The Continental Wars (IC, New Ausozera Only)

by **Azenyanistan** » Sat Sep 02, 2017 1:05 am

In the beginning...

All Sishanite troops and their gear have been ordered to pull out of Donnerland and return to Sishai. By the very word of the Aksesyr, "it is necessary for all Sishanite troops and their equipment all over the world to return immediately to Sishai. All leaves have been cancelled as well. I want everyone and everything back home."

Although many Azen Sishanite officers have objected to this, the Aksesyr stated that "this is for the sake of the security and safety of all Azens, Sayaritans, Rasurrians, Ramanyans and Prosperans as well New Azens. The continent needs us. The heartland is in need." Despite increasing victories in Rakshan and with the coming end of the rebellion, it seems that Sishai is getting ready for some rough handling of domestic affairs.

Even the Sishanite Civil Protection has been told to "get ready immediately." And an official request has been sent to the Namenians to "provide more troops, equipment and other forms of support." The Sishanite government announced that "The military of our country, a union of nations and states, is being called upon to do more and to serve more. We need everyone back."

In haste to accomplish their orders, the Reeseeraveesii and other security forces in Rakshan are pushing the rebels harder and with more ferocity. Brutal fighting continued as some rebels managed to escape the city-state. The Sishanite government is asking for further assistance from her foreign allies in Sishai to destroy these fleeing rebels.

Meanwhile, the New Azen military has now joined the Sishanite military. The New Azen Force, which comprises of almost all New Azen troops and their equipment, especially their IWA tanks and planes, has now received orders to destroy the rebels and also to meet with other Azen Sishanite units.

More news coming soon.

- Sishanite International News

The Continental Wars
The Theme Song

OOC

Yaneza Air Base, Ayrran Azenyanistan, United Nations and States of Sishai

"Out! Out! Out!" Shouted Captain Octagon, leading her men out of the Chinook that just landed outside of the Azen Sishanite Air Base several kilometers away from the capital city of Yaneza. She was one of the first officers to lead her Company of combined Reeseeraveesii and Naval Infantry unto solid ground after a long journey by helicopter from the Nyra to here and there. Octagon watched her men run out of the helicopter with enthusiasm as pairs of her own men took positions 5 to 15 meters away from the helicopter, going on one knee and scanning their surroundings with their machine guns or rifles.

After all, Ayrran Azenyanistan was still not so very safe. Even though the rebels in Rakshan were getting their asses fucked by the hour by the G171, Angels and other special forces of Azen Sishai, there were always chances of other rebels being around. Octagon smiled as she noticed a pair of New Born class helicopter gunships fly over them, circling later, guarding them as birds would over their nest of their own offspring.

Octagon then gathered her Company and made their way to the Air Base. One of the hand me downs from ISAT, it was enough for a bunch of helicopters and ground attack planes. There were two extra hangars that were set aside for the Pyrelight multirole combat planes. She then told her Company to stay together and get some rest while she and her own officers made their way to the person who they were supposed to meet with and get briefed by.

Octagon found out that it was Field General Monsoon, the commanding officer of her Division of mixed Reeseeraveesii and Naval Infantry aka Azen Sishanite Marines. In Azenish, they would be called Al Marinsisyah but in Common, they were just called Naval Infantry. After all, that was what all marines were in the world in the eyes of the Azen Sishanites. The Field General, in her khaki shorts and short-sleeved battle dress, nodded to them when they entered her building. Many staff officers were going around with tablets and mobile smart phones while others were using papers and clipboards. Some were on computers while the rest were making coffee, making adjustments on the maps and rechecking statistics. The Field General told Octagon "Glad to see you here. You and your officers may sit down." And so they did.

Octagon took one quick look around the room and saw that the rest of the officers of the Burning Division were here too. She recognized some of them coming from Northern Azenyanistan or from Rakshan. Others hailed from New Azenyanistan or from one of the tribes outside of the heartland. There was one that looked more Oceanic than Azen. But what she fixed her eyes on were the Iodinaean-Azen officers just to her right. They wore sky blue berets and their tattoos reminded her of the terrain of that small nation supported by the Porteans and the Esgonians.

The Captain then noticed some more officers enter the building. She nodded to them when she saw that they had the badges of the G171, the Angels, the Sishanite Union Commandos and even the SCP. Then when everyone has taken their seats and coffee was served as well as other things, Field General Monsoon spoke to them first. Octagon refused to take a cup of coffee and instead received a cup of vanilla ice cream. The Monsoon told them

"I'm Field General Monsoon. And I'm here to brief all of you about what should be done now. Now the Burning Division, composed of Reeseeraveesii and the Azen Sishanite Naval Infantry, will not be alone in this. I'm expecting elements from the G171, Angels, Commandos and the SCP as well as the New Azen Force and the rest of the Army to be in this. What I need all of you to do is to make sure that you are all ready and mobilized. Get your men prepped and make sure that your vehicles have extra fuel. I also want all of you to get your logistical officers to work. I'll brief my own later but to make the point, we are going to get ready to fight our neighbors."

There was murmuring. Then Monsoon raised a hand and that silenced them. She told them "We won't be attacking anyone yet. All that we gotta do right now is to get ready. Start doing as I say and also do whatever else you think would raise our numbers and our chances. That is all. For further details, just come to me. Now let's go."

At this point, Captain Octagon, an Azen born with the blood of Vanquarians and Helghans, had one thought in mind. So this is why we're here. From Yaneza, we'll have to move East. And to the East, that's where the Syrnistanis are.

by **The blood ravens** » Sun Sep 03, 2017 7:29 am

PMC Valdez, approaching the coast of Nyra

It's a busy day aboard the Valdez, crew and soldiers alike are running around the interior of the ship preparing to make landfall in a few hours. They had the more difficult job of trying to police the far reaches of the country, but thanks to their fleet of Mi-24s, and V-44Bs that wouldn't be all that hard to accomplish. Crewman on the flight deck are busy refueling aircraft, and loading the V-44Bs with their equipment. With any luck they'd have a base on land to operate from but if not they can continue to operate from their carrier for as long as they need to.

Steel Battalion has already arrived at the port, and they are already unloading their tanks and other armored vehicles onto a train to be taken to the front. Although their tanks are older they have received numerous upgrades to help keep them relevant on the battlefield.

by **Azenyanistan** » Mon Sep 04, 2017 2:37 pm

The New Azen Force

The New Azen Border With Azenyanistan

------&&&&------&&&&------&&&&-----

New Azen tanks and other armored fighting vehicles led the way for the dozens of trucks and infantry fighting vehicles and armored personnel carriers taking hundreds of men and women from their heartland into the heartland of their ancestors. Azenyanistan herself welcomed them, her border guards waving them through as recce helicopters monitored the traffic. Nearby villagers rushed out from their homes to greet them and they were able to do so, earning the exotic flowers from the hands of tankers or infantry on their trucks and APCs. Cavalrymen on their IFVs and AFVs tossed olive branches to the Azens while others simply shook their fists as them. A greeting only known by all Azens.

The New Azen flag flew from each of the vehicles while the lead ones flew the flag of a united Sishai.

At all this, Captain Seeseedeesee aka Sisidisi was delighted. She watched, from her command APC, her men and her women shake their fists at the villagers with joy while the inhabitants returned their greetings with cheering and smiling. She even laughed as she observed a New Azen tanker wave a small New Azen flag as they passed the villagers and border guards by at a speed of 80 kilometers an hour.

She could only sigh as they made it across the border so quickly. With their destination being Yaneza and then Azen City and finally the border with Aegypt, Sisidisi wished that after this, she could settle down in the original heartland of her parents. Even though ey had Vanquarian blood, the blood of Azens flowed with more power than the foreign kind did.

Her crimson eyes softened. And she knew why she was here. She was just happy she was not here for Azenyanistan but for the rest of the continent.

She noticed that there were very few other vehicles on the same road as they were. They entered the Grand Highway, which was colorful and so far the widest thoroughfare for the Azen state, and she still noticed that not so many cars or even trucks were around. Not even a motorcycle passed them by so much as she thought they would.

She soon learned, from the helicopters monitoring them and the signs on the Grand Highway, the Azen government has been telling their citizens to make way. That meant that other roads were being used. And the Grand Highway was like a massive channel for the Azen Sishanite war machine to get ready.

She then said, even as her lieutenant watched her carefully "We'll get through. But we're moving a lot of men and their gear plus equipment and vehicles through. To Yaneza then Azen City then Aegypt. If diplomacy fails anytime, then we must be in a hurry."

by **Pakiranistan** » Tue Sep 05, 2017 10:25 pm

Presidential Palace, Malsuf Province, Aegypt

It was a quiet cold night in the streets of the Malsuf Province. Driving along the road were 4 desert khaki colored Land Rover Defenders with their yellow dim lights lighting up the road as they travelled up towards the Presidential Palace of Aegypt, dotted along the streets were street vendors and shops specializing in various wares and food such as kebabs and chicken, as the Defenders neared the Presidential Palace a menacing gate stood in their way with 4 guards standing at attention along the center of the gate and two more guards on the inner perimeter. The rovers came to a stop near the gate, within moments two guards walked over to the vehicle with their weapons lowered one on each side of the convoy. The lead guard walked over to the driver side all the while trying to makeout who the occupants were, he gently tapped on the window of the vehicle and soon it was lowered "What are your intentions, may I see some ID" stated the guard with authority, the driver of the vehicle responded " Were just lost and looking for directions, let me get my ID" as the guard was distracted the occupants of the rear vehicle slowly creeped up along the vehicles, their sleek two hole balaclavas covering their faces while their Khaki chest rigs and cargo pants showed lustrously in the streetlight.

The guard on the passenger side noticed the movement and attempted to raise his weapon but he soon departed the world as a silenced shot from one of the creeping soldiers hit him dead center in the head, the other guard screamed but he was ended by the driver who had pulled his sidearm and shot him twice in the upper chest area. One of the rear vehicles occupants rembarked his vehicle and slammed the rover into reverse and blocked the road, he and another soldier opened the rear door of the rover and uncovered an MG3 with a IRNV sight mounted on top of weapon and placed it on the hood of the rover, the rest of the soldiers soon neutrilized the remaining two guards on the outer permiter, the two guards on the inside moved forward to investigate the commotion but to their horror they watched as a large object with lights on hurled towards them and moments later a military grade 6x6 truck smashed into the gates with the guards jumping out to the sides, but before they could get up they too were ended by the unknown soldiers. Another of the Land Rovers blocked the entrance to the gate with yet another MG3 mounted on the hood, more unknown soldiers disembarked from the rear of the truck and the rest of the unknown soldiers began to move up the inner perimiter of the palace, the soldiers sleek shapes darted around the grass and fancy flora of the palace as they moved in on the palace their selve, the guards by now having been alerted of the breach had raised the alarm.

Pouring out of the palace came the quick reaction forces armed with various rifles which began to light up the and fill the floor of the palace with bullet casings, the soldiers knowning their cover had been blown quickly removed their suppressors and began to return fire onto the guards all the while taking cover behind the cars and various decor of the palace, as the shoot out continued for some 20 minutes the sound of a helicopter began to make it precense and soon an Mi-17 armed with doorguns flew by the palace and with the doorgunners firing down at the guards as well as the palace. Inside the palace, the scene was chaotic as the occupants rushed to dodge the FMJ of the helicopters doorguns. Soon another helicopter appeared however unarmed, the helicopters crew launched ropes onto the roof the of the palace and soon soldiers began to fast rope down onto the roof. Soon the roof was littered with a dozen or so soldiers who took positions and began to prepare rappaling gear as well as breaching charges.

President Obunga stood in the corner of his room having barricaded the door with a dresser and armed with his personal sidearm, he had heard and was still hearing the sound of gunshots and the rumble of explosions outside. He heard the sound of a frantic knock on his door which got more frantic as time progressed but ended with a groan and scream and the sound of two gunshots. Obunga was really stressed now and aimed his pistol at the door, outside he could hear the sound of heavy boots attempting to kick in the door but these faded away after a few moments, Obunga lowered his pistol and breathed a sigh of relief but only for a brief moment as the wall opposite of him suddently blew up with shrapnal flying out everywhere, Obunga fired his pistol frantically twice in the dust but not before one of the shapes that entered the room kicked it out of his hand and slammed their rifle butts into his face and he blacked out....

