive. The Ummayan government has already proven to the world that it is fully unable to restore order on its own, and the arrival of Soodean troops has only made it more and more reliant on foreign support. Such an approach is, in our eyes, fundamentally misled. We in Innominada are convinced that the Ummayans will be unable to restore order until they learn civilization – a lesson best taught through force.

Tomorrow, aircraft from Innominadan airbases will join the Gauliscian military effort with an organized strategic bombing campaign over Ummayah. It is our hope that these attacks will strike fear into Al-Kabaab and its civilian sympathizers, and force the Ummayan government to either step up its efforts or fall to the will of the people.

This campaign will continue until every Ummayan man, woman, and child remembers these words: the martyrs of 25 de Diciembre will be avenged!

City of Basra
10th January (2005)

“Daewi!”¹ the messenger called out, scrambling through the dusty, cratered street to the command vehicle. “Daewi!”

“Hagŭp-Byŏngsa!”² the Captain shouted back, opening the door of the APC to see the soldier running toward him “What are you doing out here? This isn’t your Company!”

“Where’s your mortar platoon?” the messenger blurted out as he pulled to a stop and saluted. “The men in Chiŭt Company are being hit by friendly shells, they think it’s from your unit. The mortars need to adjust their fire.”

“Why can’t you say that over the radio, Byŏngsa?” the Captain asked.

“All the channels are cluttered, sir, we can’t get a line to your unit. You should know that as well as anyone.” Both men ducked down instinctively as a mortar bomb, this one enemy, landed nearby. “Now tell me where the mortars are so I can get over there!”

“Mortars are somewhere back that way.” The Captain stepped fully out of the vehicle now, pointing back down the street he had come from. “Go look for them. I have to lead Biŭp Company in the attack.”

The messenger looked in the other direction, where about two platoons’ worth of soldiers were huddling behind a low wall. On the other side was a wide concrete building, four stories high and running the full length of the block. Between them was a wide avenue littered with debris, including a BSCh-4 still burning from where it had hit an IED. The bodies of its less fortunate passengers lay strewn around it.

“That’s a death trap, Daewi!” the messenger blurted out. “If there are still hostiles in that building, they’ll have a clear field of fire across the- !”

The messenger stopped mid-sentence as the Captain stepped forward threateningly. “Do you see my shoulders, Hagŭp-Byŏngsa? I’m more ranks above you than I can count on one hand. That building is a hospital, and occupied or not, there’s no way I’m calling down mortars and smoke there. We will take it through force of arms!”

“Daewi-“

But the Captain had turned his back now, and was walking toward the huddled soldiers behind the low wall. With unnerving calm, he drew his sword, pointing it ahead at the hospital across the street. “Su Dou Daeje Man-manse!”³

“Manse! Manse!” the soldiers shouted, raising their weapons as the cry spread along the ranks. Their long bayonets glistened in the afternoon sun as they climbed over the wall, rushing onward toward the target. Almost as soon as they set foot on the pavement, automatic fire erupted from the windows of the hospital, cutting several down where they stood. The Captain walked after them, sword still drawn, as though somehow unfazed by the massacre unfolding around him. Only the messenger was left standing behind, frozen in shock at the horrible absurdity of the scene.

Skies over Northern Ummayah, near Makkah
11th January (2005)

Two Daesungri fighters coasted through the air at high altitude, their wings at half-sweep. Ever since the 8th, when Innominadan bombers began penetrating Ummayan airspace, the Imperial Soodean Air Force had stepped up its patrols, diverting more and more fighters away from ground-attack operations. These DS-5s were in an air-to-air loadout, with two each of radar-guided and heat-seeking missiles and a fuel tank slung underneath. It was a strange loadout for a counterinsurgency war, and even the pilots were still unsure of their mission.

“Contact at 1 o’clock,” the lead pilot radioed to his wingman, reaching up with one hand to adjust the dials on the old radar display. “No… make that two. Two large contacts. Range… about 20 kilometers. You have them?”

The sky was blue and clear, hardly a cloud in sight save for a few streaks of white near the horizon. The desert was empty as well, interrupted only by a few winding roads and, at their center, the small holy city of Makkah.

“Roger that, I have visual,” the wingman replied, as the fighters accelerated and drew nearer. Ahead of them were two tiny but distinct specks in the sky.
On radar, the lead pilot would have taken them for Ummayan strike planes returning from a sortie, a rare sight under the new Soodean flight agreement but not unexpected. But upon drawing closer, it was clear that they were too large, and flying too high.

“Mission control, this is Green 1. We have two unidentified radar contacts near the Wadi mountains, heading southeast.”

“It’s got to be Innominadans,” the faint response crackled in. “We tracked two bombers flying over Saladina, but lost contact when they passed beyond the mountains. That’s daring, I wouldn’t have expected to see them this far in.”

“Looks like they’re headed for the city, sir,” Green 2 added.

“Move to intercept now,” ground control ordered. “Get them to turn back. We can’t stand by while they bomb the city, we need to make a stand.”

“Roger.” Green 1 gritted his teeth behind his oxygen mask, then nudged the throttle further forward and switched the radio frequency. “This is the Soodean Imperial Air Force. You are trespassing in Ummayan airspace. Turn back now.”

“Hijo de puta! Vayate!”

“Target is unresponsive,” Green 1 reported. They were drawing closer to the contacts now. These were clearly bombers, and they were coming closer to Makkah. “It looks like they’re going to begin bombing the town, sir.”

“We can’t let them do that, it’s a holy site. If they attack there, it will trigger a national outrage.”

“Green 2. They remain unresponsive.”

“Then you have permission to engage.”

Within his cockpit, Green 1 turned his head and looked over to the fighter beside his. Even through the glazed canopy and the black visor, he could tell his wingman was looking back at him, equally in shock.

“Did you hear my order? I repeat: Engage!”

Green 1 took a deep breath, still startled but unwilling to disagree. “Understood, control. Will comply.” Flicking the necessary switches, he locked the first bomber on his radar. “Gin Chang!”⁴

A missile raced away from the right-inner hardpoint, leaving a trail of smoke. The bombers were not far ahead now, and only a few seconds passed before an orange flash marked the impact. “Splash one,” Green 1 reported.

“Gin Chang,” the wingman added, firing at the second bomber. His missile overshot the target, which was now pulling hard to the right, away from the tumbling shrapnel where its comrade had once been. The white shimmer of anti-radar chaff flickered out behind it, and both Soodean pilots’ radar displays began to flicker from jamming. “Ken!”⁵ Green 2 shouted, firing a heat-seeking missile as his fighter drew closer to the target. This time, the missile came closer, detonating near the target as its proximity fuse registered one of the wings. Smoke and flame billowed from its left engines, and it began to descend, releasing its ordnance over the open desert to shed weight.

“Green 1. First target is confirmed destroyed, second is damaged and has jettisoned ordnance. Fuel is low but above bingo level. Request orders to proceed.”

