The Fall of Azenyanistan (IC, CLOSED)

by **The United Remnants of America** » Tue Jan 23, 2018 9:13 pm

Captain Milena Aasanov

Marhi, Aegypt

1/18/2018 - 5:33

Asanov slouched back in her seat, "Well, Mr. Snow. You're being a very responsible soldier." Asanov looked back out the window and passing military vehicles, adopting a pouting expression, "That's a shame. You need to be more corruptible." Her eyes flashed towards the soldier who identified himself as Jon Snow before looking back out the window, noticing the building as well as the gate and the emblem on the gate.

A badger and tiger symbol was completely unknown to her. She assumed it was a military emblem of some kind, seeing as it looked like they'd arrived at a depot or base, but Asanov mainly knew the emblems of the units in the CPD, of which there were several to keep track of. Asanov nodded her head towards the window before looking back at the gentleman soldier, "What's that represent, the badger? Who are you guys, really? I'll tell you if you tell me?" She raised an eyebrow and grinned, trying to get anything our of this soldier that had such control over her.

by **Asturial** » Wed Jan 24, 2018 12:52 am

Area 87

Another transport touched down on the withered runway. Troops piled out, nearly half of them Royal Army Engineers. Splitting up by unit they joined the other forces already set up at the washed up air base. The old hangars and buildings had largely been under rehabilitation for the last couple of days.

Colonel Veldon drummed his fingers on the dusty table as troops scurried around him. Currently a map of the city was spread across the table. A few dozen markers dotted it with labels, and a green transparent sheet covered the Airbase.

"Major, how are we coming along?" Levi said. Flatly like usual.

"Well, sir." The Major turned from the other side of the room where he had been directing a pair of enlisted men in where he wanted a set of monitors placed on the wall.

"Sir, to be honest it would have been better if we had been here sooner. As it stands we have troops setting up defenses around both Area 87 and the nearby town we have moved into. It was abandoned like reports said, but we are still sweeping it to be sure. Captain Finn is also waiting to be dispatched whenever you need his men. Other than that, we are just getting things set up now." The major lifted his hat and smoothed his short hair back.

"It's the best we can do for the time. Make sure the men have the perimeter defenses for the Airbase set up as quickly as possible. I want every spare man working on it." Veldon took a clipboard from a corporal who spun out of the room immediately to get back to work.

The Colonel took a seat and started reading through the reports regarding the goings on in the rest of the city. Stopping for a moment he glanced out the window as a Truck raced by filled with troops and materials for building HESCOs for placement around the buildings and important positions for the new base of Asturialic operations.

"I hope the men are ready for the challenge, we are just getting started." He said quietly to himself.

by **Valefontaine** » Wed Jan 24, 2018 5:24 am

NEW WORLD ORDER - ACT 3.2
_{Near Aura Twin Towers}
_{Aura, Sornian Occupied Zone}
_{Former Azenyanistan}
_{1/22/2018 - 7:09 AM AST}

The Aura Twin Towers, even in their damaged state, towered above the office complex they'd occupied, creating an ominous shadow aided by the rising sun in the east. Even the sun, however, wasn't expected to be visible for long — the massive oil fire in District 10 was creating a plume of smoke that'd soon blot out the sun. The flames themselves were several blocks away — this would have to be a fast mission, as anything otherwise would spell a terrible fate.

"Looks like the Sornians didn't accept our generous offer." Bianka stowed away her radio, approaching a window in the officer corridor. She kept her hands clenched around her Kb-92 rifle, especially now that it seemed they'd be getting into a confrontation. She took only a brief glimpse, for fear of any potential sharpshooters hiding in the hellish cityscape around them.

"I was quite correct in my calculations." Jet mused through Bianka's earbuds, which slightly irritated Bianka.

A little, four-legged TV17[1] was also near one of the windows, its camera raised — like a periscope, as it designated targets both outside and inside the Twin Towers of Aura.

"How many are they?" Czaika, the group's medic, paced about the office, KbK in hand.

"Enough to cause us trouble if we aren't careful." One of the men, who was handling the TV17 through a laptop, quipped. "A good twenty of 'em on the ground alone. Their friends nearby should be pretty busy at the moment, so I don't think there'll be a problem with enemy reinforcements."

"When do we start shooting?" Leonid asked, sitting in one of the office cubicles, dusting ash off his KM-61 GPMG while he waited.

Bianka noted what one of her squadmates had said, pausing before giving an order. "All, to the windows. Equip AR goggles."

The squad, numbering twelve in total, formed up at the windows. Several other elements of 4. Platun were present at the office complex, primarily to ensure Sornian forces would not attempt to counterattack. One by one, they equipped their AR goggles[2], which were powered by batteries stowed in their kitbags.

Bianka had only trained briefly with this system, but the layout of the HUD wasn't unlike a certain milsim video game she'd played back home. She could see, marked on her HUD by the TV17, twenty men wandering about the plaza outside the ATT[3]. Through the HUD, she was also capable of viewing who her squad were aiming at, which helped significantly.

"On your mark." Sigmund adjusted his aim, his sights set on one of the apparent officers, who was busy urinating at the base of a destroyed statue. The statue was probably dedicated to some Azen hero, but Sigmund neither knew enough about the place nor cared.

"Fire." Bianka instructed.

One by one, they opened fire in short, precise bursts. The Sornian troops had little time to react as they were gunned down, the last of them attempting to make a run for the ATT entrance before the machinegunners dealt with them.

"Impressive. I must warn you, however, there are at least a hundred men up in those towers, and—" Bianka removed her earbuds, clearly a bit annoyed at the hacker's continued commentary.

"All enemies outside the compound have been dealt with. All, move to ground level for the breach — take stairs."

INTEL WAR - ACT 2
_{Aura International Airport}
_{Aura, Sornian Occupied Zone}
_{Former Azenyanistan}
_{1/22/2018 - 7:21 AM AST}

Kaczka stood in a room lined with computers, occupied by MvH agents busily typing away — something was eluding them. He'd arrived just minutes earlier, intent on getting to the bottom of this 'hacker' dilemma.

"If this is a hacker, this is unlike anything we've ever seen. We're tracing him to be, physically, at thousands of different locations across the globe, some of them even related to the VDR military networks. This is either a coordinated effort, an inside job... or something else." One of the desk jockeys was quite clearly baffled at whatever their finders were as he spoke to Kaczka.

"I guess we'll see, then." Kaczka took a seat at one of the computers, pulling a flash drive out of his suit pocket. Plugging it in, he installed the program contained inside and got to work. "We've always known this hacker was snooping around in our system, and we always knew they weren't doing anything, except observe... but now we'll have the ability to see what exactly they're obsberving." He smirked, letting the program run its job. He was no geek, so he didn't actually know what the hell it was doing right now... but he did know it would get the job done.

The program had, on the side of the UI, a 'network map' displaying the various computers and other devices connected to the 'network' of VDR military applications. A flashing red dot appeared, as the program had apparently finished tracing what the hacker was up to.

"The more you know..." Kaczka clicked away at a few buttons, overlaying the network map onto a satellite map of Aura. The hacker's activity could be traced to the Aura Twin Towers, which, coincidentally, a squad had left by helicopter not long ago... he opened a few windows, accessed a few pages. The roster for the operation...

Bianka Ziekowski.

This was one too many coincidences for Kaczka, who immediately got up and left the room, muttering something about the 'Queen of Spades' under his breath. She and her squad were in immediate danger, and he had to make this clear.

NEW WORLD ORDER - ACT 3.3
_{Aura Twin Towers}
_{Aura, Sornian Occupied Zone}
_{Former Azenyanistan}
_{1/22/2018 - 7:23 AM AST}

Bianka's squad had gotten to the lobby of the ATT quite quickly, being accompanied by another squad from 4. Platun that had been ordered to assist with what they could only foresee would be a strenuous task before them — clearing not one, but two skyscrapers to find their HVT. This was the purpose of the second squad, but it also meant they'd be fighting through an entire skyscraper on their own. Their spotting device back in the office complex, the TV17, would only really be able to spot targets around windows, which meant they'd be in the dark.

"Man..." Sigmund looked around the lobby. It had been trashed by whatever fighting had occurred prior, and it seemed a good deal of the place had been burned. "This place is a total wreck. You'd think the Sornians would pick somewhere a bit... further away from the massive fire over in District 10, no?" He chuckled. The other squad was talking among themselves, patrolling the rest of the lobby.

"At this rate, the Sornians in this city don't really have anywhere else..." Leonid joked.

"Would we all even be here if this war didn't break out? This would all still be Azenyanistan... and people would be living their lives, normally... peacefully." Sigmund sighed, looking down at the rifle he held in his hands. "And we would all be back home."

"CLEAR!" Came a call from across the room.

"I, uhhh... believe we should have an R&R, Biko..." Sigmund added, glanced over to Bianka. It was rare for him to call her by her nickname while they were on duty, so this Freudian slip showed he was... genuinely worried.

"Uh, sure?" Bianka was seemingly confused, taken aback even, by Sigmund's sudden break in character. The two headed off somewhere private — a ransacked gift shop at the lobby. Sigmund had seated himself quite comfortably on one of the few things that hadn't been looted or burned: a beanbag at one of the corners of the shop.

"What's the matter, Sig? You're seeming tense lately... something about the mission giving you second thoughts?" Bianka knelt over, to be eye-to-eye with Sigmund. He was her second in command, but he had also been her friend long before that. Childhood friends, even. Now they were about to venture on what was, quite possibly, a suicide mission, going up against the more elite troops of the Sornian military — men who'd seen nothing but war for the past two decades.

"This is extremely dangerous. I don't know how the fuck we got assigned this, but if I were in charge, I would've just had this whole place blown up. None of this seems right to me... this looks like the perfect setup to an ambush. As your second-in-command, no — as your friend... I gotta tell you that I don't feel right about this. This isn't like what happened back in the Markeb Siege."[4] He seemed to hesitate in that moment, but pressed on. "I was so worried about you after what happened to you at the consulate. You talk to Sandra lately? Amelia? They were so worried, too... I was talking to them on Capchat yesterday."

"Don't worry, Sig." Bianka reassured her friend, leaning in and giving him a hug. "We're gonna make it through this... together, as friends! I believe in you, and every one of us here... we can pull through this!" After a few seconds, she broke the close embrace, getting back up and looking to the door of the gift shop. "The clock's ticking, Sig. We gotta clear this place out before evac arrives."

"Of course. Thanks, Biko... it really means a lot." Sigmund grinned, standing up and loading his rifle. He looked at her eyes just for a moment, feeling moved by how they still sparkled with confidence, even in this warzone. He would've expressed so much more to her in this moment, but he supposed it could wait until they were safe and sound, back home in Valefontaine... ah, how he longed for the old sights of Mieszko's city streets.

"Anything for a friend. C'mon, let's go." Bianka made for the door, leaving the gift shop and joining the squad for the task ahead of them, with Sigmund in tow. The fight ahead of them would certainly be a challenge, but their hopes, dreams and aspirations were on the line... they could not give up now, even if they wanted to.

CONTEXT NOTES
[1] - TV17 - Quadrupedal spotter device
[2] - AR goggles - Battery-powered HUD goggles, rather light
[3] - ATT - Aura Twin Towers
[4] - Markeb Siege - A well-remembered event in recent VDR history, in which the military besieged a compound being held by armed cultists who worshipped the star Markeb. Bianka was involved in this operation, and so were much of her squad.

by **Die Erworbenen Namen** » Wed Jan 24, 2018 10:30 am

District 7, Aura, Sornia
12:20 PM, Jan. 8, 2018

As the attack helicopter came about for another attack run, the dust from the explosion began to clear, and showed an Entrecaseuxian tank cooking off in the middle of the streets. The flames reached high into the afternoon sky, burning the nearby buildings with its heat. All around the tank and the nearby streets lay bodies of both friendlies and enemies, bleeding into the dust and sand of the pavement. Some enemy APCs had been abandoned and their troops fled, although the aircraft ruthlessly gunned them down as they could. By the time the enemy force had been routed, nearly thirty of the enemy lay dead on the ground, and not a single Namenian had been killed in the fighting.

"Bounty, this is Lain. Enemy communications have been intercepted. We're getting a report of enemy surface reinforcements. How copy? Over." Captain Lain asked over the comms, watching the smoking battlefield below.

"Lain, this is Bounty. I read you. Over." Bounty, the pilot callsign for the attack helicopter above, replied. The chopper buzzed over the burned tank and banked ninety degrees, approaching the east.

"Bounty, buzz over the road into the dominion territory. Try to avoid enemy contact and conduct some recon. Find the enemy reinforcements and radio back. Avoid contact at all costs, over."

"Roger that, Lain. Bounty out. Over and out." Bounty replied. The helicopter sped up as it gained altitude, flying as far away as possible from the ground. He passed the retreating enemy and radioed in their positions to the captain before continuing on with his flight. His virtual map began to change from the blue of friendly territory to the red of dominion, nearing the rocky outcrops to the north and south. A small mountain road emerged from the city, and he hovered nearby, ready to relay the information to the Captain when he could. He didn't have to wait long, it seemed, as the first sign of the convoy turned the corner and appeared on his FLIR. At the edge of the road, on the city side, was the seven APCs filled with troops awaiting reinforcements and support. They just stopped to await the convoy of supplies, and there was little time to waste.

"Lain, this is Bounty. Enemy convoy approaching city, requesting permission to engage, over." Bounty asked, his hand hovering over the trigger of his weapon systems that marked the missile launch.

"Bounty, this is Lain. Do not engage unless fired upon. I repeat, do not engage unless fired upon. Air support is inbound on their position. Hold your position, over and out." Captain Lain replied over the radio.

Namenian Controlled Airfield near Aura
12:20 PM, Jan. 8, 2018

The B-3 Blackhawk that initially bombed the airfield earlier was taking off with a full load of napalm and explosives tucked into its bomb bay. Twenty 500 kg napalm canisters and forty 250 kg high explosive general purpose bombs had been loaded onto the aircraft before it lifted itself off the runway and headed towards the combat zone. The two engines of the light bomber roared as the throttle was opened, showing off the blue and red shock diamonds trailing behind it. It wasn't the only aircraft that took off, though, as two F-18A light fighters, armed with an air to air loadout, also took off behind it in support of the aircraft. Light support, yes, but support none the less. After all, they had to look the part of the responding Dominion aircraft, and there was reports of nearby possibly hostile aircraft in the area, and command didn't want any of the bombers, or their crews, to be taken out as a result. They were operating on limited equipment until the ports could be officially occupied militarily.

by **Second Helghan Empire** » Thu Jan 25, 2018 6:25 am

District 5

"Cerberus 1 in position with package." Pellman remarked over his mic.

"Cerberus 2 is same." "Cerberus 3 is same." "Cerberus 4...Approaching target position."

Good Pellman thought, they were almost ready. Watching the smoke from the nearby District 3, it was obvious why it was taking Rigg a little longer than originally planned. However they were still on schedule. Pulling the large canister up into ready position Pellman prepped the delivery mechanism for remote triggering. The two foot long silver container had been difficult to manage while also trying to avoid attention from people. The Director wanted no traces back to the organization, and that meant they couldn't be seen deploying the devices.

"Cerberus...4....in position." Riggley sounded slightly out of breath. That was a worrisome thought. However surely if he had been spotted he would have said something.

"Prep and get to the extraction, we only have forty minutes after these are set so move quickly and quietly." Pellman spoke as he prepped his container.

Finishing up he stood and started making his way back off the roof. Down two flights of stairs then blending in with the faculty at the school he needed to get to where he concealed his gear and would rendezvous with Cerberus 2. Exiting the front of the school and making his way down the road he turned down an alley before scaling a makeshift ramp of garbage over a low wall. He turned again before coming up to a pair of wood panels leaned on a fence to cover it up. Climbing over it the team leader finally dropped down beside his gear.

"Beat you." Harris mocked as she holstered her hand gun under her civvies. She was already dressed and ready to move out.

"Just go get on watch while I kit up Fish." He spoke with a humorous tone but retained an element of seriousness. "Get in contact with 3 and 4 too, we need to be moving to point bravo."

"Yes Sir." She said, again in a mocking tone, though she jumped right to it, easily clambering over the fence.

"Cerberus 2 to 3 and 4, report." Harris said, having lost all humor and taking a serious tone.

"Both units copy we are leaving point alpha now." Riggley responded, he sounded annoyed, likely arguing with 3 about keeping up with him.

After a brief moment Pellman dropped beside Harris and the pair strode out into the street. They appeared slightly bulky around the torso and hips but their baggy civilian clothes concealed things well. The Warsprite rig perfect for this operation. No-one could spot the firearms and bulletproof clothing underneath without paying very close attention. Walking quickly but steadily the pair moved south east, coming up on a worn out parking garage. On the second level they got in a plain white sedan and started it up.

Paying the toll at the gate, they honestly could have passed for a couple out driving around. Perhaps having just come from having lunch together at a restaurant. In fact that was their cover if pulled over or asked anything. Better to lie and not shoot anyone than have to gun down a group of people. Rounding a corner they came to a larger 4 lane, that was busy. Traffic was slightly more congested than planned but that was due to the fire, and DOG Team Cerberus knew such things would come up.

After an eight minute drive Pellman eased the car into a parking space behind a small pawnshop. Out from behind the dumpster Riggley, and Cerberus 3 Oakley ran to the car and climbed in the back. Dressed like civilians as well they all blended well. That was except for the bloody rag tied around Riggley's left hand.

"What the hell is that?" Pellman snarled as he pulled the car back onto the street. "What did you do?"