Obunga woke up groggily lifting his head to look around, he could make out various dark shapes but one stood out, as all of the shapes except for one had black heads as his eyes cleared he could make out a middle aged man sitting in a chair opposite of him flanked by masked men wearing military armor "Salam Obunga, or should I say President Obunga" said the man as he looked at him with a kind face "Wh- who are you" said Obunga as he sat dazed at the man "Well you see Obunga, I am Bugaboo or quite simply the man who raided your palace and basically took your seat as president of this fine nation, but you know, that can't really happen unless you die" replied Bugaboo as his face turned into a scorned look "Pl pl please nnnn nno" screamed Obunga before he was shot by Bugaboo with a .357 Smith and Wesson Model 40 "Clean this mess and announce to the people they have a new leader" stated Bugaboo as he holstered his Magnum into his shoulder holster and walked over to the window to stare out towards the watery coast with the sounds of sirens getting closer in the distance....

by **Azenyanistan** » Sat Sep 09, 2017 12:58 am

Sishanite International News

Stop

The government shutdown of Azenyanistan has now passed when Aksesyr Ayza ur Talltower made a promise to rest from making decisions for the country for several weeks. In her place, Dune ur Kaiteriza has been invited to take charge. This is because the chieftains of the tribes of Azenyanistan and the representatives of Sayaria, Rasurria, Ramanya and Prospera approached Ayza and in an emergency meeting, convinced her not to act on Sishai.

They were able to talk her down from taking military actions against their neighbors and they also convinced her to rename Azenyanistan from Sishai back to Azenyanistan. The chieftains also forced her to consider the states of Sayaria, Rasurria, Ramanya and Prospera as parts of Azenyanistan and to consider them as members of the Azen Union instead of Sishai.

These smaller Azen leaders also convinced her to issue an apology to Aeygpt and to Agrabah and Syrnistan as well as Urran, the Free Asian Ports, Ratte, Esgonia, Fronsland, New Azenyanistan and Atreidya. Other actions taken by Ayza at the proposals of the Azen chieftains was to redeclare war on Donnerland, to resume Azen support and contributions to the Unionist war effort against Donnerland and to formulate a promise that Azenyanistan shall not, by all means necessary, conduct a war of extermination against the Donnish. They have also forced her to reconsider any future expansions of the Azen state and to recognize the threats that the United Remnants of America and the Empire of Donnerland pose to the safety and security and the lives of all Azens within their borders.

Dune ur Kaiteriza stated "I shall be taking control of the country for as long as Ayza is at rest. Once she becomes active, I will surrender control of the country to her. However, her powers shall be limited by the constitution of the greater Union and of the Azen state and she shall be monitored by the coalition of Azens, Sayaritans, Rasurrians, Ramanyans and Prosperans and their respective leaders.

I assure you that soon enough, Azenyanistan shall uphold her promises to respect other nations and to guarantee the independence of all states of Sishai and to secure her own security and the security of the continent without stealing the rights and the powers of other states and their respective nations.

I, Dune ur Kaiteriza, accept the invitation of the student of my mother, Sadisia ur Kaiteriza, and the Aksesyr of my country, to serve as the temporary head of state and government over the Azen people and the peoples of Sayaria, Rasurria, Ramanya and Prospera."

MORE NEWS COMING SOON

by **Azenyanistan** » Fri Sep 22, 2017 2:44 am

Sishanite International News

Operation Mending Tails

Aksesyr Dune ur Kaiteriza, the eldest daughter of Sadisia ur Kaiteriza and the student of the late Ayza ur Talltower, has announced before a gathering of all of the ministries of the Azen government as well as the regional leaders or the Arshays of the country that she shall take absolute responsibility of Operation Mending Tails. She has stated that this operation is a government effort to stabilize the nation as planned beforehand and as desired by the people and by several officials of the government.

The tribes, before this announcement was made, approached Dune and asked her to do everything she could to stabilize the country. The tribes of Az, En, Yah and Nah demanded that she do so to the best of her ability, especially over the tribes of Ayr, Shan and Nyra. The tribe of Ayr gave no comment while the tribes of Nyra and Shan said that they would accept whatever comes.

The Aksesyr has given the Arshays of the North and the East more autonomy as she said in an interview "I've given the tribes to the north and east more control over their own affairs so I could focus on stabilizing the south and the west and the center. I'd want to make sure that there will be no more rebellions or terrorists or trouble in Azenyanistan. I won't let this county down, I'll try."

She also stated tomorrow would be the day she would travel all over the Azen Center, South and West to help the Arshays of the regions there to make Azenyanistan secure and to repair all the damage caused by the civil war before. Tonight, Dune is making preparations for that day in her home.

Other News

by **The Unified Isles** » Sat Sep 23, 2017 8:12 am

Official Dispatch to the International Community
From the Provisional Government of the Unified Kingdom of the Isles

In Invocation of the Supreme Rule of the Isles,
We, the Provisional Government of the Unified Kingdom of the Isles,
Addressing the Defiant Governments of the World,

In our utmost wisdom and glory, and love for the peace of the world, and appreciation for the peoples of Sishai, will let you be aware, that the administration of Aksesyr Dune ur Kaiteriza is the current legitimate force of governance on the continent of Sishai. Those who question their legitimacy must fear the might of the Royal Army, which has been given the exceptional permission to engage the foes of this declaration in defensive combat.

[… list of members of the provisional government including signatures …]

DEATH OR GLORY!

by **Valaran** » Sun Sep 24, 2017 7:56 am

Rhetorical Allusions

Hesseren was not a man of words. This might seem counterintuitive for a politician — rhetoric conjured up what is possible, and lit the flame of inspiration in so many. How could a man, whose face was the epitome of dour, whose voice was gruff, and whose aura was ever veering towards grim, ever hope to do a politician’s work: to convince and cajole, to ignite the souls of a nation in shared passion?

No wonder so many had underestimated Hesseren. To them it was his predecessor, the slick and rakish Alstan, who encapsulated mastery of the political arts. Alstan had won near five elections in his day, each time lulling over crowds with oiled promise, deftly outmanoeuvring opponent after opponent with jokes and soundbites aplenty. By contrast, Hesseren struck an awkward figure at rallies. He used muddled phrasing, spoke down with his bowed, and rarely cracked anything that resembled a smile. If Alstan was a rhetorical sorcerer, Hesseren was a political luddite.

Yet, this proved to be his charm. Pollsters found that it was precisely these reasons that caused voters to trust Hesseren. When he spoke it was always serious. Unlike other, he meant what he said. He put weight behind those promises, and there no was oiled charm to mask his views. And as for the muddled phrasing — it made Hesseren seem just like them, an regular citizen, who lacked the articulacy gifted to those to those born into the right families. Alstan had been part of debating clubs in an elite Astarian education. Hesseren had struggled through as a factory manage in Aurelia, the byword for industrial decline. Hesseren did not float on rhetoric. He gave his words an earthy weight, callused and firm. And the Valarans rewarded him for it.

So, if Prime Minister William Hesseren said he would support Aksesyr Dune ur Kaiteriza with the full weight of the Valaran Empire, you know he meant it.

“And this is why I do not say it.” Hesseren growled. He tossed the file back onto his desk. It was Foreign Ministry White Paper (in such situations, they always were). “You would have me bound into this, and locked Valarans into a quagmire they neither care about nor want.”

One of the diplomats began. Hesseren recalled his name was Sathren, one of Nygaard’s disciples. “We hardly think it a quagmire, sir. Under Aksesyr Dune’s leadershp, Sishai is committed to self-stabilisation, and our support could guarantee that. Meanwhile, the threat of war with URA is distant, and we don’t think this statement will increase chances of confli-”

Hesseren cut him off, before his words did more damage. “The point is not that it is distant. It is that by making this statement, I am locked in. Should Dune fail, and Remnant forces intervene in the ensuing mess, I would then be obligated to offer Valaran support. I would be bound by my own words. That is what this statement is. A chain, to bind me, and this nation with it.”

The turned to the document again, and flicked it open. “Besides, this is riddled with other things. Preferential trade agreements, outlines for military bases in Sishai, even contracts for which Valaran companies to build them.” He turned to the assembled diplomats. “This reads as a manifesto for imperialism. I can’t give this to Aksesyr Dune. She would it the same way.”

“Perhaps you should meet her,” Sathren began again.

“What?”

“Dune. She’s very much like you. She disdains the usual politics, but has staked everything on rebuilding her nation.”

“ don’t see what that has to do with anything.” Hesseren frowned. There were plenty of people like him. They didn’t all merit assistance.

“Prime Minister, perhaps you remember how weak you were when you first came into office.” A hush filled the room. This was not the sort of thing you said to a head of an Empire. But this was not an ordinary voice. Seward was a near legendary diplomat, back from the IFC days. He held a very great weight in Valaran Foreign Affairs.

Hesseren gave a slow gaze Seward. “I do.” He had been so weak back then. Thousands of mocking voices, all crowing at his every blunder. An inability to enact proper social legislation. The humiliation of the deafer on the military budget. They thought they had him then. The elites. Those who supported Alstan, or Lord Osteric’s Conservatives. When he called that election, they thought they had won.

“Dune is in that same position now. Her heart burns with the desire to enact the policies she knows her nation needs. But she is so weak. Prime Minister, how much easier would it have been for you”

Hesseren opened his mouth, but the words did not come immediately. “You’re asking me to approve this… because… because I might feel an emotional connection to her?”

“Not an emotional one. A matter of empathy.”

“That’s a distinction without a difference,” Helen Crien, the Foreign Secretary, spoke up. Arguably Hesseren’s closet ally, she was a strong and forceful figure, yet had failed to get a grip on the entity that was the Foreign Ministry. In truth, only Alstan had managed that feat, and that was because he agreed with them.

In the heady days of colonial expansion, the Foreign Ministry ran the Empire, often without any care for Democratic concerns. Once the colonies had been lost, the Foreign Ministry had withered, its shrunken diplomatic corps a sad prospect in halls built to three times their number. That was, until the recent decades, where it had discovered a new purpose — Liberal Interventionism. It sponsored a mass of alliances and trade networks with other nations. It had It had sunk its influence into the VRF, remoulding them into an expeditionary arm. It hard returned to the corridors of power in Astaria. And most of all, it had sponsored a series of foreign wars, leaving the Valaran Empire with a dozen new VRF bases, a sharp resurgence in imperial sentiment, and hundreds of returning caskets.

In all this, they had been aided and abetted by Alstan, Nygaard and their liberals. Concerns voiced by Social Democrats — and Hesseren himself (then an MP) — were marginalised. Dismissed with lofty rhetoric and a string of triumphs, each one a laurel wreath on Alstan’s head. And so, when he had become Prime Minister, he had inherited this sprawling series of imperial outposts, each one expensive, vulnerable, and coming with yet further obligations. VRF units were being sent on a near quarterly basis, and more caskets came home. Worst of all, the Foreign Ministry saw this as the natural state of affairs. They expected it to continue.

No more, Hesseren had said. But he had not quite been heard, for there had been more. Those were the days of Hesseren’s weakness, when he at the mercy of the Papers and his opponents. Opponents that quickly came to include the Foreign Ministry, and all their backers. He had been forced.

Only now did the Ministry come to him as supplicants, and feed him with honeyed words. To stroke his ego and make him feel empathy for the Aksesyr. Hesseren knew they did not like this. He also suspected, that they did not want him in this position.

“Prime Minister,” a softer voice spoke up. It was more halting than the others in the room, less sure of itself. “could I make a suggestion?”

Hesseren turned sharply. A young woman was sitting near the back of the room, hair tied back into a ponytail. “Who are you?”

“Clara. Sorry, I mean Clara Varkalen.” She smiled apologetically. “I’m from the Foreign Ministry.”

“Yes dear, we can see that,” Helen cut in. “Get to the point.”

Clara gave another apologetic smile. “Of course. Anyway, Prime Minister, you are right. This would indeed lock our positions in. I think… and I might be wrong… that this is the point of my colleagues.” Sarethan stirred. Seward gave a sharp glance at her. For his part, Hesseren almost smiled. “Not to suggest this is a bad thing!” Clara exclaimed. “On the contrary, if we were to offer support without this sort of binding arrangement, then no one would take our offer seriously.”

“Indeed. But this is still problematic. The nation should not be sucked into war just to show that it was serious.”

