The Continental Wars (IC, New Ausozera Only)

by **Azenyanistan** » Sat Nov 11, 2017 9:22 pm

lost

Arinshinia

It took them a while to reach the meeting place. Their vehicles stopped just close enough. And when they went out of them,
they made sure to keep their weapons safe and their ammunition ready. Two of the rebels went out to conduct a search while the rest began to secure the vehicles or to follow their leader into the exact area where they were supposed to meet with the contractors.

Arinshinia carried a Galiliyah she stole from the military as well as a PDW that was slung around her chest. She wore a combat vest over a simple shirt of black and wore khaki pants. The rest of her men wore old uniforms without the badges and patches of the military or wore ordinary clothes of civilians but with the symbol of their movement on the arms or backs.

Their symbol was a Queen Cobra slaughtering another Queen Cobra.

When Arinshinia found Hessica and Cam, she gave them a smile and a nod and then said "Welcome to Kha Bi. I see you're here to meet us and support us. For that, thank you in advance. Shall I treat you to some tea?"

Rakshan

The defenders of the airbase were totally caught off guard. They scattered in the face of a metal storm. But soon enough, remembering their training and their own experience, they returned to the defenses not yet destroyed and began to fight back. A team of Azen Air Force paratroopers managed to take over an empty anti aircraft quad cannon and use it to shoot at the Portean fighters hitting them like falcons.

Another team managed to grab some Stinger missiles and used them to try and drive away the Porteans from their airbase.

Meanwhile, at another airbase, hearing of what was happening at Rakshan, four F-16s were being made ready to fly and engage the Porteans.

by **Forest State** » Sun Nov 12, 2017 4:58 pm

Kha Bi, Syrnistan
Marando Security

“I just don’t like the feel of this, Cam. They just had to show up armed, on their first meeting with us. I don’t know what I was expecting, exactly, but still… Not really encouraging, per say,” Hessica stated, as the rebels approached. “And before you say that this is normal and that I shouldn’t be worried, remember that you aren’t the ones with the scars from these people.”

Cam raised a hand to silence her, looking towards the approaching rebel group. “You could have stayed behind if you weren’t comfortable.”

“I could have, but I would rather have your back.”

“Fine. Well, let’s get into this meeting and get it out of the way,” said Cam, and Jessica nodded He was the one to approach the rebel group, bowing slightly in the traditional Cemeralian way when he saw Arinshinia. “Thank you… We’ll take you up on your offer. And please forgive my colleague’s skittishness, she has some less than great experiences with this nation in the past.”

by **Imperial Valaran** » Sun Nov 12, 2017 6:05 pm

The Truth and The Small Print

Crien did not waste time in observation. She would examine Dune by her reactions, not the skin-deep impressions made by first appearances. She stepped forwards and gave a court bow: a short, sharp incline of the head and shoulders, no further. In the Empire, this would be reserved for royalty and the great nobles (though not the Emperor); here it was a mark of due respect. The rest of the delegation followed suit, the strands of Clara’s hair sliding off her cheeks, into empty air. Crien’s hair did the same, though it was not flame red but greasy black, with a few worn streaks of grey woven within.

They did not accept the chairs; they had been sitting many hours, in planes or cars, and this was not a time for relaxation. Crien did permit herself a glass of water. Sathren refused the cigarettes. It would have been unprofessional of him to accept. Smoking was a strictly recreational custom in the Empire — a thing for after successful meetings, not during. Even then it was still frowned upon, but they all needed ways to relive stress.

Well, everyone except Crien. For others stress was a problem, but for her it was firm ground, a reassurance. If what you did was un-stressful, it was easy. Stress meant real achievements could be made, that boundaries were being pushed, obstacles overcome. Crien’s life had been one of stress, though perhaps one of less achievement than this merited.

So she stood in front of the Aksesyr, and began her introductions. “Aksesyr Dune ur Kaiteriza, thank you for meeting with us. I am Foreign Secretary Helen Crien.” She gestured at her companions. “This is Senior Ambassador Sathren, and my deputy, Clara Varkalen. We’re here to discuss the situation in Azenyanistan, and what support the Valaran Empire might be able to offer. While there will be time for more talks when the other delegations arrive, if it is permissible to yourself, we have some preliminary matters to discuss. It seems easier to resolve them now, than to drag out such things.” Doubly so, given how pressed for time the Aksesyr was under the present situation.

Crien took a step forwards. “Aksesyr Dune, let me be blunt. The Valaran Empire cannot offer meaningful assistance lightly. In order for our help, we need to know your responses to certain questions myself and Ambassador Sathren have. We want straight answers — any attempt to obfuscate problems and we will immediately back off. Do I make myself clear?” This point seemed somewhat undermined, given the forces the Empire has already dispatched to Azenyanistan. But Crien was firm in tone and thought. As long as she believed that she could still decide the Empire policy, right here and now, then it would be so.

Crien went on. “We would have asked about your control over the government, the tribes and the military, but this moot now. Similarly, I had questions on international opinion, but these seem more than answered already. Thus, let us first turn to the nature of any future relationship.” She stepped back.

It was Sathren’s turn. “In exchange for our assistance, the Valaran Empire desires a closer economic connection with Azenyanistan. This will take three main aspects; everything else is negotiable. The first and most important is openness to Valaran capital. We want assurances — private or public — that there will be no restrictions on Valaran investment, including on Valaran ownership of Azen companies, and full shareholder rights. Second, we desire a mutual reduction in trade barriers, particularly on services. This means the elimination or reduction of quotas and tariffs, as well as indirect barriers. Third, we want Azenyanistan’s markets to be opened up to Valaran companies — either to set up manufacturing operations here, or to sell products.”

The Foreign Ministry was ever so focused on the economic aspect of things. The Empire had business interests, and this was how they were serviced. Crien had once likened the practice to a protection racket, back when she was an opposition MP. Being in power had only partially changed her views, after all, she now saw Sathren’s work firsthand. Yet there was a necessity to it, albeit of the uneasy sort. It became much easier to sell moral intervention once the wheels had been greased. And it wasn’t as if a trade deal was a bad thing. Yet Crien just could not shake the memory of her earlier words. Diplomacy was a protection racket.

Sathren continued. “We intend all of these things to be of mutual benefit. We want our banks and corporations to invest heavily in Azen’s firms, providing them with much needed capital. Any reduction in trade barriers you make will be mirrored by the Empire. And several of our manufacturing companies have expressed an interest in setting up local factories.” Sathren removed a document from his briefcase and handed it to an aid of Dune’s. “I have an informal list of twenty-seven firms, all with market capitalisations of over $16bn, that have noted interest. This includes our top three private equity firms, our two largest pharmaceuticals, three infrastructure companies, and four out of five of our largest banks. Should this meeting prove successful, we suggest you contact their CEOs.” Several of the companies were indeed sizeable. Top of the list was Sianar Heavy Industries, the third largest firm in the Empire. Also present was the Kalanor Consortium, a vast financial institution, and manufacturing companies like KDX Shipping and Kianes Engineering. Yet some of the firms down the list were not so large. And really, this was only a declaration of interest. Given the situation, few were firm commitments. Like many, the corporations preferred caution.

“We consider preliminary economic agreements crucial. Military assistance may help stabilise the security situation, but true stability only comes from economic development. Whatever forces we may deploy, it is our economic support that would be the most lasting.”

Sathren smiled politely. “That being said, we would also like to set up more integrated diplomatic channels, something more direct than embassy communication.” He stepped back. Crien and Sathren had finally enacted the opening moves of their two-part act, the one they had agreed on the plane, all those hours ago.