"It's not what you think. Some people were standing around in front of my target building roof door, so I had to use some scaffolding and climb up from the outside. I just cut my hand on the way down." Riggley stared out the window. His face the typical mix of annoyed and angry.

Pellman sighed in relief. Out of those in his team Riggley was a danger more than the others. His temper occasionally got the better of him, and he had a history of going too far on some missions. Now however things had gone rather well. As it stood a few well placed bombs, with a surprise inside and on top of that some great memorabilia. Now all that remained was for the team to get to District 4 in the allotted time. Nice and Easy.

Parking the car in an alley southwest of the District 4 Fuel Depot. The quartet started walking. Pellman wrapped an arm around Harris and she did the same, Riggley stuck his hand in his pocket to hide the injury and suddenly they were a group of young people passing the time together. Enjoying life and fresh air.

As they continued on, nearing their destination they arrived into Dominion controlled territory. Two turns later and they were at a thick steel door with a security camera over looking it's landing. Oakley waved friendly like to the camera before a buzzing sound unlocked the door for them. Now they were in the DOG team safe house for District 4. Safe and Sound. Checking his watch Pellman noticed five more minutes till scheduled detonation. All according to schedule.

"Well congrats Cerberus. Mission all but completed." The weasely looking man said from the corner. Pellman hadn't even bother to learn his name, just another one of the Director's Field Handlers for the DOG teams.

"We can even detonate early, well done." As if it were as easy as flipping the switch the man flicked a button and a series of distant thumps could be heard. Small, but really the explosions weren't the main event were they.

As Team Cerberus disrobed and took some time to shower and relax, Cyanogen Chloride Gas drifted down on populaces in Districts 3, 5, and 11. With Epicenters at two schools a hospital and a general store. The effects would be immediate, and the gas would cause havoc in no time.

Nearby each canister was items pointing to a brief stay from Consord fighters. Hopefully throwing more fuel on the raging inferno that was becoming Aura. All the Dominion needed was an excuse. Stolen Chemical weapons...well that worked well enough for the Director. A little political fallout followed by a statement condemning the act would be all that came from the official government on the matter. No matter what happened.

by **Valefontaine** » Thu Jan 25, 2018 9:56 pm

NEW WORLD ORDER - ACT 3.4
_{Near Aura Twin Towers}
_{Aura, Sornian Occupied Zone}
_{Former Azenyanistan}
_{1/22/2018 - 7:27 AM AST}

The squad was divided in two, with Sigmund handling the breaching on the floor below Bianka's. This way, they could cover far more floors — and far quicker, too. They'd positioned themselves beside the door, ready to breach and enter the derelict, scorched office spaces waiting on the other side. Bianka's team consisted of Czaika, Leonid, a grenadier, a breacher and a rifleman.

"On your mark, sierzant." The breacher set a magnetic breaching device[1] against the door, promptly pressing away at a few buttons. At a whim, the device began to press against the door, dents forming around the door until there came a loud pop. The door's hinges had given in under the pressure of the device, the door bursting and being propelled against the room by the magnetic device. To complement this, Bianka lobbed a flashbang inside[2], waiting for it to go off first before they entered.

The squad stepped in, immediately getting into a gunfight with the confused Sornian troops. Tables were flipped, shots were exchanged, and the former office space quickly became a bloody warzone — for the Sornians. They were elites by their military's standards, but they still lacked in training and intellect. It was over in no time, the last remaining Sornian cowering behind one of the desk cubicles as the Valefontene soldiers rummaged through the room. It didn't take long for Bianka to find him.

His weapon, which she presumed he had been trying to grab during the firefight, had fallen between where she stood, and the space beneath the office cubicle in which the Sornian had hid himself.

"You..." The Sornian mustered, in an odd, broken dialect of Isleish.

Seeing his eyes looking up to her, she hesitated for a moment — and then she was reminded of the Consord militias at the embassy, the people these men were supporting. The Sornian, in that moment, attempted to lunge for the assault rifle on the floor, to which Bianka emptied a single round into the man's head. As his corpse fell limp at her feet, the rest of the squad scrambled over.

"A straggler, I assume." Leonid wandered over, KM-61 slung over his shoulders as he lit a cigarette, casually smoking. He looked down, taking note of the corpse's hand resting at the stock of the rifle. "Typical." He scoffed.

"Clear!" Czaika called out, exiting one of the rooms in the office space.

"Clear." Sigmund's voice came crackling from Bianka's radio.

"Impressive timing." Bianka thought, before answering. "Fair enough. Onto the next floors." She ordered. This order was, of course, directed at the entire squad. They met with Sigmund's fireteam as they made their way up.

"Sierzant... do you ever wonder if a war like this could happen back home?" Czaika asked, looking to her squad leader. Bianka was something of a role model to her, as she perceived Bianka to be calm and composed.[3] Maybe when the war was over, they could become friends; she'd thought.

"I doubt it. But if anything ever happens... we'll be the first line of defense." Bianka reassured her, giving a light smile — a brief respite from her usual attitude with her squad.

"Of course, sierzant!" Czaika nodded in agreement, smiling.

"When we get home, drinks are on me." Sigmund was busy talking with Leonid as they made their way up the stairs.

"That can be arranged."

The squad made their way fighting up the ATT, repeating the same process over and over again. Breach, shoot, move. The clock was ticking, and they had to act with care. By the time they'd reached the penultimate floor, the air was noticeably dirtier, a side effect of the flames burning wildly a few city blocks away.

A large, ornate door separated them from the next set of rooms on the final floor. A worn sign read 'CONFERENCING FLOOR', indicating this was probably going to be more... high end, than the previous floors they'd swept through. They had less than fifteen minutes to get this done, now. They would all go in, as the next floor would be, quite literally, the rooftop itself.

"This'll about do it." Bianka gestured the breacher, who promptly set the magnetic breaching device on the door. With the pop of the door's hinges and the toss of a flashbang, they breached this final floor. To their surprise, all was quiet. Unlike previous floors, the conferencing floor was empty. The squad entered the floor with caution, soldiers aiming about as they wandered the rather large space. It was far grander than the previous floors, clearly intended for wealthier tenants.

"Check the conference rooms." Bianka ordered, gesturing to the various windowed rooms to their left and right.

The 12-man squad began to make a move for the rooms, while Bianka paused to assess the situation with her second-in-command.

"Do you feel right about this, Sig?" Bianka questioned, looking on at her squadmates moving to access the various rooms.

"Alright, look... I guess I was just a bit worried down there about this being too dangerous. We pulled through, like you said... but we can't let our guard down now." Sigmund replied, still seeming a bit anxious. "Something about this seems... off. Try contacting the other squad in the second tower?"

"Fair enough." Bianka reached for her radio, but stopped when she heard Czaika.

"I can't seem to get this door. Can you help?" She asked one of her squadmates, who promptly walked over to the door.

"No problem. Let me get this for you." The soldier walked over, testing the knob. He seemed puzzled when the knob didn't budge. "Fuck it." He gave the door a kick, rifle at the ready, when—

Bianka had to shield her eyes from the blast, ducking as an explosion went off. One of the soldiers was now impaled to the wall by fragments of wooden and metal shrapnel, a gentle stream of blood trickling down the dark green wallpaper.

"MEDI—" Czaika had failed to realize she was the designated medic, but her call for help was interrupted by soldiers in black uniforms emerging from the conference room in question, proceeding to riddle her with bullets. She fell limp to the floor, almost comedically so.

Bianka's mind, in that moment, went numb.

Czaika, the kind-hearted, selfless medic of the squad, lay dead. She'd always been especially friendly to Bianka, even asking her for life advice at times — as though she looked up to Bianka. The sudden flood of emotion, memories and thoughts into Bianka's mind had struck her particularly hard, as she looked on at Czaika's lifeless body.

The other doors exploded in the midst of the confusion, more of these Sornian soldiers emerging from their hiding spots. How long had they been hiding in those conference rooms, waiting? Bianka didn't bother trying to ponder this as the squad was surrounded by the Sornians. They did not fire, however — was this mercy?

"Fire at us, and your fate will be sealed." One of the masked men proclaimed, clearly much more fluent in Isleish than the grunts a few floors down. "Drop those rifles of yours."

"What did he say?" Sigmund whispered to Bianka, confused.

"D-d-drop... our... weapons." Bianka was still in shock at the events that'd just occurred before her eyes. People she'd been talking to only moments prior now lay about, lifeless... they had been depending on her to lead them, and yet— she dropped her Kb-92, raising her hands. "Drop your weapons!" She instructed the squad, in Valefontene, to which they hesitantly complied. The Sornians made little haste as they brought the nine surviving soldiers to one of the rooms, huddling them into a corner after stripping the soldiers of their ballistic vests. If any of them tried to move, they'd certainly be shot.

"They'll come for us." Leonid reassured the others. "Less than ten minutes, right?"

"Well, shit." Sig muttered, frustrated his worst fears had come to be.

Bianka, on the other hand, was silently biding the weight of the situation. She could feel fate looming over her... her heart was pounding as her imagination ran wild as to what awaited them... hopefully a quick death.

There was some chatter among the Sornians as they glanced down at their new prisoners. They were all brought to attention, however, as a familiar face entered the room.

As Jet had predicted, it was Colonel Yaaro, wearing his aviator sunglasses even at this hour of the morning. He folded his arms as he looked down at the POWs, his face contorting into a smug grin. "Ah, the Valefontene girl. Funny how fate intertwines our tales..." He chuckled. "Get the two commanding officers and bring them to my office. I would like to have a chat with them." He left the room without a further word.

The Sornian soldiers were quick to grab Bianka and Sigmund, taking them to Yaaro's 'office'. Bianka felt particularly angered at the feeling of a gun barrel being continually poking her in the back. It felt degrading for her, a non-commissioned officer of the Ludzowe Armie, to be at the mercy of Sornian soldiers. Opening the door to Yaaro's office, the soldiers pushed the two in, slamming the door behind them.

"Now," Yaaro lit his cigar, an ornate officer's pistol resting at his desk. "Are you aware of how... fucked... you are? Your men... will die because of your decisions, both of you."

"What's he saying?" Sigmund asked, having not learned Isleish.

"He, uh... says we're fucked, and our men will die." Bianka responded.

"Does this one not understand what I am saying?" Yaaro looked to Sigmund, scoffing. "Whatever. You." He looked to Bianka. "You couldn't possibly know who the... Queen of Spades is, right?" He produced a document from his desk, showing it to her. While she couldn't read the text, she could definitely see the photo — it was of her.

Bianka flinched at the sight of this. "If you knew, why would you be asking me?" She quipped in turn, looking at the colonel.

"Oh, I know just who it is..." He picked up his pistol, taking a moment to admire the golden lining of the weapon... then pressed it against her thorax as he leaned in from his desk, sliding the barrel of the gun upward until it rested at her trachea. "You make a fine bargaining chip, sergeant. Hostage negotiation will certainly be entertaining. Surely your home country won't be the only one trying to negotiate with me. Hell, the Consords might be interested... it's all up to who's the highest bidder here. Royal blood is quite... valuable, and surely the Union will be quite concerned at the fact we have a distant member of their royal family hostage."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Bianka replied, a bit... startled by the Colonel's apparent motives. "The attack on the convention center... did you order it?"

"Of course!" Yaaro replied, a sly grin on his face. "I am in control now. Perhaps the Union will buy me weapons if I give you to them..." He mused, amid his thoughts.

The computer monitor behind the Colonel flashed as he received a message, but he chose to ignore it. Bianka shot a curious glance at the webcam as Yaaro paced about, twirling his pistol.

"This is all just... your crazy hostage exchange plan?" Bianka asked, half-surprised.

"Umm... yes?" Yaaro replied, confused. "What did you think was going to happen to you?" He laughed. "We are men, not monsters..." Yaaro explained, kicking back in his chair. "I am a man with simple motives... profit and war. The same motive the bureaucrats who sent you here had, of course. Why does this land burn so often? Because of the oil. It is a land rich in resources. We will never see peace, and so we profit on the endless cycle that is war. Why would your government want peace here, in Aura? So the oil can keep flowing. I fight for my nation — for my people, sure... but in the end, we survive because other nations come here seeking the pipe dream of a stable proxy state, and a free flowing oil supply..."

"If there's peace, then there will be no need to resort to this endless bloodshed!" Bianka shot back. "There is enough oil for everyone, there is enough food, enough water... for everyone. All this suffering that has been caused... never needed to happen! This is all wrong!"

"Tell me — why do you fight? What do you do here, thousands of miles away from your home?" Yaaro questioned. "Patriotism? Duty? Honor? What honor have you earned, shooting at poorly-armed militiamen?" He scoffed.

"Don't listen to what he's saying!" Sigmund attempted to interrupt, even though he had no idea of what the two were saying.

"Shut the fuck up!" Yaaro aimed at Sigmund, holding back on shooting him for now. Lowering his pistol, he continued. "You are all soldiers who have come seeking adventure, fighting for politicians who seek nothing but profit... the thought that you consider such a thing honorable... is laughable to me. Patriotism? What are you defending your country from, by involving yourself here?"

"We came here to help—" Bianka responded, to which Yaaro was quick to interrupt.

"Whatever you tell yourself to sleep soundly at night. You are pawns, all of you. You have no purpose, no goal in being here. No better than any other foreign army that's stepped foot on this Gods-forsaken land." He set his pistol back down on the table, presumably out of the sheer anger seething through him at the moment. "I may have no intention of harming you, Queen of Spades... broken goods are worth little, after all. Rather, you'll have the pleasure of watching your men die, one by one... knowing full well it was your fault. Y'know what, watch this."

The Colonel clamped down on a 'that was easy' button he had on his desk, setting off a series of explosions in the adjacent tower. The East Tower of the ATT collapsed, sealing the fates of the other squad that'd been assigned to clear that tower. As Yaaro released the button, it uttered its signature line: "That was easy."

"You're lucky you chose this building." He laughed, noting the surprise on their faces. "There weren't any Sornians in the other building. Purely a trap, for whoever would be stupid enough to try and kill me."

"How long have you been preparing for this?" Bianka mustered, baffled at what he'd just done.

"About a month." Yaaro shrugged. "Why? Were there other soldiers in that building? Oh, the look on your face says it all... pwease don't cwy, pwincess."

"Fuck you." Bianka spat back. "People like you are the scum of Ausozera."

"Not as bad as the Dominion. Sornia — no — my nation's alignment to them is purely to use them as a stepping stone to achieve greatness. Imagine it — a unified Sishai."

There was a loud burst of static from the television, followed by painfully loud screeching noises. The monitor was flashing red and blue at an epilepsy-inducing pace. Yaaro turned around at this, confused. A little light beside the monitor's webcam indicated that it was in use...

Sigmund didn't hesitate to pick up the pistol from the desk, tossing it to Bianka.

"Hey Colonel!" Bianka exclaimed, firing a .357 into his abdomen as he turned back around. The pistol had quite a... kick to it, to say the least.

Yaaro was in shock, taking a step back as he glanced down at the fresh stream of blood staining his formals. "You bit—" Yaaro was suddenly cut down by a volley of bullets, his corpse falling limp on his desk. Standing at the door to the office was a blond man in a white suit, holding a KbK in one hand and an e-cig in another.

"The cleanup crew has arrived." He smirked, exhaling vape smoke before the two confused soldiers. "Name's Kaczka. Radomír Kaczka."

"I see the MvH sends their regards..." Bianka uttered, still in shock.

"I am the MvH." Kaczka replied, tossing aside his KbK.

"I, uh—" Sigmund began.

"No, you can't use my vape." Kaczka quipped. "Come along now, I've, uhh... called a cruise missile strike that'll be upon us in a few minutes, so I'd haul ass if I were you."

"Why'd you call a cruise missile on this place?" Bianka asked, getting up to follow Kaczka, with Sigmund in tow.

"Well, just in case shit went south. It looks cool too, I guess." He led them to the corridor, where he took a moment to look at the conference rooms. MvH agents were hurrying past, with members of Bianka's squad with them. "Everyone's safe, don't worry."

Bianka, along with other MvH agents and the rest of her squad made to the rooftop in quite a rush, boarding a Vi-44 that was awaiting them. Without hesitation, Kaczka shut the doors of the helicopter once everyone had been accounted for, looking to the others with relief as the helicopter lifted off, abandoning the ATT building.

"Typically I would reserve an interview for someplace private, but this is an exception. Did you, uh... see or hear anything unusual?" Kaczka took a seat beside Bianka, curious as to her knowledge about the... hacker, if she even knew at all.

"W-what do you mean?" Bianka asked.

"Did you see or hear anything unusual?" Kaczka turned to Sigmund, who was seated beside Bianka.

"That colonel guy, he was, uh... standing in front of a monitor, and at the last second... it started flashing colors and making sounds. I took his pistol, gave it to Bianka, and she shot him. But I don't know how that happened, it just... did." Sigmund's reply was far more honest, as he had no knowledge on Jet at all.

"You witness this too, Sierzant Ziekowski?" Kaczka asked, looking back to Bianka.

"I, uhh... yes." Bianka nodded with apprehension.

"Fair enough." Kaczka pulled back his sleeve to write a note on his arm with his pen. "There's just been a hacker lingering about in our networks, I was... merely curious." His smirk hid further knowledge he had on the matter. "I must say, however... you all might want to see this." Kaczka opened the cargo doors yet again, gesturing to the lone tower standing amidst the ruined cityscape.

In a moment, the building was engulfed in a purple light, the entire complex being vaporized by the subsequent blast.

"Euanthe munitions?"[4] Bianka asked, looking on at the spectacle.

"Indeed. Its first usage in a combat zone." Kaczka replied, closing the doors as the dust cloud began to fade, revealing a smoldering crater. "Technically, anyway."