“Prime Minister, I agree. So what we need is a guarantee of support, that leaves us flexibility. So, what I suggest is this: we make our guarantee conditional on Dune fulfilling some of her promises.”

“What promises?”

“Things that would minimise conflict and ensure stability. Possibly a list of Remnant suggestions.” Hesseren noticed Satrhen look at Seward, who gave a slow nod.

“A moment, if I may.” Crien looked at Clara. “You said your name was Varkalen, is that right?”.

“Yes.”

“Are you any Relation to General Siastan Varkalen, of the 7th VRF Corps?”

“Yes. I mean, he is my brother.”

“You are aware that he would be leading any VRF expedition. The proposal explicitly recommends the 7th Corps as the Force to be used in Sishai. Your brother would be in danger if he we do as you recommend.”

“I try not to put myself in my family’s shoes when it concerns matters of state. Besides, there is unlikely to be much fighting”

“That is all well and good. But you do understand, that should there a Remnant invasion, or an Azen rebellion, he will be the one leading our troops.”

“Foreign Secretary, with respect, but this is what my brother chose. He was in combat in the Southern Flank War. I will always fear for him, but I respect his decision.” She looked at Hesseren. “My advice remains the same.”

Silence filled the room. A slow silence, one of tension. Clara looked nervous.

Seward got up. He smiled. “Well, I’m sold.” He bowed his head to Hesseren. “Good day, Prime Minister.”

Heads turned to look as he left. Then they turned back to Hesseren. He looked at Crien. She opened her hands to him, which was her way of saying “it is your choice.”

Hesseren finally turned his gaze to Clara. He stared at her a long moment, enough that she geban to fea rejection. Then he spoke. “This is something we can work on.” It was an odd way of expressing assent. It was oblique, imprecise, and grudging. Not the way Alstan would have expressed it. But then, Hesseren was not very good with words.

by **The United Remnants of America** » Mon Sep 25, 2017 2:52 pm

Commander Susan Grey

Malsuf Province, Aegypt

9/25/2017 - 11:35

The C-37B set down on the runway in Malsuf Province's largest airport, which happened to be near enough to the capital. The aircraft had a long history as a VIP transport aircraft for the Remnant Air Force, but had been decommissioned from that role several years ago as maintenance prices for the fleet of eight C37's the Air Force kept slowly increased. They'd ultimately been replaced by slightly smaller aircraft with a shorter range known as the GA2-B Mercury. The C-37's were then sold off as private aircraft, or at least, that was the technical aspect of their decommissioning. Really, they'd been transferred to the Contracted Personnel Division, the CPD. The CPD was a semi-autonomous appendage of the Remnant Military, a collection of mercenaries, private contractors and foreign soldiers working for the Remnant government through this organization. The Remnants paid well, even if it always seemed CPD units were put on potential suicide missions. This was no exception.

Aegypt was a Remnant ally, "ally" being a pejorative term. The Remnant and Aegyptian governments weren't close friends, and they had several reasons to antagonize one another. The Remnants were an ambitious imperial power that had already subjected a group of smaller neighboring nations to Remnant authority. Aegypt was, similar to the URA, an authoritarian nation that liked its sovereignty. The URA, of course, didn't like Aegyptian sovereignty. The Aegyptians and Remnants worked together because Aegypt lacked a strong benefactor, and the URA lacked an ally in the region. Syrnistan, Idonae and Agrabah were all similar sovereign nations, but none of them were as authoritarian as Aegypt, which made it difficult for the URA to associate with them. That meant Aegypt was stuck in the dangerous situation of being supplied and allied to a hungry power, and trying to keep enough distance not be swallowed outright.

Usually, the URA kept Remnant officials out of Aegypt other than the necessary Diplomatic Corps personnel at embassies and consulates. Even security was localized by Aegyptian troops, a way to placate the local government, which wanted to keep Remnant boots as far away as possible. But this had been thrown out due to recent developments: President Obunga, the authoritarian leader of Aegypt had been kidnapped from his palatial home. His body was later found, the cause of death was cited as an execution. A coup in the URA's only regional ally, even if Obunga was distrusted and disliked by Olympia, his death meant instability in Aegypt.

This coup was directly blamed on Azenyanistan. The Azens had been making some erratic and suspicious military movements in Donner Land, and Azen press had been releasing increasingly ominous messages. That paired with the recent suicide of the Azen leader, which man in the Remnant intelligence community were calling a silent coup, meant the Azens were planning something, and some administration and military officials believed the Aegyptian coup was related in some way. That meant investigation, or at the very least a benign meeting. And who would the URA send into a potential firestorm? The Contracted Personnel Division.

Scipio Unit was considered the main command of the CPD. They were a think tank made up of military commanders, some Remnant and some foreign, whose main purpose was to advise CPD commanders as well as offer advice to foreign military commanders when Remnant Military officials couldn't be placed down. Due to the instability and rising importance of Aegypt's coup, a total of 13 personnel were loaded onto a C-37B on their way to Aegypt. Two of them were pilots, both ex-Remnant Air Force and looking for an easy gig. Two more were flight attendants. One of them was ex-Air Force, but the other was ex-Internal Security Agency.

The nine who deplaned as the C-37 came to a rest were the majority of Scipio Unit. In charge of them was Commander Susan Grey, an active duty Remnant officer who'd been given command of the Scipio Unit, and by extension, the entire CPD. Most Remnants would see the CPD as a punishment, but Commander Grey saw opportunity, which is why she was in charge; she requested the posting. The CPD offered flexibility the rest of the military didn't offer. That's why most active duty Remnants in the CPD actually joined up, while the retired ones saw a good paycheck for easy jobs.

Commander Grey was followed by her team of eight Scipio Unit members. Lieutenant Commander Will Jacobs and Lieutenant Commander Jodit Haile were her right and left hands, even when one of them was a foreigner. Colonel Lindy Cohen and Colonel Henry Ramirez had both been through the Remnant Military's hoops. Lieutenant Colonels Guram Osadze and Joaquim da Silva Costa were among the original foreigners that joined the early incarnation of the CPD. The final addition was a newcomer to the CPD and Scipio Unit, Captain Dan Tanney, a foreigner, but an accomplished one at that.

The C-37 had announced its intention and cargo upon arrival, so an Aegyptian military attache had arrived to meet with Commander Grey. Grey noted the man wore the old uniform, which could be telling, or it could just mean they hadn't had time to replace all their uniforms with the new tinpot dictator's color palette.

Grey's coincidentally grey eyes bore down on the Aegyptian official, "You know why we're here," she stated matter-of-factly, "Obunga's been dead long enough that we're done grieving, and we're looking for answers. Take us to your leader," Grey's voice slowly accumulated venom and irony as she spoke. The whole diplomatic dance annoyed her more than most things. She was here to get her answers and go home and collect her hefty paycheck, which was much better than the Remnant Army offered.

Fuck this guy for overthrowing Obunga.

by **Azenyanistan** » Tue Sep 26, 2017 3:57 am

If men can create empires, then men can destroy empires.
If men can fight for their empires, then men can fight against empires.
If men can stand against other men, then their empires will last just as long as them.

- Anonymous Azen Writer

Aksesyr Dune ur Kaiteriza

Azen City, Azenyanistan

9/26/2017

"Mother." She said over the phone as quietly and as patiently as she could even though she was already holding the phone so tightly that she might have cracked its screen. She continued "I do not want this job. And this suicide...it's too suspicious. She might have been killed." She didn't want Ayza to die. She was her student and friend. And she was supposed to give her a story that she was working on, one about her racing experiences. But she could not. Her teacher and her friend, the leader of Azenyanistan, has taken her own life. Dune sighed as she said to her mother, Sadisia ur Kaiteriza, who was talking to her from Vanquaria "Mother, please, don't force me to take the job."

"I have to force you to take the job. You were the one invited by Ayza to take her place when she was resting and you accepted and now that she is dead, you have to take the job. And your baby sister will be your Arshay Seyser." My right hand, Dune thought. That would be nice but she really did not want this. Not this job. She wanted to go back to her electronics shop. She was not in a position to desire Azen politics or Azen power. Dune protested "Mother...I appreciate that. But...this does not feel right. Why?" "Don't ask me. You do what you are told." That stunned Dune, making her hold the phone less tightly. What? Why? She wanted to protest this further but...this was her mother and right now, her country is in really, really, really great need. And in immense trouble.

And because of all of the things happening right now, there was hell to pay. And she was being forced into the responsibility. Dune checked the phone, moving it away from her ear for now. She looked at it, not wanting to see any bugs or whatever. Before she called on her mother, was had already done this several times. But what about the security of the line? What if Sadisia was being bugged? She shook her head at that and trusted this for now. She said "Okay, mother, but I hold you to this as much as you hold me to this. I'll do my best, I'll try, but know that I did not want to become leader because even if you say I am qualified, I really just don't want to do this." "Okay." I hope I don't screw this one up as the rest did. Said the 20-something year old Dune. She sighed and said "All right. Mother, thanks for talking to me. I hope you're still okay in Vanquaria. I'll talk to you soon, okay?" "Okay." "Bye, mother." "Bye, Dune. I love you." "I love you too." Then the conversation was over.

And Dune said to herself loudly now "Where do I begin? Where do I go? I don't want this job!"

Thankfully, she let that out before someone knocked on the door to her office. Well, it was Ayzas office. But since Ayza was dead and the powers that be stated on paper that the one who held the position of Aksesyr for the Aksesyr when they was resting would take their position from then on if they died or somehow they lost their power. Dune stood up, putting the phone down first. And she said "Come in." As politely and softly as she could, so as to disguise her emotions. She would have smiled, remembering the praises of her mother when it came to her ability to control her emotions. She was unlike any other Azen that she knew. She was more capable. Hopefully.

Ten people entered her office. It was quite large as it was the office of the leader of the country! And Ayza wanted it this way. Now it was Dunes and before her, stood five men, five women, all of them agents of the Group 171. Or the 171st Group. They were the brand new counter-terrorism, intelligence, special operations and leadership protection agency of Azenyanistan. While there was the Azen Intelligence Group as well as the Azen Angel Corps, the G171 was a multinational one. There were Azens as well as foreigners and in the G171, there was more manpower and more equipment. And more influence too, Dune noted. She read about them using Ayzas notes and she heard about them from her mother, her dead teacher, her helpers and so on, so forth.

Dune gestured to them to relax. She noticed that they had showed themselves to her at attention! I do not deserve this kind of attention... she thought. Even though she was a drag racer and a popular one at that, the Desert Flier, as she was nicknamed, hated being treated formally. So she told them casually "And please don't call me Sir. I'm just a person like the rest of you. Even though I am holding the position of Aksesyr, I really don't deserve this kind of attention." She let a beat skip and then said "Anyway, what can I do for you?"

The one in front of all the others, a half-haired woman with green eyes and a small nose accompanied by Azen-Portean skin, stepped forward. In her marvelous G171 field uniform and windbreaker, her badge of honor worn on her chest, she spoke up clearly "Aksesyr Dune, I'm Special Field Agent Tereterei Price. I have Azen and Portean blood and I have been in the G171 for the longest time. I have been instructed by my Chief of the Agency to report to you with nine others. We are ten here and we stand before you as your security detail." Wait, what? This is happening so fast! Dune had to blink and say "My security detail?" And the agent (as well as those behind her) nodded. Price said "Yes, Aksesyr. Your security designation will be Racer and I will be the head of your detail."

Dune could not believe it. As much as she could hide her feelings, she felt her left hand shake. She hid it from them and told them "I need a moment." "Very well, Aksesyr." Said Price, who gestured to her men to get out of the room first. Thirty seconds later, she left the room as well and closed the door behind her. Dune knew they would simply wait outside. And so she had to be quick.

Immediately, she pressed the button on the protected landline for the CABINET. She needed the rest of the government.

by **The Unified Isles** » Mon Oct 02, 2017 3:56 am

Lieutenant Gawe gazed outside the windows of the cold, barren office. Isle'ish barracks weren't know for their beauty, and there was something especially unsavoury about this about this one. Gawe couldn't quite pinpoint his issue with the architecture, but he knew there was something deeply flawed with it. It was a large, open office, with a row of desks reserved for the junior officers, and a few closed of offices on the rooms perimeters for the seniors. A perfect metaphor, somehow. The seniors watching closely over their subordinates work.