Crien watched the Aksesyr react to all this. In truth, Crien considered this the first real test of Dune’s abilities. She had a chance to prove herself right here and now. Or not. The Valaran Empire could afford to lose access to Azenyanistan. Or to deal with someone else. Perhaps one of Dune’s rivals might be more amenable, or maybe the Isle’ish would be, if managed to exert new control over the nation. Crien remained sceptical of the Isles. They were more flexible than the Remnants, but they were also more ambitious. And they had already started deploying. The Foreign Secretary was bred from caution, but even she understood the advantages of moving early.

Crien idly wondered what Hesseren might have said in Dune’s position. She could not have imagined the Prime Minister reacting well to such questions. Nor would have Alstan. Both were men used to power, and unused to supplication. Maybe it was useful that Dune was so new to politics. She had not yet acquired the stubborn pride that so many in authority had — that Crien knew she also possessed. The new Aksesyr might feel weak enough to request the support she knew she needed.

Crien spoke again. “Economics aside, we have two other matters to discuss. The first is the prospect of sustained military support. If security is to be safeguarded, then we feel that the Valaran Empire will need a more lasting military presence than any temporary deployment would achieve. We have readied the VRF 7th Corps, and a large naval detachment of the VRN for use in Sishai, should the need arise. If agreeable to yourself, we could construct a base in Azenyanistan to house them, at least until the present crisis has averted.” Crien paused. “Of course, this presence does not have to be permanent - few units of this force would need to remain for long. We would primarily use this base to facilitate training of Azen soldiers, and to secure the nation, much in the same way the Union does. We are also happy to sell Azenyanistan Valaran military equipment, though this is subject to a case by case basis. In particular, I imagine your airforce might need some rebuilding.”

“But for us, military affairs are secondary to political considerations. This crisis that we find ourselves in was not caused by a shortage of military strength. Far to the contrary.” Crien fixed Dune with a stare. Sathren looked uncomfortable at her changing tone. He knew what was to come next; he did not like it. “It is the view of the Valaran Empire that the problems of Azenyanistan lie at the fixations of its leaders. Instead of resolving governmental weakness and fixing domestic issues, they have pursued one dream of self-destruction after another. Your predecessor had two, in fact. The first was picking a fight with the Remnants. The second was the attempted unification of Sishai. We note that your rogue Airforce appears to share these goals. These are both dangerous distractions; the former in particular.” Her eyes held Dune in a closer focus than before. Tension bled into the room, making the air still, and stretching the passing moments, until each pause was taut and rigid with intent.

“We do not blame your for this, Akesyr. In fact, we believe that you have a great opportunity for Azenyanistan: to turn away from the distractions of the past, and to the promises of the future. The best thing for your people is not expansion and geopolitical contest, but security and stability. The future of Azenyanistan cannot be found in the ruins of Syrnistan, or amongst the wreckage of a Remnant fleet. It is here, with you. We request that you focus on your real priorities, and relinquish what is both unnecessary and damaging.”

“Of course,” Sathren interjected. His voice was light, but Crien knew he was perturbed by her comments, and trying to loosen the atmosphere, and relax the minds within. “that is merely our advice. We are still open to a close relationship, regardless of your policies on Sishai.”

In normal circumstances, Crien would have rebuked him for this. His interjection was not tolerable: it undercut the strength of her words, and it suggested division of opinion in the Valaran ranks. With a clenched mind, Crien tolerated it now. Sathren was smoothing over the rough textures of her statements. That was what career diplomats did. Crien was the arbiter of Valaran foreign policy, and she had conducted many negotiations in her time. But she was not a diplomat. Issues were not to be danced away from. She had a hunch Dune would respect honesty.

But it was only a hunch, and this was too delicate an affair to trust to a hunch. In those early hours of the flight, Crien had admitted to Sathren that her method was not perfect: she had resolved problems yes, but had also alienated many. She was worried, no afraid, that she might do the same here. And so, she admitted that Sathren’s honeyed inducements were necessary counterparts, as necessary her own forthright portrayal of reality. She gave the truth, or as close as any emissary could give, and bluntly so. He gave treats, and in that syrup was the small print, a tiny script of Valaran’s national interests. She could not resent that, not anymore than she could condone it. In diplomacy, rarely were generous entirely uninterested entities. All Crien had was that the Empire was no worse than many, and better than some. The Foreign Ministry was tempered, by Hesseren, by the Social Democrats, by her. Crien cold only hope it would remain so, even as every political instinct fed her doubt.

“Indeed,” Crien echoed her Ambassador. “We would not wish to control your policy on this. It does not define our relationship. But as potential partners, we — I — felt it was necessary to bring it up. As honest advice between equals.” How those words stung as they left her mouth.

Crien regretted not taking a seat now. She was more tired than she realised, and doubtless Sathren and Clara felt the same. Her legs were deadened weights. But it was too late now. Instead, she widened her stance.

“These are our the consideration of the Valaran Empire. Please take your time answering these, Aksesyr Dune. We prefer honesty over brevity.”

After all, the Valarans themselves had been nothing if not honest, Crien thought with bitter appreciation. Honest about what they could give, and honest about they wanted. They had given Dune the truth and the small print. Crien hoped the Aksesyr would return the favour.

Aegypt

Eric Nygaard waited for a car to drive him to the Presidential Palace. He tried to distract himself by looking at the news stream. The feed was one rolling stream of crises. Kortalia, Azen, Donnerland, Socotra, Massouba. Not much of a comfort. He flicked him thumb again, and was confronted by a new predicament. Apparently one of the imperial colonies had riots again. The Colonial Fleet was en route. Yet another thing for Seward and the others to manage.

Unsurprisingly, Aegypt’s main airport was a quiet place. You could pick your reason why. The country had been a mess for longer than he cared to remember. The incompetent dictator had hardly opened up the place. Then there was the coup. And now the spiralling tensions, both in Aegypt, and in its three neighbours.

The Valaran Empire had a single flight there ever week, provided by an airline Eric had never heard of. The plane itself was a small rickety affair, something probably built in the 70s, and barely survived safety checks since. An air accident waiting to happen. He had run of the craft for most of the flight, even as the airframe rattled through turbulence.

Eric had expected to be in Azenyanistan now. His new instructions had only arrived while he was at Astaria’s airport, waiting to take the flight to Nusayastatt. He received them with about as much grace as he could muster, but he didn’t like that he was being thrown around almost without a care. Seward and Sathren should have known better. Mostly, he would have just preferred to be in Azenyanistan. Aegypt was a far more dangerous place, barely existing as a state. He didn't like being catapulted into an active warzone.

The redirection now seemed like a blessing in disguise. Azenyanistan had become a warzone itself, the flashing intensity of a conflict just begun. By comparison, Aegypt’s wars merely smouldered. A civilian plane in Azenyanistan might have been shot down in the battles raging with the airforce. This would not have happened in Aegypt, not after Bugaboo’s use of his new S-400s.

Eric’s mission also seemed more straightforward. Seward had explained his role here in much more depth. There was an obvious goal, one that Eric knew exactly how to work towards.

Or at least it had been. The news of the various deployments: Remnant, Pakirani, and Eric’s own Valaran Empire, had stirred what already had been an unsettled world. Eric found himself less a player than a forgotten pawn, cast adrift as giants moved. Events had outpaced him once again. He was used to the spinning wheel of diplomacy, but not phis own powerless, his inability to change how events spun on.