"I don't know how we got ambushed like that... man, I wanna get back at these motherfuckers." Leonid spat on the floor, embittered by the loss of Czaika, no— three of his squadmates.

"Oh, I almost forgot to mention." Kaczka gave a nervous laugh before continuing. "Yeah, uhh... the airport's under attack. I'm feeling generous, so you all be with me on the next evac out of here. Lo-68s have been flying in and out for the past hour, hauling equipment and manpower out of Aura, and naturally we've got desperate Sornians and Azens who want out of this burning city. Anticipate the worst — things always get worse when I'm not present."

Bianka's blood ran cold at the words. She'd just lost a fourth of her squad, and yet they were heading right back into combat. If she made it through this, in the least, she would be on the next plane out of Aura. She wondered then, what she'd do when she got home. She longed for simpler times... she thought back to her shopping spree with Sigmund the day they'd left for Aura. It was all so sudden, but she reminisced about it with nostalgia. If their friendship could survive Aura, well... Bianka lacked the words to describe how she felt, but she knew then... she had to survive, for herself, her friends and the future.

CONTEXT NOTES
[1] - magnetic breaching device - Uses magnetic force instead of explosions to breach a door.
[2] - flashbang - While not in the inventory of the FOA app, it's fairly obvious these were a necessity for the mission at hand, and could be easily obtained beforehand at the airport.
[3] - calm and composed - Unlike how Bianka was, while alone at the Esgonian consulate.
[4] - Euanthe - Form of ordnance indigenous to the VDR. A much more unstable substance than the standard explosive, it is especially effective at destroying structures, due to the high temperatures Euanthe combustion produces. Due to the purple coloration of the powder, it creates a rather impressive spectacle upon detonation.

by **Cirilla** » Thu Jan 25, 2018 10:02 pm

Vyskaroza, Cyrilli
Jan 22, 2018
Background Music

Freewater, Sornia
12:12 - Jan 22, 2018
The Rebirth

Freewater, a capital in utter chaos. Once the ceasefire was broken, Valefontainean warships targeted the city with absolute precision in the morning of that day. Destroying bridges, military facilities, anti-aircraft equipment, railroads and other vital points of infrastructure. As they made their rounds, a Cirillian task force - consisting of two LHDs and LSDs; one cruiser, three destroyers, and one SSN - drew near Sornian waters just several hundred kilometers away. It would only be a matter of time before they would arrive at the capital. The seat of government was clueless and terrified of the destruction happening around them. Concerning too much with the conflict at Aura, they paid no heed to the dangers far away from them.

Just several hours earlier of that morning a CSIC agent sat in a room with a Sornian military officer. His life could dwindle at a simple flick of a thread with all the dangerous work he'd done. ¨I promise you, if you allow these foreigners into the city without much resistance then your life could be much easier. Let alone a fair placed position within the new government. Do you really intend to die for such a foolish reason when you can live with much power, Colonel?¨ the agent asked in a light Cirillian accent. ¨What makes you think I won't inform my superiors of this plot of yours and kill you right now? You are within my domain, Cirillian." the Colonel replied back harshly. The agent gave off a devilish smirk and replied, ¨Because you are still here listening to my proposition. Within a few hours whether you believe it or not, everything in this city will be in disorder and my people will march down these streets to bring stability that your populace yearns for. It is all up to you to decide.¨ The colonel stared at him for quite a while, as if he was thinking about the agent's offer. He then acted, getting up and opening a door that revealed two Sornian soldiers. ¨Take this man to a cell, keep him there until I give orders for his release.¨ the officer demanded in Sornian. The agent frowned as the two soldiers rushed in and grabbed him by the arms, pointing their rifles at his head. ¨Sykin ya netskii!(Son of a bitch!)" the agent yelled angrily. As the agent was dragged away, the Sornian Colonel waved farewell though he was sure he would see him again soon.

After the missile attacks conducted by the Valefontenes, several teams of Cirillian commandos and cooperative Sornian agents around the city began the operation. Soon after many Sornian government officials were either murdered or kidnapped as the city continued to burn. The main government building was then stormed into by several military officers and senior political leaders with a large crowd of soldiers. They began rounding up all the government officials that ceased their defiance or those who obeyed willingly deep under the governmental building. The main heads of the overthrow started to assess an announcement over television and military speakers around the capital. The message was heard over miles, from citizens and peasants to military personnel and SYA members, being repeated for the course of several days.

Proclamation of the Federation

¨We hereby proclaim the Federation of Sishai. To this, we proclaim jurisdiction over the entirety of former Sornia, now a member of the federation. This we proclaim to our people so that they may enjoy in perpetuity their inherent right to stability, peace, and prosperity.

Behold! A new world is approaching before our very eyes! The age of chaos has receded, and the age of prosperity has arrived. The spirit of humanism cultivated throughout the past century now begins to throw its light on a new chapter in world history. Just as a new spring has come, hastening the rebirth of every living thing, our pulse, once melted in the scorching desert and wasteland, now rebirths in the warm breeze and sunshine.

Today, our only duty is to rebuild ourselves, not to demolish others. We demand the cessation of all hostilities by the SYA, Consord militaries and all other actors! Refusal to comply will be met with senseless fighting. Morality is on our side, and truth marches with us. To begin is to succeed! Let us march straight into Peace and Prosperity!¨ - Major General Yumeli Akaad of the Federation of Sishai

Shortly after the Cirillian Empire had issued an official recognition of the state, sending military support in order to defend its soveriegnty and provide peace within the wartorn region. The Empress herself had also planned to travel to Ysitrikine, with intentions to speak to Queen Yisi about the situation at hand.

by **Pakiranistan** » Fri Jan 26, 2018 8:22 pm

"Friends Aren't Real"
January 18th, 2018, 5:30 PM

Senior Contractor Jilal "Rowdy" Rathur, Marhi, Aegypt

Rathur looked back at Asanov annoyed with her non stop frequent questioning, "That Badger holding down the tiger is our firm's emblem, I'm a contractor for B.T.I, I get payed to provide and coordinate law enforcement in and around Mari" pausing to adjust himself in his seat, pulling out a ID wallet that had the same Badger and Tiger symbol with his position and time of contract printed on the card, "And it just so happened that you stumbled apoun into my jurisdiction, so now your going to have to do alot of explaining to my superiors" reaching in his lower pants pocket, Rathur slipped out a form which he promptly signed.

The Dandh 6x6 was soon at the gate, the driver showed his credentials and after a brief wait was allowed to progress further into the B.T.I stronghold, the driver took a left towards the drop off point for prisoners, criminals and other personnel. As the Dandh 6x6 moved further in, around it were various buildings with markings such as "Armory" and "Contracting Agency", the names were all self explanatory. The base wasn't far from a military fort as IFVs and APCs stood parked in the vehicle depot.

"Not Your People's Fight"
January 23rd, 2018, 3:45 PM

Jawad Khatla Shah, Outskirts of Mari, Mari, Sornia

"Keep up the fire boys!, you guys are young men! It shouldn't take you this long to load guns!" yelled Jawad Khatla Shah as he walked down the line of a battery of 2A36 Giatsint-B 152mm field guns. The howitzers were firing at the city of Mari held by Sornian forces, despite repeated offers for the Sornians to surrender they had refused and thus they were going to be destroyed without mercy. The assault was being coordinated by Shah, who himself was a senior commander of Al Kafir ul Haram, a radical centrist milita that called for the expulsion of foreign influence in Sishai politics from Sishai via force if nessecary.

The assault was going well as heavy field guns, mortars and now as a grad launcher mounted on a Hino truck chassis began firing, rocket artillery was also thrown into the mix. The outskirts of the city were all covered by milita forces allowing for little room for escape. Hell, even if anyone got past they would still have to deal with the covert Pakirani forces who were supporting the group in order to advance their standing in the region, "Wheres my damn air support!" muttered Shah and as if right on que an Mi-17 helicopter gunship flight flew over marked "B.T.I", Shah put his head down while his men cheered as the helicopters flew by very low and after some time, the sounds of distant booms from rocket and bomb attacks could be heard.

The helicopters appeared back as they RTB'd for refueling and rearming for their next run. While Shah looked over a map of Mari, a young militant ran over to his position, "Sir, sir!, we just got news from groups 1 and 2 that they are in the city and have established a foothold in Bazila market!" stated the man before bending over to catch his breath, "Very good, tell them to keep up the assault as reinforcements are in route" grinned Shah as he drew a red line across Bazila market to signify his taking of the sector.

by **Cirilla** » Fri Jan 26, 2018 11:53 pm

Vyskaroza, Cyrilli
Jan 23, 2018
Background Music

Princess Cardisa, Ysitrikine
16:08 - Jan 23, 2018
The Rebirth II

The plane that had carried the Cirillian empress had arrived, making previous layovers from safer countries. As she came out the exit an entourage of people began to follow her. Initially taking her first step in Ysitrikine, she was greeted by her Imperial Guard that had prepared for her travel safety beforehand. They then laid the way to a convoy of cars that would take her to Queen Yisi. As some of the guards passed by civilians, their stoic and strict expressions captured the discipline the Cirillians carried. Although some in the entourage revealed a slight attitude of disgust and superiority towards to the Ysitris, whether this would be later more evident in the upcoming days was unknown. Several minutes later, Empress Cyri arrived at her destination as a large array of photographs were taken when both the Queen and Empress formally greeted each other. They began to head inside, doors closed shut as the walked behind them. The Empress took her seat first as Queen Yisi sat right across from her. As they got comfortable there was an awkward silence that followed it.

Cyri started to break the silence, ¨This city is beautiful, I must say. The architecture itself can be compared to be on par with Cirilla's. Luckily it will be spared from this atrocious conflict.¨ The Empress slowly relaxed from her rigid posture, however, the Queen still kept her tough composure as if it was a front to impress. ¨Yes, we've been fairly careful in protecting the culture and history of ours from this endearing struggle¨ Yisi quickly replied in a subtle nervous tone. She continued, ¨Um,¨ *coughs* ¨Regarding to what you said on our phone call. It is an ambitious proposition to most certainly propose. However, it would reflect negatively on our relationship with the Dominion that has promised us independence an-¨ Cyri immediately interrupted her, ¨Yet the Dominion has failed to decisively end this conflict of yours and rid of Azen forces in a quick effective fashion. I do not see any of their troops providing the stability within the region, do you?¨ Yisi then leaned back, replying to the Empress, ¨They have troops in Aura and surrounding area, before the ceasefire was broken they helped provide Sornia and Ysitrikine tools necessary to outfight the Azens. It would be dishonorable of me to just abandon them.¨ Cyri took a nonaudible deep breath and countered Yisi's statement, ¨Yes it would, I understand your voice of reason. Although is it agreeable to say that the fact of the matter is how ineffective this fight has become?¨ ¨Yes.¨ Yisi immediately agreed. ¨With the ceasefire now broken, Mari only knows how long this conflict will last. Instead of continuously fighting, would it be agreeable to say that it would be nice to see a peaceful rebuilding region of stability?¨ Cyri retorted. Yisi grabbed her cup of tea and took a small sip as the Empress continued to speak then to make her opinion on the matter. ¨Yes it would. But how can you guarantee Ysitris freedom and inalienable human rights? I applaud your plan, your imperial majesty, although there would be certain arrangements that have to be made in order for Ysitrikine to openly agree with it. As well as promises to capture former Azen government officials who've made our people suffer. Not many will like their equal representation within this Federation.¨ The Empress nodded and listened to her concerns, ¨I understand, although this new government will soon be recognized by many foreign nationals as a way out of the region's internal demise into a chance of peace. You will not be alone on this, Queen Yisi. You have the Cirillians and many others would be more than willing to prosecute those who have corrupted these lands. I have my people making contact with the Azens leader, Aya, and many others so this senseless immoral fighting will finally be put to an end. You have my word.¨ The Queen nodded in minor relief. The decision she will about to make would change the course of Sishai's history.

Queen Yisi made way toward the podium within the government palace as the Empress followed suit. Shadowing behind her as a lurking bear looking after her cubs. Cameras and microphones were quickly arranged for the announcement. Many scrambled to get things ready. Yisi began to take a deep breath as the cameraman signaled to her, hearing her breath slightly through the mics in front of her. Her message would be conveyed to the entirety of Ysitrikine and even repeated through large means of communication, hopefully capturing the attention of remaining Azen forces.

Proclamation of the Federation II

To my fellow people,

We observe today a testament to our civilization - symbolizing an end to the age of chaos. For far too long our people, our nation, our lands have been tampered by war! Our ancestors fought to the end, and we continue to fight to this day. To this, I proclaim the Federation of Sishai - the future to our people. I proclaim that the Federation shall have jurisdiction under Ysitrikine and Sornia, our sister nation.

To our neighbors we have senselessly fought, Azens, raise your fists to this future we could hold together. Let us together conquer the deserts, end genocide, cure disease, live in peace as one - as we did before. Let all our neighbors know, join us to oppose aggression or subversion anywhere in Sishai. To our old allies and the new, help us move forward to a new age of peace and prosperity. We must move past our petty past and focus on rebuilding what we were destined to be. And let every other power know that the Federation is not Ysitri, Sornian, Azen, Arzan, Lish, Pakirani, or any other but all the people of Sishai and we intend to be the masters of our own. To those nations who wish to be our enemies, we offer not a demand but a request: that both sides begin anew the quest for peace and end this black hole of a struggle, before we can never rise again from it.

All this will not be finished in the first year. Nor will it be finished in the first decade, nor in the life of our generation. But let us begin. Will you join us in this historic effort? - Queen Yisi of the Federation of Sishai

Freewater, Sornia - Federation of Sishai(FoS)
17:30 - Jan 23, 2018

In a quick move after the securing of a beachhead, two Cirillian brigades march into the capital as several warships and submarines were alert for any hostile actions. With less resistance than anticipated, these foreign marines and tanks cleared the streets and were greeted by the Sornian - now Federationist - military. They were led to the government building where they had soon met the CSIC agent that was released just moments before by the Sornian colonel. The Cirillians, by the request of the new government, were here to keep the peace and hopefully deter any foreign opposers. The remaining government officials were pledged into the FoS, swearing their allegiance to the State. With the capital secured, their next plan was to remove any pockets and nearby territories of hostility. Making negotiations and requests to lay down arms and join the peace before succumbing to a deadlier outcome.

Back in the Cirillian capital of Vyskaroza(Highrose), the military commanders had prepared to continue the operation that was at play. The Head Admiral of the Naval Service proceeded to restate his assessment of the operation, ¨Task Force 15 has successfully made it to Freewater with the embarkment of our troops. We've been preparing for the transportation for the PMCs and paramilitaries for further troop numbers within the area. With this, the CSIC will be able to establish the Federatsyii Senyata Leshevburyna(FSL) - once the Federation is able to draft the amendment and resolution. As of now, we have also prepared to set out a carrier strike group in case of the foreign actors we've previously stated will take higher measures we've anticipated. Given time, they will be able to set out course and arrive to their designations if need be. Air transportation provided by the Air Force, troops will soon be expected in Ysitrikine as well, although this might be delayed in some regard...¨

by **The United Remnants of America** » Sat Jan 27, 2018 3:43 am

Captain Milena Aasanov

Marhi, Aegypt

1/18/2018 - 5:33

"Huh. Mercs." Asanov looked around as the truck kept moving, "Y'know, I'm a merc, too. So, we're kind of the same. The only difference seems to be you have so much paperwork," She watched as the man took out a file and filled it out as they rode along.

The armor and buildings outside caught Asanov's attention, and her eyes were once back to the windows, "Neat. You guys look pretty well-armed. That's good to know I'm safe here. My people have more than you, though..." She nudged her leg against the man and grinned, her tone ambiguous as to what she was trying to imply.

Commander Susan Grey

Aegypt-Syrnistan Border

1/19/2018 - 14:28

They'd made amazing time. Scipio Unit, the code name for CPD's commanders, had gotten from the Aegyptian capital with their minder Jardahn all the way to the border of Aegypt and Syrnistan. They had four vehicles between them, so the eight-person command team and Jardahn even had a little more room for some supplies that Bugaboo had given them as well as a few goods from the market that Tanney had been stockpiling. Thirty-eight hours since they'd left Bugaboo's palace, which was about five-hundred miles as a plane flew. It wasn't bad for a convoy that wasn't moving in a straight line and was on moderate roads.

Grey had almost lost Aegypt as an ally, and then just as quickly rebuilt the relationship with Bugaboo. Jardahn had been stoic through the trip, which wasn't surprising. He'd been more or less sent as a babysitter for their trip through Aegypt, which wasn't something they really needed. Luckily, however, they weren't stopped or accosted on the trip. The highway, however, eventually did come to a roadblock: The Syrnistani border.

Syrnistan wasn't like Aegypt. In comparison alone, the URA had always considered Aegypt to be more developed than Syrnistan. And now that Aegypt was allied so closely to Pakiranistan, which was the regional power in the area, and that they had an agreement with the URA, Aegypt was a friendly locale. Syrnistan, on the other hand, was a neutral camp. Grey and Jacobs had been discussing it on the trip, but they were halfway surprised the massive war that had enveloped the eastern half of the continent hadn't sucked in Syrnistan and torn the nation apart.

As they pulled up to the border stop, though, the Aegyptian border guards gave an appreciative and knowing nod, as if they recognized who the convoy was. They stood aside, but the Syrnistani border guards across the faded white line in the road denoting the land border didn't move, and looked on curiously. The four trucks pulled to a stop, and Lieutenant Commander Jodit Haile stepped out of the second truck in the line. They'd elected beforehand that Haile would try and get them over the border. With her dark mahogany skin, Haile looked closest to a local, and she could speak the local languages to boot, which Grey decided would help.