The computer screen before him showed nothing of interest. He already finished most his work about an hour ago. Just file paperwork for deployments, nothing to special. The others still seemed to be struggeling with it. Meanwhile, Gawe was left to wonder about the coming deployment. He only really knew two things yet: They were heading towards Azenyanistan, and the entirety of I Corps was heading there. Mission: Guard. Nothing more. Not being really experienced in such things yet, Gawe was unsure whether this was suspicious or not, but for now he would assume it wasn't.

'Leftenant Gawe?', 'Aye, milord', 'The Commandant wanteths to talk to thee', 'Aye, milord'

'Ah, Leftenant, there art thou', growned the deep voice of the 'Commandant' of the 2nd Royal Regiment of Signals, Colonel Thomas Leyburn III. A fancy name for a quite fancy person, but also a name that carried a heavy burden of a reputation. The Leyburns were an old guard Royal Army clan (family wasn't quite appropriate given it's size), with their history dating back to the very first soldiers of Horatio's Guard. Leyburn didn't live up to the reputation of military prowess. He wasn't staggeringly incompetent, but it was clear to anyone within the Regiment, even relatively new entries like Gawe, that he was chosen for his current position in lack of a better appointee, and that his chances of advance were rather slim. (In fact, there had been rumours that Lieutenant Colonel Drummand, the current Chief of the Regimental HQ, was to take over, though she officially denied those stories).

'Leftenant, uhm, ahm, according to thy files, thee had growed up in Azenyanistan?

'Uhm, aye, mine commandant'

'Well, one of Ramsays Aide-de-Camps ist currently on sick leave. He issued a Corps order for a replacement, qualified in preferably Signals, minimum rank of Leftenant, knowledgeable in Azen cultures and customes and fluent in their language'...

Gawe didn't think long about it, and was already about to open his mouth, but the Colonel interrupted him before he could do so, 'Of course...' he started with a suddenly almost menacing voice, 'leaving one of mine most excellent signallers to Ramsay means that said signaller would owe myself quite a large favour for securing him yond position, aye?'

'Aye,... me shall remember, aye'

The entire force hadn't even arrived yet, but still, Ramsay wasted no time getting prepared. The small column of vehicles slowly paced its way through the southern Azen deserts. It consisted mostly of RO-LIC 'Mule', the small workhorse jeeps of the Isle'ish forces. Ramsay was standing on the back half of the no-roof jeep, looking into the distance. Every couple minutes, he'd order the convoy to stop and would then discuss the scenery with his Operation Staffers. Nothing that a Lieutenant Gawe, or rather Brevet-Captain Gawe, had much to do with being more of a glorified valet in his position as aide-de-camp. Instead, he read through Hermione Keith's 'General Introduction to Operational Signalling and Field Intelligence for the Tactical Signaller', or at least tried to, were it not that the burning sun and the blowing sand made it quasi impossible.

Ramsay was, all in all, what he was said to be like. Gawe might have a small bias towards him given his enormous reputation, both positive and negative, but he actually found most of it to be true. From a personal viewpoint, a quite charming young commander, definitly charismatic, if a bit cocky and with a bit of an overly aggressive attidude. Lazy on paperwork, too, something that especially Gawe had felt in recent days. What came to a small surprise though was his meticioulesness when preparing and planning. It was almost like he took every grain of sand into account on his by now almost daily tours through the area.

'Quite hot today down here, eh, Leftenant', the Captain-General sat down, 'but me assumes that thee art more used to it than me ist'. He smiled, in his unique, smirky way. 'I'd called it average', his aide replied, expressionless. 'Eh, thee knows better me bethinks... anyway... eh, how does me putteth it...'

'Thee requires something, milord?'

'Well, aye..., so thee knows yon girl, Akeysir... Akyses...'

'Akysesyr Dune?'

'Aye, damn those non-rec names...'

Gawe just rolled his amber eyes at the Generals ignorance for foreign cultures.

'Anyway...', Ramsay broke the arkward silence, 'Me needs thy assesstment. What ist she like?'

Gawe thought for a while. He had want to school with Dune, back in the day, living in Azenyanistan as a part of the sizeable Isle'ish minority which had existed there. They eventually moved due to the increased ethnic conflicts, and due to the Isle'ish immigration programs allowing them to do so.

'Dune was good at school, and popular'...

'Hm', Ramsay smiled even more, 'advantageous traits for a leader. Iftee true thou hath the... determination.'

This time it was Gawe's turn, not only to smile, but to laugh, remembering a quite amusing situation between Dune and a fellow student who did, in her eyes, not participate properly in class work. To his demise, Dune was also quite athletic, at least back then.

'Me takes that she doth not only hath the determination...', he looked deeply into Gawe's eyes... 'but also the supreme control over her subjects'.

'Me... me shall hopeth so, milord'

'Splendid! Thee knowst, me've gotten a metting arranged for tomorrow, already...'-

OOC-Note: I'm too lazy right now to post my Order of Battle for this initial deployment. If you want it, PN me on Discord or sent me a TG

by **Free Asian Ports** » Tue Oct 03, 2017 7:05 am

Tel Hadar, Iodinae

Shots rang out. Machine gun fire filled the air with rapid bursts of noise. On occasion, rifles joined them. Corporal Yugumi sipped some coffee while the noise reached a crescendo. He was trying to have a conversation with his comrades, but the nearby fusillade was making that difficult. Their V-150 Commando was parked in the hot sun, and the dust being kicked up whirled around at their feet. On the whole, rather uncomfortable and none of the men present particularly desired to remain here for long.

The gunfire wasn't hostile, the presently active unit was engaging in a live fire exercise at the range a few dozen meters away. The MPs were performing security and assisting the training of the Slokovian Territorials here in Iodinae. They would be here for another month while they received their tropical environment training. When the gunfire died down, Cpl Yugumi turned back to his buddies and continued the conversation. "As I was saying, this isn't exactly a prime vacation spot. Sure, the locals like Porteans, but it's always so damn hot out" he grumbled. Cpl Haruto Kiska shrugged. "It's not that bad, certainly beats freezing in Donner Land" he noted.

Kiska and his compatriot, Pvt Mikael Stefan, were both Slokovians who were posted to aid the MPs for security. Yugumi and the two MPs on his vehicle's team had struck up a conversation to pass the time. In general, Iodinae was pretty safe. But recently there had been a surge of Azen nationalism and the region had become rather tense. Be the threat from Azen or an outside power seeking to capitalize on the shifting tension, Portean forces in the region were prepared to do what was necessary. To the security forces in Tel Hadar at the moment, there was little to do but train and converse about the weather.

An A-4 Skyhawk flashed overhead, bearing the roundels of the Portean Air Force but also livery indicating its part of the Slokovian Self Defense Army. As it flew out over the range, it dropped its payload of bombs and napalm, incinerating a ridge line out of sight of the security guards. The concussive wave that brushed itself over the landscape was proof enough that the bombs hit their target and a cheer went up over the soldiers in the lieu of their firing regimen. Yugumi chuckled to himself as he took another sip of coffee. Maybe next time he can get a glimpse of that firepower. It'd be something to write home about...

by **Imperial Valaran** » Tue Oct 03, 2017 10:27 am

’Dinnertime’

The Brussar was a classic venue for meetings. Situated deep in Samon’s Marsh — the nest of Valaran’s foreign policy elites — the restaurant was near-legendary to its clientele, as a place to dine, wine and make hay. The interior was smoky, filled with smells of roasted pork and sausage, sounds of laughter and conversation.

To Eric Nygaard, MP for a safe constituency in Lauran, and an ex-Foreign Secretary, it was a plunge into the past. Eric had a youthful face, a pale complexion and thin, near-feminine features. His eyes spoke of soft intelligence.

Sathren looked up. “Eric, glad you could make it.” He gestured at an empty chair. The others were filled by a mix of Foreign Ministry Officials. All had been Eric’s subordinates; there were no faces he did not recognise. Now they were higher ups, the silky cream of Ministry elites. He presumed this was Sathren’s faction, or Seward’s. Most smiled warmly in greeting, and Eric smiled back.

A waiter came over, aged and with a stiff courtesy. “Mister Nygaard, it has been some time,” he exclaimed. “How are you?”

“Quite well, thank you Hans. And yourself?”

“Very good, sir, very good. And what might I get you today?”

“We’ll all be having the usual, Hans,” Sathren informed the waiter and Eric both. “Just get Mr Nygaard some of the speciality cocktails.”

Hans nodded. “Very good sir. An excellent choice, if I may say so.”

Once he was gone, Eric turned to Sathren. “You spoke of acing a role for me?”

“I did” The diplomat nodded. “But let’s have some lunch first.”

The food arrived in short order. Plates of sausages, potatoes, roasted carrots and parsnips with charred edge and fleshy interiors. Small cauldrons of steaming gravy were brought and emptied over the solids. There it sloshed around, submerging rolls of stuffing and bacon. Cocktails were drained in short order, for there was a lot of food to wash down. It reminded Eric of the Foreign Ministry lunches of old, when times were rollicking and the spirals were ever upwards.

Talk and laughter filled the air. A critical attribute of a diplomat was the ability to make pleasurable conversation, and these were all masters at the art. They were also more or less friends. They joked
about times back, when Eric was their boss, and Sathren merely a fresh-faced ambassador, eager to make his name. Eric remembered seeing his potential at the time. Yet Sathren had risen far, further than the others of his generation. Marec was as much a rival as a friend, and Helen was still rising in influence, but Sathren was near the very top of the Ministry pecking order. At the top there used to be Eric himself, but his government had fallen. Crien, his replacement, had not quite filled his shoes, leading to figures like Sathren and Seward to guide the Foreign Ministry, strong hands at the rudder as they passed through troubled waters.

Eric was not used to Sathren being powerful. Nor was he used to Seward’s inscrutability. Eric was used to his time of power, and now he was the supplicant. Nor was he sure of why he was here. They had a purpose for him, these men, and he was concerned what this might be. He laughed with the table, hiding his caution. Slowly, but surely, Sathren got around to his request.

“Eric,” he said, they downed small glasses of sweet desert wines “I — we — would like to ask you a favour.”

Anything for friend. “What is it?”

“We need someone not officially connected to the Foreign Ministry, but well, someone we trust.” Sathren smiled faintly. “You’re practically one of us anyway, even if you’re not in government.”

“I’m glad the Foreign Ministry still has time for opposition members.” Eric gave a friendly smile.

Sathren laughed. “We could hardly forget our old Minister now could we? I think I speak for all our members when I say we had fond memories of your leadership, especially compared your successor.” He grimaced momentarily. “Just a shame about all this election business. I expected Hesseren to be out, and Alstan back in. Crien would be out too, and you’d head us again, just like the old days.”

“Not so old yet, I hope.”

“I hope so as well. In the meantime, things move on.” Eric nodded. Coffee had arrived, and Sathren stirred his with a small spoon. The silver rang faintly as it tapped the ceramic. “I take it you’re aware of the situation in Sishai.”

“I am.”

“And that you’re aware of what our government plans to do?” Eric paused. The plans weren’t yet public knowledge.

Seward chuckled. “Come now, don’t act like you don’t know. We’re aware of what leaks.”

Eric nodded once. Sathren seemed satisfied. “We would like you to go to Azenyanistan. We want you to meet with some of the Council Leaders — the opposition members to Dune. Our diplomats can’t been seen to be doing this directly, hence why we need an informal contact. You’re important enough that they will meet with you, but not affiliated to the Ministry or the Government, so unlikely to arouse any suspicion.”

“The Prime Minister will know what I am doing.”

“Hesseren might. It depends what Flint tells him. But as for official excuses, just say you wanted to enjoy some rest after the election campaign. Politics is quite a grind, after all. No one can disprove such things.”

Eric though that was a fair point. But all the same, he remained cautious. He was a cautious person after all, for all that Crien had painted him otherwise. “But why do you want me to go. From what I know of our stance, its that we support Dune, not her enemies.”

Sathren spoke. “That we do. And I ideally, we would continue to do so. But-”

Seward cut him off. “But Dune may not survive. And even if she does, she may not be able to achieve all that she wants. We don’t want to tie ourselves to an unproven manager of an electronics shop, who has never held political office, and doesn’t even seem to want the job. Dune has no base, no experience, and no room for manoeuvre. Azenyanistan teeters on the edge of a precipice, and not just internally. If Dune fails, we want to remain involved. We want to hedge.”