At least he now had a chance to rectify that. Eric watched a single government car sidle up to the airport’s gates. It was likely enough for him: there were no other passengers for it to collect. In that vehicle he would go to Bugaboo to whom Eric would offer up his wares, in usual ministry style. Eric had been a practitioner of that long enough. Even in a world shifting so much underfoot, even as jets screamed across the sky and he was trapped in amber on alien ground, he could trust in his own skills. He had nothing else to rely on.

by **Pakiranistan** » Sun Nov 12, 2017 7:41 pm

Tribal Town, Outskirts of Syrnistan and Azenyanistan, Syrnistan

The B.T.I contractor lunged backwards into the helicopter as the tribesman began firing on the helicopter, he slid a ballistic helmet meant for heligunners off of a rack behind him and placed it on his headd before getting into action. He grabbed the MG3 once again and aimed it at the horsemen down below before slightly squeezing the trigger and moving the gun rapidly from target to target sending rounds into the men which ripped their insides apart neutrilzing them with ease. He then adjusted himself resting his back against the door opening of the helicopter before sending more long bursts down at the tribesman below wrecking havoc. The spotter grabbed the KSVK anti material rifle and aimed it at the mortar crew in the center of the village, he loaded it with a HE mag and before firing down at the mortars barrel in order to neutrilize it.

Down below the second B.T.I convoy had arrived with the BTR-3 leading the convoy, the driver parked the vehicle at an angle in order to maximize protection. The gunner fired the six smoke grenade launchers mounted on the sides of the turret, effectively blinding the poorly equipped tribesman, the gunner then loaded HE into the 90mm gun and with the use of the APCs thermal sights began lobbing shells around at the villagers absolutly wrecking havoc on their buildings and fortified positions, the contractors embarked on the BTR rapidly dismounted in a orderly fashion before taking staggered positions around the BTR under the cover of the smoke before lobbing grenades at the tribesman and delivering suppressive fire through the smoke, the rest of the convoy soon arrived after with the Githur IMVs taking positions around the BTR providing cover for the disembarked troops from the BTR as well as their own embarked soldiers, the mounted MGs and GMGs on the Githurs began delivering fire onto the villagers.

Bugaboo, the CPD officers and the Pakirani man boarded one of the Githur IMVs from the first convoy, the Pakirani man sat in the drivers seat and put the Githur into drive and began driving towards the village escourted by two more Githur IMVs, the rest of the convoy was collecting information from the crash sites and extracting the injured pilot, the Pakirani SF took the unconcious pilot with them onto Bugaboo's helicopter and took off towards Aegypt. The Pakirani man went around the village and noticed the pilot attempting to escape on horse and began chasing after her, Bugaboo turned around and took a HK G3 configured for the DMR role from the gunrack mounted in the Githur and handed it to Grey "Why don't you take the shot at the pilot?"

Megumi Shrine, Azenyanistan

A team of Pakirani anaylsts from the Clandestine Intelligence Service sat in a room inside of a rented compound in a unknown Azeni town. One of the analysts was overlooking live drone footage from a team out in the field. He noticed how Azeni pilots who were either shot down or crashed headed towards a monastary and seemed to stay there for some time before leaving, this was of interest to his nation as they wanted information from the pilots about the current affairs in the coup. He quickly dialed up the team via satellite phone, moments later it was picked up "Horaira here, whats up?" said a voice on the other end "Ey Horaira, im sending you coordinates to a type of monastary, seems like their harboring Azeni pilots there, see if you can round them up for us?" replied the anaylst casually while leaning back in his seat.

"Will do, im headed there now" replied Horaira, before jumping off the hood of his black unmarked Toyota Land Cruiser 70 "Hey guys we got a lead, lets go" he yelled out the other agents from the CIS out in the distance, they soon jogged over and boarded the Land Cruiser. Horaira put the SUV in 1st gear before letting off the clutch and began making way towards the monastary "Alright boys, just got some information that theres some monks at a monastary that are harboring Azeni pilots, what were gonna do is impersonate Azeni G171 agents and say were there to arrest the pilots on behalf of Azenyanistan, I mean we already look the part so its going to be easy, also let the others know" said Horaira casually while keeping his eye on the sand dunes infront of him, as the agents got closer they jumped onto what you could call a road and turned on green lights mounted in two LED lightbars inside on upper edges of the front windshield, officially making it seem as if they really were G171 agents. Horaira noticed a shrine like structure and pulled off the road, as he pulled up he noticed other Land Cruiser 70s parked outside with CIS agents impersonating G171 agents standing along them.

Horaira parked the SUV before stepping out keeping his hand on his holster containing a HIT TTX pistol, he made his way towards the shrine and noticed that there was an elderly man already outside watching them with another younger one behind him, Horaira walked over climbing the steps of the shrine while the rest of the agents stood watching "Hey there sir, Agent Horaira from the G171" he said extending out his right hand to the monk "Were hear on some reports of Azeni pilots in the area? As you know they rebelled against this fine nation's government and are quite dangerous"

Tashanit International Airport, Malsuf Province, Aegypt

The government car soon pulled up infront of the ambassador from Valaran, as it did the front passenger side door opened and outstept an Aegyptian Federal Security Service agent who warmly greeded him "Good afternoon sir, sorry for any wait and I hope your journey was peaceful and without trouble" before grabbing his luggage and having the driver pop open the trunk of the car, he neatly placed the bags in the trunk before walking over to right side rear passenger door and opening it for the ambassador who soon entered, the agent closed the door and entered the car himself there after.

The car soon turned on its blue and white LED light bars mounted inside as well on the mirrors and grill of the car as it left the airport, the lights swayed away any vehicle from attempting to cut off or get in the way of the car as the consequences were dire "So how was your journey to our fine nation sir?" asked the Federal Security Service agent once the car merged onto the motorway.

Off the coast of Aegypt, Aegypt

Vice Admiral Hamid Gul stood on the bridge of the PNS Attia Bibi gripping his cup of chai lightly as he watched out of the bridge of his vessel towards the Aegyptian coastline, after some hours of travel the Pakiranistani Carrier Battlegroup he was incharge of finally arrived in Aegyptian waters in order to thwart any Azeni aggression against Aegypt via mere precense of the fleet. As the fleet crossed into Aegyptian territorial waters they recieved a message from an Aegyptian Navy ship "Good morning esteemd friends, this is the ANS Joshun and we will be your escourt today" the chief communications officer of the Attia Bibi soon sent a message back to the Aegyptian vessel "Greetings to you to ANS Joshun, this is the PNS Attia Bibi, lead the way" the Aegyptian ship signalled the Attia Bibi to follow it via lighting and began leading the battlegroup to their docking points, the berthing area fit most of the vessels of the fleet save for the Attia Bibi which had to be docked at an area meant for cargo ships and oil tankers seperate from the fleet.

A pilot from the port soon arrived via helicopter onto the Attia Bibi and guided it beside an Pakirani flagged oil tanker to its berthing point, the pilot manuevered the vessel with excellent precision and with swift action into its berthing point. As his job was done, he shook hands with the crew present on the bridge before departing. The Attia Bibi dropped its anchor and massive thick ropes were soon thrown onto the docking area and were fastened swiftly by the dock hands onto the dock holding the massive ship into place. A disembarking ceremoney took place soon after on the deck of the Attia Bibi with all of the crew attending it in their formal white uniforms, their black leather shoes shining brightly in the sunlight and the swords of the officers gleaming as the suns ray touched them.