“Return to base,” mission control replied. “That will send them a lesson.”

세기 신문
Segi Sinmun
The Century Times

Official Newspaper of the Soodean Social-Democratic Party - a Proud Coalition Partner of the Soodean Socialist Party

2005/1/12

Tensions surrounding the Soodean intervention in Ummayah reached a new height earlier today as the Innominadan government issued an official statement on the bomber shootdown we covered in yesterday’s issue. In addition to reiterating a statement given at an impromptu press conference yesterday, which described the event as an “unprovoked attack,” the official press release referred to it as an “act of war,” raising concerns about an escalation to open conflict. In a recent reply, the Chairman of the Soodean Socialist Party reiterated the military’s initial claim that the bombers were attempting to engage an Ummayan holy site, an accusation the Innominadan government denies. He also stated that the Supreme Military Court was preparing an investigation to determine how and why the ISAF authorized the shootdown in apparent violation of its rules of engagement.

This crisis comes at the end of a long and steady chilling of Soodean-Innominadan relations, which were friendly in the years just after the Decembrist Revolution. The Soodean government has repeatedly criticized its Innominadan counterpart for mistreating members of the Uzeri minority, an indigenous population present in both countries which practices Rashida Shahidism. Other disagreements are political in nature: Innominadan leaders have leveled attacks against Emperor Su Dou’s “Build Up the Country” reforms, calling them “Capitalism in disguise,” while the Soodean Socialist Party has recently sought to contrast its orderly vision for the country against Innominadan “anarchism.”

Yet the recent bomber shootdown, which comes close on the heels of a series of violent ethnic riots late in December, brought the relationship between the countries to a level not seen since 1944. In particular, the Innominadan government’s decision to label the shootdown an “act of war” represents a dangerous ambiguity in signaling. General Kang Yŏng-Nam, who has already become a rare but outspoken critic of the Soodean military’s poor performance in Ummayah, took this opportunity to urge the relocation and mobilization of forces to the Innominadan border, which remains only lightly defended. Yet the overall tone of Soodean military press statements suggests that they are attempting to quell the crisis, in part because the border remains unprepared. The ISAF also reported that the Innominadan military appeared to have suspended its bomber flights over Innominada, though it is unclear how long the suspension will last.

It is also unclear how this event will affect diplomacy within Septentrion’s Socialist Bloc. The Maverican government has not yet issued an official statement, but their history of ideological leanings strongly suggests that they will back Innominada in this dispute. The Soodean embassy in Chandler City also awaits the Sylvan government’s reply; if this is also hostile, it may be cut off from both the Socialist Bloc and the Veldeburg Pact. Already, there are whispers in Donggwangsan⁶ that the Soodean Imperium may invest in building up relations with New Oyashima, which if true would represent a major pivot in diplomatic policy.

1: Daewi: Company-grade commissioned officer rank (OF-2) equivalent to Captain
2: Hagŭp-Byŏngsa: Enlisted rank (OR-3) between Private and Corporal, roughly equivalent to Pvt. 1st Class or Efreiter
3: Su Dou Daeje Man-manse: "Long Live Emperor Su Dou" - traditional Menghe, now Soodean, battle cry, often shortened to "Manse" (long life, lit. "living to ten thousand years")
4: Gin Chang!: "Long Lance!" - ISAF brevity code for firing an active-radar-guided air-to-air missile, equivalent to NATO "Fox Three."
5: Ken: "Sword!" (in Eastern dialect) - ISAF brevity code for firing an infrared-guided air-to-air missile, equivalent to NATO "Fox Two."
6. Donggwangsan: Hill in the city of Donggyŏngsi containing a historic palace complex where the Soodean Emperor and the Supreme Council are based. Often used as shorthand for the Soodean government as a whole.

by **Gauliscia** » Tue Jan 10, 2017 5:52 am

Western Ummayah
The appointed day had dawned. As the sun drove it's flaming chariot around the earth, a fleet, thick and black appeared on the horizon, sailing swiftly. In the skies, launched from Tuxlocia, the sky-sprung warriors of the Gauliscian Foreign Legion descended from their birds, landing in the fields and mustering in the friendly Mamluq settlements. Also from Tuxlocia, troop-carrying ships, men and weapons spilling into the decks brought more Foreign Legion troops and their beasts of war. Almost 10,000 foreign legion forces, over the course of the day would land, by air or ship. Their supplies were piled high and closely guarded but the Mamluqs, elated and strengthened by their arrival brought out many feasts for their billeted troops and drenched them in coffee and fruit juices.

Under the watchful eye of air sentinels and the deck-sprung raptors of the fleet, the troop ships opened their stomachs and out poured flotillas of landing craft, loaded with marines and their vehicles. From the decks of the bird carriers, rotary craft swooped in on the landing sites, bringing in more men and arms. But no sooner had they landed did their officers crack their whips and set the men to work. Patrols were sent out to secure the frontiers of Mamluq lands and guard them tightly, watchtowers and beacons were established around airstrips so that now craft from Tuxlocia and even Gauliscia itself could land with no risk of being shot down. Shovels and axes were also picked up to establish great camps for the men, where they could stable their beasts and rest themselves, but also mount a defence should the enemy amass and swarm the land. Barracks too were hastily assembled and young Mamluqs were trained into warriors that could fight alongside their new allies.

The Boar had cleared the fox from its glen and now made a nest in which to raise to its young. The foxes would return, having licked their wounds so the Boar gathered thorns to defend the thicket. Violence would follow but for now, the factions parted and made ready for war.

Tassowen Airfield, Kingdom of Thuringia, United Realm of Gauliscia
With landing zones secured in western Ummayah, it was time to send in the main forces. 30,000 more men, infantry, cavalry and artillery amassed to the great aviary beasts that would haul them to Ummayah. At their head, Field Marshal Gumaarich, 12th Earl of Chæssenfuert, a man of many years under the banner and revered by the men, who cheered him fervently when he came through the camps. Long and thick were the columns that marched into their sky wagons, their arms and armour glistening under the sun. The great grey hulks soared off into the sky, the next one unfurling its wings and making ready for it was a long flight.

Wittomund Sœrjich sat upon his bulging sack, helmet dangling from his belt, rifle propped beside him. He was a newly appointed corporal, his rank badge still crisp from the ceremony. The pay was now enough to support a family and his wife could retire from her job as a cherry-picker and raise the children from the home. He had impregnated his wife just before the attacks in the Bochsthor and now he was to go to war. Would his wife raise his seed alone? Being the wife and children of a fallen soldier, a hero and warrior of the realm, they could expect a substantial sum and monthly living. But this would not compensate for a father. If it were a son, who would teach it to hunt boar and muntjac? If it were a daughter, who would give consent for her hand in marriage? Who would read it the epics of old? The ancestors would watch over them, as would Frœche, Goddess of Widows and Hlagi, God of Veterans. But he could ponder no longer on these matters as the roar of a sergeant called him and his squad to the line.