“So blunt about things, eh Seward?” Sathren smiled, though it seemed a touch forced. He turned back to Eric. “However it is essentially this. We would like to establish some communication with Dune’s opposition, see what they want, and so on. They may be quite willing to work with us, but its risky to test the waters so openly. What do you think?”

Eric thought about this. “Is this your only concern?”

Sathren sipped his coffee. Eric could smell the bitter liquid from across the table. Its acridness contrasted sharply with the richer aromas of the Brussar, the roasted meats and vegetables, mustards and sweet deserts. “What do you mean, Eric?”

“Its not just about whether Dune survives, is it? You also want to hedge, in case she turns against Valaran.”

Sathren nodded. “That too. Though it seems more of a distant concern. Whatever Dune may think of us later on, right now her priority is survival, not alienating another foreign state. She will want all the help she can gets, and we are ready to provide it.” He fixed Eric with a glance. “So what do you think?”

Eric drew into himself. They were asking him for a favour, yet expected nothing in return. Normally this would never stand. Deals were based off of mutual interest, and shared gain. What gain would Eric have by plunging into Sishai? The place was by all accounts a mess, and likely dangerous for all involved. And he would be going against Hesseren and Crien, however he might disguise this fact.

Of course, neither Sathren nor Seward, nor any of the other seated figures would forget it if he refused. They were not the only faction in the Foreign Ministry, but Eric would need them if he ever assumed that role again. I don’t want to end up like Crien. Sure he would gain their appreciation if he did as they asked, but

So really, each option held either a risk or a cost. But a risk was only a potential cost. And these were his friends. He smiled, as the Brussar roared on around them, loud voices and laughter intermingling in the smoky heat. “When would you like me to leave?”

Hesseren liked his dinner simple and consistent. The grand state dinners, with their rich food and copious waste did little for him. He had grown up without the luxuries Nygaard and Seward had taken for granted. His meals had been steady and wholesome, but never grand.

Crien liked this about her boss. State dinners left the Foreign Secretary feeling guilty and relaxed, too bloated to do work. And in honesty, work was her true sustenance. Crien held a quiet pride in her tireless productivity, and too much food got in the way of that. She liked that Hesseren held the same view.

She disliked his choices of food. Hesseren’s dinner was a simple affair, but it was not a healthy one. Growing up poor in Aurelia, a byword for Valaran industry decline, did not engender a tendency towards a balanced diet. Instead, Hesseren had grown up on processed meats, fats and salts. It made him stocky and lacking in the toned physiques of Alstan and Nygaard. It was not ideal for productivity.

He set down his cutlery as she entered the study. “Prime Minister, I hope I’m not disturbing.”

Hesseren waved her forwards. “No, do come in Helen.” He gestured at a seat. “I read your report. The Isle’ish are deployed, are they?”

“Yes. They have taken the plunge.” In truth, she could not decide whether this was good or bad. The Isle’ish were just another known unknown, playing their own game.

Hesseren was blunt. “What are they playing at?”

Crien ran through the options. “They might have had greater cause to be worried than us. They might have wanted to get in early, and secure a first-mover advantage with Dune. They might want to act as a deterrent to the Remnants. Or they might have simply thought there was little risk involved.”

“So, in summation, they might have thought anything.”

Helen gave a short smile. “We haven’t asked them.”

“Would they tell us if we did?”

“Perhaps if we made our own intentions clearer.”

“I made mine bloody well clear.” Hesseren boomed, slipping into an Aurelian brogue. “That speech wasn’t for nothing. I have no other agenda.”

“But Seward might.”

“Of course he does. But he is not an elected leader.”

“All the same, Prime Minister, I think we need a stronger statement of intent.”

“I’m not sending in the VRF just because the Isel’ish got into a panic. I won’t play to Seward’s game. Besides, I still have doubts about Dune. I can’t judge her on anything. She has no record in office to compare, no history of advocation, policy formation, anything. All I have are the bloody tax returns of her electronics shop.”

“Indeed we do not know her. And I also do not want to send in the VRF.” That was a recipe for disaster, no doubt about it.

“So what would you like to do, Helen?”

“I would like to arrange a visit. Myself, a few Diplomats, to the Ministry happy. I didn’t want to suggest this in the Cabinet Session, in case you weren’t comfortable with it.”

Hesseren frowned. “Who did you have in mind?”

“Helen Tarengard. Or Sathren himself. I won’t take Seward.” Tarengard’s faction was the closest to offering support to Crien. Tarengard was also less of a threat. Crien could not say the same about Seward.

The Prime Minister thought about it. “Take Clara Varkalen as well. This was partly her idea, see how well she can handle it in the field. And take a VRF representative too. I want their opinion on the situation, and military options.”

Crien nodded. She had forgotten about Ms. Varkalen’s suggestions in that first meeting. The girl seemed smart, but also innocent. More importantly, she wasn’t part of any Ministry cabal yet. Crien could do with some impartial advice from the Ministry.

She quickly departed. It was not her custom to prolong meetings, once matters of substance had been concluded. nor was she one for meaningless small talk. This made her something of an odd diplomat, but that had never bothered Crien.

Instead, as she left, she merely thought about what she did not say to Hesseren. For Crien had another reason to suggest this meeting. She had become aware that Eric Nygaard, her predecessor as Foreign Secretary, was also planing a trip to Azenyanistan, apparently after a meeting with Sathren and Seward. But Eric was not going to see Dune, but her opponents.

Such a thing was not worth mentioning to Hesseren. He would order Crien to react harshly against the attempt to undermine his policy. That meant firing Seward and Sathren. In turn, that would mean a full scale revolt in the Ministry. Hesseren may think differently, but Crien was petrified by such an outcome. She knew what the Ministry was capable of, if entirely alienated. Its ties to the VRF, to the legions, to Alstan and Lord Osteric, to the nobility. Far better to undercut Nygaard’s mission by going herself, than risk that venturing down that path. For deep down, Crien knew it would lead to something worse than a collapsed government. It would lead to civil war.

Valaran was not so very different to Azenyanistan. All it took was the right push.

by **Kramania** » Tue Oct 03, 2017 1:32 pm

Heavily Encrypted Communication from the Kramanian Realm
To the Rebels of Sishanite,

The Kramanian Realm is prepared to offer you assistance in your struggle against your Government. You need not know our reasons for our involvement in this matter. Know only that we can offer you invaluable assistance that will ultimately lead to your triumphant victory. We are prepared to begin funneling 10 billion Kramanian credits to your organization, and will also begin shipping weapons, vehicles and other equipment to you. We will also offer you the use of our intelligence services, as well as assistance from our elite Wolf Brigade.

We await your word.

By the Grace of the Leader,
It is so ordained

by **Azenyanistan** » Fri Oct 06, 2017 8:34 am

Several days before...

October 11 - 0100 hours - OPERATION STEAMROLLER - Protect the borders with Aegypt. Call the Green Helmets and New Azens. Meeting with Sishanite nations and leaders.
The Aksesyr watched the generals and the agents come to her office. She gestured to them to take their seats and in a moment, all of them were waiting for the Aksesyr to speak. She stood up from behind her desk and said to them

"What's Operation Steamroller? And why has this Operation not been cancelled? Isn't the stability of Azenyanistan more important than invading our neighbors?"

The first general who spoke was short but firm "Aksesyr, stability is more important. But taking our neighbors and considering them as part of our land is better."

Dune, the Aksesyr, frowned at what the general said. Are you not supposed to be smarter than this, she silently asked the general in her own mind. She then replied "You may say that but that is highly suspicious." She looked at everyone else and said "What is Operation Steamroller?"

The second general, tall and calm, said "It came from Ayza. She wanted the military to carry it out for her. It was an operation for the entire army, with air and naval support, to annex Aegypt, Syrnistan and Agrabah. That way, our country would have more people, resources and territory. And that way, we prove to our other neighbors that we are strong, that our country can do this and that the world shall see that we are a true regional power. And that we have the potential to be a superpower."

Dune watched the second speaker, hearing the words flowing from her thin lips "It was also because Ayza wanted our country to be strong enough to face the Remnants. She doesn't want them here." Immediately, Dune raised a hand to silence the general and she said

"My teacher said that?" And the general nodded. Dune continued "While I could see that there are rewards for us if Operation Steamroller comes around, our state can't do this. Instability is our weakness. That instability will crush us, helping the Remnants. Helping our enemies, our weakness will." She then left her desk, facing the generals and agents "Whatever you all might say about Operation Steamroller, I, Aksesyr of Azenyanistan, forbid you to carry it out and if you have, I forbid you from carrying it out any further. If you question me or oppose me, I will not accept that kindly and I will have you arrested or I will make sure that you won't do it again."

The generals and agents stared at one another, surprised at the force of her words, the strength that Dune was summoning to deny them what the previous Aksesyr told them to do. But one by one, they nodded to Dune and an agent from the G171, of all agencies, Dune thought, spoke

"Crystal clear, Aksesyr. It won't happen."

Ten minutes later and Dune dismissed them all. She then called her Secretary of State, War, Civil Defense and Security. She had them seated while some of the G171 agents who were protecting her took the extra chairs away. Dune told them "Report."

The Secretary of State nodded and opened his mouth, being the first to report as Dune thought, upon her chair, about the future.

Will they really listen? And how long until I can get this house in order? And what will the Remnants do to us, come Operation Steamroller or not? What should I really do?

NUSAYASTATT

It was once called Sishai City. And before that it was called Azen City. Now it was considered Nusayastatt. And as sign makers and painters were replacing the old names of the city with the newest one, Aksesyr Dune ur Kaiteriza collapsed on the bed she had put into her office and closed her eyes, sighing. She was so exhausted from meeting her opposition, her cabinet and so many people. This was the job she hated to have!

She would have gotten even just a few beautifully necessary hours of rest if not for the cellphone ringing in her head. Turns out, it was real. She opened her blueish eyes and sat up, looking at her pockets. Her phone was in the right one so she took it out, feeling the vibrating body of her Motorola Nexus 6 smartphone.

She would have smiled, remembering the many, many Motorolas she sold in her shop. For that, she was proud, as the Motorola was one of the most popular brands in the country. But for now, she could only frown at the phone, seeing who was calling her. Her secretary and friend and a close one to her teacher and to her mother, Noreekah. She answered the phone with a voice that was like anyone else who didn't want to be awake right now.

"It's Dune. What is up for me, Secretary Noreekah?" The Secretary answered politely and quietly "Aksesyr Dune, I didn't mean to disturb you. Unfortunately, you have some more business to attend to."

Dune groaned and stood up, brushing her dusty clothes and attempting to fix her hair even as she pressed the phone to her ear with her shoulder "What about it?"

"A message from the Valaran Empire and some reports from our intelligence agencies. Some bits about the Porteans in Iodinae and unconfirmed rumors of the Aegyptians meeting with the Remnants." The mention of the Remnants made Dune shiver in her mind but outwardly, when she was alone or not, she did not shake from fear or from excitement. She nodded and said "Okay. What else?"

The Secretary stood by for a few moments, Dune hearing her Secretary go through some papers and maybe scroll through her computer with a noisy mouse. She then replied "There's some Isle'ish officers who want to meet you. One of them, I've gathered, is named Gawe."

Gawe? The name rang a bell in her head and it was good. Dune asked excitedly "Gawe? Do you have the full name?" The Secretary answered her in full and soon enough, Dune was alive again, jumping up and down and saying "That is my old classmate! He is coming here?" And the Secretary, a bit relieved that her leader is happy, said "Yes, he is coming to see you. He is accompanying a Captain-General and he is a Signaller for The Unified Isles."

Dune, at once, made her way out of the Aksesyrs Office and said "Oh, that's right. Please get things arranged in a few hours. I'm going to fetch him myself!"

And before the Secretary could even speak, Dune had already put her phone away, killing the conversation and rushing through the halls, not minding the older and more experienced members of the government watching her go as fast as lightning.

In ten minutes, she was at the bottom floor of the Compound. She found her car, an outstanding Azen version of the Dodge Viper, and with her keys, opened the door to the drivers place, got in and in a while, got the hell out of there in order to meet her classmate from before. Let's go! She thought as she grinned, going over 90 miles an hour into the Grand Highway, dodging motorcycles and trucks, laughing happily. Oh, how it felt great to get away from that office. Even with her exhaustion, she felt better with a little drive.