Vice Admiral Hamid Gul delivered a small speech to the crew as well as an Aegpytian navy contingent present on the deck "Good morning boys, today is a great day as you can see, sunny and full of life, perfect for one to enjoy life in. Unfortunatly there are those who wish to ruin days such as these with shameful and undesirable acts, and yes, we are unfortunatly here due to a nation who wishes to bring harm upon our friends here, present aboard the Attia Bibi, the Aegyptians. The highly unstable nation of Azenyanistan wishes to invade Aegypt and bring it under its control but we will not allow that as it fringes up Aegypt's soverignity as well as the act bringing more unstability in the region, I repeat, we will not allow for this to happen right men?" mere miliseconds after the Vice Admiral had uttered his last few words he was barraged by a uniform "Aye Sir!" from the sailors present on the deck "I am proud of all of you, dismissed, enjoy your stay here men!" replied the Vice Admiral before saluting and walking over to Aegyptian Admiral Tasmeen Khan and shaking his hand. The sailors of the Attia Bibi soon disembarked the ship in a uniform fashion to explore their new surroundings.

by **Urran** » Tue Nov 14, 2017 3:15 pm

Megumi Shrine

There were more religious observers gathered now. The High Priest, High Priestess, and about a dozen elders were outside the shrine to greet their new "guests". The younger priest turned and left on some unknown errand, leaving the elders to confront the armed agents. They certainly did looked Azen and none of the shrine's inhabitants suspected a foreign power. To the side, a younger priestess stood with a camcorder, recording the interaction for legal purposes.

The old man's face was wrinkled and worn with line of wisdom. He looked long and hard at the new comers. His kind eyes bore a certain authority in their deep brown pools. "Pilots? I have seen no pilots." he replied. It was the truth. He hadn't been the one to bring them in and he had not actually seen them yet. "I suggest that you try the village. They may be able to help you in your search." he answered, trusting the villagers would also be working to protect the downed pilots. "We are servants of God, not soldiers. We have no reason to get involved.

The other elders nodded in agreement. They all silently said a prayer that the agents would buy it.

by **The United Remnants of America** » Mon Nov 20, 2017 4:23 pm

Commander Susan Grey

Over Syrnistan

9/25/2017 - 15:00

The CPD officers ducked down as incoming fire shot high over them. They were all only armed with short weapons, so they tried to stay out of the way of both incoming fire as well as outgoing fire.

Jacobs looked around, "Fuck, did those village people just start shooting?"

Tanney nodded, "Aye, looks that way. But the cavalry's already here, mates!" Tanney was looking behind them as the convoys approached and began to lay heavy fire on the village, covering the entire landscape in smoke as they fired off smoke canisters.

Grey noticed Bugaboo waving them towards one of the IFVs, so Grey signaled and yelled towards the other CPD officers, "Alright, everyone. let's get moving! Keep your head down!"

The group kept low to the ground as they moved towards the Githur and boarded it, letting the Pakirani man drive them into the village.

Others had come with them, and they'd disembarked to begin looking for the fleeing pilot. The Pakirani man shouted out that the pilot was getting away, and Bugaboo tossed a rifle to Grey, offering her the shot.

Grey shrugged and tossed the rifle off to Jodit Haile, "she's the better shot," Grey looked to Jodit and nodded.

Jodit nodded back, "Yes, ma'am..." She held the rifle to her shoulder and stood stock still, he eye glued to the weapon's scope. She exhaled slowly and took a single shot, and in the distance the fleeing pilot dropped to the ground. Jodit looked through the scope a moment longer before lowering the weapon and tossing it back to Bugaboo. "There you go."

Major Astra Galinsky

International Waters

9/25/2017 - 19:00

The main CPD fleet was now around 500 kilometers of the Aegyptian coast. Within another couple days or so, the main fleet would be able to dislodge its forces onto Aegyptian soil.

Roughly 100 kilometers behind the main fleet was the backup fleet. Even at this distance, the backup fleet was almost completely cut off from the main fleet. Both fleets were rather vulnerable due to their compositions, so it was easiest to get to Aegyptian waters and the security that offered.

by **Azenyanistan** » Tue Nov 21, 2017 8:40 pm

The Pilot

It came too quickly. The pilot thought she could make it. But as the round struck her back, she was thrown off her horse and her companions, who were supposed to protect her, scattered or ran back to the village to save their families. Fuelai groaned as she tried to get up. But her bleeding back made her wince and cry out, falling to the sand. She took a few deep breaths and desperately tried to put her hand on her wound. But to no avail, she was bleeding out and she was certain that the round hit one of her organs. Maybe even damaged her bones. She lay there and began to cry as the villagers, forced into shock by the heavy weapons,
began to drop their weapons and flee, leaving behind their dead fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, etc.

A few villagers, mostly women, came out to the enemy and began throwing stones or pieces of debris at them, cursing them again and again in their own tongues. Another, who seemed to be speaking English, said "You've killed my husband! You've martyred him!"

Even a child, in the aftermath, brought his hand upon a few pebbles and tossed them as far as he could at the trucks after he discovered the ruined body of her mother who continued to hold her Enfield closely.

The Prisoner

Semira Solas Ester allowed herself to walk faster through the hall from her cell to the room where she would gather her things. Her watch, her personal ID, her clothes (before she found herself behind bars) and the rest. She heard the others who were in their cells cheering for her, speaking the same language she spoke. The language of the Sarns, the most oppressed group in Azenyanistan.

Escorted by two ACP officers, she entered the room and was directed to a table with a pen and papers. She picked it up with her free hand and signed the papers. Afterwards, she fetched her things and was freed.

In time, she would go out and accomplish what no Azen ever could to destroy their own country.

The Sarn entered the taxi and told her driver for the day “Take me to Freewaters, please.” And sighed as she heard the driver release her own long, deep respiration at hearing about the place that her passenger for the day wanted to go. Another Sarn wanting to go home, the driver thought. She grunted as she worked the clutch and got herself and this Sarn out of the street, away from the jail she got herself into.
Along the way, she could see how Azenyanistan was pulling herself into. People were anxiously gathering outside, watching the skies, hearing the screams of jets and the noise of propellers. Gunshots from distant battles reached them as more and more government troops and vehicles were in the city.

Then abruptly, the taxi stopped. Another checkpoint. One of the soldiers, with cropped hair and a hard look, made a rolling motion with her pointing finger and the driver rolled down all of her windows. The soldier then nodded and peered inside, seeing everything else and the Sarn. The soldier did not take too long and allowed them to move on.
It was a 25 minute drive to Freewaters. It was not like any other town in Azenyanistan. While it could boast a population of about 7,591, it was nothing to be proud of. Most of the people there were Sarns and Lishs, two major ethnic groups in Azenyanistan. And none of them were recognized.

The driver kept on complaining about the decaying roads, cursing the town leaders for not fixing them up for her. And the Sarn held her own tongue. Even though she kept a shiv from prison in her pack, she didn’t want to go back.
The taxi then halted just a few hundred meters from the main gate of the town, telling the Sarn “As far as I can go.”
The Sarn didn’t even receive any assistance from the driver as she got her things. She would have forgotten her bottle of water if not for her deftness in snatching it from the back as the taxi just went off. The Sarn abjectedly swore at the taxi but soon dusted her own clothes off and walked to the main gate.

Along the way, dried grass and withered shrubs lined the road. Stones and dirt covered some parts of it, making the Sarn feel and hear the crunch of her shoes on them.
Recollections of her childhood here came around. But like a deer bolting from wildfires, she only picked up the pace. At that, she almost dropped her pack but caught it.
Soon enough, she reached the main gate. The Sarn cringed at seeing it. The paint has faded. The wood was full of termites. And the metal holding it together was rusting. The Sarn was about to enter all by herself when a whisper from another woman came to her ears
“Is that you, sariki?”