Haile approached the border, walking confidently dressed in olive drab unmarked fatigues. The Aegyptian guards stood aside and looked around, trying not to look directly at Haile or the convoy for fear of maybe being forced to do their job if they saw the breach of protocol. The Syrnistani guards looked on, still curious, wondering what this new situation was. It definitely wasn't how border crossings happened.

"Hey," Haile called out to the Syrnistani guards in their own language as she approached, "How's your day?" She walked up to the line of the border and stood there, her attempt at small talk being a gauge to see how strict these guards were going to be. She had a handful of plastic cards with a few thousand Remnant Credits loaded on them if she needed some lubrication to get across this border, but she hoped she could just talk the convoy across.

Haile didn't even question how the CPD army to the north was going to cross this same border when they got there.

Major Astra Galinsky

Somewhere In Aegypt

1/19/2018 - 14:35

The last day had been a hell of a push.

Not only had they quickly rounded up every unit in Antarash and burned a large chunk of their fluid revenue, otherwise known as bribe money, on commandeering civilian vehicles, but they'd also moved away from Antarash. Currently, by Major Galinsky's approximation, they were somewhere south and east of the Aegyptian capital of Tashanit, she was judging about 100mi or so SE of the capital. And while she didn't exactly know if the Aegyptian military force was planning on following her army, Galinsky decided she didn't much care, she had her orders.

Her orders, to put simply, were to move jointly with the fleet as they rounded around the continent. She needed to move through Syrnistan, and as far as she was concerned, the Syrnistanis would either move aside or get rolled over by her vanguard of tanks. If things went well, Commander Grey would grease enough palms that nobody would be standing in Galinsky's way when her forces crossed over.

Her next goal was to move through Syrnistan and move into Azenyanistan. Or Sornia. Or whatever the hell they were calling the backwater warzone. From there, she'd have to split a small part of her army off to the south. They were being dispatched to Aura. According to her last report she received from Grey when she was still in Antarash, the URA had somehow gained a section of the city as it was broken up, and since she had the closest Remnant-affiliated troops, she'd have to send forces to occupy it. She decided it would be Danielsen and his amalgamation of units in the joint strike force. That way she was only losing a few battalions' worth rather than a division or two or any heavy armor. She'd need it.

Because while Danielsen and his forces went south to occupy their part of Aura, Galinsky would be taking her main force further east, all the way to Freewater. From what Galinsky understood, Freewater was a capital in the area, at least on paper, but it didn't matter. She decided the wartorn shithole of a region had lost almost all of its military presence, which would hopefully make an occupation quick, clean, and easy. Galinsky wasn't looking for a fight, she was looking for a job well done. If the CPD held Freewater, they held a port that could take the CPD fleet, which had resources to resupply her troops. That meant without the port, Galinsky would be forced to ransack and pillage just to feed her troops or risk them going feral.

The opposite also existed. Those ships would need restocked on fuel. If they didn't take a port city with fuel, those ships would be dead in the water, furthering a logistical crisis.

That meant Freewater was essential to saving lives, and saving order. They could not risk not taking it. By Galinsky's estimate, if they could keep their current speed and not get held up, and if the plans didn't change, they'd be at Freewater in 4 days' time.

Major Greg Farhammer

international Waters

1/19/2018 - 14:40

Now that the Reserve Fleet and Main Fleet for this CPD task force had been unified, it meant Major Farhammer and Captain Quen were once again working together. Farhammer and Quen, as well as Danielsen and another guy named Ernst who wasn't deployed here, had all been in the same foreign unit together before being recruited into the CPD as captains. Farhammer had been promoted to be in charge of the others, which was fine with them, Greg was the best leader.

Currently, he was in command of 5 hospital ships, 8 amphibious assault ships, 20 utility land craft, 30 diesel attack submarines, and 20 air-cushioned landing craft. The LCACs were luckily all boarded about the LHDs, but still, it was a sizable fleet of ships, even if they were mostly outdated. The amphibious assault ships, and utility landing craft were doing the same thing. They were currently empty, having already emptied out the majority of their troops and equipment off at Antarash, and the few supplies they'd kept had been used up as the army sat there in the city for several weeks. Now they were running mostly empty, ready to pick up what troops or supplies they could. The hospital ships had long ago been repurposed into cargo ships. They were chock full of the secondary equipment for the CPD army currently on the ground. The equipment would need transferred over at some point, which is why they needed a port to land at. The subs were old little things, but when you got enough of them in a pack, their unguided torpedoes could cause damage, especially since they were using some of the largest sub-launched torpedoes ever created.

Farhammer had to carry this fleet around the continent in order to reach Freewater, a Sornian port city where Major Galinsky was moving her army to resupply. Farhammer hoped there wouldn't be much naval resistance. His only real anti-ship threat were the subs, and they weren't the most reliable vessels, as they were generally half a century old at the youngest. So hopefully Freewater would just melt quietly to Galinsky's persuasive little army and everything would go well. They had enough fuel for most of the ships to last a couple more weeks, but after that, they'd be dead in the water, and by his math, if they didn't take Freewater or an immediately nearby port, they'd have to run to the closest friendly port for an emergency refuel.

His fleet was currently north of the Valaran colony of Kyadir. He'd give it about five or six days until he got to Freewater. He'd been out of contact with Galinsky since they all started moving, so maybe she'd be waiting for him, or maybe he'd get there first. Farhammer hopes for the former, since the latter could be awkward.

by **Valefontaine** » Sun Jan 28, 2018 12:35 am

NEW WORLD ORDER - ACT 4
_{Aura International Airport}
_{Aura, Sornian Occupied Zone}
_{Former Azenyanistan}
_{1/22/2018 - 8:20 AM AST}

As Kaczka had warned, the airport had indeed become the frontline. As the Vi-44 neared the airport, Bianka caught a glimpse of the parking lot. It had become a particular point of contention, littered with the corpses of Sornians, Azens... it was impossible to tell at this point. There were two ways out of this city — the airport, and the roads into the mountains. If the militias were suicidal enough to engage the VDR head-on, then they were certainly getting desperate.

"Looks like I was right... place has gotten worse." Kaczka shook his head, opening the cargo doors yet again as the helicopter made its descent, touching down on the tarmac near one of the jetways, where a derelict Azen Airlines 747 lay in disuse. Indeed, the Limited Contingent troops had left many things in the airport untouched still. Bianka was quick to step off the helicopter, to which she and her squad were quickly met with other troops, while Kaczka and his MvH lackeys wandered off to God-knows-where...

"Sierzant Ziekowski!" One of the men approached, pointing to one of the maintenance entrances to the airport gates. "I heard about what happened at the Esgonian consulate. I hope you are doing well!" He exclaimed.

"I see my reputation precedes me." Bianka replied, a bit surprised the other troops knew her so well. "What is the situation?"

"Fucked, Sierzant. We've got Azens, Consords, a few rogue Sornians, and all other kinds of armed militias converging on us. They've pretty much overrun the Sornian government forces in District 14. The situation's gotten pretty bad for anyone in this damned city. Support from the fleet is coming soon, I hope..." The soldier shook his head, clearly tired from the fighting that was going on.

"How well-armed?" Bianka questioned, curious as to what they'd be up against.

"They're throwing all they've got at us, Sierzant. I advise you and your men get geared up, it's gonna be a long few hours..."

"For sure." Bianka nodded in agreement. Of course, she and her squad had been disarmed during their brief capture by the Sornians, so they lacked vests or guns. Turning to face her squad, she gave the order. "Head inside and grab some weapons. We're going to need them."

As they headed indoors, walking past other equally anxious soldiers, they soon found themselves at one of the gates, the seats occupied by soldiers who'd been fighting earlier. Judging by the exhausted, confused looks on their faces, they didn't expect any of this. This was, for many of them, their first experience with war. Prior to today, many of them had thought this all to be a simple humanitarian mission, an act of selfless goodwill.

"Here we are." Leonid pointed to a duty-free shop that had become an armory since the VDR occupied the airport. The squad entered the 'shop', where they were greeted by a diverse selection of guns, ammunition, vests, and explosives.

"Egzekutor. Just in case." Sigmund took the 9x19mm pistol off the shelf, taking a moment to admire the sleek design of the weapon. He glanced over to Bianka, grinning. "Shame we didn't get to play HZHE™[1] together eh, Sierzant?" Another rather unprofessional Freudian slip, but their lives were on the line, so formalities mattered little.

"When we all get out of this place, for sure..." Bianka replied, slipping on a ballistic vest. The squad didn't take long to pick out their weapons in accordance to their assigned roles, soon readying up for the task ahead. As they left the gift shop, Bianka paused.

"What's the matter, Sierzant?" Sigmund stopped, tilting his head in confusion. Bianka gestured he stay still, as she listened in for... something.

The ear-piercing roar of jet engines blasted overhead, being abruptly cut off by a loud, clamorous crash. Automated fire alarms began to echo across the airport, probably related to whatever had caused such a sound. The entire building shook from whatever had occurred elsewhere in the airport, ceiling lights shaking violently from the tremor.

"That's the matter. Keep your eyes about you." Bianka loaded her Kb-92, ready to move. "Let's get to the terminal." She ordered, beginning her walk to what was, no doubt, the frontline. They passed by what would've once been the security line, lined with x-rays and other machines that were now long in disuse. This place had probably been busy months ago, but now its only occupants were the soldiers of the Limited Contingent. How times had changed... this place was a testament to the decline of Azenyanistan. The squad spoke amongst themselves as they made their way through the abandoned shops, stalls and lobbies of the airport, prepared to defend until they were out of this hellhole.

In due time, they had reached the lobby, the exits blocked by barricades the other troops had placed. As Bianka had expected, the lobby had been ransacked by the ongoing fight. It wasn't long until she found the source of the sound, either. A Sornian aircraft had torn through the glass facade of the terminal further down, leaving behind shredded debris and jet fuel-fed flames. It was through this breach that militiamen, presumably Sornians or Azen resistance, were hurrying in, coming under fire from the VDR troops present at the terminal.

The squad was quick to seek cover in their position on the second floor, the concrete fencing of the overlook providing sufficient concealment, and an advantage against any potential intruders. Leonid, along with the other designated machinegunner in the group, made use of the railing to prop up their bipods, laying down suppressive fire on the assailants desperately attempting to breach the lobby.

"Converging on the entrance, just ahead!" Bianka peeked out of cover, clutching her Kb-92 tight as she aimed for the Sornians hurrying for one of the barricaded doorways. Pulling the trigger, she watched as several of the armed Sornians dropped dead. It hardly had an effect on her anymore, not after what they'd been through. It was her life, or theirs — and she was quite intent on surviving.

"Too bad our goggles got left behind at the towers." Sigmund preemptively ducked back into cover after gunning down a few Sornians, reloading while he did so. "I wonder how long these people are gonna keep it up..."

"Hopefully we'll just have to bear with this for a few more hours." Bianka replied, sitting down while she reloaded her Kb-92. A shout from the floor below brought her to attention, however.

"TANK!" Someone shouted. The soldiers on the first floor were hurrying for cover as the unmistakable sound of an MBT's engines roared off in the distance. Bianka decided to take a peek out of curiosity, watching the Sornian tank enter the parking lot. It continued its approach, cannon aimed at the terminal. Surely this spelled trouble...

In another moment, a series of purple flashes erupted beyond the parking lot, striking the edge of District 14. The subsequent blastwave destroyed the Sornian tank, shredded the glass facade of the terminal, and left a series of craters where apartment blocks had once stood, off in District 14. When the purple haze diminished, all that remained of the Sornian tank was a scorched, petrified husk.

There were cheers among the men as it seemed the Sornians had, in that moment, either been vaporized in the Euanthe[2] bombardments or decided another offense into the airport was not worth it.

Bianka was motionless, staring awestruck at the spectacle that had just transpired.

"Looks like we've repelled them for now." Sigmund got up, slinging his Kb-92 over his shoulder. "You wanna, uh, discuss our strategy for the next few hours, Sierzant?" He proposed, extending his hand to his superior. Bianka took his hand, raising herself back up. She took a moment then to look again at the widespread destruction across District 14, wondering how many Sornians — or Azens — they'd killed.

The two headed off to a now-derelict food court, seating themselves at one of the metal tables. A window gave them a clear view of the runway, which was busy with whatever remaining fighter squadrons departing. Surely the Lo-68s would come soon, to take them out of this place...

"What's up?" Bianka asked, resting her assault rifle on the table between them. In a way, all this fighting had made for a strange kind of bonding, the camaraderie of two trying to survive against the worst of odds.

"I think we should all get some rest, Biko. The fleet's got us covered, you saw what happened back there."

"I'm not sure if they'll be able to launch missiles in time for the next advance. There's, like, 3,000 of us in this huge airport... and God-knows-how-many of them all around us. We might be better-armed, but what if they, y'know, use artillery?" Bianka responded with uncertainty, crossing her arms as she kicked back and watched a flight of Or-43s lift off, bathed in the orange-pink light of the morning sun. Sooner or later, this oil fire would block the sun — she hoped evac was before then.

"Permission to speak freely?" He smirked, glancing over at the departing fighter aircraft before looking back to Bianka.

"Of course, Sig."

"You should smile more often. Don't worry so much... we'll make through this. Then we'll get back home, and we'll have our lives ahead of us... what do you wanna do when we get back?" He removed his helmet, setting it on the table as he fixed his hair.

"Varonne's warm, even at this time of year... maybe a vacation, for the both of us, sometime soon?" Bianka proposed, smiling at his reassurances. "I'm sure we'll get a break after this... then we'll be able to do anything we feel like! Shopping, playing games together, travel the world, anything you want!" She looked down apprehensively. "I just don't wanna lose you, o-or anyone, for that matter... not after what happened at the tower."

"I don't plan on dying here." Sigmund replied, smiling back. "But whatever happens, just promise you'll keep moving forward. You can't let this squad down, not after we've made it this far together... we've been in the same squad for nearly four years. I thought of you to be just an old friend from elementary school at first, but I've learned you're so much more. You're a leader, you're a fighter, and most of all — you're my comrade out here. What happened to our squad today doesn't change that. You will always be you. Never change, Biko."

Bianka took a moment to let his words sink in, then nodded in agreement. "Of course, Sig. We'll make through this... together."

NEW WORLD ORDER - ACT 4.5
_{Aura International Airport}
_{Aura, Sornian Occupied Zone}
_{Former Azenyanistan}
_{1/22/2018 - 12:58 PM AST}

The past few hours had been spent barely holding the line against the desperate local forces. The airlifts had been delayed, so they would have to endure for another twenty minutes or so. While VDR casualties had been miniscule, the airport had still taken quite a lot of damage from sustained fire, primarily from District 14. Some of the more daring militias were now trying to attack the airport from District 9, their success hampered by the naval bombardments.

Bianka and her squad had taken up residence in what'd once been a bookstore on the second floor of the terminal, not far from the customs and security lines. She was reading an Isleish translation of How to Bomb the Ygarthene Government[3] — the only copy that hadn't been destroyed by the past few hours of fighting. Anything to pass the boredom, really. She was listening to music as she did so, her earbuds plugged into her uPhone. The music would occasionally be interrupted by Jet, who would bring Bianka news of what was happening at the front.

"A coup happened in Sornia earlier today. If you hear about a Federation of Sishai, you'll already have heard it from me. Nonetheless, the Sornians are going to make a desperate advance soon. I doubt they know of anything yet..."

Bianka continued reading, leaning against a bookshelf while she awaited orders. This entire fight had been quite exhausting, but at least they'd gotten a few hours of off-time. The rest of the squad was idling in a similar manner, each of them moreso concerned with when they'd be out of here.

"That MvH guy from before wants us at the front." Leonid entered the bookstore, KM-61 in hand. "Says there's a big enemy force coming."

"All right, then." Bianka set the book down, removed her earbuds, picked up her rifle and gestured the squad to follow her. The walk to the front was oddly quiet, the squad knowing full well that nothing good awaited them there. From the overlook on the second floor, they could see much of the frontal facade to the airport had been decimated by the continuous fighting, sections of the steel roofing having collapsed earlier in the day. Kaczka had been waiting, standing beside an AP1178 ATGM emplacement. There were MvH soldiers, and other troops of LAtR-13 wandering about the lobby, seeking cover for whatever was coming now.

"Fancy seeing you here, Ziekowski." Kaczka looked briefly to Bianka, before continuing to watch the ruins outside of the airport for any movement. Visibility, even in the afternoon, was becoming increasingly difficult. Ash and dust were taking their toll on the air, and so he could not see far beyond the airport. Setting his binoculars aside, he continued. "The Sornians are going to attempt an offensive. They desperately want to get outta here, and we stand in their way. I'd expect armor, to say the least."

"Do we have any visual on this force at all?" Bianka looked on at the ruined cityscape in the distance.

"Well, no." Kaczka replied. "But we've intercepted their communications, and we know they're coming with a large force." He returned to manning the ATGM launcher, waiting for the coming enemy onslaught.

Bianka made herself comfortable on the tile flooring, waiting for the fight to begin. She looked over to Sigmund, who was busy with his sketchbook. "What're you drawing?" She asked, leaning over to see what he was up to. It was a drawing of the squad, standing together — all twelve of them. Judging by the level of detail, he'd been working on it for some time. Impressive, to say the least. Last she'd known, he couldn't even draw a car.

"I've been practicing." Sigmund was finishing the last bits of shading left. "Did say you should smile more often..." He chuckled, looking at how he'd drawn her among the other squad members, a confident grin on her face.

"It's—" Bianka's compliments would have to wait for another time.