Teezeki, New Azenyanistan, United States of Azenyanistan

Southern Syrnistan

Azen Intelligence Group/Sishanite Intelligence Group/Heart of Ashai Group

Special Agent Njoroge Ngure

Activated after three months of insertion into Southern Syrnistan. Mission to take and give intelligence on possible OPFOR has been green lighted.

Operation Steamroller

A little blue bird was on the A3 paper that the dark man held in his large hands. He held it away from him, preferring to test the glasses he just bought from the shop a few meters away to his left. He even made sure to hold it up just enough so that the sun was behind the paper. The dark man nodded at the drawing made with pencil and some crayons and gave it back to the tall boy who made it. The boy smiled and thanked the man when he gave him a few hundred dollars.

For that, he smiled too and then put away the glasses into the case he got from the shop for free. Then he turned around, walked a few hundred meters and made his way into an apartment.

In the lobby, there was nobody else except him and a young, hijab wearing woman with glasses. Ones that were like his. The woman looked up from arranging some folders in her box and smiled at the dark man. The dark man gave her the Azen nod and the woman, even though she whispered something nice in Syrnistani and, when he got closer, gave him the keys to his apartment.

The man made his way to the slow, green and several months old elevator and when the doors slid open, he entered and waited for the doors to automatically close. Once that was done, he punched the button for the 6th floor and waited until he reached it. He left the elevator, moving quickly now, watching his back. He slowed down when he reached the third corridor to his right and went there. He counted the doors. One...two...three...there. He inserted the brown looking keys into the taped knob and unlocked his apartment. Then entered.

A small Rattean made cross greeted him when he came from the living room. And the white curtains made sure that he didn't feel so hot in his own second home. The dark man put down his case on the small table surrounded by wooden chairs and found the tiny kitchen where a dark woman was making coffee. It smelled good, a perfect blend of Syrnistani and Azen beans. The man chuckled and gave the woman an embrace from behind. The woman stopped to put her left hand on his cheek, murmuring something nice in Azenish as the two rubbed against each other.

Then the woman asked "What did the boy tell you?" Hiraoka Kiyumi was her name. Although her eyes were Urranese, her skin was Nyran, of the Azen tribe of water and fish. Her good hands then went to make coffee again as he answered her "Blue bird." The woman sighed but listened on "I still had to give him a few hundred dollars. He's getting better at drawing, you know?" But the woman turned around and said "Blue bird is not what we want though. That means that the Syrnistani military isn't doing what we want them to do. Hopefully some day, our assets will get us a red bird." The man simply smiled and looked at the woman who gave him a glance and groaned. She then said "Anyway, get to the table. I'm almost done making coffee."

Azen Embassy, The United Remnants of America

Group One Seven One/ One Hundred Seventy First Group of Azenyanistan/ Gara Os So Os

Field Officer Solomon Cord

Protect the embassy. Secure the Ambassador.

Solomon watched the Remnant guards from the roof of the seven storey building that served as the center of the Azen diplomatic compound in the URA. He didn't say anything as he knew that they were still around, keeping them in, keeping everyone else out. Some Azen citizens of the URA have been trying to get close to the embassy while others, who were citizens of Azenyanistan herself, were trying to find another way into the embassy of their heartland while the ones who chose this land were abandoned by that heartland.

The field officer, assigned to the embassy just before the Remnants stone-walled all the Azens and surrounded the embassy, could not help but silently imagine shooting those Remnant fuckers with a Caller from his spot.

With him was another field officer of the G171 and her name was Sherry Metz. Now, she was more Remnant than Azen but that didn't stop her from saying the usual things she said when she would go with him to the roof. And that was always "Fucking shit is what they're doing, Boss. Boxing us in like this." She added even as her boss simply kept on monitoring the Remnant presence around the embassy with his binoculars "Have you heard that they've been sending people? Some of our guys working the airports say that the UR of America are around. Probably gonna try to talk to the top." She spat off the roof and said, sitting down, behind the four and a half feet tall wall "I don't like it, Boss. And what about our comms? Did Ben-Shahar get them working again?"

He did not give her a nod. And Sherry grunted, saying as she closed her eyes while placing a cigarette between her lips "Wish I can make it back home."

"Same here, First Lieutenant Sherry, but this is our job. Your job, mine." He shifted a bit, zooming out "My job, yours. You can complain about it when I'm around but I can't really expect you to quit right now." The woman nodded and said loudly "Of course, I won't quit yet. And besides, Boss, I'm fine working this." She stood up and put her elbows on the wall next to him "As long as those Remnants don't try anything to hurt us or our guys here."

The boss nodded. He and her were the only top guys from the G171 stationed here. Add the five field agents and the fifteen "operators" that came with them and that was really it. And in the middle of a country that was probably gonna go hostile in the future, with him estimating it to take at least a month or a handful for tensions to boil, that was bad news. Really bad fucking news, as Sherry Metz would love to put it. He chuckled.

"I heard you chuckle, Boss!"

OUTSIDE NUSAYASTATT

by **Pakiranistan** » Sun Oct 08, 2017 6:49 pm

Tashanit International Airport, Malsuf Province, Aegypt

The military attache was one Kaptaan Hamid Jardahn, a grizziled veteran of the Aegyptian Army who had a personal hatred for Azenyanistanis and as such offered his services to Bugaboo and thus was now on track to become a high ranking member of the Aegyptian Army. He warmly greeted the Scipio unit, though they did not seem to return the courtesy and instead their commanding officer spoke with the tounge of a serpent. But, it was besides the point as his only job was to make sure they got to the presidential palace in one piece "Very well ma'am, right this way" gestured Jardahn as he pointed towards three desert khaki colored Toyota Landcruisers outfitted and built for offroading and military purposes.

As the Scipio Unit and the Aegyptian Army soldiers boarded the SUVs they were immeditiely slammed into first gear and driven at high speed off of the tarmac until they came upon a gate guarded by heavily armed Aegyptian soldiers accompanied by a BRDM-2 with a 360 degrees gunhouse with a 14.5mm KPVT mounted in it, the gate was opened moments later and the soldiers gave friendly gestures towards the convoy as it drove through the gates and out of the airport onto Motorway 12, It was an hour and 35 minute ride to the Presidential Palace so Jardahn loosened up and layed his head on the headrest of his seat. As the convoy drove on the highway, the scene was that of a mass mobilization as Aegyptian Army trucks lined the highway with tanks sitting on their trailers guarded by various wheeled APCs and foot soldiers as well as the blue and white lights of the police cars blocking off some exits to civilian traffic.

Meanwhile back at the airport, a unmarked C-130J touched down on the runway, slowing down as it taxied off of the runway onto its designated parking space, as the shutdown procedures kicked in, masked men wearing Black military tops and Khaki tactical pants and caps began to disembark from the plane carrying gun cases and various other military gear. Soon 3 military 6x6 trucks parked along the side of plane and the men began boarding and loading the trucks up with their gear, soon after another plane landed carrying the same cargo and as you would have it, after it another landed.

by **The United Remnants of America** » Mon Oct 09, 2017 1:06 am

Commander Susan Grey

Malsuf Province, Aegypt

9/25/2017 - 12:08

The C-37B had taxied off to an unused lane at the airport. The flight crew and pilots had deboarded to stretch, remarking about how hot Aegypt was compared to the URA. They offered little notice to the C-130s landing or the personnel and equipment getting off of them. The CPD flight crew was paid to keep their eyes and minds on their jobs, so they did just that.

Grey had boarded Kaptaan Jardahn's SUV with Will Jacobs and de Silva Costa, while the others had scattered into the remaining SUVs. The trip was mostly quiet, with Jacobs and de Silva Costa offering little in the way of comment, rather content on looking around at their new environs as neither had never been on the ground anywhere on this continent. Grey had been to Agrabah once, and she noted that Aegypt looked no different: Sand and hot sand.

However, once on the main highway and after passing the first few instances of military mobilization, de Silva Costa whistled from the back seat, "Uau. Capitão Jardahn, are the Aegyptians expecting a luta sometime soon?" If it couldn't have been noticed that de Silva Costa wasn't Remnant by his browned complexion, short build, and his facial features, his accent definitely gave him away. De Silva Costa wasn't from the URA, but rather a Remnant ally that had worked closely with the URA back before the CPD had been officially formed. De Silva Costa was one of the first officers tapped to form the CPD's Scipio Unit, and he'd done well as one of he more relaxed commanding officers.

by **Pakiranistan** » Mon Oct 09, 2017 6:27 pm

Motorway 12, Malsuf Province, Aegypt

The ride seemed to mostly quiet as Jardahn's guests didn't seem to be the talkative type seemingly being more interested in the sand that surrounded them on both sides of the motorway "Hmmm, that one man in the back seems to not be from the URA, interesting hiring foreign mercenarys to do their work" Jardahn thought to himself but as they passed what could be the fifth mass mobilization convoy the foreign man in the back spoke out whistling a question to the Kaptaan "Theres been some, how would one put it, unruly behavior in the nearby province and has resulted in the death of 10 of our men in an ambush, these fine men lining the road are there to instil some discipline in said unruly citizens" replied Jardahn playfully before the sound of a helicopter formation consisting of Super Chukar Gunships drowned out the ambient sound, the helicopters flew low in a spearhead formation and seemed to be unarmed with no missiles or rockets in sight, instead having their rear doors opened with what seemed to be Aegyptian Air Assault Troopers leaning out scanning the enviorment.

In the nearby province, Aegyptian Army Senior Sergeant Murtaza Khan crouched behind a reinforced brick well gripping his FN FNC rifle tightly all the while taking cover from incomming rebel fire that was originating from the bell tower in the town his unit was deployed in, shots landed all around him with some barely whizzing past his head "Oi, Hamza fucking do something about that damn tower" he shouted toward one of his platoon mates who was filling in for the teams demolitions man as they had lost the official one due to a rebel ambush the encountered two days before. Hamza peeked around the corner but was quickly met by a flurry of rapid fire from the bell tower and fell over onto the ground having been shot in the upper chest area "Shit, Hamza Bhai!" yelled Khan as he attempted to crawl towards his wounded comrade who was shaking violently on the ground, unfortunatly Khan too was shot in the leg but neverthe less he pushed on towards his comrade eventually reaching him with agony and dragging him behind the wall "Hamza! Hamza! Hamza!" he screamed but it was too late as his comrade went cold and left the world, now filled with rage Khan picked up the RPG-7 that Hamza was carrying and attempted to load a rocket before an explosion rocked him back and out cold, he groggily woke up to the scene of Aegyptian Air Assault Troopers firing an RPG-29, as the trooper fired the RPG it made a dosh sound as the rocket left the tube and impacted the bell tower erasing the entire upper area, the troopers then noticed Khan and quickly ran over to help him "Oi Oi oi are you ok boy, stay with me son" yelled one while the other helped him up with a firm grip "Come on soldier, we have rebels to crush and awards to win" yelled the Trooper with confidence as he grabbed Khans arm and handed him a rifle before gesturing for him to follow him and before he knew it the troopers were gone all the while he stood there recollecting his thoughts the sound of armoured tanks moving up from behind....

by **Azenyanistan** » Tue Oct 10, 2017 4:30 am

Many days before Aksesyr Dune went to meet her classmate from TUI and to see to the duties she was forced to take as Aksesyr, she was able to construct a plan for herself and her nation. Dune thought of avoiding war with the United Remnants of America, gambling on the chances that the URA will not invade Azenyanistan.

Dune saw it: URA would not want a war with the Union. The Union would protect Azenyanistan. And the URA has no gain from invasion. URA would probably see more in aiding their ally or in inserting themselves into the continent. But the Azens and other Sishanite nations might not want Remnant influence on the continent. Not them. And not any more foreign influences. While Dune never shared the feelings and ideas of Sadisia and Ayza, she knew that it was what her opposition and her people felt.

There were too many foreign influences in Sishai. And they thought it was drowning out the locals and their achievements and their way of life. But Dune knew this was wrong sometimes because the foreigners were good. They did a lot for Azenyanistan and they have sacrificed so much money and men. Yet there will always be these ill feelings until something changed.