The Sarn turned and saw her. Her. Silver hair, eyes and skin. Dressed in an uniform worth a half a dozen years and proudly wearing a badge that must have been polished a hundred times. She still had the smile and the touch to her voice. Sarn nodded and said softly “Siliza, I am her.”
And the guard nodded but the Sarn shook her head and said “Don’t nod, Segyanie. Be proud. Azasmi.”
Segyanie smiled and leaned in, kissing the Sarns neck. After that, she pulled away and the Sarn leaned in and kissed her neck too. But she took her time and let the guard speak “You came back. I am happy because of that.”
The Sarn nodded and nodded until she said “Yes. I am happy too.” She then jerked her head to the gate and said “Am I still welcome?”
The guard smiled again and said “You are always welcome. You are the hero of our people.” And the guard whistled loudly, a gruff voice speaking out from the other side of the gate “Opening!”

The gate opened with a deafening groan. It made the Sarn rub her arm in discomfort as she saw some pieces of the gate fall off. While she noticed that some of it was patched up, even Segyanie commented “It’s all the best that our repairmen could do. But we could afford no more materials.”
“I have some precious things that I could sell. Is Sihkas still around?”
“She is dead.” The Sarn stopped in her tracks and Segyanie turned around and said “It’s true. You’ve missed a lot of funerals. Selrim, Sopaz, Siazon, Siasian. Even your parents.”

The Sarn took a deep breath. And even as the townspeople came around to see her, with the lights on and the nightlife coming around, The Sarn deflated, gently putting her pack down on the street and saying simply “Oh.”

Ayza took all things into consideration. Even if it meant that she was showing them how nervous and careful she was trying to be.

After only but a few minutes and after seeing through all the documents they gave her to see, she told them
"I am happy to accept your offer and I am proud to say that I will do my best to hold up my part of the deal. This meeting shall be a success but on some terms that I would also like to place. One, I would also like Azen businesses to have freedom to come to your nation as well. Two, I would also like to remind you that you are not talking to a politician. You're talking to a manager of an electronics shop, a graduate of Unionist and Azen universities, a drag racer, a former gangster and a woman. Three, Azenyanistan is not easy. And I must warn you that in the future, I might not remain unless by a miracle, the people allow me to stay. And...."
Tereterai Price interrupted and whispered a few things to the ear of Dune and after a while, Dune nodded and dismissed her. She then told her guests
"I believe the coup is coming to an end more quickly than expected. The leaders of the coup want to negotiate. Their HQ is surrounded."
She stood up and said "I'll have my soldiers deal with them on the table while I meet with other people. Anyway, continuing with our own discussion, I do believe that it is in the best interests that I do not contest your offer. It is really great after all but I could wish to say that your approach was similar to how gangs 'encourage' those under their thumb. And next time, please do not bow. I may not be an old person but I know that to lower your body is to insult yourself and everyone else."
She then offered to shake hands with them, saying "Thank you for your visit."

by **Atreidya** » Mon Nov 27, 2017 5:08 am

The small team of helicopters raced low across the countryside, ahead the target town grew into view. The helicopters split into three groups of two, with two others sweeping up higher and wide to the flanks remaining a short ways behind the first six. The center two made straight away for the center of the town while the other two groups moved to the east and to the south sides of the town respectively. As Atreidyan teams began to unload their equipment and secure positions at a perimeter the two support choppers circled the town passing one another on the east side before continuing their circuit.

"Make sure all the equipment is unloaded and ready to use in case anything should happen." Basara hissed over her radio. Her own team would take the longest unloading as half moved with her to the apparent governmental building for the town.

Her plan was to set her team up before proceeding to meet with the Valarans and Azen loyalist government. Earlier Basara had been notified that Emperor Arkon had been in contact with this Aksesyr Dune. Basara would have liked to meet the leadership of Atreidya's neighbor under more peaceful circumstances. Yet looking around as eyes watched from the shadows to see if the Atreidyans were friends or enemies. Even with the circling helicopters relatively close by, Basara did not like the idea of remaining in the open very long. She was not one hundred percent certain that there were not enemy sympathizers just past the shadowy doorways and windows lining the roads. However with little choice Basara changed to the proper frequency and began trying to gain communication with Dune.

"Azen units this is the Hammai'riva escort please respond."

Basara and her team awaited a response. A short distance away the six landed helicopters lifted off and joined in patrolling the area, remaining ready to fight and if need be retrieve the agents on the ground

by **Azenyanistan** » Tue Nov 28, 2017 2:04 am

It didn't seem to the Guardswoman Jennifer Commoncrest that she'd be doing a favor to herself. What it did seem to her was that she would be doing a favor to the country. Dune ur Kaiteriza, daughter of Sadisia ur Kaiteriza, did not deserve the office of Aksesyr over Azenyanistan according to her enemies. She didn't know that she was working for them because all she worked for was Lieutenant Colonel Connection. A weird name but Azenyanistan was an oddball among all the nations in Ausozera. And Jennifer sought to do something.

As she stayed her position fifty meters to the north from where Dune ur Kaiteriza was having a meeting with her guests, she heard over her radio from other units

"All Guards, repeat, all Guards, this is Commander Cana, be advised: We have Atreidyan friendlies entering our airspace and our territory. More friendlies in the area, repeat, more friendlies in the area. Be advised. Out."

Drat. More inconveniences.

Commander Cana reached for the telephone that would connect her to the Atreidyan escorts. She said as soon as she had the phone to her ear "This is Commander Cana of the Guards speaking. I acknowledge you, Hammai'riva. You are clear to enter and remain in this area to assist us. Dune is still in meeting with the Valarans. Please stand by, I'll come to you. Please tell me where you are and who's your commanding officer."

Meanwhile, another agent entered the room just as Dune was about to shake hands with them and whispered the news about the Atreidyans. She was quickly dismissed but before that, the agent also informed him about the situation surrounding the Air Force HQ...

by **Azenyanistan** » Fri Dec 01, 2017 7:22 am

As the coup died out like a little fire in the midst of a dry land filled with sawdust and coal, two women, each of them belonging to a different ethnicity, met when the moon raised herself until she was between many great clouds and the lights of the city of Wazay, which really belonged to many little groups, not to the Azens, even though it was registered as one. A home to 19,000 Sarns, 30,000 Lishs, 47,000 Ysitir and 63,000 other people especially the Sayaritans, Rasurrians and Prosperans also Ramanyans and Uranians and even New Azens. The ones favored by the Azens more than the Sarns, Lishs and Ysitir were.

The women made sure to meet in a humble hotel named Yinna Yasira, because it was owned by a Ysitir woman. The owner herself was the one who served her two guests with Ysitir yellow tea and some biscuits. She apologized to her other guest, who was a Sarn because she had vibrant eyes and a cozy expression along with her tidily knotted hair, for the color of the tea but the Sarn simply shook her head and told the owner quite ardently “Do not be sorry, seyl maey hostil, my good host, it is completely fine. I do not take offense to groel.” The owner jerked her head and smiled before she left the Sarn to her meeting.
The other woman held a pragmatic dash to her eyes, cooperating with her hypnotic but strict lips, her fairly brown skin and arched eyebrows. She sat in front of the Sarn and kept her legs close to her chest, covering them and her feet with thigh high socks of brilliant purple. The Sarn wore socks that were only knee high and were of virescent color. She was an Azen. And she said to the Sarn “You’re polite, I’ll give you that, Solas.”

She chuckled at that and said, shrugging “It is demanded. Politeness is required amongst us. Even with your people, our enemies.” The Azen nodded and although she frowned now, she let her rival speak “Thank you for accepting my invitation. I just came from my hometown. What a mess it was. I had to deal with some issues.”

The Azen nodded again and said “You are welcome, Solas. Now may I know first what you want?” This made Solas laugh quite immediately and after that, she leaned forward and said “Surely, you know already, do you not, Miss Simitira?” It made the Azen frown more and she said crossly “Simitira. Don’t call me a Miss.” And to that, Solas just shrugged and took her teacup, sipping some of it before letting it down on the table and looking at Simitira with a raised brow.