Xaarloë, Staff Command HQ, Kingdom of Saxonia
All was busy within the walls of the military hive. Couriers scurried about, hugging their documents lest they spill everywhere and cause carnage, officers strode from room to room, their boots clicking, barking orders, demanding matters be brought to them. His Majesty’s Secretary for Military Affairs had arrived, followed by a long train of junior ministers and civil servants. Civilians. The uniformed men stopped whatever task they were fulfilling to watch these city elite make their way through the winding halls. Jannick Thassohéim held this position as minister, a former naval officer himself and he was knowledgeable on such things, much to the horror of the civil servants in his ministry who indeed prefer to advise than be simply dictated to.

No less busy was the plotting room where they arrived, but a calm and studious air prevailed. The first waves of troops were already on the way to Lendol, where their craft could rest their wings and take on grain, and the men could stretch their closely bound limbs and gasp in the fresh air, before completing the journey to Western Ummayah, or Mamluqstan as it was to be called.
“Your Excellency!” Proclaimed Field Marshal Géiserich Suetwouda, Chief of the General Staff, opening his arms to welcome an old friend. “We are sure you know, but Mamluqstan is firmly in our hands, having landed there last night, or their morning. Now our army is on the way to ensure supremacy. Your colleague, the Foreign Secretary has most likely made you aware also that the Mamluq Lords will not swear loyalty to the High King until we drive away the threat of the Ummayans and prove ourselves in bloody battle.”

Thassohéim nodded slowly.
“Indeed will bloody conflict follow, but for now let us rejoice in our prospects!” And an aide brought in Kréixinger, a bubbling wine, with many glasses. With these filled and gathered round the map, covered in their ships, men and beasts, they looked to Thassohéim.
“Zue Kaÿzarréich!”
“ZUE KAŸZARRÉICH!!”

by **The Soodean Imperium** » Sat Jan 14, 2017 7:45 am

세기 신문
Segi Sinmun
The Century Times

Official Newspaper of the Soodean Social-Democratic Party - a Proud Coalition Partner of the Soodean Socialist Party

Soodean Force at a Difficult Crossroads as Conflict in Ummayah Intensifies
2005 – 1 – 15

International tensions reached new heights yesterday as the Gauliscian government announced it had deployed 10,000 soldiers of the Foreign Legion to western Ummayah, in support of the Mamluq rebel movement. The Innominadan government was quick to declare its support for the Gauliscian invasion, an act which the Bureau of Diplomacy and Foreign Affairs interpreted as a deliberate attempt to win over Gauliscia in its diplomatic falling-out with the Soodean Imperium. Emperor Su Dou responded by holding a press conference in which he strongly denounced Gauliscia for both its bombing campaign and its troop deployment, referring to the latter as a “land invasion intended to return colonial imperialism to Northern Meridia.”

Shortly afterward, the Bureau of Diplomacy and Foreign Affairs and the Soodean Imperial Air Force issued a joint statement to the effect that the latter would set up and strictly enforce a no-fly zone over Ummayan airspace. Any aircraft passing through this space shall be required to report their type, bearing, and destination, and any military aircraft which fail to leave the area may be shot down. The Bureau justified this extreme measure as a necessary response to recent airstrikes by Innominadan and Gauliscian bombers, which the Soodean government claims are not targeting militants but are intended to inflict indiscriminate harm on the civilian population. This comes just three days after Soodean fighter aircraft of the ISAF shot down two Innominadan bombers near Makkah, a holy city in Shahidism. The Innominadan government has already denounced the no-fly zone as an illegal measure, and has stated that it will resume bombing attacks with fighter escort.

The BDFA and the ISAF say that they consulted with the Muttalibs personally on this decision, and in a separate statement the Ummayan government endorsed the move, but tensions between the two sides are beginning to grow. In a speech before the National Assembly on Thursday, Kim Myŏngsu, the head of the Soodean Social-Democratic Party, argued that it is wrong for the Soodean military to collaborate with the Muttalib regime while the latter continues its own campaign of indiscriminate violence against civilians. Indeed, anonymous sources in the ISAF have described contentious negotiations between the two militaries as they try to agree on a reasonable air campaign. For its own part, the ISAF has all but ended its airstrikes in order to free up more aircraft for independent interception patrols, further constraining the Army’s operations across the country.

A final point of diplomatic contention is the Soodean Imperium’s relationship with the Veldeburg Pact, which grew tense several weeks ago after the latter suggested sending troops to Ummayah. Until recently, the Bureau of Diplomacy and Foreign Affairs has deliberately delayed in negotiating with representatives of VP countries in the hope that it can first turn the situation on the ground to its advantage. Now, with Gauliscian troops on the ground and Innominadan bombers supporting them from the sky, the Bureau of Diplomacy and Foreign Affairs has issued a statement to its Batavian counterpart that it is willing to hold high-level talks on the Ummayan conflict. It has, however, signaled that it will not permit representatives of Gauliscia or the Mamluq secessionist movement to attend, and that it will not accept any agreement which threatens the sovereignty and integrity of Ummayah.

Saladina
15th January (2005)

Lieutenant-General Baek stared down at the planning map, pacing the floor around it. Until recently, he had paid little attention to news about the Mamluq uprisings in the far west of the country, focusing instead on the campaign to retake Basra from Al-Kabaab. The arrival of a Gauliscian expeditionary force, especially one as large as this, had caught him completely off guard. This was all the more astonishing given the sheer size of the force involved, and the logistic buildup that must have taken place beforehand. Neither satellite reconnaissance nor espionage assets had detected the deployment, or if they had, the information had not reached his subordinates in time.

At any rate, new developments required new responses. Overruling protests from several of his advisors, Baek had ordered the elite 48th Gyŏngjol Mechanized Division to break its encirclement of Basra and attempt to head off the Gauliscian force directly. If they managed to break through the outermost line of conventional forces, he reasoned, there might still be time to overrun the rear-area personnel before they had time to assemble their heavy equipment. Yet even this, Baek knew, was a severe gamble on limited intelligence. Thus far, given the speed of the deployment and the extensive use of cargo aircraft, he had worked on the assumption that the Gauliscians were using a light counter-insurgency force rather than a heavy conventional one. But if this turned out not to be the case, the 48th Division would meet intense resistance.

It was also a diplomatic gamble. His superiors within Army High Command had been insistent that a pre-emptive attack on the Gauliscian task force was necessary to secure stability in Ummayah and repel colonialist forces; and indeed, the thought of a Western puppet state returning to Ummayah made the General’s blood boil. But signals from higher up the political chain of command were ambiguous and contradictory. The Bureau of Diplomacy and Foreign Affairs had endorsed the plan in secret, and had sent a letter to the Gauliscian embassy informing them of the situation, but there were rumors afoot that the Supreme Council was reconsidering its priorities in Ummayah and in the world in general.