"SMOKE!" Someone had shouted, reeling Bianka back to attention. Standing up, she looked on at the outside. A plume of white smoke had engulfed the edge of the parking lot, obscuring their vision of anything beyond. Almost immediately, the VDR troops in the terminal began laying suppressive fire upon the smoky abyss. Soon emerged the Sornian attacking force, returning fire upon the airport.

Bianka ducked as 20mm fire struck one of the walls. The effect was almost immediate, as VDR soldiers began to disperse away from the terminal entrances. To Bianka's surprise, however, Kaczka was too busy manning the ATGM to care.

"Biko, we should get bac—" The two of them were interrupted by the loud WHOOSH of the ATGM launcher firing, covering both of them in dust. The missile sped off, detonating on one of the Sornian armored vehicles. Flames erupted from the hatches, indicating it'd probably killed the enemy crew.

"My job here is done. I'll see you at the runway when evac comes." Kaczka walked off, abandoning the AP1178.

"He didn't even do anything..." Bianka muttered in frustration, looking on at the approaching group of armored vehicles.

Suddenly, the armored wave came under fire — from above. The roar of jet engines echoed across the terminal, two of the IFVs being obliterated by what could've only been an AGM — but by who? Was this the coup Jet had briefly mentioned to Bianka? By now, the wave was beginning to collapse, soldiers abandoning their IFVs and making another desperate run for the terminal.

"Whatever, fuck it!" Bianka called out, getting back into position to lay down fire on the new wave of assailants. Clamping down on the trigger, she watched as the Sornians began to drop dead, both from her own work and the marksmanship of other VDR soldiers at the terminal. As she felt the magazine run empty, she ducked to reload.

"Alright, we really need to get back!" Sigmund shouted. An unearthly howl could be heard in the distance, drawing nearer. When Bianka looked up, it occurred to her that the ongoing oil fire had blotted out the sun — and she could see white plumes in the sky descending upon the airport.

"On me!" Bianka ordered, retreating with the rest of the squad. Rocket artillery was shredding through the terminal they'd left behind, and the other VDR troops were fleeing further indoors for fear of their own lives. Bianka's squad soon found cover at the security line, the x-ray machines making effective barricades.

"They'll be coming up any moment now..." Leonid knelt down, setting his KM-61 atop one of the baggage tables. Surely enough, they did come, and the squad found itself in yet another gunfight.

By now, Bianka was beginning to wish she'd gotten more ammo while she still could've. She had a single magazine left, and she sure as hell intended to put it to good use. The Sornians were laying down fire, but that didn't stop her from peeking from the side of the x-ray machines, dropping a few more of the bastards. This wave had lasted longer than she'd expected, and soon she found her ammo had run dry.

"Out of ammo!" Bianka called out, slinging her rifle over and switching to her Egzekutor. It began to dawn on her that the rest of her men, too, were running low on ammo.

"How things have turned..." Sigmund was in cover, clutching his left shoulder, as if in pain. A cylindrical object rolled away from him, and it soon became apparent it was a smoke grenade. "GO!" He left cover, throwing a frag grenade at the Sornians.

Bianka took this as grounds enough to begin falling back, calling the squad back. "GET TO THE GATES!" She shouted, running into the smoke. Their retreat would soon be covered by more VDR troops, until they were safe and sound at one of the gates. Outside, a Lo-68 was descending upon the runway, small slivers of sunlight piercing the smoke plume overhead. The adrenaline rush had given way, and Bianka was now lucid.

"Sigmund." Bianka thought. Turning around, she looked to her squad, worried.

One of them in particular was lagging behind, approaching in slow, pained steps. As he finally reached the squad, his legs gave out, collapsing into the arms of one of the men.

"MED—" Bianka was interrupted by Kaczka, who emerged from the various groups of soldiers hurriedly wandering about the gates.

"We'll get him onboard, just worry about yourselves." He ordered.

"All due respect, sir, he's bleeding profusely, he needs—" Bianka stopped, remembering who she was dealing with. "A-alright."

The journey to the Lo-68, which awaited them and 68 other passengers on the runway, was a solemn one. Her friend, whom she had known from childhood, was at the verge of death. She'd gone to Azenyanistan nervous, yet excited at the idea of helping others... but it had never turned out that way. First she'd nearly gotten herself killed, and now she feared she would lose her best friend, who she'd gotten so close to in the last few days.

Few words were spoken among the squad. The psychological toll of the day had set in on everyone, especially Bianka. Several men in MvH uniforms hurried past as she reached the aircraft, carrying someone on a stretcher. The cargo doors of the Lo-68 lay wide open, welcoming the squad into its cold metal fuselage. The passenger compartment was packed with other battle-weary soldiers of LAtR-13 who'd been lucky enough to get out of this place early, spared from the further horrors of war.

Bianka seated herself without a word, staring on at the floor.

"It should've been me." Bianka thought, lip quivering as her eyes began to tear up. "They trusted me... and I failed them."

The aircraft began to lift up, the sights of death, destruction and hellfire in Aura becoming ever-the-more distant... until all Bianka could see below them were vast deserts.

"Lord, please... let Sig be alright. I've known him so long, I— just... please... in the Arditekt's name, So Be It." She internally prayed, trying to wipe tears from her eyes as she watched the landscape become more and more distant...

Her idle, forlorn thoughts were interrupted by Kaczka, who had come from the medical compartment.

"Sierzant Ziekowski, I have... most unfortunate news."

So began the long, painful flight home.

CONTEXT NOTES
[1] - HZHE™ - Haozhan's Hellscape, a battle royale-like multiplayer shooter.
[2] - Euanthe - Refer to previous post's citation.
[3] - How to Bomb the Ygarthene Government - A satirical comedy book by an obscure Internet celebrity

by **Imperial Valaran** » Sun Jan 28, 2018 2:13 pm

‘Against the Grain’

Sathren

“Crien wants to see you.”

Sathren looked up with groggy eyes. Clara did not seem her normal self. None of the usual energy sparked in her eyes. Something colder. She looked…

“You seem angry.”

Clara looked down at him. “I am. She is too.”

Glorious. “When does she want to see me.”

“Right now.”

Sathren looked at his desk. A laptop, government-issue, stamping down on a scattered mass of half-stapled papers. Notes and pens strewn across the desk and the floor. Two half drunk soda cans, one knocked over. A trickle of liquid spilled had out, staining the nearby papers a coca-cola brown.

“I guess I’ll be right up there.”

Crien did not lean on her desk. Instead she towered above it, back ramrod straight. Her hands didn’t clench the wood not for support, but for that jolt of self-inflicted pain — the sort one used to prick one’s rage, and keep it ice-hot. Her desk, for that matter, was immaculate. In fact it was untouched. Crien didn’t use the desk she now gripped, but worked in a smaller side one. This was a grand office of state and Sathren knew she felt uncomfortable in such trappings.

Crien's gaze focused on the diplomat as he entered. “Sathren I distinctly remember you being present when our Prime Minister gave his orders to withdraw from Sornia. You did hear those words, I take it?”

“I did.” Crien asking rhetorical questions was not a good sign. His bleared state meant that he not fully comprehended the level of shit he was in, but the whipcord crack of steel in her voice dispelled such illusions very easily. He straightened as best he could. A hand reached up and wiped the hair from his vision.

“Do you think your actions live up to that?”

“I do.”

“Oh you do, do you? I don’t. Securing a base near Clear City doesn’t sound like complete withdrawal to me. Nor does arranging a deal with Cirilla. All of this behind my back. And the PM’s back. You didn’t even tell Clara.”

Sathren ran a hand through his hair again. “Right, well let’s see. The base is for Siastan and his fleet to use should they need shelter. Its currently abandoned, so all I did was secure the legal rights to it. At no cost, I might add. The agreement with Cirilla ensures that whoever wins the ensuing struggle, we don’t lose. They actually contacted me, as well. Probably assumed I had influence of something.” A smile ghosted across his face. “And as for going behind your back Secretary, that’s just called diplomacy.” Not that you’d know anything about that, some bitter part of his mind thought. “Waiting for your approval would have taken too long and I might have missed the opportunity.”

Crien’s eyes narrowed. “You were worried I would disagree.”

Yes. “I was worried you might think I was trying to 'mission creep' us back into Azenyanistan.”

A pause. Enough for a slow intake of breath, and to hear the silence of the room. Then, softly: “You were right to worry.”

“With respect Secretary, I’m the only one trying to salvage something out of the Azen situation.”

“A situation you brought us into in the first place.”

There it was. That little nub of lingering resentment. Crien was blaming him for this entire mess. Sathren's face grew hot. He straightened.“If you want to fire me, Secretary, you can. If you think I overstepped my authority as diplomat, you are entirely right. Informal conventions or no, I negotiated for the entire empire, on two occasions.”

“But-” he looked directly at her “don’t scapegoat me for Azen. You had every opportunity to refuse my advise, as do the Prime Minister. At every step of the way. You came with me to Nusayastatt. You saw what it was like. You could have said no then.”

“We would not have had to say no, had you not pushed from it in the start. It was still your impetus, designed at self-gain. Everything you have done then and since has been as much to shore up your own position as Valaran’s. The base and the Cirillian deal are part of that too.”

“I don’t deny this. I took a risk, and I’m still to make sure it isn’t a failure. I have personal interests.” He paused. “However, so do you.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You were always reluctant. You feel guilty for not saying no to my proposals at the beginning, for allowing yourself to authorise an intervention. This little display right here, this shock at my actions, is a reaction to that guilt. You’re petrified you’ll make the same mistake.” He stepped closer. “I didn’t ask for your confirmation, because I knew you’d refuse any suggestion of mine over Azenyanistan. Because you’re just as obsessed over the place as I am, only for the inverse reasons.”

“So if you want to fire me, fire me. But don’t get blinded by past mistakes. I know you still care about helping the Azens. That’s why you agreed in the first place.”

Crien said nothing for a long while. Sathren wasn’t naive enough to imagine she was cowed by his words. The Foreign Secretary was analysing avenues of attack. Hopefully that analysis was mixed with introspection.

“The base may be of military utility. I’ll delegate that decision to Varkalen. But the Cirillian deal is problematic. Their Federation is not in our interests.”

“The alternatives were worse. You saw the reports. Sornia’s collapsed as it is. Before the coup, the Dominion probably would have ended up controlling the entire region. They would be much less sensitive to our concerns, perhaps even actively hostile. I doubt they’d care much about stability either. The deal allows us to set up humanitarian aid networks in the Federation. It also gives us a partner out of the main factions. Unless we were to get territory on the ground, we need that.”

Crien retracted her hands from the desk. She moved to the side, to a smaller side-desk, filled with neatly stacked documents. Her actual work-place. It was smaller than Sathren’s own desk, and somehow more filled. She began to sort out items, applying staples and signature with perfunctory grace. Sathren waited. His outburst had drained him of whatever meagre reserves of energy he had left. Now he felt light, too light, almost like he was about to totter and fall. The glare of the room’s light burned into his skull; he was standing close to the main bulb at the centre.

“I won’t fire you.” Crien didn’t look up from her work. “But I am demoting you. You don’t get independent diplomatic privileges.” She paused. “It means you’ll be below Marec and Tarengard.” Crien was essentially locking him out of the succession. Something of a test as well as a punishment, for by directly severing his ambitions, Sathren lost his personal stakes in the crisis. A well chosen punishment.

“I understand.”

“I will leave you in charge of Sishai affairs for now. But I’m assigning Clara the same role. You have equal authority, and you must notify each other before agreeing to anything. If I hear otherwise, I won’t care if you’ve somehow reunified Azenyanistan, I’ll fire you immediately.” Her eyes flicked right. “Its 11pm. Go get some rest.”

“With respect, but I have some stuff to attend to first.”

Crien nodded, and Sathren left. He found Clara outside, struggling with a filing cabinet. “I assume you’re still angry too.”

She looked up. Bright eyes shone underneath tangled strands of red hair. “Yes. But luckily, I get to go home and dream it away.”

He smiled. “Good night, Clara.”

“Clean up your fucking desk.”

Varkalen

“What is she thinking?” Eric Nygaard tossed the paper back onto the desk.

Siastan shrugged. “Apparently she’s decided to follow her original orders.”

“I thought soldiers can’t choose which orders they follow.”

“They can’t.”

“Captain… Formosa seems to think otherwise.” Eric looked to the right. “I can’t believe this. I understand the impulse to help those in suffering — we all feel the same ache. But the point is you can’t let your heart bleed for every cry in the street. She does understand she’s more than 100km away from Urranese territory, right? How does she expect you to get everyone to safety, let alone transport them home.” He looked at Siastan. “I thought you sent all your empty ships south anyway?”

“I did.” Siastan shifted in his seat. “I might be able to call them back. But I only have space for another 14,000 or so, and that’s assuming limited supplies. She estimates that she has 15-20,000 refugees encamped at Sotewa. There’s no way I can airlift those numbers out, so this means deploying a division to march there and back again.” At least he had those to hand. That, and most of his surface combatants and airpower, sitting off the coast of the Urranese zone.

“Plus hiring some god knows number of trucks on the way,” Eric mused.

“Yes. And this is all assuming no one attacks the base while we’re en route.” Siastan imagined a few hundred VRF surrounded by Sornia militia. “You think Hesseren would agree to this?”

“He just might. He’s humanitarian to the core, though he’ll understand the practical issues.” Eric looked pointedly at the General. “He’ll ask you directly if you can do it. If you say you can, he’ll give the green light.” Eric didn't voice it outright, but he was asking the same question.

“The thing is, I just don’t know.” Siastan leaned forwards in consternation. “Apparently Sathren’s got the green light for the 7th to use the Union base near Clearwater, but I still need to make contact with the Cirillians about that. And that’s all assuming none of the big players declare war on one another in the meantime. Sornia’s collapse will accelerate things in ugly ways.”

Eric half-shrugged. “I’m less concerned. The only thing we have to fear is misidentification. No one has an issue with us, since we’re not trying to claim something. And no one is about to pick a fight with a Fleet. Though I hear the Kyadese spotted a Remnant force off their coast.”

“Your sources are good. I wasn’t meant to discuss that outside OPSEC.”

Eric smiled. Siastan knew he merely brought it up to remind the general of his influence. Not that Siastan needed additional reminders. For a ‘reduced figure’ out of government and three steps from official power, Eric had proven tentacular in his reach. Which had been quite useful. Besides, Siastan had long accepted the man had a a slight vein of arrogance. What leader didn’t?

“I doubt they’re an issue anyway,” Eric continued. “Though there was something about ‘hordes’ of submarines.”

Siastan smiled but didn’t reply. A small silence followed. Eric took to looking to the right again. A porthole broke up the expanse of grey. It was one of the few windows on the warship at this level — the ‘heavy destroyer’ was built for stealth, and this meant a sparing use of glass. Both men considered the options. Siastan could remove Formosa from command, but this didn't seem the right approach -- certainly not his approach. Repercussions for this could wait. But he didn't want to risk his troops here. There were too many uncertainties for him to like. Not military ones either, but the more blurred political sort.

For his part, Eric seemed lost in some other thought. Perhaps some political aspect of events. The man was clear-eyed as any Siastan had known, but held secrets tightly. Eventually he looked back at the General. “What were you going to do about Formosa’s request?”

“Wait for Hesseren’s reply. Though I’ll need you to liaise with the Urranese again, in case we do deploy.”

Eric looked wistfully at the sun shining through the porthole. “I do so love helicopter flights.”

by **Die Erworbenen Namen** » Mon Jan 29, 2018 10:49 am

Near Nusayastatt
Task Force Sierra
Carrier Group Enterprise
NNS NCC-101 Enterprise

Sitting in his command chair in the middle of the Bridge, Captain Joseph Waters tapped his fingers on his arm rests, his other hand rubbing the stubble on his chin. It was a quiet moment as the Enterprise slowly moved into position near Nusayastatt, far enough away where he could be confident that there would be no real threat to the capital ships of the Carrier Group, but close enough where he could see both the shore and where the shells would impact. As the carrier slowed down, he could see the rest of the carrier group, present company and his escorts of course, come to a stop within gun range of the city. Above them at nearly every thousand feet, jet aircraft roared past. F-16 Superbobcats filled with a mix of FAE cluster bombs and incendiary cluster bombs, followed by their F-17 Foxcat counterparts, loaded with their air to air weapons had taken off the deck of the Enterprise along with the command units nearby, while the actual air to ground units were readying up their combat loads on the nearby Assault Carrier. The whole combat fleet was abuzz with activity, and it made Waters smile. This much firepower in his hands made him almost shiver with the realization of what he actually controlled.

"Captain, you told me to alert you when the fleet and her assets were ready to commence the attack," Enterprise, the ship herself, spoke softly in his ear through the radio communication system.

"Oh. Yes. Of course. My apologies. Has Bastion targeted the city with her guns yet?" Waters snapped out of his almost day dream state back into reality and began looking at the information streaming into his screens.

"Affirmative, sir. We are ready when you are."

"Thanks, love. Open up a radio channel on all available frequencies, and broadcast my message." Waters waited as the ship did as she was told, and a little icon appeared on his lower right hand screen in the right side of his chair. He waited a second until he had confirmation that all channels were being broadcasted. " Attention all parties, attention all parties. This is Captain Joseph Waters of the United Socialist States Navy. You are ordered to cease hostilities and surrender immediately to the military might of the Federation of Sishai and the United Socialist States or face immediate consequences. You have ten minutes to comply or reply. If no reply is received during this time, we shall commence our bombardment of the city. I repeat, you have ten minutes. Over and out. Enterprise, end transmission. Log all communications received or intercepted on a separate file and immediately notify me when a reply, if any, is present. Set the timer to ten minutes."