A shaky silence set in. Both women consumed some of their tea and waited for the other to speak. In their own room, each seated on a fluffy chair. Simitira was the first to speak out to break the silence
“You want your people to take revenge on us. And you want to split this country into two. To form a state for your own people and another for the Ysitir. You and your people share the same grievances as the Ysitir do. But wish to be separate, do you not?” Solas just shrugged, aggravating Simitira into thinking that she was being one pig-headed daughter of a whoremaster. She continued anyway “And you wish for this meeting to go your way while also benefiting me somewhat.”

Solas took a sip, slurping it actually, causing Simitira to fidget in her seat. She scratched the right side of her forehead as Solas said “You got that right, Simitira. But just because we were classmates in the past and just because you and I are more friendly to each other than to anyone else we consider a familiar. I want my people to have their own state and so do the Ysitir. While Klyzya, the matriarch of her people, and her husband, Hyusyn, may not be here, I was told to tell you that while they do wish to be separate from us once we gain our independence and wipe your country off the map, it is because they wish to preserve your people. They favor the Nyrans. But we favor no Azen. While I may have promised to grant you the chance of being the way-maker of our state, by no means will you ever gain another chance to lead us by your own blood or by a favorite of yours.

And I want this to be done as peacefully as it can be. Realistically, you and I and everyone else, even Sadisia, would expect this matter to turn violent as a firestorm. But it won’t. You know my plan and you agreed to cooperate. You’d surrender the police and the military to yourself and override Dunes powers, knowing that she would accept it by all means, and I’d make it a personal matter to render the death of everything Azen with a sweeping vote by my people, the Lish and the Ysitir. “

Simitira nodded and took a sip of her own tea, crossing her legs now. She said “Surely, surely, it would be done.
And you know for certain that the world will just watch. They no longer care about my people. We are tired, we are ravenous for a smothering suicide, we are absolutely submerged in our own resignation to the pit of overdue self-destruction. Not funny and it certainly is too much but that is the truth I suppose. You’d be doing us a favor. Many will still die even if it is peaceful. There is no such thing as a revolution or a change that goes without a single death. I’ve never heard of such things.”
“Do you hear yourself?” Said Solas, a little irritated herself “The world does care. Yet you say these things. Explain yourself.”
“The Union cannot help. They are too occupied with the war with the Donnish. And even with their forces here, with the Porteans and the rest of the Union, doing whatever little they can, it is little. And you don’t suppose you are unaware of what the Urranese, Porteans, Eakans, Remnants and the rest of our enemies are plotting now? Rumors they may be but you and I can be sure that the world wants our destruction. We are not worthy of remaining alive as a country because we have survived but not our future. “
Solas hurmed and softly said “Be careful. You are beginning to give in.”

“Yet I have. All I’m looking forward to is the start of a new life. Now…where will you lead your people?”
“In Yaneza. Where our fiercest opponents are. We’ll drag them by their necks and shame them before ourselves. We’ll spare them but not their women. Let the men be free from the countless women your people have been left with. Spare the children too.
And again, I’ll try my best not to get too many people killed. I’m an activist. Not a mass murderer. All I know is that I want a freshness to our future. A rebirth. One with blood and one with peace. Don’t you worry, Simitira.”

“Always worry. There is no telling that you’d be caught with your pants down. Wouldn’t you agree, Solas?”
The Sarn wondered if she was ever going to talk to a proper Azen. She wondered if there was really an Azen out there who would be their hero for this era. One capable of shoving all that emotional shit away from them when it was necessary and just focus on what needed to be done. One that could be more competent and sane than every single leader the Azens have been through.
She hated the Azens. She called them by all the insults she could muster because all those insults were true to their very history and nature. Whores, weaklings, parasites, poisonous snakes, liars, betrayers and more.

Yet she knew how she was raised to be like an advocate. Only better, only worth of trust.
So she gave a nod and smiled, saying, sipping some more tea “I’d agree. My advice to every Azen and to you would be simple yet difficult: Let this shitty thing all fall apart so you can get a better slice of the cake. Doesn’t matter. We’re replacing you.”

by **Imperial Valaran** » Sat Dec 02, 2017 2:24 am

‘Elation and Release’

Crien

“My apologies, Aksesyr. I meant no disrespect.” Ironically, in Valaran, an apology was often made with a bow. Crien had to curb that instinct here.

Inwardly, she cursed herself, not the heavy tirade of true shame, but the light flicker of irritation. She also cursed Sathren. He must have known the customs. It was such a minor, inconsequential thing. or at least it was to her. Apparently not to the Aksesyr. She might as well have slapped Dune’s face.

Crien would not forget her misstep easily, but she let it slide to the back of her mind. There were more important things mentioned. The Azen seemed receptive — genuinely receptive — to the Valaran offer. Barely a word of haggling.

“We thank you kindly for accepting our offer. As I speak, our military be organising strikes on the rogue airbases. The Empire would be glad to support you in this, and future endeavours.” The Foreign Secretary shook hands with the Aksesyr. “We shall let you deal with their offer.” Crien was tempted to ask whether to call off the Valaran assault, but she decided against mentioning it. Negotiations did not mean surrender, and jets in the air would mean a lot more than bland rhetoric. It was of course ironic, that she could fault Sathren for the same thought process. But perhaps the Foreign Secretary was becoming more like her fief. Valaran diplomacy had a pervasive mindset, after all.

Sathren

A Foreign Ministry Official was trained to smile, when his mind would have done the opposite. But here, Sathren’s gesture was genuine. Dune had accepted. This trip had results after all. His gamble had paid off. “The Valaran Empire will stand resolutely by you Aksesyr Dune. You will find no firmer friend.”

Still there were a few matters to clear up. He shook the Akesyr’s hand and smiled amiably. “Aksesyr, this is very acceptable us also. The point is free trade, not exploitation, and free trade requires reciprocity.” He paused. “Besides, it would be hypocritical to impose conditions on Azenyanistan that we would not allow to be imposed on ourselves.” Sathren politely refrained from pointing out he had already said as much in his opening statement. Indeed, it was more interesting that Dune pushed for this of her own volition. That way, she could feel like she had accomplished something, that she had wrung concessions out of the arrogant foreigners, even if these points had already been conceded. No one said the Foreign Ministry could not be adaptable.

Clara and himself shook hands with the Aksesyr and left. Sathren smiled at Crien after they exited. More surprisingly the returned it, albeit a flintier sort of expression. A diplomat had two things that he could expect in his career. The first was the long game, a process of extend management, subtle moves and increasing contact networks, and long tireless hours. 90% of a diplomat’s endeavours would of this sort. Yet, there would also be a few flashes of intensity, a clear and present crisis, or some stroke of opportunity. These were make or break moments. Both Sathren and Crien had made theirs, he thought.

Azen Airpsace

The cessation of the coup was as yet a not known to the Empire at large, nor communicated to its military. But even had it been so, the Valarans were committed, and more than just against the rogue Airforce. A fire does not simply vanish, nor does a war machine sputter out of churning existence. Not until its furnaces had been wetted with ash and blood. The Valarans had a point to prove.

The ground crawled forwards beneath them. There were few clouds, bar the long strands of grey in the distance. Sun glinted on polycarbonate cockpits.

A stand-off range was set at 440 km, to avoid any long-range SAMs. It would mostly likely be out of radar detection ranges as well. The lead squadron took up firing positions, their V-shape transforming into a line of pointed steel. Each plane was armed with the blunt cones of two cruise missiles. These had a low RCS, an operational range of 560 km, and were subsonic — in fact just below Mach 1. They were of indigenous design. Valaran had come late to the realisation of such weapons, but they were capable enough for the task at hand. Satellite data was fed into the missiles. Slowly, the machines grew an understanding of their singular purpose.