Elsewhere in Ummayah, things were progressing closer to what had been planned. The 17th Mechanized Division had surrounded Al-Kabaab forces around Timmi, and was now sending two Regiments further ahead to retake Al-Hamra. Further west, the 121st Mechanized was also diverting some of its forces away from the capital area, with the ultimate goal of rolling back Al-Kabaab’s westernmost outposts and preventing them from reaching Makkah. It was apparent by now that Al-Kabaab’s conventional forces were nearing collapse, but its insurgent presence was still troubling. The day before, a car bomb had went off not far from the Corps headquarters in Saladina, killing more than a dozen passerby in a busy market. Soodean forces had not trained extensively to deal with this threat. Even the simple task of warding off attacks on their supply lines was proving difficult, as roadside bombs and rocket ambushes picked off trucks carrying vital supplies to the ever-advancing front. Worse still, the diversion of the 48th Division away from Basra before the 26th could move up its tattered armor assets had broken the temporary siege around the city, allowing Al-Kabaab to move in new fighters and munitions. The task force in the south, already overextended on poorly secured supply lines, was now forced to face two difficult threats: Al-Kabaab fighters in urban combat, and Gauliscian soliders in the open.

Plains between Basra and Sarlum
17th January (2005)

Captain Yi’s tank company rolled along the sandy desert floor, their ten SuChŏng-6s kicking up drifting columns of dust. They were cutting a course to the southwest, moving through a gap in the Greater Aqaba range known as the Haniyah Pass. Far off to either side, the dark red caps of cliffs and mountains rose above the desert, shimmering like mirages in the scorching heat. It was a strategic location, marking the easiest access route between two major population centers. But rather than wasting further time heading off the pass at the other side, the 48th Gyŏngjol Mechanized Division was taking the offensive, with the 484th Tank Regiment leading the drive. If successful, the move would lead them to the Gauliscians’ main base of operations at Sarlum, from which they could fold outward and cordon off the major cities up and down the coast. Indeed, if they had committed to the offensive sooner, they might have caught the first elements of the Gauliscian task force as they were still unloading from their planes. As it was, however, Lieutenant-General Baek had taken too long to learn of the Gauliscians’ arrival, and the Division’s commanders had squabbled over when and how to commit to the attack. As a result, the force pushing through the wide pass now confronted a well-prepared foe with comparable numbers.

“Contact,” one of the other commanders in the unit reported over the radio net. “Hostile armor at 12 o’clock.”

“I see it,” Captain Yi answered, squinting through the magnifying periscope under his hatch. Far off near the horizon ahead, a gray-green silhouette shimmered in the heat haze. Two more rolled up beyond the dunes at either side. “Range estimated at four kilometers. All units, assume combat formation and be continue the advance.”

Outside, the tanks spread out over the desert, continuing to press forward over the empty plain. The 48th Mechanized’s tanks had tasted combat outside Basra, but that was only scattered fighting against infantry in the farms and villages outside the city. Today would mark the first time the SuChŏng-6 faced off against enemy tanks of the same generation.

Almost… almost… Yi murmured, watching the flickering silhouettes grow larger. Three more had just crested the hill.

Another commander called out over the net: “I have a designator return! Armor at 2970 meters.”

“So do I. Engage, keep moving and engage,” Yi ordered. He then turned to his own gunner, looking through the narrow empty space over the breech of the gun between them. “Center target. 2960 meters. Fire AP.”

Yi’s tank shook from the recoil, and as it steadied again, the Captain watched his gunner’s tracer soar ahead at the green-gray smudges on the horizon. But it drifted to the left, missing the target. Another shot from his formation fell short of the same smudge, kicking up sand as it struck the ground.

For a few seconds, the horizon was quiet, still shimmering in the heat of the desert sun. Then, one by one, dust-colored smudges rose up from the enemy tanks. Muzzle blast – they were returning fire.

Suddenly, the tank to Yi’s right rattled under an impact, black smoke rising from its engine. Another tank, to the left and ahead, shook as an enemy round struck its turret face. The panels on top of the turret bustle shot into the air as the stored ammunition beneath cooked off.

“Captain, this is 223 – the driver. My tank is penetrated. The explosion was contained, but the commander and gunner are dead!”

“If you can still move, withdraw,” Captain Yi replied, before turning to his gunner again. “Center tank, 2890 meters, fire AP!”

Another tracer drifted off toward the horizon. This time, it overshot the target. “Driver, slow down. All units, slow down!”

A third tank in the formation fell off to the side, while a fourth went up in flames. Just over a minute in, and they were almost at half strength. Captain Yi wondered what the other Companies in his battalion were doing. Deep down, he feared that they were not doing well.

The battalion radar crackled to life, but with different news. “Second Company, be aware. Regimental radar suggests the enemy are moving in attack planes for close air support.”

“Received, commander,” Yi replied on the battalion radio. “Do we have aircraft in the area? I’m coming under heavy enemy fire out here.”

“Divisional command is still trying to contact the ISAF,” the battalion commander replied. “Rest assured. They will have fighters and strike planes in the area. Continue to press onward.”

“Roger,” Yi replied, switching back to the Company net. “Soldiers! HQ says our air support is on the way! Continue to drive ahead, make our Emperor proud!”

Another tank commander tuned in to reply. “Understood, Captain! We wi-“ But the signal abruptly faded into static, as a fifth tank near the rear of the formation shuddered under the impact of an enemy round.

Captain Yi swore under his breath. Beside him, the breech of the main gun slid shut, as the autoloader apparatus withdrew into the back of the turret. “Gunner, center target! 2650 meters! Fire AP!”

As his tank fired its third shell, Yi watched the tracer closely, his entire world condensing around that faint white dot arcing through the searing sky. Neatly, gracefully, as though guided by the will of the gods, it descended toward the green-gray blot on the horizon, landing squarely at its center. An orange flicker of flame burst above it, followed by a column of smoke. At that moment, adrenaline coursed through the Company commander’s veins. He had scored a kill – even if it was only one, it was a kill, and possibly the first to be claimed by a SuChŏng-6. Heartbeat pounding in his ears, he turned away from the periscope to face his gunner. The other man’s expression was also elated, even as beads of sweat coursed down his face. “Mark the next target, commander. Together, we will push through, from here to the gates of hell!”

What happened next happened in only an instant, so fast that none of 220’s crew noticed it. If they had, they would have first seen an anti-tank missile cresting down toward them from the sky. Within the tank, they would have seen a copper jet bore its way through an edge of the composite armor, breaking up at each layer but still bursting forth into the tank’s interior. They would have seen that jet break apart as it met air again, some fragments striking the gun breech, others striking the electronics, many cutting effortlessly through the crew themselves. They would have seen the largest of the fragments cut through the floor of the tank, where the reserve ammunition was stored. And, moments later, they would have seen a wall of flame punch upward through the floor, tearing panels, electronics, and wires out of its way, filling every available space with an intense wall of heat and pressure.