"Affirmative, sir. Timer set to ten minutes."

by **Kordland (Ancient)** » Thu Feb 01, 2018 11:05 am

Commission For Security - Azenyanistan Detachment
Operation Maelstrom
Sotewa, Sornia

The Commission for Security was not just an organization for what it sounded like, national security. No, the KfS handled a lot more than that, and when the government of Kordland needed to put its hands into something at home or abroad, the KfS were the reliable men and women that handled the dirty work. If the military sub branch, the SK, was the paramilitary of the state, the KfS was the right hand of the state. And this time, those activities would take them to a place where Kordlandic interests hadn’t existed in the pace. A place where there was an opportunity to capitalize on recent chaos and forge those interests out of nothing.

The place was Azenyanistan, and the away team was entering silently and carefully. The collapse of law and order in the country made it quite easy to get in without the other warring factions realizing who they were, after all. The first step had been flying into Kordlandic Ophir out of Eratini, and after a brief stay there, the KfS officers and their accomplices from KSOG put together a collection of fake identities that would show them as humanitarian workers coming from Reutoa, a country with a similar language.

But they wouldn’t be using those identities for long. That was only for if they got stopped, and when they landed at the rural airstrip in the area to the south of Sotewa and Aura, they didn’t. It wasn’t like air traffic control was being properly maintained at a time like this, when nobody even knew what the borders were. The two small rotor-based civilian aircraft were able to land without a problem, and once they did, the group made the walk into the nearest village and paid for a ride into the city of Sotewa. All while staying off of the radar and keeping up their story about being humanitarian workers.

The special forces operators hid their weapons, the others wore plain clothes with no badges or other indication that they were security officers from Kordland, and translator David Novak did most of the talking for the team. It partly ensured that the differences in language between them and the people that they claimed to be didn’t give them away. “Stop right here,” David told the driver, as they approached an apartment block in the outskirts of the city. This was where the contacts lived, the ones that they had talked to online before arriving. Specifically, the jihadits that they would work on building up.

For everything chaotic that happened in former Azenyanistan, rival countries had to pour more money and time into the region. Not only did it take resources away from them, but it distracted them from Kordland and its ambitions regarding areas such as Ophir and Ashai. The resources that their rivals had to pay would outweigh whatever Kordland put into this project, and because of that, the decision had been approved by the Ministry of Defence to destabilize the former Azenyanistan territories as much as possible through the funding of rebel cells that would seek to keep the country balkanized while fighting for their own ideology. It didn’t matter if Kordland didn’t agree with that ideology. They weren’t the ones that had assets in this hellhole, fortunately.

The crew exited the convoy of three vehicles and entered the apartment complex, which bore some damage from the war. A lot of buildings did, in an area like this one, of course. They walked the hallways of the building until they arrived in front of the correct room, and after knocking in a coded rhythm, the door opened up and they saw the man that they were looking for. Hatim Hussein Al-Mari, the leader of the local jihadist movement that they were looking to fund and arm. Aljabhat Alwataniat Liltanwir Walaintisar was what they were called, and they were fairly irrelevant right now. Not a faction that was on the radar of any of the major ones. But that was before the Kordlandic covert support. “Come in, brothers,” Hatim told them, and they followed him inside and sat down to discuss the details.

And thus, Operation Maelstrom went into its opening stages.

by **Urran** » Thu Feb 01, 2018 6:23 pm

Wuhan, New Azenyanistan

The streets of the renamed capital of the crown jewel of the Greater Urranese Empire were in a major stir. Military vehicles crowded the streets of the government quarter and the sound of soldiers shooting orders, heavy diesel engines, and the stomping of heavy combat boots on pavement echoed throughout.

Major Kasumi Sato took a glance out of the ballistic glass of the MRAP that he was riding in. Citizens protesting on the other side of razor wire while soldiers stood stoned faced and stared back of them as they demanded to know why their city had been shut down by soldiers. The Azens had always had thick skulls in Sato's opinion. Rather than letting them do their jobs, a few members of the New Azen military had put up resistance and were shot. It would be a miracle if there wasn't a riot.

The heavy machine came to a stop outside of the Governor's Palace. It was a grand structure with a large wall, imposing iron gates, and turrets resembling an old fortress. At the moment it was home to Governor Banshee, the democratically elected leader of this territory as she was subject to Urranese rule, though she seemed to have forgotten that fact.

The door of the tan colored monstrosity opened with a snap and Sato planted his shiny black boots firmly on the brick walkway with a click and adjusted the brim of his military hat, brushed the dust from his shoulders, and adjusted the ceremonial katana at his side. He took a moment to look around. There were Azens here and there huddled on the ground in circles, backs facing each other with their hands tied behind their backs. There were ten to a group, each with armed Urranese soldiers standing over them. Here and there there were tarps draped over human shaped figures.

A young Junior Lieutenant came up to Sato with a salute, snapping in place like a good soldier should. Sato regarded him with an indifferent gaze. His irises, just a few shades white darker than the whites of his eyes showed no external emotions. He saluted his junior officer back and dropped it.

"Junior Lieutenant Kazuki Izumi. Area secures, Sir." the younger man reported as he and Sato Sato began to walk towards the gates, a contengant of soldiers following behind, some moving ahead to cover their officers, though the castle was as good as taken.

"Any casualties?" Sato asked, looking up at the structure's windows as they passed under a grey stone archway and through the gate. Here too were Azens, guards and staff all tied up and under guard. The Major didn't offer them much more than a passing glance.

"One injuring. All fatalities were Azens. I've received word from Lt. Harada. Azen Defense Headquarters was captured without firing a shot."

"Excellent. You've done well...is our casualty serious?"

"No. He's expected to recover." the Lt. replied.

"Good. Governor Banshee has enough to worry about as it is." Sato remarked. He stopped momentarily in his tracks and looked up a window. Governor Banshee stared back. Their eyes locked for a moment or two. She knew.

Minutes later a soldier got the door to Banshee's office and Sato stepped in. Shoes polished, hair neatly kept, uniform in impeccable order. Nothing less was demanded from an Urranese officer for these occasions. Two MPs came to stand behind him.

Banshee hadn't turned to face them yet. She was still staring out at the chaos down below out of the massive bay window. She had nothing to say.

"Governor Banshee, in the name of the Constitutional Republic, by the authority of Prime Minister Saki Hanajima I hereby relieve you of office and place you under arrest for the crimes of sedition against the Greater Urranese Empire and collusion with foreign regimes on behalf of the federal government. You are hereby replaced by Major General Chao of the Urranese Army until a new governor can be installed. If you resist these orders I am prepared to use force to remove you." The Major spoke in an authoritative tone.

Banshee made no reaction. Not a a word, not a sound, not a movement. Sato motioned to the governor with his hand and the MPs immediately snapped to it and arrested her. She put up no resistance and they were not excessively rough on her either. She knew what she had done and was willing to pay the price by the looks of it. She'd be taken back to Urran to be tried in a federal court. In the meantime, Sato was in command of the city until elections could be held. The mayor had also been arrested for allegedly colluding with Vanqueria.

Rounding up all of the staff took time. Many were innocent, but were being arrested and questioned should they need to testify against their former leader in court. As Sato exited the palace and found himself back in the warm gentle sun of a semi tropical New Azen day, he was greeted once more by Azens in clumps. The only one missing was Lt. Governor Ahmed Hadeem. A young and aggressive sort. He too was to be tried for crimes against the state.

Sato calmly stopped and turned at the sound of very loud footsteps approaching him and didn't even so much take his hands from behind his back when faced with the enraged Hadeem in question. His brown eyes were flushed red, teeth clenched, veins in his neck popping like he was hyped up on something. "Lt. Governor Hadeem. There you are." he remarked distantly. This promised to be good.

"What do you dastards think you're doing!?" The dark skinned man demanded, motioning to all of the chaos going on. "This is not a war zone! You can't just go around arresting masses of people! Urran promised us-!" he was cut short by Sato raising his hand, both to shut the Azen up and to stop his men from arresting him just yet.

"What Urran promised was order, stability, economic growth and peace in return for loyalty. We have reason to believe that this administration has been in talks with foreign governments without permission. Now, you are under arrest Mr. Hadeem." The Major's tone was cold and collected. He was not one to be pushed around by politicians. While it was true that Urranese in general were a polite people, they could be cut throat and blunt when need be.

Hadeem took a step back and clenched his fist. "You dastard!" he bellowed and took a swing at Sato, who quickly jumped back. Mps were soon all over the man, tackling him and securing him as he raged and cursed an spat.

They stood him up and Sato got in his face, merely inches from him. The brick had cut his face in a few places and his black suit had been coated in a fine grey dust. He was still struggling, MPs having to hold each of his shoulders tightly to keep him from getting up and coming after their commander. "Do you think Vanqueria would be any better?" Sato asked, earning a face full of spit from the Lt. Governor in defiance.

Sato calmly wiped it off with a gloved hand and stood back up to his full height and placed his hands on Hadeem's shoulders kneeing the problem in the stomach and dropping him to his knees, the Urranese guards leaning over to support his weight to make sure he didn't fall.

"Keep him on his knees. Put him over there." Sato ordered the guards with the point of a hand. They dragged Hadeem over to the center of the courtyard and kept him there, awaiting further orders. "Line the others up." The Major said firmly to the Lt., who saluted and began issuing orders to his men.

There was even more chaos now, demanding answers of and complaints from the Azens, the barking of orders from the Urranese as their subjects were lined up across the courtyard facing Hadeem and his captors head on. Urranese guards formed a line on either side of the captured politician and a row behind the Azens, who were cuffed and made to stand.

Sato came to calming stand next to the Mps on the left side and motioned for the Lt. to stand between him and the governor. He slowly panned his head from one side to the other, looking at all of the prisoners before him.

Eventually they caught on that he was to speak to them and their shouts died to a low murmur among themselves. The tension was tangible.

For what seemed like minutes, but was only a few seconds, Sato let the tension of their silence build. "Urran has many freedoms!" he announced loudly and boldly to the crowd. "But one thing we do not tolerate is treason! There is only one sentence!" the murmur began to grow as the horror of what was happening began to sink in. Sato let them hang in suspense for words that would never come. After a pregnant pause he drew his sword and watched as it sparkled in the light of the midday sun. The crowd was growing more restless and angry, shouting and yelling, causing the Urranese soldiers on either side of the detained prisoner to take a very loud step forward, pounding their boots into the brick.

Sato snapped his head to one side and handed the sword to his junior officer. A brief moment of shock and disbelief was replaced with resolve and he bowed his head quickly before loudly stepping around to the right side of the Lt. Governor and raised the metallic weapon high above his head. The Major gave him a nod from under the brim of his peaked cap. The sword stroke fell. There was a wet thump followed by silent disbelief.

by **Entrecaseaux** » Sun Feb 04, 2018 12:39 am

District 7, Aura, Sornia
12:22 PM - Jan. 8, 2018

Fortunately for the Entrecasrauxois force on the ground, the mysterious force of helicopters had chosen mostly to not hunt them down in the retreat. They streamed back across the city to District 1 to resupply, take stock of their losses and figure out who the fuck would attack them with helicopters. HQ began communicating with their Vanquarian allies to ask them along with Entrecaseauxois reserves to track the helicopters and figure out where they would return to. However, intelligence had came in from the Consords earlier saying that they had lost comms with the only airfstrip in the city not controlled by peacekeepers...

A group of about a dozen men was formed up and ordered to quickly go to the airfield and report back whatever had caused the airfield to stop communicating with the Sornian Consords while the main force awaited a means of eliminating the damned helicopters. But Entrecaseaux already wanted to extract some means of revenge to appease their appetite. Over in Area 87, the abandoned military airbase had a contingent of Entrecaseauxian troops who had been ordered to start hijacking and wrecking Azenyanistani communications. The artillery positions in the east of the city loaded up their shells as two of the guns there re-positioned, and let loose a salvo on the Azen-controlled radio tower in District 2. Unleashing about ten rounds on the radio tower, the thing itself and several small buildings around it were destroyed and the tower toppled on it's side, though thankfully crashing into the hills rather than into a fair chunk of the city itself, kicking up clouds of dust and rubble.

District 15, Aura, Sornia
12:31 PM - Jan. 8, 2018

The stalled convoy of awaited reinforcements had now been stalled for a few minutes, waiting for the supplies section of their convoy to show up. Sadly that bit had been delayed due to the shoddiness of the mountain roads, but they were in sight though fairly far away. The convoy leader had chosen to wait for the supplies to make sure they wouldn't be torn apart by the new airborne threat, though he had now seen reason and knew that his armored vehicles would do little to stop attack helicopters. Choosing to push ahead, a ghastly sight appeared now above the horizon. A single helicopter, quite far away but still quite barely visible. Picking up a radio in his vehicle, the escort commander told HQ where this helicopter was.

Forteressesoliel, Entrecaseaux Overseas Department
Hall of Justice Building, 10:32 AM - February 1, 2018

Walking into the packed room, the three Pakiranistani men and their five security guards found themselves swarmed by local and international media asking questions and flashing cameras, the only thing separating them being a metal barricade and a couple of military policemen. Having only to cover a ten-meter distance from the hallway into a elevated platform where the podium and several microphones were positioned,they moved at a brisk pace to get into their seats. In front of this elevated platform was a open space, occupied by camera crews and armed soldiers standing in front of the platform. Some couldn't help but ask why there were so many soldiers in the room, no response was given. The hundred or so Azens brought into the room awaited what their new overlords had to say. The three Pakiranistanis stood at attention - the central figure being a man dressed in traditional clothing, the other two wearing business casual uniform. This central figure would be speaking today, as was planned days in advance.

"Everyone, everyone in the room silence!" he said, checking to see if his microphone setup was functioning. It was. "Here the former local government of the defunct state of Azenyanistan has been gathered, and they will be directed the wishes of the new government we, and the Entrecaseauxois have formed in the newly designed Entrecaseaux Overseas Territory..." He stopped to cough away from the microphones as murmurs started in the crowd of seated Azens. The media didn't feel too talkative yet it seemed. "As has been agreed upon with the quite short lived Ysitir government, this administrative division has legally, and officially, become a part of Entrecaseaux. They have been generous enough to allow a form of indirect rule to be imposed."

"What I mean is that for the time being the locals have been given the right to rule this area. However, with this new administration there will logically have to be some shakeups in the local order of things." This riled up the Azens, who started talking among themselves. What they did not notice were a squad of balaclava-bearing men entering near the doors. These men however possessed some identification on the baseball cap hats they wore. The media did notice but kept the cameras on the speaker. "We have done our best to try to avoid disturbing local order to the best of our ability. We have looked in-depth at the quality of the Azen bureaucracy though, and what we found was... less than pleasing. Disappointing as it may be, we have found corruption at every level of the-" Suddenly an Azen woman stood up. "You have found nothing you lying sack of shit!"

Two other Azens grabbed her, attempting to restrain her from throwing a shoe at the Pakiranistani. Two guards ran down the aisle and grabbed the woman, half-running and half-dragging her out of the room, another guard looking as they disappeared from view. The Pakiranistanis, glad that he could continue spoke on, though with a new fervor. "And as you can see, the quality and temper of those entrusted to serve the people is abysmal! The entire apparatus is a rotting corpse of which nothing can be salvaged, and we now have no choice but to dispose of the mess! This area is still under military law until a functioning government and legal code can be written, and those corrupt individuals will be punished accordingly. You, in Row 7, 6th from the right stand up!"

An confused and spooked woman arose. "As should all the persons seated in the ninth row, left side! All of these people have been suspected of conspiring to embezzle funds from the previous Azen government, though devilish as that is we cannot convict them of such. We can, however convict them for privately meeting to conspire to aid the enemy, to sabotage Entrecaseaux rule and to plot to assassinate or otherwise injure or incapacitate so-called turncoats in their homes. Guards, escort these lowlifes out."

Intense booing erupted from the stands as cameras moved to cover the audience. Dozens of soldiers streamed into the room, escorting the accused out one by one. Some more guards however remained in the room. "I demand silence and order from the Azen audience unless you all wish to join your friends in front of a tribunal!" Cries of insults towards the Pakiranistanis family, himself and his friends only enraged the Pakiranistanis. "To hell with it, the Azens here have not shown their willingness to be mature or to cooperate. Everyone that isn't a guard or in the media sections is to be arrested! I see no reason to continue talking!"

The Pakiranistanis walked out of the room, again escorted by military police. Other soldiers sealed off most of the exits as the Azen bureaucracy was slowly handcuffed, walked out of the courthouse and driven off to be placed in a nearby complex of abandoned factories. A few minutes later, the three men now unaccompanied entered a room to talk with a few others. "Salman, are those whores out of here?" asked a particular imam - part of the inner circle of Pakiranistanis Entrecaseaux wanted to prop into leadership. "Yes, it went even better than I planned. I didn't even need to justify arresting the entire government, they started a riot in the stands and we forced them out. I suppose our friends will be pleased to hear this all went well."

by **Pakiranistan** » Sun Feb 04, 2018 12:19 pm

"Friends Aren't Real"
January 18th, 2018, 5:38 PM

Senior Contractor Jilal "Rowdy" Rathur, Marhi, Aegypt

"Uh huh, good for you and your people, stupid cookie" replied Rathur by playfully squeezing her left cheek as if she were a little child. The Dandh 6x6 slowly drove into a parking garage, the driver manuevering the large vehicle expertly as they ascended the floors marked by numbers until pulling off onto the third floor beside a set of double doors. The doors were guarded by a B.T.I security contractor wearing a uniform identical to a police uniform with the only difference being B.T.I colors on the uniform.