An order to fire was given. The Missiles were released, half-dropping until their engines kicked in. They hurtled away. Ten would strike each of the two target airbases. These were aimed at any air defence capabilities the Valarans knew of. SEAD was ever the first element of any strike.

Their mission done, the first Varja squadron banked in unison. The sun disappeared from their cockpits, replaced by the kaleidoscopic vista of Azenyanistan, and the titled sky. Three of the Ulkis TF-7 Tankers did the same. They would all head to back to the Empire, refuelled by the Tankers. The rest of the Strikeforce did not have that luxury. They were going to need somewhere else to land.

In the meantime, they closed this distance. The Ilasis fed constant data of the surrounding skies — 250km range radars. The UA-9 drones ranged ahead. They would provide feeds of the damage the strikes had. In the meantime, the next Varja Squadron readied their weapons. There were six planes for each Airbase. Four in each (eight total) carried medium range Joint Stand-off weapons — surface gliders rather cruise missiles. The Valarans doubted many Azen planes would be on the ground. Instead these missiles were fired at facilities — command centres, suspected fuel depots, storage bunkers, and some of the hangars. On the whole, these were not thought to be hardened, though satellite stat had a difficult time confirming. It turned out the Empire had relatively few ISR assets over a nation it had little prior contact with or interest in. A situation to be rectified in the future.

The two lead planes carried a variant of the earlier cruise missile — each painted a drab green, rather than cloud grey. Instead of a single warhead, they contained four submunitions, and a parachute. It was designed to take out runways, by warping and displacing the foundational slabs of concrete. These were fired at the same time. Meanwhile, the last plane in each of the sub-squadron carried four anti-radiation missiles. These would lock onto radar signals, guiding them into contact with radar installations and thus blinding the enemy. The planes themselves had similar capabilities, so as to guide the missiles onto the correct targets, and not friendly emitters.

Together, this squadron was to provide the real ‘force’ against the Azen Air-bases. Launches began at 100km. It was less of a single mass bombardment, and more of a semi-continuos stream of missiles, as each of the missiles had slightly different ranges, and the planes had more to fire at each time.

Behind them a third and final Varja squadron. This was purely an air-defence formation and was equipped as such, in the case the Azen Airforce mounted any counter-assaults. There was also a Sovrys EW aircraft, to provide escort jamming and additional air-to-air capabilities. At about 100km back was the line of AWACS, a Taethas aerial superiority squadron, and six more Ulkis tankers. Travelling more slowly, and in another direction, was the Transport planes (and yet more tankers). They would head to the Rattean Airbase, to land and deploy.

At such ranges, aerial warfare could appear clinical. To the VIAF, that was the point. Their equipment was too precious, and too capable to risk to the cut and thrust of combat and dogfights. Skill was fallible. Instead, technical and technological advantages were the true, reliable bases of mastery. Far better to eliminate hostile forces beyond their sight and range, before they ever became a threat. An enemy could be equated out of existence. In the skies, one could have the luxury to feel detached from the frenzied panicking taking place on the earth.

Aegypt

“Good afternoon sir, sorry for any wait and I hope your journey was peaceful and without trouble" before grabbing his luggage and having the driver pop open the trunk of the car, he neatly placed the bags in the trunk before walking over to right side rear passenger door and opening it for the ambassador who soon entered, the agent closed the door and entered the car himself there after.

“No trouble at all,” Eric lied. He made sure to stow the luggage himself. It was a personal thing: he always travelled light and he had always felt somewhat guilty at simply handing it over to chauffeurs.

The car soon turned on its blue and white LED light bars mounted inside as well on the mirrors and grill of the car as it left the airport, the lights swayed away any vehicle from attempting to cut off or get in the way of the car as the consequences were dire "So how was your journey to our fine nation sir?" asked the Federal Security Service agent once the car merged onto the motorway.

“More hectic than I might have thought,” Eric replied with a cryptic smile. No point explaining why.

The lights threw him back to the life of Ministerial motorcades. Though they never had them on inside the car. They kept him awake for the drive. He could have used the sleep.

Not that the drive was long. Aegypt was sufficiently browbeaten that people avoided the car as soon as they saw the flashing lights. Eric was honestly surprised there was any activity on the motorway. He guessed the Pakirani aid money must really be that extensive.

Perhaps more conveniently than its designers had intended, the Presidential Palace was not that far away from the airport. Or maybe the airport had been built close to the Palace. Both made a lot of sense here, Eric mused. Presidents might have often needed to escape quickly. He breezed through several security checkpoints, and found himself at the office of the new President.

by **Azenyanistan** » Sat Dec 02, 2017 7:34 am

"It is better for me to die than to live. For I am so angry that I want to die."
-Jonah

The meeting went on for ten minutes...twenty minutes...thirty minutes...and more. But as they spoke, the Sarn and the Azen agreed on one thing: What they spoke of was inevitable. Even if they did not meet in this hotel in this city on this time, others would have done what they spoke of doing. And it could have been worse.

So in their discussion, Solas Ester, the most prominent activist for the Sarns, the Lishs, the Ysitir and the other minorities silently oppressed by the Azens and other ethnicities, said to Simitira, the President of the Azen state, the co-ruler over the land of Azenyanistan

"The greatest problem lies in your own people. You are very troublesome to your own being. You are very incredible when it comes to self destruction. And you surpass all souls in being so very self hating. You bring into existence a great calamity when there should be none.

You halt all progress meant to advance you. You stop doing what is good so you could bring yourself down without delay and without concern for your own self. And you beg with plans to ruin what you receive from others.

I am not saying you are like your people. You are a great person. I like you. And I approve of you enough that you may continue to rule. Your life may be spared. And you may redeem your people in some other way. What I am trying to say is that the greatest problem of your people are themselves. Your people must be made clean. Your people should change. And immediately.

Because if you do not then I am afraid of what comes to mind for your future. I cannot say it because you know there are people listening to us and you know that it would bring greater calamity on your head. So listen to me. I heed you. There are only a list of things that I must say to you that you may take heed and apply so that the future will be more secure.

Continue as President. And keep up the end of the deal. But do not do anything without consulting me and Dune and Klyzya. And put down your people. Those who rebel, put them down. Those who object, put them down. Those who do not go according to our plan, put them down. Make them obey. This must go smoothly, even if it will not absolutely."

Simitira kept her lips together and she sipped some of her tea slowly and she wondered what to say. The Azen heard truth and knew that, while it too pained her heart, it meant nothing else to her because she cared for her own interests and those of her classmates and those of Dune. She spoke to her

"I will do as you say and I will listen to you. No deed goes out of my soul unless it has been discussed with you and Dune and Klyzya. But I must beg for some mercy. I-"

Solas immediately placed her hand upon Simitiras thigh. And that meant that it was a Sarn gesture of immediate attention. Simitira understood. She meant for her to cut short and to listen more. Solas said

"There will be no more leniency for your people. They have squandered every little thing your friends have supplied. The Esgonians do not believe every word you speak. The Ratteans are tired of you. The Urranese have cut you off from them. The Remnants oppose you. The Eakans have done you blood. The Syrnistanis and the Agrabahites and the Aegyptians have no more patience. You have brought doom to your country.

All the foreigners will show no more mercy. You have wasted all the reward. You have sold out and you have gone rotten. Like a sovereign citizen, like a withered bush and like a slobbering, hypocritical, useless, unworthy and weak bitch, your people deserve insult. Your people deserve a burial place. You must disappear and never come to mind ever again. Let your race go. It is the best way for you to be saved.