In reality, they did not see any of this, and they felt it for only a moment. It was left to the survivors in 220’s formation to watch orange columns of flame suddenly break open the tank’s hatches, throwing the crew’s ashes far into the sky. It was a burial that ancient Menghe warriors would have envied.

“Two-two-one! This is two-two-one, assuming command of 2nd Battalion, 2nd Company!” another tank commander shouted into the radio. “All surviving units, rally around me! We will continue to push and return fire!”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than 221 succumbed to the same fate, the gunner nearly prying open his hatch but left standing halfway out as the flames took his life. Tank 229, already damaged by one penetration, ground to a halt as a missile from above burst into the front of the hull. The commander and gunner bailed out, both of them clutching at their legs and soon collapsing onto the ground. Only the last two tanks faltered – 226 projecting smoke ahead, turning around, and retreating, and 227 approaching the survivors on the sun-baked sand so that they could climb aboard.

One last shot soared ahead from the enemy line, striking 227 on its thinly armored side. Fire billowed from the engine, spreading through the tank. The crew bailed out, but the tank itself was left rattling with ammunition fire.

Their air support never came.

by **Maverica** » Tue Jan 24, 2017 8:02 pm

Hickorysburg, Maverica

President Wilheilm Jahani, the leader of Maverica leaned back on his swivel chair and put his feet on the desk. He pulled out a pipe and lit it taking a deep breath and blowing black smoke everywhere. Across from him was Heinrich Zimmerburg, his Minister of Forign Affairs.

"Please Heinrich, continue." Said Wilheilm as he leaned back and poured two glasses of wine.

"Thank you sir, anyway the situation in Ummayah is improving to a degree. Terriorist forces are being pushed back to their last strongholds on the fringe of the desert by goverment forces support by the Soodean goverment. However Gual has sent an entire invasion force to break the will of the Ummayahan goverment and install a more cooperative goverment. However I do fear how Soodean forces wil react serving with the Ummayah forces." Replys Heinrich as he picks up one of the wine glasses and takes a long slow drink from it. Putting the glass down gently on the table.

"Heinrich, the Soodean forces will most likely avoid contact with the Gual invasion for now, even if they do it just allows two competeing powers to hurt themselves while Maverica sits back and wait for the right moment to strike. No one wants a long war Heinrich, then no one will be left to control the Ummayan oil feilds." Says Wilheilm as he waves his pipe around as he talks.

Heinric smiles. "Eh, yes sir, the same answer since the beginning of this conflict in Ummayah. I understand what you mean sir but I think we bided our time long enough. Gual now has the support of Indonamia and several others, the Ummayah goverment only stands because of the Soodeans. Their supporting a failed corrupt goverment who only exists in name." Heinrich pauses and leans forward. "Its time sir, Its time that your Maverican Cobra leaps forward and stike the wounded Ummayan camel."

"We would however the Soodean factor has pulled me away from it. I fear for war with the Soodean Goverment and we can't look like aggressers to the Soodeans an-" President Jahani is cut short as two men bust through the door clearly exhusted as if they were running. The large black haired, light skinned man looked up and turned to the smaller dark haired dark skinned man and looked back at the President.

"What the h*ll! Cant you see im in the middle of a dammn meeting!? I will have you both arrested!" Yelled President Jahani in such a tone that both Heinrich and the two ministers were scared stone cold.

The larger man stood forward. "We're terribly sorry sir but we have information that can't be waited on. Urgent news from intellegence. I'm Minister of Defense Johnson and this is Minister of Intelligence Vandolf. Vandolf take it away." Said Johnson.

Wilheilm waved. "Go on."

Vandolf stepped forward. "Sir, our boys down in the M.I.A have found out that the Soodean air component of the army has shot down two Indonamia bombers in Ummayah. They reported that they were bombing religous sites however the Indonamian goverment denies this and insists that they were only supporting Gual troops fighting the Ummayah goverment and declared this as an act of war. The two countries now are talking about mobolizing soldiers along the border."

Heinrich and Wilheilm looked at each other and Heinrich grinned.

"Well, everyone is wondering how Maverica shall respond to this. aint they? Well, Arjen, order the partial mobolization of soldiers along the border with the Soodean Imperium as a show of support and strength for the Indonamian goverment. Also send a small expiditionary force from Litzheim to support Indonamian and Gual operations against the Ummayah goverment. Vandolf order our agents in the country to begin sabatoge and intell operations as soon as possible. If you excuse me I need to make an announcement."

Official Message From the Maverican Goverment
Following the increase of tension in the Ummayah region even after Terrorist forces are being overran and pushed back. Maverica has taken an increase intrest in the region especially with the recent attack and killings of Indonamian bombers by the Soodean goverment over Ummayah. This now forces us to become involved in this as we beleive that the independence of Indonamia has been challenged by the Soodean Imperim after their unlawfull shooting down of these bombers who were supporting brave Gualic soldiers against the corrupt, weak and multiple human rights offender Ummayah. We beleive that Gual and Indonamia are fighting for the betterment of the whole region and will install a goverment that is there to [i]protect[i] the people. Not this fake goverment supported by the Soodean goverment. The current Ummayah goverment is already dead, its nothing but a puppet of the Soodean elites.

Considering this Maverica will now announce verbal and physical support for our brave brothers of Indonamia and Gual fighting for the people of Ummayah. This is why a expiditionary force will be sent to Ummayah to support and fight alongside Gualic and Indonamian soldiers. Also a partial mobolization has been announced along the border with the Soodeans in order to defend our homeland and Indonamia from any aggression from the Soodean goverment. Orders however has been presented to our soldiers to stand on a purely defensive stance untill this crisis is over and the Soodean Goverment apologizes and pays for the damage of the Indonamian bombers. Along with this we demand that Soodean forces leave Ummayah peacefully to avoid any further escalation. The Soodean army is already in disarray and the Ummayahan army will break the minute they meet Gualic soldiers. Please, in order to avoid any more disatures for our fellow nation and neighbor Soodean the message is clear. Pack up and leave. Finally to the Ummayah goverment, Maverica has seen how you treat your people and how corrupt your goverment is. Along with it's incopetence to fight tribal militias. For these reasons and others stated above a state of war exists between the two countries.

Signed
President Wilheilm Jahani President of Maverica

OOC: Forgive me its not the best post but I needed to get one up and im also writing two other essays for school so.

by **Gauliscia** » Wed Jan 25, 2017 7:53 am

4th Horse Battalion, Gauliscian Foreign Legion Auxiliary
Pierced through and charred, the enemy beasts had fled before they too suffered a terrible death in the hot chambers that would be their tomb. From the tops of their war chariots, the men raised waved their caps and cheered on their commander, Lieutenant Colonel Ulrich Sfannou as he made his way through the debris and wrought gore of battle. The shells of great beasts, like those of turtles left on the beach after a feast, lay on the ground, titled, black filth seeping out and they reeked of fuel, fire and death. Some were his own, but it was the Soodean forces who had suffered here. Sfannou had fearfully expected an attack from the Soodeans nearer to the time of their arrival, but it had not come. Instead they had blundered into a force that had established its camp, slept in its bunks and had eaten well.