Rathur reached the end of his paperwork, and before closing his file signalled to one of the B.T.I contractors to open the doors of the Dandh. As the doors were opened, Rathur helped Asanov up and escorted her off the Dandh and onto the floor of the parking garage "Now you get to share all your secrets with us, Ms Asnov, your in a very safe place" laughed Rathur as he greeted the security contractor and walked Asanov into the building.

"Friends Aren't Real"
January 19th, 2018, 2:44 PM

Kaptaan Hamid Jardahn, Aegyptian-Syrnistani Border, Aegypt

Jardahn stepped out of the vehicle he was in and walked over to where Haile was standing "Let me handle this" assured Jardahn patting her on the shoulder before taking another step forward "I have a proposal for you guys" stated Jardahn as he glanced at his watch "As of 35 minutes ago, my nation just declared war on your country, and what that means for you is, either you surrender or you die in combat." Jardahn paused for a moment turning around "So what will it be? Shame or death?", stated Jardahn waiting for a reply.

His proposition was soon backed up by the sounds of heavy engines and tracks getting closer and giant smoke clouds, signalling the arrivial of the Corps sized armoured formation that had been trailing the convoy since their departure. The Aegyptian border guards raised their weapons and backed up Jardahn who stood still, staring at the Syrnistani guards with his hand on his holster.

The guards realizing their predicament, dropped their weapons and raised their hands and as the forward scouting units of the formation arrived. They were detained and placed into armoured transports, the Aegyptian flag was raised in place of the Syrnistani one signalling the land now belonging to Aegypt "Well then Ms Haile, you can continue your journey while I deal with Syrnistani forces" stated Jardahn before getting a call on his satellite phone.

"Not Your People's Fight"
January 23rd, 2018, 3:45 PM

Jawad Khatla Shah, Bazila Market Sector, Mari, Sornia

Jawad Shah ducked as an RPG grenade slammed and destroyed the wall of the building behind him "Fucking hell, take that poor sod out!" yelled out Shah in response. A sniper team armed with a 12.7mm Garuq rifle complied and set up a nest inside of the building where the hole was present, there was soon a loud boom as the rifle fired and seemingly took out the RPG gunner.

Shah nodded in approval before continuing his walk along the front before the sound of a turbo diesel engine caused him to turn around. The sound belonged to a Magach 7 captured from Azeni stocks by Pakirani forces after their lightening invasion of Azenyanistan, the tanks were covertly transferred to Al Kafir Ul Haram during the early phases of the war "Alright boys, the tanks are here, lets go, building to building, support the tanks!" ordered Shah as he raised his AK-74 rifle in the air. His troops soon complied with his orders and began moving up along the lines from building to building with great efficeincy which could be credited to the training recieved from Pakirani advisors.

The tanks moved up at a steady pace using HE and HESH shells to destroy pockets of resistance in buildings and light armoured vehicles, they were supported by infantry moving along them in buildings as well as on ground level. The city was quickly falling to Al Kafir Ul Haram forces and would do great to connect a large swath of territory to other Kafir Ul Haram controlled areas.

by **Imperial Valaran** » Sun Feb 04, 2018 3:33 pm

‘Squint to see the Plan’

Nygaard,
Sharn, Republic of Arzan

“Welcome to Arzan, ambassador.” Prime Minister Tarzan Abdali had unassuming proportions. The dark-skinned Lish was small in stature, somewhere between lithe and stocky in proportion. He had intense eyes, set beneath short hair and wore a grey suit. Eric found him hard to read

Eric nodded as he shook hands. Arzan gestured, and they sat. “Let us first establish the position from our correspondence. The Valaran Empire is, in theory at least, prepared to grant the Arzan Republic its considered patronage. Naturally, we cannot exempt you from Federation status; our Cirillian agreement prevents that. However we can preserve Arzan’s autonomy, both in name and in fact. We would underwrite this autonomy, and endeavour to support the development of the Arzan Republic — both economically and militarily.” Eric paused, before handing the Prime Minister a piece of paper. “In return we would like several things. Highest on the list is a preferential trade deal, to facilitate investment by Valaran corporations in your Republic. This will not be of disadvantage to Arzan — on the contrary, it will unlock flows of aid and FDI, the diffusion of best practices and the supply of equipment, the provision of training, oversight and skills. The works, in short. Second we advise some kind of Valaran military presence. This will take two forms — first a defend naval base, so that our ships may dock and resupply; second a small number of VRF troops, who will help train Arzan’s soldiers into a viable state military. Thirdly, we require a degree of oversight on your government. This will mostly allow us to help develop Arzan’s governing institutions, its constitutional framework, and administrative practices. We will send diplomatic and civil servants — all experts on political philosophy and law to help with this.”

Eric allowed Arzan to look over the paper. The man studied it with an intense expression. “But before we grant this, we need certain assurances. We need exclusivity, or close to it — the only other nation you may offer any similarly wide-ranging deal is Cirilla. We also need some guarantee that all such measure will be ratified promptly by your administration, and that there will not be any foot-dragging. Finally, we need a personal signature from you.” He tapped the paper. “Right here.”

Tarzan finally looked up. “Mr Nygaard, my I first ask something in return?”

Eric looked up. This normally called for a look of studied curiosity, but he sensed this was not the right expression to wear. “Of course, Prime Minister.”

Tarzan inclined his head. “First. what authority do you even have to negotiate with me? All your communiqués have adressed yourself as ambassador. Yet,” The Prime Minister leaned forwards. “I cannot help but note there is no such role in the Valaran Foreign Ministry. In what official capacity can you confirm anything that is agreed here today?”

“Prime Minister, you are asking me to be plain with you.”

Tarzan smiled, revealing teeth “I am.”

“Very well. Prime Minister, the reason why I have no official role, is because this meeting is entirely preliminary. If the Empire sent an official diplomat, this would imply we are committed. However, how can we be committed if we have not received the requisite assurances? We would be giving our pledge before you gave yours. And it would be on public record.” Eric folded his hands together. “This is not how we conduct negotiations. I have no official capacity, so should we find you have reneged on us, there is no damage. A private citizen — even an MP — has no bearing on government policy.” Eric gave a crafted gaze. “But I can assure you. Any agreement we reach here will be an agreement the government will sign. I have a direct channel to the coordinator of our Sishai policy. Every term I have mentioned has been cross-checked by Ministry and Cabinet Officials. These are guarantees, Prime Minister.” He was careful not to give names; only vague intimation. Eric had learned the hard way what happened when a conversation was recorded, and boasts were laid bare. Power withered in such circumstances.

“Guarantees.” Tarzan stroked the cropped beard on his chin. “And the Empire’s guarantees mean much? I understand Dune had a Valaran guarantee, and no one can tell me whether she is vanished or dead.”

“We upheld our end of the agreement with Dune. We helped defeat the coup before the sealing wax was dry. Our troops are still at Sotewa. It was her government that collapsed.”

Tarzan gestured with his finger. “You expected that question then.”

“It is natural that you should wish to examine our resolve.” Eric smiled politely. “But I do stress, the failures with Dune were not of our making.” Except in one regard, really. Valaran had committed before it could be sure that Dune would deliver. There had been no unofficial ‘ambassador’ for that meeting. Crien just had to handle it herself, didn’t she. Sathren should have known better, as well. Eric’s old protégé had become too confident in his abilities. Ironically, his weakened position now had created room for the ex-Foreign Secretary to return to diplomatic front lines. There was nothing like the failure of a successor to underline the need for the master.

“And your resolve is good now?” Tarzan ventured again. A cautious man, it seemed. “There are so many… predatory nations now. This makes it difficult to choose one as a patron, above the others. I must have some reason to be talking with you, and not with Cirillians, or anyone else.”

Oh I am sure you are still talking with the Cirillians . Eric nodded. “The Valaran and Cirillian Empires are united in their purpose. There is no good reason for Cyri to forfeit her relationship with us over Arzan, just as we do not intend to challenge or undermine them with this deal. We are partners, and the Valaran Empire has only support for the Federation’s stabilising mission.”

Partners. But not equal ones, not in this. While Eric was in the drab offices of Sharn, Cyri was in the gilded palaces of Cardisa. She gets the big prize, and we make do with the small fry. Eric was not automatically resentful of this arrangement. Cirilla was taking on far more risks for their ambitions; they deserved the greater share of the rewards. The MP was impressed at Cyri’s ambition, but mostly at her single-minded drive. Most of the Valaran's partners had vacillated on Azenyanistan, sitting on their hands as the country burned. But watching Cyri systematically bypass, defang or co-opt rivals, all in lance-like pursuit of her goals, had struck a chord with the ex-Foreign Secretary. It reminded him of… of old Valaran.

Besides, Eric’s Empire had additional headaches, that pounded away at imperial foreheads. Unlike Cirilla, they had existing colonies in Sishai to steward. That meant not pissing off any other powerbroker — Pakiranistan for one, the Remnants for another. Arguably the Dominion as well. A play at a greater chunk of Azenyanistan was a recipe for isolation. Isolation that the Empire could ill afford, given febrile state of international affairs. The patchwork threads of the globe were drawing tighter, and there was no space for gilded ambitions of an older, arrogant Valaran. Eric considered himself a practical man. He saw how the world was turning.

“You share their political goals too?” Tarzan liked his barbs, it seems.

“I reiterate, we share their desire for stability. And a Cirillian hand steadying Sishai is no bad thing, compared to some of the alternative on offer. Regardless, we understand your concerns. One of our assurances will be to deploy a trip-wire force in Arzan, as an intermediate measure while the base is being built. Any attack on Valaran soldiers will be a declaration of war — and we’ll make that fact plain to all.”

“But you should understand our most importfant selling point. If you were to sign away your freedom to another faction, you would not only be inheriting their protection, but also their enemies, rivals, anyone who holds a grudge against them or ever sought to usurp their position in Sishai. But the Valaran Empire has no enemies. And we have many partners.”

Eric retrieved a pen from his pocket. An elaborate affair of silver and black, engraved with his signature and the imperial seal. Personal and Imperial, interwoven. He offered it to the leader of the Arzan Republic in one hand, the paper in another. Behind both was the ambassador’s smile.

“Our friendship has no taint, Prime Minister. When you acquire it, you get full value.”

Nusayastatt Force,
Nusayastatt and Envrions

The activity in the Valaran embassy was frenetic. Processing the near 2,000 nationals and relevant persons was proceeding swiftly, but the remaining ‘loose ends’ were proving elusive to secure. Meanwhile, planning for getting out of the city had hit a number of roadblocks, with Ministry staff leaving in frustration from their talks with the remaining Azen officials. The VRF were planning to burst through anyway, as would the Ministry Guard, but it was better if they didn’t have to wave their guns to get the Azens out of the way.

In all this frenzy of attempted closure, the Namenian message was a bolt from the blue. The weight of the recorded message took a few moments to be processed, for in truth, the information all communication (and surveillance )channels were receiving was enormous — could it be any less when a collapsed country was suffering somewhere north of six invasions? The death of Azenyanistan had dulled many a sharp mind, the constant barrage of threats and snatched cries of desperation over radio frequencies inuring many to the true import of this fresh message. Realisation sunk in slowly than it normally might have done.

Oh, but when it finally hit…

“What the fuck.”

Most replies were less imaginative. Plenty simply stared a the threats, eyes frozen in blank disbelief. Then people snapped to action. The Ambassador began issuing a volley of clipped orders, his hear pummelling a small staccato. Already two of the ten minutes had been vacated, both in the reception of the message and in its dissemination.

“Draft a reply in four minutes. Stevan, contact the Fleet Commander and Siastan ASAP. Inform them of the situation and CC our reply. Get a joint network set up in six minutes.”

“Should we move the people to safety?”

What safety?

“No, but unlock emergency supplies, and notify the aid teams. This really shouldn’t come to anything.” Surely the Namenians had to understand the problems of issuing a threat like this. Surely.

Code: Select all: Recipient - Namenian Fleet Command Sender - Valaran Foreign Ministry, Nusayastatt Embassy Subject - Valaran Support Encryption Level - Military; Operational Do not open fire. Repeat: do not open fire. There are a large number of Valaran nationals in Nusaystatt in the embassy quarter. We are in the process of evacuating of them over the next few days. We request you hold fire until our forces are safely clear of the city. This will take a minimum of 48 hours, and a maximum of 96 hours. A secure communications link can be established, so as to provide updates. We also advise you that there are few military targets in Nusaystatt. Most remaining security forces are police. All major governmental and security installations are close to civilian population centres.

As the messages rippled back and forth, the Valaran Fleet began detecting the wave of planes rising into the air. The Namenian jets made no effort to disguise their point of entry — instead they made straight for the Azen coast. Passive scans and commercial radar showed several squadrons headed towards Nusaystatt, enough for a super carrier to have launched. Radar and sonar turned to passive surface search, though the Valaran fleet was well beyond range to scan the area directly.

There were many foreign forces operating around the region. The Valaran ships had recorded dozens of prior military flights in the surrounding region — most were Urranese and Isle’ish planes operating in their respective zones. They had only the barest minimum of contact — the sort to avoid collisions, or the accidental appearance of threat. As with all of these flights, the fleet took necessary precautions. Ships were dispersed into hunting packs, remaining several kilometres apart — close enough to provide to interlocking area defence. They scanned the area under LPI conditions, and minimised their electronic footprint to that of commercial vessels. Radar communication was minimal, and coded to civilian frequencies. The Valarans sat and watched, and like everyone else, pursued their own missions.

However, this time it was different. The demands and imminent threats in the Namenian messages, and the situation on the ground, changed the situation. This was not normal state behaviour, especially not in a sensitive region like Sishai, where a dozen militaries rubbed shoulders with each other. The Namenians had just threatened to bombard a city the Valarans were using as a safe zone to gather their citizens. This meant crisis response measures.

The Valaran Admiral was not aware of any Namenian Battleship, though it was known they normally deployed them. If it started firing shells, its presence would become obvious. Until then it was merely a potential deployment. What was definitely present, however, was a carrier air-wing. This was the only known element set to bombard the city. They were the immediate headache, but in theory one that was quite easily dealt with. However, a carrier meant escorts. Likely amphibious assault craft too, for the planes had come into view remarkably close to the coast, and why else would the Namenians deploy in the littoral. The Admiral had rejoinders for all of these, and he began initiating them.

Crisis response measures were not a recourse to action. But a direct call to surrender, and a strike force headed straight for Valaran citizens did not allow much ability for nuance. A split decision had to be made, and it was not stupid to prepare for an unedifying outcome.

Formosa,
Outside Sotewa Airbase, Sornia

“Permission to speak.”

Jane turned to Wytts. Sweat formed little pinpricks on her skin, made her hair slick. “What’s on your mind?”

Leslie squinted as she looked up. “We shouldn’t be doing this. It impedes our orders.”

Jane knew what her subordinate wanted to say. Leslie wanted to just say leave them and walk out. But she knew her Captain wouldn’t listen to that. So instead she couched it in formal appeals.

Of course she was damned right. Right enough in a hierarchical sense. There were no orders that forced the Valarans to take the refugees. The implications were strong too. The VRF were meant to move fast, to be airlifted out. But they couldn’t airlift the refugees out. So they were forced to sweat and stand here, waiting for Jane’s opposite number to arrive.

“Siastan OKed this. You may issue a formal complaint when he arrives. But not now.” Not under my command.

Leslie looked back across the rise. Two VRF Line Platoons had swarmed the hill, with another out in recon. Jane thought they looked woefully inadequate against bare sky. She missed even the relative comforts of the vehicles, but the APCs were left down the hill, as per the agreement. Apparently the Sornians didn’t want to talk while staring down the barrel of a 40mm.

“We might be dead by the time Siastan gets here.”

Jane gave her Sergean a curt stare. Leslie was overstepping her bounds again. “I am aware.”

A VRF trooper radioed in. Shortly afterwards, a trail of vehicles scratched their way through the brush. Technicals, jeeps pickups. Bulky AA rigged to some. The vehicles had faded camo, but also fresh insignia, in the form of green and gold crosses.

Sornians disembarked. Thin figures, in a mismatch of clothes. Weapons were held loosely out in front, their barrels tracking backwards forth, loose and listless. Scowling faces. Jane found herself scowling back, if only due to the glare of the sky. The VRF tracked their opposite numbers, as the Sornians picked their way up the hill.

The Sornian commander wore an old Azen uniform, with the markings torn out. The man slung a rifle under his arm. A Federation badge was stitched onto his jacket, the colours bright. The Commander was the only one wearing such a badge. He held up a hand to halt his man. Then he looked at the Valarans. Jane saluted, and no one else moved.

“I understand you’re leaving.” The Sornian man smiled. How did he know that, exactly?

“We are.”

“Running with your tails between your legs,” A subordinate snickered.

“Our mission parameters have expired,” Jane explained stiffly.

“When can we expect you to be gone?”

“A fortnight.”

“Why so slow?” The man took a step forward. He scratched his jaw. “You have been in our country for too long already, Valaran.”

Jane took a step of her own. “That is our timeframe. If you would like to take that up with my superior, you may.” Siastan had experience with these sorts. The swaggering militias, with hard faces and mocking eyes. The General would chew these men up, because mockery washed off power. Jane had watched her commander do this before. Yet she had not thought how to imitate him. Besides, people seemed to innately respect Siastan. It wasn’t the same with her. People’s eyes grew more mocking. They took their liberties. She glanced at Leslie.

The Sornian was silent for a moment. “Ok. But we want you to formally hand over control of the people you’re sheltering to us before you go.”

Jane chose her words carefully. “You may have Sotewa airport when we leave.”

“The airport, yes. And also the people.”

“The people are refugees. They are accorded various rights.”