And Dune will change it by taking the first step: She will make sure Azen forces stay away from Aegypt. And she will gather more support so that her position will be considered seriously and the chances of invasion or occupation will be lower. She did not want a war and she did not want a crisis. If this was a crisis, she will put an end to it the best way she can and that is by talking and by getting close.

Dune recapped in her mind. Stay away from Aegypt. But do not put your guard down with the Remnants still around. But never accept invasion or occupation. But what about Syrnistan? Agrabah? Iodinae? The two nations mentioned first were problems. Not only to Azenyanistan but also to the continent.

She was just told about the rebels who fled Nyra, Shan and Ayr into Syrnistan and Agrabah. And rumors reached her ears about past actions by the nations of the Porteans, the Donnish and the Esgonians in Agrabah. What they did to the nations close to them in support of Iodinae, Dune knew something was fishy.

She always hated secrets.

And so she planned to find out in Agrabah and Syrnistan. Stay away from Aegypt, she reminded herself, but keep an eye on Syrnistan and Agrabah. With the rebels there, they might come back to bring more trouble. And she didn't want that.

So she called the G171 and the AIG and the special forces of the Azen Military. And in a matter of days, before she raced to see her classmates, Operation Steamroller was cancelled. But Operation Deserting Warriors was approved.

If she wanted to stabilize Azenyanistan, she wanted to know what happened out there. And she wanted those rebels either dead or arrested.

The Attorney General

by **Saradena** » Tue Oct 10, 2017 6:21 am

Room B1A, Esgonian Embassy, Nusayastatt, Azenyanistan

In the corner of the basement of the Esgonan Embassy in Azenyanistan sits a hunched male, in his mid-30s, staring at his computer reading his files. The room he occupies is sound-proof, windowless, and can withstand a heavy bombing session. Inside that strange room were shelves and shelves of files, almost all of them were marked in bright red the word [CLASSIFIED] on their cover, along with a mix of older and newer computers, able to store several terabytes of files for a long time. There were half a dozen men and women also working in that room, shuffling along the shelves, typing, or stamping a mark on something. Every file stored in that room is only allowed to stay there, and any business in that room should stay in the room too. The room isn't even part of the publicly-shown blueprints of the embassy, and all those who work in the room are the only ones allowed in and no outsiders are permitted to enter.

The room was the office of the Esgonian Intelligence Service detachment in Azenyanistan, and the man mentioned is the director of the place.

He sips a cup of coffee as he continues browsing through his folder. What contained in them were intelligence data gathered from the sources outside. The first set of them were images gathered up by satellites or recon drones performing runs around the country to figure out what's going on. Some images show the gruesome carnage from the Rakshani rebellion from a top-down perspective, which shows burning cars and buildings, brown or black dots, which were Azens, scattered all over the place, and so forth. Another two show the bodies of hanged police officers in Rakshan with crowds of rebels seen cheering in the background. Other images show movement of Azen troops from recently, showing them re-mobilizing and re-organizing for their "unification campaign" as some Azen troops from Donner Land return home after being called back. Another set of images show foreign troop movements around the country, along with its neighboring countries like Aegypt, with what appears to be Namenian soldiers and weapons coming to and from Azenyanistan, Isle'ish troops moving across the southern deserts, and what appears to be a large number of Private Military Contractors, of unknown origin as of the moment, appearing in Nyra. The PMCs appear to be heavily armed, as seen by multiple attack helicopters. The rest of the images were assortments of pictures from the other countries in the region, Syrnistan, Agrabah, Aegypt, and so on. Although they were mostly crippled from ISAT's Operation: Desert Blossom a few months back, it seems that they were getting uppity again, but this time not on Iodinae, as seen by images of heavy military movements.

The other files were audio files or documents gathered up by HUMINT and analyzed by the analysts both in this room and back in EIS HQ in Eldrichta. EIS HUMINT agents, cover as tourists, diplomats, businessmen, were deployed across the country, snooping around for any juicy intel they can get. They usually get them from overhearing Azen conversations, some of them ranging from the wealthy and high-ranking ones, to your average man or woman from the streets, anything they can get is valuable to them. To lessen the chance of being caught, they usually stuff microphones or fibre-optic cameras in their clothes, with the cameras placed under their sleeves. The agents would operate in that area only once before they withdraw from the area and never come back or are replaced by a second agent, who will continue the cycle until they are withdrawn, in order to minimize suspicion. The written documents were written analysis of current events and captured images or testimonials from agents or informants. With these, they had at least some grip on what's going on in Azenyanistan currently. It's not as perfect as they thought it'd be, then again, nothing's perfect.

The director, hunched in his seat, and his eyes and attention fixed onto the computer screen, replayed the audio files over and over while typing up the last pages of his 51-page situational report that he'll send back to HQ in Eldrichta.

"Just another day at the office" he thought to himself as he continued typing. In his head, all he wants to do is just get out of the country and go back home. It's been around a year or two since he had left his home, and he doubts if anything had changed from there.

Nowadays, Esgonians view Azens in a conflicted light, one showing positiveness in their hardworking and hospitable attitude, but others show the opposite, mostly stemming from the fact that they're easily quite emotional. too emotional as a matter of fact, that some people even blame the current political and social instability in the country due to their extreme emotions.

Another concern that they had with Azenyanistan is that they are colluding with potentially hostile elements, especially the Namenians, who had shown their extreme ruthlessness during their Civil War, even going to the point that they were not afraid to destroy Creatle with nuclear missiles; something that the government were extremely concerned about, as they could possibly be another Vanquaria, or something even worse than that.

Another potentially hostile element was the Isle'ish, which had recently been uppity lately, as seen by the incident between the Isle'ish Navy against the Rattean Navy in the Farasan Islands, along with the deployment of forces into the Camaalbakrian border without notice. They had also had a long, very nasty history with Esgonia and its neighbors, further reinforcing the concerns the Esgonian Government had. But as of right now, their concerns was placed somewhere else: Donner Land. Most of the troops he had talked to over at the Walkure Firebase, one of the last Esgonian Military installations in Azenyanistan, complained about being in the sweltering heat in Azen and wanted to join the boys currently fighting in Donner Land as news reports about the Coalition landing in Soraught made headlines. The troops were less concerned of the latest happenings in Azen and were more of bored. As one soldier says "This shit happens every week. One moment they're celebrating and dancing, the next thing you know there's gunfire, dead bodies, and political drama all over the place. What's there to be concerned anymore?"To avoid getting into more drama with the others, they keep all of their opinions to themselves and not speak of them in public. Same goes for the Director and the Service. Everything is to be kept in a tight lid, a very tight lid.

After nearly half an hour of typing, he finishes in his reports, having spent countless sleepless nights typing in, proof-reading, and fact-checking before finishing it. After saving the PDF file. He uploads it, along with the rest of the folder, compressed into a .zip file, into a heavily-encrypted private file sharing service owned solely by the EIS. This was to ensure no one outside their agency can see them. After a few seconds, a screen prompts up, showing that the file was successfully uploaded and is sent to the Esgonian Intelligence Service's HQ back in Eldrichta. The director then kicks his feet back as he slouches back and stares into the ceiling, thinking to himself.

This clusterfuck is making my life easier, isn't it?

Central Rakshan, Azenyanistan

...so far the situation in Rakshan is calming down, with more security stepping in to secure the city and to enforce law and order to the once chaotic region. But with the recent power changes following the sudden death of President Ayza ur Talltower and the confusion in the Azen military's high commands following the withdrawal of their highly-controversial "Unification campaign." and their commitment to the Donnish War, it is unlikely that the chaos that the Azens has been experiencing for years will go away any time soon. This is Rikoni Pastoa, CBN News. Central Rakshan.

"And cut. That's a wrap." said the camera man, turning off the Recording button from his camera. The journalist then takes off her helmet and takes a deep breath, looking at the hot Azen sky. It was a tiring day for her and the team. Barely getting enough sleep for the entire week in Azenyanistan just to get their story finished. Having to be embedded in with fellow Azen journalists just to be allowed access to many sites where foreign media were usually not allowed to, as well as getting some interviews with some of the Azen security forces. After a week, the entire story was done. Now all they need to do is to finish the video before returning home and giving the finish product to the CBN Headquarters back in Esgonia.

Rikoni was no stranger to Azenyanistan. She had been to this exotic country so many times, her first time was in 1997, and then again in 2000, 2001, and especially in 2003, where she was on the front line with the Esgonian Army during the Battle of Mecca in the Azen-Cirillian War, where she had recorded the struggle of the Esgonian troops against the joint Vanquarian-Pakirani armies defending the holy city. She had even seen and reported the horrific war crimes the Vanquarian troops committed against the Azen people in one of her documentaries, where she was given multiple awards for her fantastic work. She was again sent back on a nearly annual basis, reporting in during the Festival of Freedom, and then during the Age of Chaos. She was really interested in the Azen culture, where she had connected with many Azen people. With that, she had connections with many Azen news agencies, where they'd oftentimes do collaborations on projects.

"Oh Azen. Once again you've sunk into shit. Such a waste of a beautiful place." she said before she was snapped back into reality by her camera man, who was already in the car, along with their bodyguard. He quickly motioned her to get in the car to return to their hotel, where they could get a few hours of sleep before catching another flight back to Esgonia. She and the team needed the well-deserved rest anyways.
But as they drove through the Azen streets, she could not help but just think why'd all of this happen, anyway? all the chaos, all the political drama, just why.

by **The United Remnants of America** » Tue Oct 10, 2017 1:03 pm

Commander Susan Grey

Malsuf Province, Aegypt

9/25/2017 - 12:10

The comment about safety from Jardahn placated the easy-going CPD officer and he nodded back into silence. De Silva Costa's homeland had a similar temperature to Aegypt, but it was mainly humid rainforest rather that desolate desert. The only one of the team of officers and advisors that had come from a similar climate was Lt. Com. Jodit Haile, but the others had generally come from colder environs.

Jardahn's comments, however, did not placate Grey. At the mention of rebels, Grey twisted in her seat and glanced at Jacobs, who looked back. Despite his dark sunglasses, Grey had spent enough time with the Torian-Remnant to read his expression. Jacobs was as concerned as she was about the comment, meaning that a little digging would need to be done.

As the SUV bounced in the road and a flight of helicopters flew over, causing de Silva Costa to press the side of his face against the window to watch them, Grey glanced at Jardahn, "So, unruly citizens? Do you have any reason why your people would be so rebellious? Is it due to Obunga's death? Would it be possible to maybe go through this province later on and observe the fighting?"

Grey needed to gauge the intensity of this conflict. If they were a small group of rebels originating from the coup, that was one thing, but if they were Azens that had spilled over into Aegypt, then it was an international conflict and she would have to report it back to someone else and get clearance to mobilize defensive units. Even though Grey was technically in charge of a unified combatant command, she still lacked the power for any major mobilizations, despite other combatant commanders having the power. She marked it up to being in charge of a mostly foreign army.

Captain James Stewart

Olympia, URA

9/25/2017 - 12:15

When the URA officially formed the Remnant Army, ten "Armies" were created. An Army was the smallest strategic unit, being comprised of twenty divisions of troops and estimating around 200,000 personnel. Of these, most had specific roles. The 1st Army, of course, was the personnel protection force of the nation's capital as well as other major installations. Meanwhile, the 10th Army was a transient unit that handled training of new recruits, so it was constantly undergoing personnel changes. The 9th Army was the unit that handled base maintenance and acted as a temporary or permanent posting for Army personnel that were punished for various crimes. As such, the 9th Army became a bit of an inside joke within the Remnant Military.

However, with the creation of the Greater Remnant Cooperation Sphere, or GRCS, which acted as a geographic alliance of the URA and its client states, the Remnant Military deemed it necessary to shift from role-based forces. Thus, Unified Combatant Commands were created and forces were attached to them. One such combatant command, Pragmatan Command, PRAGCOM, was a geographic command in the east of the URA. A while ago, the URA and the neighboring kingdom of Pragmata had a pair of back-to-back wars. The URA was larger and better equipped, but the Pragmatan troops had a religious zeal in their fighting, but eventually the URA prevailed. Since then, due to the oppressive inclusion of Pragmata into the URA, the Pragmatan people had mostly been crossbred out of existence and most of the country replaced with Remnant citizenry, making it less a client nation and more a state of the URA. That's why Pragmatan Command constituted one military unit: The 9th Remnant Army, based out of Fort Talon. This was due to the 9th Army's reputation making it unable to be a combat tenable unit at the time. Even now, despite trained troops being sent to replace retiring, injured, and dead personnel across all the Army, the 9th still retains its slipshod reputation.