The engineers busied themselves with the Soodean vehicles, drawing and capturing all that fascinated their eyes and profession. The bison that the Gauliscians rode into battle were indeed fine beasts but the time was nigh to improve its nature and perhaps the less roasted of the Soodean war beasts could reveal such things. Sfannou called the men to order and to their ranks.

The men of the Gauliscian Foreign Legion and its Auxiliary Battalions were mostly not of Gauliscian blood, only the officers were. They were New Tyranians, Batavians, Wankans, Mozrians, Columbian and Aldanean. They fought for each other, the Legion’s honour and the prize of their service; land in Gauliscia or its territories and a monthly sum of pay. Many fought just for the pleasure of death alone. Some even sought shelter from the law, here they had new papers and a new name and no constabulary could reach them.

“Warriors! Today we were victorious! Many of you drunk from two glasses today for the first time! Of victory, but also of horror. The time of feasting is not yet upon us nor is it the time of medallion ceremonies. A gruesome but righteous deed awaits our hand. All the fallen must be gathered up so their families can grieve and bury them, but we shall bury the Soodeans in this turf. We shall bless their graves and mark them, for they are warriors like you, sacrificing themselves for their cause. Round up the prisoners, separating the commanders from the unranked men, for they shall be taken from here by air to the healing stations. Do not grieve and weep too hard for your fallen comrades as they now feast, drink and fornicate in Walhalla with no undue merriment!”
This was the speech of Sfannou on these matters and the men set about their business, rounding up the prisoners like goats, and corralling them, whilst the officers went under the duty of Major Urzwi who shared with them a refreshing drink. The maimed were hauled from their beasts, and the healers of the battalion did what they could to sustain their spirit until great rotary birds of war arrived to carry them away to the healing tents at the camps. The fallen Gauliscians were covered up and sent away to the camp, that they would be flown home where their families would weep over such a sacrifice. For the slain Soodeans, these were buried in graves, a shard of metal from their beasts of war with their name on to identify them. The Soodeans reduced to mere piles of flesh were burnt in a hole and this was also marked. The Battalion shaman, with robes and incense blessed the fallen and beseeched the gods to grant them a seat in the feasting halls of Walhalla.

And in the skies, birds of war screeched over their heads, talons drawn. These had come from the carriers, Blitzenhaawichte, and there were many of them as their wings had the force to let them fly upwards with little ramp. With a large sentinel aircraft, it's great dome whirring they pursued the fleeing tanks. Circling for the kill, they dropped their munitions onto their prey and wrought much death and flame, before two aircraft fell prey to their artillery and the chase was ended.

6th Cohort, Gauliscian Foreign Legion, Basra
Swiftly did the cohort and its beasts of war approached the city. These were heavy infantry and they clanked and rumbled as they went along in their great armour. At their head was Colonel Sigiwoud Œxschwa, well seasoned in war but by no means grey haired. The men knew they faced a larger force though not the extent to which it outnumbered them. He exhorted them with prayers and encouragements.
“Men of the sixth cohort, this city is held by a regiment that will resist us! And though they are greater than us in number, the victory to us will be greater and more to our glory and prestige for our banners to be adorned with on account of this. They are here on sentry duty, but not of their own ramparts, but in a land which to the linesman is of little importance. We are here for glory, gold and liberation! And to the Gods we raise our palms in supplication, and come before them with the most base of entreaties; that you o Walhallan Gods, if ever the fruits of my hunting that I strung from the holiest gables of your temple pleasured you, guide our war shafts to righteous victory and place might on our shoulders. For we, the 6th Legion, are well accustomed to battle, and with our javelins thrown we shall draw up to them in close combat and carve through their ranks with no undue ease. Obey the commands of your officers and carry them out with diligence and duty, for when we do this our spirit will be unbroken and the glory shall be yielded to us.”
And so they advanced, greatly encouraged by the glory to be had. Approaching the outer layers of Basra, the huts and dwellings becoming larger and the roads better paved. The reconnaissance platoon had not been heard from, no messages had been relayed to the Cohort HQ for some time now. The officers now moved with caution, weapons primed. But the war gods did not favour Gauliscia this day.

Like rocks from a volcano, hostile munitions rained from the sky, impacting with craters and spreading fire. The beasts of war at the head of the formation, engulfed in flames, exploded and rolled onto their sides. Men, dripping with blood hauled their shattered comrades from the blaze, or made a dance of death as they two were engulfed and set ablaze.
“MAAAAAAANSE!!!”
Such was the roar of a thousand men as, like a pack of rabid Wéidhuende (Hyena), came swarming from every hollow and pit of hell, thirsting for blood and flesh. The legionnaires were brought to battle order by the shrill shriek of the battle horns, the throats of the signallers stuck fast with terror, and the war drums brought the beasts to readiness. Their war paths converged in the city square, bordered by columned souks. Shafts from the beasts of war, swift and deadly lay waste to the first assault as the infantry embedded themselves in positions, unloading the ammunition and establishing mortar and machine gun nests. Behind them, their roasted comrades lit up the darkening streets, before them the freshly mown ranks of Soodean infantry, bundled up like scythed wheat.

Colonel Œxschwa, having set up his command in a coffee house in the square, guarded by a hastily formed barricade of steel and crates, fell to his knees and flung himself prostrate in the floor.
“Why?! Why have You forsaken my Cohort? Where my burnt offerings not to your liking? Have I been too frivolous with the cane on my men? Well, I wish now only a death which any warrior deserves. Let me rest only when pierced through by blade bullet and my cohort greatly depleted of the flower of its ranks.”
While his master beseeched the gods, Major Thuÿlemann Vreeënck begged the high command for birds of war..
“Only a squadron… Please… all I ask for are a few swoops, dragging their talons through the Soodean ranks, leaving foaming red furrows in their wake, lest this entire cohort die to the last man, for we shall… oh...we could last that long… why, gods bless your lineage! I shall forever sing bal-” Having raised his head too high whilst exalting the shallow comfortings of a communications officer, a keen eyed Soodean riflemen shot his head off, leaving the stump of the neck to froth with black mess as the carcass slumped to the dust.