The man gave a dismissive gesture. “Yes, yes. We will allow them to make a camp for themselves. But we must check them.”

“For what?”

“To see if any Azen traitors hide amongst them.” He stared directly at her as he spoke. Daring Jane to question him, as he laughed at her through his gaze.

“I can assure you, they are not armed. We confiscated their weapons as a condition for being under our protection.”

“You misunderstand, weapons are not our concern. We want to look for traitors, whether they are armed or not.”

Jane stayed silent. She seemed to deflate slightly. “You may conduct your search when we leave.”

The man smiled. “Good. We’ll need that in writing. And in… in video format. Just to be sure.” He pointed at a camera his men were unloading. “I hope you don’t mind being recorded.”

Once the meeting was over, the VRF walked back to the APCs. Jane stepped past stones sewn across the road — a road that was now pockmarked and potholed. The stones and dust were staining the tarmac ochre, piece by piece. They would be driving out on this road. Travelling east, where 400 would protect 20,000, assuming it all went to plan.

“What happens when they find out what you did.” Leslie wasn’t a diplomat. The use of ‘you’ instead of ‘we’ was evident enough; the Sergeant had already separated herself from the responsibility of Jane’s plan.

“They’ll likely consider it a betrayal, I think.”

“They might open fire.”

“I’ve contacted Siastan of the possibility. He agreed with me on this. It buys us some time first.”

“An extra day or two won’t allow him to drive here.”

“No but he does get to airlift in some support. An additional company, plus some SF. They’ll arrive later tonight, though he hasn’t said when.”

“You know, I’m surprised he’s ok with this. All of it.”

Jane sighed. The vid-call with General Varkalen had been late at night, when her exhaustion had already been deep. “The Company Commander, when they arrive… will relieve me of overall command.” That was Siastan’s price. He had agreed to what she had done — but the General could no longer trust the Captain to follow orders. Jane assumed Siastan wasn’t the only one who thought that. She had feared worse, but he had been lenient enough… for now. It was likely a full punishment waited once that had gotten the VRF and Azens to safety. Probably nothing short of a court-martial. No doubt Leslie thought she would deserve it.

Leslie said nothing. Not even a word of protest. Unlike Jane, her Sergeant was a borne survivor. She knew when to take test the rules.

by **Kordland (Ancient)** » Sun Feb 04, 2018 5:13 pm

Brookhusen, Kordland

“How much are we spending on this again?” asked the Commission For Security agent as the last of the cargo crates went on board the civilian marked cargo plane, which if anyone asked questions about, would be delivering international aid. There actually were a number of aid crates on the plane, and the majority of the cargo was humanitarian supplies that rich Kordlanders were donating to the territories of Azenyanistan after being guilt tripped by TV ads and internet articles reminding them of the atrocities going on in the hellhole.

But that wasn’t the only thing in the plane. Hidden away underneath the aid shipments, there were different crates that contained weapons bought from Meridian. The weapons had been shipped into Kordland and they would soon be redistributed to Azenyanistan and the rebels that Kordland was funding there, and the Meridian weapon designs would throw off anyone looking to link Kordland with those rebels. If the connection between the group and the country was exposed, the government didn’t want it to happen right now. Not when the movement was in its infancy and a larger power could still see what was happening and crush it.

To the outside observer, they wanted it to seem like a group of rebels that already existed and controlled territory had bought some weapons from Meridian and became a bigger threat than they had been in the past. When really, the AALW was the creation of Kordland and the KfS was directly behind its rise. “A few million, at least. More reason to make sure we don’t fuck this up and get this shipment lost,” said the other agent, watching as they closed the rear hatch of the cargo plane and the workers began to scatter as the hangar doors opened.

“Some worker’s mistake is going to make us lose our heads,” muttered the first agent, and they stood in silence and observed when the doors opened and the cargo plane began to taxi out onto the runway. The agent picked up his radio and called into the main office, informing the KfS that the plane was on the way to Azenyanistan to deliver the “aid” to the city of Sotewa. Little did anyone know that the plane would be crucial in the further balkanization of the country, and in slowing the spread of the rival factions that had their eyes on Azenyanistan now and potentially on Kordland and its holdings in the not so distant future…

***

Sotewa, Sornia

Three Kordlandic Commission for Security officers and two jihadists. Those were the five passengers in the SUV that was moving through the streets of Sotewa, one of the cities in Azenyanistan that wasn’t completely ruined by the fighting yet. That didn’t mean that the city was untouched, however. Rubble in some of the roads forced the group to drive slowly. As they passed through, they couldn’t help but notice the destroyed buildings in some areas and the poverty throughout. It wasn’t Kordland anymore that they were driving through, that was very clear.
“They said we were coming here to destabilize this place for the other factions, but I’m not sure we even have to do much,” remarked Albert Sachs, the driver of the vehicle and an officer of the KfS branch in Brookhusen, the capital city of Kordland. “Looks like the Azens did a good enough job of that themselves.”

“Sornians, you mean. The ethnic differences seem minute but they’re the reason why this conflict happened in the first place. They’re also the thing that we’re exploiting here. Without the conflict between the the Sornians and every other ethnic group with each other, you don’t have the Azens getting pushed to the point of taking up arms with a group like the one we’re supporting,” replied David Novak, who was in the passenger seat.

“Sornians, Azens, what the fuck ever,” said Hans Althaus. “Kordland has many ethnicities and we haven’t killed each other over it since the middle ages. There’s something wrong with the people here, I think.”

“A history like the one Azenyanistan has had will turn any people into one like this,” shrugged Albert “Be glad that for us, that chaotic history stopped with the merchant republic.”

They eventually reached their destination, the airport, and proceeded towards the cargo plane that had landed not long ago. They were using the cover story of being humanitarian aid workers, and they had forged paperwork and everything to prove that it was the reason why they were there. But when they got to the plane, David Novak led the way to the front of the cargo stores, and opened up one of the larger crates after moving a box of supplies away from it.

When he opened it up, everyone else could see that the crate was full of cheap rifles and a few anti tank missile launchers from Meridian. “Enough arms here to fight off whatever foreign power comes knocking on our door soon,” David stated, turning to face the others. “Or should we say, enough arms for the AALW to face off against a foreign power. Next enemy to fly over this place in a heli is going to be fucked…”

by **Die Erworbenen Namen** » Thu Feb 08, 2018 1:53 pm

District 7, Aura, Sornia
12:30 PM - Jan. 8, 2018

Callsign Bounty hovered above the ground, illuminating the stopped convoy with his lasers for the incoming bomber to see on his navigation. It was getting dangerous now, and he was almost positive they had seen him, but by now, it was far, far too late. His IFF and navigational radar buzzed as the friendly B-3 approached and began moving into his attack run. Holding altitude above the ground, the bomb bay of the bomber opened, and released a blistering swarm of napalm canisters and HE bombs on parachutes. Jet engines roaring, it flew over the convoy at high speed before pulling up and away. It would be the last sight they saw, as the bomber blanketed them with twenty napalm canisters, and forty HE bombs, turning the entire place into a cratered, burning hellscape, the detonation of which could be heard for miles.

by **The United Remnants of America** » Fri Feb 09, 2018 12:19 am

Captain Milena Aasanov

Marhi, Aegypt

1/18/2018 - 5:45

Asanov's cheeks flushed as the man grabbed at her face, and she offered a friendly smile in response to his admonishment, but inside she was fuming. How dare this man treat her like some brat?

As the truck pulled to a stop inside the base, and the man began to frog march her out of the vehicle, she turned her head to look behind her, "what about my team? Where are they going? I'll give you information just so long as nothing happens to them, you understand me?"

In truth, it was a half-truth. She wasn't going to give this asshole all the information she had, but she could tell him what he could just as easily learn by watching any news station. But she would gouge this man's eyes out if they harmed her troops. Each of them was a valuable asset, an expensive asset, and Asanov and her team had made good money serving in the CPD. They were her friends and compatriots, as well as her command.

Asanov dug her boots into the ground and jerked her body quickly so she could get a better look at the mercenary behind her, her expression of serious concern, "I mean it, 'Jon Snow.' I cooperate if your people leave my people alone. Understood?"

Commander Susan Grey

Aegypt-Syrnistan Border

1/19/2018 - 14:50

Grey watched the Pakirani join Haile and the curious Aegyptian and Syrnistani guards in front of the trucks.

Haile felt a clap on her shoulder and turned to see the man beside her as he stepped in front of her. As of 35 minutes ago, my nation just declared war on your country..." Haile blinked and looked at Jardahn.

"What?" Haile was now as confused as the Syrnistani troops looked.

The Aegyptian guards raised their rifles to support Jardahn as a rumble in the distance drew Haile's eyes behind them, and she saw a line of tanks crest the small hill a half-klick away from the border. She couldn't keep her mouth closed, and a quick glance to the trucks showed the backs of heads as the rest of her unit twisted in their seats to see what the rumbling was as well.

A couple minutes later, Haile was in the convoy sans Jardahn and they were squarely in Syrnistani territory ahead of the Aegyptian armored force that was following them. Grey's sunglasses covered her mixed expression of anger and worry. "Shit, shit, shit."

Jacobs nodded, "Yeah. We're leading an army."

Grey looked at Jacobs, "Yeah, and they're right behind us. And I'm assuming eventually the Syrnistanis will get wise and form up in front of us. We're going to be in a war."

"But we haven't even gotten into Azen yet. Isn't that where the war is?"

Grey just sighed, "I don't know. I suspect we're being used by that bastard Bugaboo. And when our troops.... Oh shit. The Syrnistanis could mistake our troops for Aegyptians!"

Grey quickly grabbed her cell phone.

Major Astra Galinsky

Somewhere In Aegypt

1/19/2018 - 15:15

Galinsky nodded as she hung up her phone. "Well..."

A war between Aegypt and Syrnistan seemed a bad situation, seeing as her corps-sized unit was currently on its way to attempt to cross peacefully through Syrnistan. That could no be compromised. She wondered if that Aegyptian unit they'd left behind in Antarash was following them or not. Truth be told, when she had air cover from the fleet on the water, they were always in front, not behind. Galinsky hadn't even thought of the enemy possibly being behind her in a supposedly friendly country, but these Aegyptians weren't the most friendly types, she'd experienced so far.

As her army moved eastward, Galinsky wondered if she was being gun-walked¹ by the Aegyptians that Grey had told her were allies...

Major Greg Farhammer

international Waters

1/19/2018 - 15:20

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you for the update, ma'am."

Farhammer dropped his cell into his pocket and waved at Quen, his 2IC.

"What's it, Greg?"

Farhammer shrugged, "Update. Apparently Aegypt and Syrni are at war. Boss is in Syrni now, troops are in Aegypt still. Either way, looks like we'll be doing a fucking rescue when we get to Freewater."

"Shit," Quen looked down at his boots, "If it's a shooting war, Galinsky may not make it to Freewater before us. We could walk ourselves into a firefight, and I don't know about that."

Farhammer nodded, "Agreed. But for now, we watch our everywhere and make sure we're not the part of this operation that gets fucked."

"Aye, good'un. I'll go to the CIC, get on the horn, pass the info to the commands of the ships."

Farhammer watched Quen walk off out of the mess, but only for a moment before he too walked out. He had been about to get dinner, but he'd lost his appetite thinking of a potential war with his comrades caught directly in the middle of it.

1: Gun-Walked: Remnant military term meaning literally to be walked into an ambush or trap, or more loosely, to be tricked or lied to.

by **Imperial Valaran** » Sat Feb 10, 2018 6:51 pm

Valaran Recognises Cirillian ‘Federation of Sishai’ and the Arzan Republic

A Karvas LPH and a Vassata LHA enroute to Nuyastatt, 09/02/2018

Alex Cestan (@AlexCestan)
^{Date | Astaria, The Valaran Empire}

Hesseren moves to deepen Valaran involvement in former Azenyanistan

In the latest twist of the Azen crisis, the Valaran Empire has taken steps to recognise the Cirillian Federation of Sishai and the Republic of Arzan, both successor states to the Republic of Azenyanistan.. Both motions passed in Parliament, despite some heated debate (and 15 government rebels). A government spokesperson touted the “Cirillian commitment to stability” as “utterly laudable” and something “that all decent minded nations should support”, a potential rebuke to those who see the move as a power-grab by the island Empire. She also praised Arzan Prime Minister Tarzan Abdali for his “strength and courage in leading the Arzan people.” Hesseren himself made a statement, in which he praised the “democratic will of the Arzan Republic” and Empress Cyri’s “impressive dedication to stabilising the region,” promising to support Cirillian measures, particularly with the provision of humanitarian aid.

The Foreign Ministry published two written agreements — with Cirillian Empire and the Arzan Republic, each signifying an Accord with the Valaran Empire, and signed by officials from both nations. In a separate statement, it also confirmed the purchase of an old Union base about 40km away from Clear City.

The details of the two Accords are not yet public. However various sources suggest terms of recognition will include three new Valaran military bases. Two of these will be naval supply and maintenance facilities, one being the former Union base, and another on the Arzan coast. A third base will also be in Arzan, to be used to train the military of the new Republic. According to the same sources, the bases are also likely to be used to distribute aid and act as de fact ‘diplomatic outposts’ until the situation stabilises enough for proper embassies can be established. As is the standard practice, trade deals with Arzan, and the Federation at large, are likely to be part of any agreement.

The move appeared to reverse a recent decision by the government to ‘pull out’ of the former Azen Territories. Officials were at pains to deny this version of events. Several stressed the differences between Arzan Republic, noting it was as ethnically homogenous, ruled by a capable leader and far more functional than any other successor state — in short it was devoid of the problems that plagued the Azen state. Several high ranking figures also pointed out that the actions were done with “steadfast and concrete” action from Cirilla to secure regional stability. One called Cirillian “the crucial piece of the puzzle” that had been lacking in the crises until now.

However this did not stop criticism from the opposition benches of Hesseren’s government being indecisive and lacking in strategy. Conservative Leader Lord Osteric decried the Government’s silliness to “plunge us back into the Azen quagmire” and feared the consequences for “Valaran youth, forced to bleed and die for the latest failed state in waiting.” Liberal MPs were noticeably quieter in their criticism, but expressed more concern about the agreements with Cirilla and their ally, the United Socialist States of Namenia, noting the uncertain intentions of the former and the rogue activity of the latter — including a willingness to attack partners. These concerns extended to remarks made by government MPs in the Parliament, where several noted that Cirillian plans “seemed as much about Cirillian domination” than stability.

Foreign analysts also highlighted the possibility of an alignment with Cirilla upsetting a delicate balance of power in the region. In private, officials from several other nations have spoken negatively of their designs in Azen territories. Particular criticism was levelled on the agreement with Namenia, which has noted to be unreliable partner in the region, with various reports of bombing units belonging to (formerly) allied Dominion troops (it should be noted that the Dominion in general has appeared to suffer from a lack of coordination in the region). Meanwhile it ias yet unknown how other major players with forces on the ground will react, including Vanquaria, URA and Pakiranistan.

Snap polling shows 30% in favour of supporting Arzan and the Federation, with 26% against. However, a plurality of 44% are unsure. This correlates with routine polling from January showing 48% of Valarans generally against increased involvement in Azenyanistan, and only 28% in favour. Taken together, the two polls suggests that while generally reluctant to support Valaran involvement in the collapsed state, the public are cautiously accepting of more specific measures. However, psephologists were quick to note that if the public turned against the intervention, it could dent the Social Democrat’s recent surge in popularity. James Landau of Kythean Analytics, commented that “Foreign Policy is continually a weak point for the Government, with most of its support deriving from domestic issues. A serous misstep would confirm perceptions of incompetently in Foreign Affairs, and may return the government back to its polling base of 32%.” The Government won the 2017 election with an unexpected 37% of the vote. Its weighted polling average since then has been 39.4% (with a polling high of 46% and a low of 31%).

Another gauge of support is the markets. The Arcan Index plunged 2.1% on the news, with investors seemingly fearful of Valaran exposure in such a crisis-prone region. In what is becoming a common feature to such downturns downturns, leading defence firms were exceptions to the trend. KDX shipping clocked up a 1.2% increase, while Sianar Heavy Industries and Tyrvas Enterprises saw rises of 0.8%. Analysts said that Investors anticipate civilian and military sales to the new republic, as well as increased expenditure by the Valaran state. Tyrvas is apparently drawing up blueprints of a range of ships to sell the Arzan Republic, while Sianar hopes to flog some of its weapons systems and planes. This comes as the industry knocked up yet another export success, with Donnerland reportedly ordering a series of LPDs based on designs sold to the colonies. Over the past year, Valaran firms and state have secured four major export orders of Destroyers, Submarines and Amphibious Assault Ships. Meanwhile, the domestic procurement of the Skira DDG has ensured record quarterly earnings for Sianar and KDX. KDX in particular is close to becoming a market leader, with revenue for 2018 expected to outstrip even Sianar (though its RoE is lower, and net debt near double).

Meanwhile, Valaran exfiltration operations continue under the Command of General Siastan. The main force is currently in Urranese controlled territory, and enroute to the strand VRF force at Sotewa airbase. A subsidiary force has also converged upon the form Azen capital of Nuyastatt, to shepherd nationals and some Azen citizens who gathered around the Valaran embassy. Both deployments have suffered delays of some sort — though military officials have been reluctant to say of what kind. It is likely that the confused situation on the ground, and the presence of many foreign militaries has progress slower than expected. Officials stress these missions have not changed, and remain “the highest priority.” Yet they will no longer be the last Valaran deployments to Azenyanistan. Hesseren is once again making a play in Sishai. It is unknown whether this will be a winning move.

The Fall of Azenyanistan (IC, CLOSED)

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