This reputation, however, proved to be an advantage. As most of the 9th was comprised of soldiers that had just barely escaped a court martial conviction and acted as base staff, the 9th was everywhere. This allowed the Remnant Military to grow, in secret, a sizable internal intelligence unit within the 9th's numbers. Intelligence officers were slowly rotated into the 9th Army, acting as base personnel in order to spy on and investigate internal matters throughout the Remnant Military. With the creation of the combatant commands, this role no longer proved as useful, but the 9th Army still kept its larger-than-average intelligence and internal affairs unit.

Captain James Stewart of the 9th Remnant Army was one of the more accomplished intelligence officers, and while he rarely went into the field anymore, he'd been called in from Fort Talon on the Remnant-Pragmatan border to the Azen Embassy in Olympia to observe the Internal Security Agency's blockade of the Azen Embassy. Stewart had to admit the ISA had done a good job in their block. A couple Remnant citizens had been caught trying to smuggle weapons in the embassy in an effort to kill the staff, but the ISA had done as good a job protecting the embassy staff as they had keeping the staff in their compound. It was truly a dual-purpose blockade. The Azen Embassy had asked that Azen citizens be allowed access, but this proved fruitless. Azenyanistan citizens had long since been purposely evacuated from the URA proper, and Azen ethnic Remnants didn't want to go anywhere near the Azen embassy which had abandoned them, even if life was increasingly difficult for them in the URA.

Stewart, dressed in a black suit and standing on the blockade line, drinking a coffee with a couple ISA agents, glanced over the compound walls and noted the Azen personnel on the roof of the embassy, watching over the situation. The ISA agents were armed, and Stewart had his sidearm under his jacket, but he doubted any hostilities would ensue. What Stewart really needed, he decided, was a way into the embassy so he could speak with the staff. He wasn't sure why the higher-ups in the Army wanted him of all people to complete this mission, but he'd try his best to accomplish it.

by **Forest State** » Tue Oct 10, 2017 1:08 pm

Stormhold, Cemeralia
Maradndo Security

“We all know that Marando Security is one of the most respected and feared mercenary firms in Cemerelia. As such, we have decided that you will the the firm to carry out our operation near Azenyanistan, starting in the country of Syrni. We want your Stormhold based company to make their way there and aid fleeing rebels in the conflict that you have all heard so much about on the news,” said the man in the dark suit and shades, who sat across from the two mercenaries that he was meeting with in the open, in downtown Stormhold, over lunch. “We think that you’re the best firm to make a difference, because you have the experience from real conflicts that others don’t. You aren’t just some security group looking to make money on the side with some shady shit.”

The first of the mercenaries was Cam Marando, the owner of the entire business. The one who had started the firm with his own money, turning them within a short period into one of the top ones in the country. Besides him was his top Lieutenant, Hessica Costa. Former Airpine rebel, now a potential proxy for the country that she fought against in the past. Both of them did have more conflict experience than they would like to admit. “You’re damn right about that part,” Cam said, leaning back and twirling a fork absentmindedly. “But we’ve been taking some time off after the campaigns in Airpine and in southeastern Cemeralia. You need a good offer to get us in on this.”

“It’s been a rough last few campaigns,” Hessica added. “We’re still replacing some longtime members of ours. We’re not at one hundred percent, and we’re still pretty strong, but I don’t know if we want to embark on another long campaign just yet. Like Cam said, you’ve got to give us a good offer if you want us to sign this contract.”

“I can already say that we will be providing more compensation than you’ve worked for in the past. Half a million down. Two hundred and fifty K for every month that you spend in Syrni-”

“Give us the details of the job,” Cam said, deciding to think of that before the money aspect.

“The goal in Syrni is to set up in Khi Bi, near the border of Azenyanistan, to aid the rebels that have been pushed out of that country. These rebels are fighting for independence, and it helps our own interests if that goal is realized. We’ll be paying you this money to help them train their forces and fight on the front lines, against Azen special forces in the region and regular Azen forces. However, tensions with Aegypt and the Remnant as well as the conflict in Donnerland have ensured that you will not have the full attention of the Azen regime. This is the perfect time to strike at a conflict that was considered to be cooling off.”

“And what are your interests, exactly?” asked Hessica.

“That’s not something that we’re prepared to disclose. After all, we don’t know if any of you will be captured in the field and interrogated for information. The money will come from a shell company of ours, and all you need to know is that our pockets are deep enough to pay you for as long as we need to.”

“You’re with some kind of company?”

The man with the shades gave Hessica a long look, not giving away anything one way or the other. “We can afford your services. Let’s leave it at that. Back to the job, you should know that the rebels have already been beaten badly by Azen forces. You’ll have to keep the movement alive, and our suggestion is a hard counterpunch against government forces to keep them on the back foot and away from Syrni, where they may still have influence. The final strategy, however, is up to you. How many men can you bring?”

Cam shrugged. “We can bring a full company to start. We might make some hires once we’re over there, and raise our strength level to a battalion. We have a platoon worth of vehicles that make for good mech infantry, and of course we can send over the transport trucks and a few helicopters to help move us around. In a pinch, the helicopters can serve as air support because of the machine guns that we have mounted to them. It’s not a full army, but we won’t be pushovers if we head over there, anyway. And I assume the conflict is going to be a guerilla one, mainly.”

“All likelihood points to it being a guerilla conflict, yes. For now, the rebels are going to be avoiding pitched battles, which they would almost certainly lose-”

“Don’t worry about that. That’s our specialty, really,” said Hessica, but she sighed and looked off to the side momentarily. “We’re probably going to ask for more money to go into this conflict, though. I’ve had enough guerilla fighting for a lifetime and we’re going to start charging more for that kind of thing. Doesn’t help that you’re inserting us in the middle of an active international conflict zone where we might be going up against national special forces.”

“Name your price, then, and we’ll be in contact with your people soon. We’ll send you a contract today, and more info on the situation, and you can look it over and decide if it’s the best thing for your company. We’ll try to give you what you want. If you don’t think we can come to an agreement, then that’s fine too. You can just pretend that this meeting never happened, and continue with your normal activities,” the man with the shades said, before standing up and preparing to walk away.

“I doubt we’ll be doing that. We’ll have a look at the contract when you send it over,” said Cam, and just like that, the meeting was over. And once again, a mysterious client was about to send Marando security into an active war zone where they’d be going toe to toe with national militaries. It wasn’t something that most mercenaries would accept, but the members of Marando wouldn’t have it any other way.

by **Pakiranistan** » Tue Oct 10, 2017 6:41 pm

Presidential Palace Outskirts, Malsuf Province, Aegypt

Jardahn laughed casually as De Silva Costa placing the side of his face against the window of the SUV reminded him that of a little boy who had never seen a helicopter before in his life, he turned towards Grey to answer her question and within split seconds his expression changed from that of a playful man to that of a serious and grim look "Well you see ma'am, some loyalists to that discarded carcass of that man Obunga still exist and want to thwart our plans for a unified healthy state and though we don't know who is support them, we have a hunch that it is Azeni undercover agents. Now, for any possibility of your travels into the Garmund Province at the current moment are only in the form of an pacified embendment into the 4th Air Assault Regiment, meaning no fighting on your part unless fired upon though I can not promise travel into the province, you may want to consult Inspector-General Bugaboo about the matter" stated Jardahn all the while not batting an eye while making eye contact with Grey.

The three vehicle convoy finally passed a road sign stating "Presidential Palace, next right, 1.5 miles" the lead SUV driver downshifted from 6th to fifth and then from 4th to 3rd and turned off down into the exit ramp followed by the rest of the SUVs, at this point, the presidential palace could be seen sitting nobly on a hilltop overlooking the peaceful town below. The convoy soon came up on a roadblack consisting of two Land Rover Defenders with MG3s placed on the hoods manned by the same unknown military men that had landed earlier at the airport, they stood casually and slowly began to tense up as the convoy got closer, the lead contractor raising his hand for the convoy to stop before walking over towards the lead vehicle all the while having his trigger laid alongside the trigger guard with the posture reminescent that of a special forces unit. Jardahn and the rest of the occupants of his SUV watched the contractor and the driver of the lead vehicle converse....

Hill 234, Gormund Province, Aegypt

Sergeant Siam Arshad was having his first taste of action as he aimed his carbine variant of the FN FNC towards a rebel behind a rock to the left of him, he and the rebel played a game of cat and mouse before Arshad fired his rifle three times before stopping and aiming at the rock, baiting the the rebel to peek out to the force of two 5.56 shots from Arshad's rifle impacting his upper chest area fracturing his rib cage making him impact the ground with a thud. Arshad quickly gestured towards the rock as he moved up with his rifle up scanning the area around him with the rest of his Special Trooper Unit of the 4th Assault Regiment before coming under automatic fire forcing him to take cover by slamming into a rock, the shots ended after a quick shot from a Air Assault Close Action Sniper ended the source with a shot to the head. The unit continued to take ground rapidly before stumbling upon a cave from which multiple automatic shots rang out injuring one of the Air Assault troopers requiring him to be pulled back by one of his squad mates, Arshad took quick action pulling a grenade from his chest rig pulling the pin and letting go off the safety latch hurling it into the cave before darting out the way. He counted to three in his head and right on que a muffled blast was heard as the grenade went off, and for sure measures he sprayed his rifle into the cave along with the rest of his squad before darting inside the cave. His unit discovered rebel communications devices as well as outlines for defense parameters regarding the rebel town below which Hill 234 overlooked....

by **The United Remnants of America** » Wed Oct 11, 2017 12:30 pm

Commander Susan Grey

Malsuf Province, Aegypt

9/25/2017 - 12:20

Grey nodded at Jardahn's explanation. A glance at the backseat confirmed that Jacobs had heard the explanation, too. de Silva Costa, still looking outside, glanced at Grey and gave a tiny nod that he too heard Jardahn's statement. Grey lifted a hip up and slipped a cellphone out of her pocket. She quickly unlocked it and shot a text to the others in the convoy to give them a heads up that they may be in-theater a bit longer than originally planned.

The Presidential Palace rolled into view, as did the blockade. Grey immediately noted the difference in vehicles and uniforms as the convoy rolled to a stop. Grey leaned into Jardahn as the vehicle's driver spoke quietly with one of the guards, "Who are these guys? Your special forces?" Grey noted they held themselves differently than Jardahn's troops, but couldn't place who they were. She assumed they weren't Aegyptian special forces, but she wasn't willing to rule it out, as maybe the Aegyptians had just kept their SF secret until now.

by **Pakiranistan** » Wed Oct 11, 2017 4:50 pm

Presidential Palace, Malsuf Province, Aegypt

Jardahn slightly glanced over at Grey typing on her phone before turning his head back towards the front to observe the contractor and Aegyptian soldier conversing "They are contractors of some sort, from what I've heared they were the ones who stormed the palace and took it over, they don't talk much and most of them don't speak the language" replied Jardahn as the driver of their SUV slowly released the clutch and let the SUV creep up as the lead SUV began moving too. The lead contractor glanced into the SUV as they moved by before talking into his radio in Pakirani "Yea, the commanders are all in the middle SUV and accounted for..." before turning around and walking off back towards the Land Rovers.

The deeper the convoy moved into the town the more the situation seemed to be as if the country was running normally with people enjoying and living their daily lives and routines, some walking their kids to school, others eating food at a roadside resteraunt. Soon the battered gate of the Presidential Palace came into view with construction workers unloading what seemed to be another gate from the trailer of a semi truck supervised by a Aeyptian Army Officer. The convoy passed through the gate without trouble driving up along the road of the Presidential Palace before stopping infront of the front entrance, immeditely Aegyptian Army soldiers stepped out and opened the doors of the SUVs for Jardahn and the Scipio unit while a group of four unknown contractors sat at a table outside the doors of the palace playing a game of cards, they glanced at the Scipio Unit's members before resuming their game "Right this way" said Jardahn with a serious tone as he walked into the palace flanked by the Scipio Unit...

The Continental Wars (IC, New Ausozera Only)

The Continental Wars (IC, New Ausozera Only)

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