The Cohort, lead by Œxschwa launched their counter attack, their war beasts pasting up the Soodean positions in the windows and cloisters before them, and they advanced well, the sharp shooters and mortar men in sustained support, clearing the opposite side of the square. But this success was short lived for the horde advanced with screams of ‘Manse’, closing in around them. The great guns of the cohort could not deter them, and though many fell in twitching mounds of flesh, they came on, bayonets fixed.
“Fix bayonets!” Roared the sergeants, followed by the clicking and clipping of such actions as the men prepared to receive the great mass. Machine guns rattled, and the infantry fired great volleys into the enemy ranks, but also received volleys from the baying tide of men, decimating their lines. They drew up together in close combat, bayonets clashing, stabbing and small firearms blowing holes in heads and chests. Corporal Wei Chen, a young Canton fired into the chest of an advancing Soodean, knocking him from the barricades which he had only just scaled. He gasped in terror at the enclosing swarm and the dwindling numbers of his unit as they fell around him. One had his stomach sliced open and like a snake his insides slipped out in coils, another was stabbed in the face, the blade going through to the hilt. Most of his squad had been gunned down as they assaulted, such was the carnage of this battle. Another Soodean jumped over the barricade, knife ready. He stabbed Wei through the neck, and thick purple death gushed out like a river from burst dam. As the numbers of legionaries dwindled and became fewer, the mortars and machine guns in support of the advance opened fire thereon, dealing death far and wide.

A haze of red mist and fuel lingered and the full horror of war lay smoking in the city square. The Gauliscian cause was lost and all there knew. The Soodeans, still great in number readied themselves. But this was not needed, as, sullen and shaken the remaining Gauliscians raised white flannels and with their hands clasped round their faces, weeping and their hearts throbbed with shame.

Gauliscian Forces enter combat with the Soodean Army

Your News Tonight; our headline is the engaging of Soodean Forces near Basra earlier this morning by Gauliscia expeditionary forces, also tonight; Yet more Gauliscian forces are to be deployed to Ummayah to bolster the existing presence, FCW Party leader Willoum Hjeuxi has demanded the government share its plans for Ummayah with parliament, an earthquake in Allemannia’s Chossbirge Canton has claimed the lives of 3 people after a bridge collapsed and Baawenbuerg has secured its position in the Gauliscian Rugby League semi finals after defeating Gwyrnstoud 21-12.

Good Evening, this is Aloÿz Theuffenbosch with the KWUD News at 18:00. Our main story tonight: the Soodean Armed Forces have made strong on their threats to foreign incursions on Ummayad soil and last night Gauliscian time, an armoured assault was launched on the plains of Basra against our forces near Sarlum. The attack was routed by armoured forces of the GFLA, though a number of Gauliscian tanks and aircraft were lost in the battle. It is unknown at the moment how many lives were lost in the battle but eyewitnesses reported scenes of devastation and carnage. Elsewhere, a small Gauliscian force assaulted the city of Basra but reports suggest this attack may have been defeated, with suggestions of a surrender and heavy losses. I am joined by Widukind Rouss from the defence think tank SSR. Thank you Widukind for joining us, what is your take on the Gauliscian deployment and it's prospects?

“I think Aloÿz, once again the Gauliscian military has been underestimated in the speed and strength at which it can deploy forces. Most people will remember Auyadelle and Aldanea, where we were able to deploy combat ready forces rather quickly. And not just airborne forces but armoured forces too. This case was no different and it will certainly serve to change perceptions of Gauliscia. As for the success of the deployment… it's hard to tell. The Soodean military has been slow to react to the arrival and when it did, they were defeated quite soundly by our Foreign Legion. That said, our air presence isn't too impressive and this is an issue the military has faced; we’ve always neglected airpower to land and naval forces. And there are the rumours of a battalion or more of our forces being forced into a surrender. Overall I think both factions will find it hard to dislodge the other…”

Thank you Widukind. Our next story tonight..

by **Murovanka** » Sun Jan 29, 2017 4:30 am

The geopolitical situation was tenuous. Since al-Kabaab resistance had suddenly collapsed in Basra after fighting a seemingly ceaseless, fanatic defence of their de-facto capital, the Soodean Imperium as well as Gauliscia were immediately at each others throats. Innominada as well as Maverica soon joined the fray, the battle on Ummayah soon upgraded from militia fighting to one of a high-tech networked combined arms warfare, all sides fielding the latest developments in “defence” technology. Junud al-Kabaab which had overrun so much of Ummayah and threatened the entire world with its terror campaign abroad was dismissed and quickly forgotten, having proven a paper tiger.

Though dead they were not, and their vision of the caliphate long not. Numbering still over ten thousand troops, they had shrunken from their peak strength as territory and casualties mounted, but their numbers were growing daily. The reason: as Gauliscian support to the Mamluks mounted, and the prominence of Mamluk brigades increased, other rebel groups in the Free Ummayad Council were sidelined, at times even declared criminal gangs and disarmed. Meanwhile, it had become an open secret that Mamluk paramilitaries were forcibly conducting a ruthless, highly efficient ethnic cleansing campaign, sending native Kharjiites and Rashaidans fleeing on boats, into the desert, across combat zones, to be replaced by Mamluks who had themselves left government-held areas. They were, with Gauliscian military protection, essentially carving out their own state.

Former FUC leader al-Gore, the “father” of the revolution, as he was called, soon gave up hope and defected to al-Kabaab, and was followed suit by numerous disjointed rebel groups, seeing al-Kabaab as the only way to free the country from foreign or Muttalib domination.

While a sense of helplessness prevailed as more and more foreign countries tore Ummayah apart, hope was not lost. Returning jihadis came back to their homes in the Imperium, Innominada, OS and Achesia, as far as Sylva, Wanka and Gauliscia with stories of heroism and glory, along with promises to expand the jihadi network at home and continue fighting to enforce God’s will on the infidel peoples.

Camp Khajjar
Outside Sarlum

Camp Khajjar was a base bustling with activity, and it was growing rapidly. Originally a small Mamluk outpost, it was now home to and staffed by thousands of Gauliscian troops and support personnel, and from the rudimentary militia-style camp it had turned into one bristling with anti-aircraft guns, artillery and armour as well as positions dug by the professional Gauliscian engineer corps (or whatever fancy term they attributed to it).

The al-Kabaab units in the area mostly fell under the Wilayat al-Sharq (Eastern Provincial) Command, though their presence amounted to hiding in villages from Gauliscian forces who were at least officially hunting them down. In reality Caliph al-Harabi had quietly ordered his troops to cease fire against Gauliscian forces. Al-Kabaabs relationship with the Mamluks varied over time; while their interests were fundamentally incompatible, for much of the war they had tolerated each other, even cooperated and dealt with, in face of the common enemy. So they too seemed fine with focusing on the Soodeans and Ummayans.

Except suddenly it was not so. Wilayat al-Sharq troops consisted now majorly of defected FUC rebels, many less moderate than they started off. And they hated the Mamluks and Gauls with passion. The Commander of Wilayat al-Sharq was also none other than the famed General Said al-Qaboo who had masterminded many of al-Kabaab’s early advances in the region. A man who prided himself in his ideological purity, it had been rumoured that al-Harabi was growing anxious at his fame and had argued bitterly with him, which was how he’d ended up being relegated from Chief of Staff to the provincial command.