You can no longer stand up and stay. You can no longer show yourself. You can no longer face the music. It has been written.

Your people must go."

At this point, Simitira sighed and shook her head and gave her arms out to Solas. She said

"So let it be done. I'm looking for this to end. Let it be done. I do not care what happens to my people. Let it be done."

Thus sealed the fate of the Azens. For their own leaders, seeking to save them, have sought out the grave. And for their own gods have lost faith in them. And for their own litterateur, the one who created them as a nation for this universe, wished to get rid of his own creation. He hated them because it brought him trouble. And he wanted to end his life because he grew so angry and sad that he wanted his life to be taken away.

He no longer wanted them. He no longer wanted to stay. Yet he must dare. Because he pitied himself. And because he wished to die.

by **The United Remnants of America** » Mon Dec 11, 2017 6:35 pm

C-37B

Airspace Over Aegypt

9/31/2017 - 8:00

The C-37B had been officially recalled after several days in Aegypt. The regional chaos had been incrementally increasing, and now it was enough that the CPD had decided to recall the unarmed transport jet back to GRCS territory. The flight crew of four aboard the C-37B weren't complaining. This was supposed to be a fairly straightforward and easy flight, but the threat of rogue Azen aircraft in the region made the flight back more stressful than it needed to be. Once the C-37 was finally off the runway and into the air, it turned straight south and headed towards international airspace.

The pilot and copilot breathed a sigh of relief. Any Azen pilot risking their life to take out the C-37 at this point would need to fly over half of Aegypt, where anti-air would hopefully tag them. If anyone else tried to kill the C-37, they had little to no defense other than the fact that they were an unarmed transport plane retired from active duty several years ago. Who would attack such non-threatening prey?

Commander Susan Grey

Malsuf Province, Aegypt

9/31/2017 - 10:00

The CPD advisory team had been more or less on self-imposed house arrest back in the capital of Aegypt since their outing with Bugaboo. The villagers had been very upset at the sudden arrival of Aegyptian military, but luckily they'd been talked back away from conflict by the arrival of reinforcements just a few minutes later. Since their return, Commander Grey had kept the other CPD commanders on a short leash so as to keep them out of trouble. The Aegyptian capital was abuzz with troops, and Grey or the others hadn''t seen Bugaboo or his Pakirani advisors.

Grey kept having teleconferences with the other CPD commanders enroute to Aegypt to keep in contact with them. In a couple hours, should everything go according to plan, they'd be landing on Aegyptian shores. That was just as well. She was also getting reports when she could from passerby Aegyptian officers about the pseudo-war on with Azenyanistan. Rumor had it that the Azens were fighting each other almost as much as they were getting in contact with Aegyptian, Syrnistani, or Agrabite troops or even the Pakirani "advisors."

For now, Grey and her team were to stay put until circumstances changed or Bugaboo had free time to meet with them. Though, Grey supposed, she'd have to inform him of her army arriving on his country's shores if the port authority didn't already...

Major Astra Galinsky

Port Kandiyah, Aegypt

9/31/2017 - 12:00

Port Kandiyah was a relatively small port town on the Aegyptian coast, but it had a natural harbor, which made it extremely useful to the needs of Major Galinsky and her forces. The Contracted Personnel Division detachment had finally made landfall at Port Kandiyah, which was just the first stepping stone to creating defensive force with the Aegyptian military. The Aegyptians had a minor garrison at Port Kandiyah, but they allowed the CPD force to pass through without much bureaucracy.

The two CPD naval detachments had come together once reaching Aegyptian territorial waters, allowing the reserve unit to fall under the protective net of the main force. The 30 submarines that had escorted the fleet here stopped around the mouth of the harbor after a quick surface conference of the fleet's captains. The submarines were now splitting between patrols out to the edge of territorial waters and sitting at the mouth of the harbor, acting as stationary underwater sentinels, guarding the vulnerable harbor silently from naval assault.

The 5 hospital ships and eight LHDs filled every available dock in order to quickly and efficiently begin to offload their troops and supplies. Meanwhile, the LHDs kept their equipment active, casting a strong radar net around the city of Port Kandiyah. The remaining 20 LCUs just landed on flat enough shorelines in order to land their equipment. The remaining 20 LCACs were busy at work moving smaller pieces of equipment between the LHDs and different points of the shore around Port Kandiyah in order to make sure the port was fully secure.

Major Galinsky gathered the task force commanders around herself in order to have a meeting. Major Farhammer, Captain Ihsan, Captain Tanaka, Captain Alexia, Captain Danielsen, and Captain Quen stood around her as they stood near the docks. Galinksy had just before called Commander Grey of their arrival in Aegypt.

For now, Galinsky ordered, Major Farhammer and Captain Quen would stay in the town with the fleets, as those were their commands. Now that the fleets were one unit, Quen was Farhammer's 2IC.

Tanaka and his Red Claws mercenaries, which consisted of two infantry divisions, would create a defensive perimeter around Port Kandiyah. That would create more than enough of a defensive blockade, but current projections and reports from the CPD command unit in Malsuf were decidedly positive as for any threats getting as far as Port Kandiyah.

Captain Alexia's unit consisted of a task force, originally from a defunct PMC, consisted of an infantry division, and an armored and air regiment each. His force would also in Port Kandiyah, providing a backup reserve unit to Tanaka's Red Claws. Plus, the armor and helicopters would create a good addition to the heavy infantry focus of the units.

Captain Danielsen's command consisted of several different smaller mercenary or loaned units numbering almost 2,500 troops. Galinsky ordered his command to move out at all possible speed towards Malsuf Province. For what units that didn't arrive with light vehicles, the Aegyptians were begrudgingly accommodating. After the meeting, Danielsen was to get his command going ASAP. His troops were to get to Malsuf so their more specialized roles could be utilized by Commander Grey and the Aegyptian military command.

Captain Ihsan was given command of the SA Stormtroopers, one of the oldest CPD units loaned from the Namenians. An infantry division, ten mechanized divisions, and ten armored divisions made up Ihsan's command. He was likewise ordered to get to Malsuf province as a show of force and support to the Aegyptians, but since Ihsan's command was so large, he would need more time to get going than Danielsen, who could move out later today. The Stormtroopers were definitely the main firepower of the CPD units in Aegypt, with so many armored units.

Aegypt had just gotten their reinforcements.

by **Sishanite Sornia** » Fri Dec 15, 2017 3:33 am

In the comfortable darkness of the lobby, women and men gathered around a wide, glass table with documents covering it. They sat on red or blue couches and padded chairs. Others stood behind them or by their side and men with guns were standing at the doors to the lobby.

A woman stands up. She speaks to all of them in a voice that would be remembered. Cool, appealing and with the goal of earning their souls for the price of their land. She said it like this,

"I will remind all of you of my proposal: Azenyanistan will be partitioned and you will do nothing. Your lives will be spared and your people can flee. You renounce your entire identity and make sure never to return.

First of all, I want you to disappear. Do the last things you must do as leaders of this country. But nothing more.

After that, I want your police and your military under my control. They will not resist. Not all of them. And the country will fall as my people demonstrate.

And soon enough, when a great panic sets in, when more is done, let your people move South. Drive yourselves to the sea. And never come home."

When she was done speaking, she let another woman speak. This time, she wore khaki shorts, a gray sweater and her face seemed red and stuffy. She kept on sniffling and coughing. And she spoke with difficulty in this way,

"Shall we begin?"

And the first woman nodded and said with some poison to her words

"Then begin."

(I am back. The Fall of Azenyanistan begins with this meeting. Link to the Fall of Azenyanistan RP will be posted soon. Thank you. I apologize for all the inconveniences this RP may have brought you.)

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