General Qaboo in turn clarified his interpretation of al-Harabi’s orders, which in turn was muddled further down the chain of command, ending up at an ex-rebel suicide unit which decided to take revenge for the ethnic cleansing the Mamluks were doing with their people.

Thus it came that a local Mamluk commander was offered a secret weapons deal. It wasn’t that uncommon. One day, the delivery from the al-Kabaab side did arrive. A pair of guards checked the interior; explosives, as declared, neatly packed. The three trucks entered, abruptly splitting up, its drivers stepping on the accelerator. One detonated on target, an assembly area of Gauliscian and Mamluk troops; another detonated prematurely, appearing to only do superficial damage, the third was fired upon by troops in the camp and exploded before it could reach the critical fuel and ammo storage area of the camp.

South of Lake Hodna
Ummayah

Elsewhere, a tall, grim-faced man with an ugly scar running down his cheek strode down into a hidden underground bunker, followed by five equally grim-looking bodyguards. They split at the entrance to the conference room where two guards saluted and let them in; General Qaboo’s aide was the only one joining him, loaded submachine gun in hand.

It was rare that so many of al-Kabaab’s top commanders assembled at one point in space and time. Soodean air power and intelligence made it risky for any large gathering of armed men and many high ranking officers had been caught up in their strikes. It was the ones who had perfected the little tricks and technique of evasion that were left in this room.

“… has left us, unprepared, at the mercy of the Gauls. They have been keeping tabs on us and we haven’t had the time to reposition as planned. We can be sure that they will proceed to wipe what’s left of us in the eastern provinces.“ al-Harabi looked up, staring at the entrance. “General Qaboo, we were waiting for you.”

”Khalifatul Mu’mineen.” Qaboo said, bowing his head slightly.

“Explain yourself.”

“I gave no order, I had no knowledge. I did as instructed. Their action directly disregarded their orders and the culprits will be punished accordingly.”

“Alhamdulilah, you are not saying, Qaboo, you do not have control over your troops? You, Qaboo?”

“Their actions were wrong, I am not defending that, but they are understandable. These brothers joined to fight the kuffar in this country, they, who are pillaging, murdering, raping their families before our eyes.” Qaboo’s eyes wandered left and right. It was reassuring, some of the generals stepped closer to his side. A table at the center of the room, at its head al-Harabi, split the room in two.

“Yet we are sitting here- doing nothing, as we so often do. Yes, it has reasons, though for our men on the ground, our loyal jihadis who are giving their lives for us- this is an impossibility!”

“Enough! You go too far, Qaboo, do not say I didn’t warn you!”

Two distinct thumps were heard outside. “What’s going on..?” al-Harabi’s eyes went wide as he saw Qaboo’s drawn sidearm, aimed at his chest. Next to him, Qaboo’s aide clicked off the safety of his machine gun.

“I wasn’t planning to talk, anyway.”

Suddenly there was movement. General Ali Jinnah, a longtime friend and ally of Harabi’s, drew his pistol and moved to throw Harabi to the ground in one swift motion. Qaboo fired twice, his first shot hitting Jinnah squarely, his second crashing into the wood of the table, sending splinters flying. All around, the other commanders and their aides backed off, threw themselves down, waiting to see who would come out victorious. Two more commanders and their aides, rivals of Qaboo, joined Harabi. From behind, two of Qaboo’s bodyguards entered, pushing the disarmed door guards in front of them onto the floor.

Hiding behind a forest of tables and desks, Harabi returned fire; a burst from Qaboo’s aide answered. Qaboo quickly spotted the four men drawing their weapons for Harabi, firing twice again, bringing an aide down before he too ducked into cover. His aide brought everyone cowering down by emptying his entire magazine.

Bleeding on the ground was General Jinnah who with his last breath radioed guards down into the room. ”Kill Qaboo.” he rasped his last words.

Qaboo’s aide called one of the men at the door over as he reloaded, Qaboo giving cover. The shots were deafening in the room.

“Now!” Qaboo, his aide and the bodyguard came out firing. A stray round from a machine gun brought down one of Harabi’s allies; two left. Harabi appeared, the Caliph taking his time to aim, hitting Qaboo’s aide in the heart. The huge bodyguard retaliated, killing Harabi’s last ally by firing through the cover he was hiding in. It was two against one, and Harabi had to reload; the two approached. In the doorway, gunfire erupted as Qaboo’s bodyguards defended the entrance to the room.

“Give it up, Harabi.” Qaboo said. “You have lost. This is Allah’s will. Give it up, I have no need to kill you.”

Harabi slowly appeared, hands up in surrender, staring at Qaboo. “Traitor.” he hissed. “Don’t you dare taint God’s name.”

“You tainted His name, working with the infidels while they slaughtered innocent Shahids.” Qaboo spat back. “I’ve always been a true Shahid. You’re no better than our enemies.”

The Caliph was in front of him, and suddenly, with a sudden jerk and agility not seen before from the aged Mullah, he swept aside Qaboo’s gun hand and lashed out with his other, moving into the General as they struggled for the pistol. Qaboo landed on top of Harabi, delivering a crushing punch to his nose, crushing it and sending blood spurting.

“Unbeliever!”

Though as Qaboo tried to get up to free his gun hand, Harabi landed a vicious kick which strafed his groin. The gun fired, the shot crashing against the ceiling.

“Infidel!”

“Kuffar!” Qaboo howled, though managed to get up as he attempted to get out of the firing line of his bodyguard who looked for a clear shot.

“You Kuffar! Kafir!” Harabi kept Qaboo between him and the bodyguard. Though Qaboo still had the gun, which he raised and aimed unsteadily at Harabi, who stepped back, relaxed, a smile on his face.

“Alright, enough!” The caliph shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry, General.”

Al-Harabi had prevailed. Before Qaboo could pull the trigger, two shots rang out from behind them, one blowing the bodyguard’s head off, the other striking Qaboo in the neck and tearing out a great fleshy chunk.

Though the coup was beaten off, it wasn’t to end there. Both Harabi and Qaboo had strong allies (though not loyal, perhaps, as shown in the bunker battle), and a botched purging campaign by Harabi to rid al-Kabaab of Qaboo loyalists ended up with a major schism and split within the militant group. Where al-Kabaab had been in the eastern part of Ummayah called themselves the Qaboo Brigades, in honour of their fallen hero, and who turned out to be the more extreme of the extremist groups, targeting government, Soodean, Mamluk, Gauliscian, sometimes their own people, and often skirmishing with al-Harabi’s al-Kabaab. The infighting only served to further weaken the rebel-jihadi movement, and within weeks they once again had reverted to hiding in the deserts making the occasional terror attack.

Mashallah, Dawn Has Arrived IC (Septentrion)

Mashallah, Dawn Has Arrived IC (Septentrion)

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