[Rostil] The Rostilian Compendium

by **Tnemrot** » Sat Feb 10, 2018 3:25 pm

TRC
The Rostilian Compendium

Welcome to The Rostilian Compendium, which is to be a collection of short stories written in, about, around, and/or focusing on the nations of the region of Rostil. If you are not a member of Rostil please do not post in this thread. However, please take the time to read our works. If you are interested in what you see, we invite you to learn about our region and submit an application.

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Do not let length be a hindrance to you and write to your heart's content. Write the themes important and central to your nation. Creativity is highly encouraged and feel free to spruce up the presentation of your posts.

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by **Tnemrot** » Sat Feb 10, 2018 3:26 pm

Table of Contents

[ CANON ]

[ NON-CANON ]

Euro Asian Republics
- Air Ambush
- The Liberation of Fauzen

by **Tnemrot** » Sat Feb 10, 2018 3:27 pm

OOC: This story has been modified on July 13, 2018 to make it compliant with the new Rostil 5.0.

[ PAST ]
Modern Dragons

• • • † • • •

Sunday, March 5, 1978 | 23:42 hrs
Sector 33X, Restricted District, Tnemratia | Air Defense Command

Senior Private Aksyonov was coming up on his tenth hour on duty. It had been a long day for the young man who was barely twenty years old. On long days such as these, Aksyonov was fueled by a particularly strong brew of coffee that was more like motor oil than it was coffee. It was brewed by the duty officers who were veterans of the services and especially of long shifts like these where staring at a radarscope was as mind numbing more than any other task in life was. Aksyonov's panel offered a radar view to Tnemrot's north. The radar had a maximum range of 2,500 kilometers with two units, each one capable of a power output of 3 megawatts. It operated on UHF frequency allowing for supreme detection of low visibility objects but it lacked the precision for direct engagement. It was an early warning system, built to watch for Ruzhian or Imperial-nations aircraft coming over the North Pole. It could also pick up incoming ballistic missiles at altitudes of up to 600 kilometers at maximum range or 1,000 kilometers at a closer range.

There were four of these massive radars deployed around Tnemrot and each one offered a full 360° view providing a significant degree of overlap cover. For a country like Tnemrot, there was little reason to be anything but cautious to the point of paranoia. It was the pariah of the world and it was all too easy for nations to grow greedy of the world and desire to conquer the Tnemratian people and their land. Of course, and this wasn't exactly common knowledge, the Tnemratian government gave no shortage of reasons for overthrow from both near and afar.

Aksyonov was but a low man on the Totem pole. He was hardly worth much attention except to be shoved into a seat for hours on end and told to watch for anything extraordinary. If he needed to use the restroom, he was given an allotted time and the duty officer had a stand-in take his place. Two dozen men around the room all switched through panels, each one looking at something at similar or identical panels with each panel assigned to a different sector. Four men covered the largest, UHF radars like Aksyonov. Others covered the VHF radars and other covered the smaller L and S band radars. This was the command for the entirety of the Tnemratian Air Defense Command, a subordinate unit to the Tnemratian Air Defense Forces.

This evening, like all evenings, was quiet. The radarscope picked up civilian jetliners flying about on air traffic routes that avoided the Tnemratian Air Defense Zone, as it had been defined. The hostility of Tnemrot to the world had meant that many aircraft simply avoided flying over the state, lest they be deemed hostile and engaged. Little of value would come out of staring at the scopes tonight as a normal level of hush settled over the floor. Of the two dozen men, sixteen were ranked Senior Private or Private. Six were ranked as corporals and the last two were ranked as junior sergeants. The duty officer was a warrant officer and somewhere in the office behind everyone sat a major overseeing the entire operation.

Aksyonov was just a spoke in this wheel but he was about to have a string of luck that he would never be allowed to talk about in the future. He stared at his scope and then he saw a dot appear. It was far away, nearly at the maximum range of the scope but it was at high altitude and moving very quickly. As it was a new contact, he entered it into the logbook and selected the contact with the trackball cursor. On a secondary scope, the contact's information appeared. It had a weak radar signature to start with though it had been picked up by the UHF band system and its long wavelengths. It was flying at an altitude of 24,917 meters and its airspeed was close to 2,700 km/h. At such an altitude and velocity as this target was there was no mistaking it for anything other than a military craft. Still, Aksyonov was hesitate to call it out, fearful that his mind was playing tricks on him for having been on duty for nearly ten hours staring at a single radarscope. He pushed the self-test button and the screen blanked while a 15-second test was run on the panel. When the test cleared, the contacts reappeared, including the high-altitude contact moving in from the northeast. Aksyonov knew he had to make the call now and he pushed a button on his panel that immediately flashed a light on the duty officer's panel. This was done to alleviate any sense of commotion that would be seen as distracting to the other men in the room.

Warrant Officer Kruglov was not a particularly mean man but he wasn't particularly nice either. He was thirty-two years old, one hundred and eighty-five centimeters in height, and one hundred and two kilograms in weight. He had an imposing figure nonetheless and he was a decorated man. Assignment to the air defense sector was a way of rewarding him for his exploits as a sergeant in now-classified battles. "What is it Aksyonov?" He asked as he came close to the young senior private's panel.

"Sir, there is a high-speed contact here moving towards up from the northeast. Its present range is twelve hundred and ninety-two kilometers."

"It has to be a mistake. Did you run a panel test?"

"Yes sir."

"Run it again! You might have done it wrong."

"Yes sir," Aksyonov did as he was told and fifteen seconds later, the contact reappearing. It was covering almost forty-five kilometers every minute. It would enter Tnemratian airspace in less than twenty minutes at its present speed and course.

"All right, display it to the board."

"Yes sir." Aksyonov said and with the push of another button, the main display board shifted to show the contact and the map of Tnemrot. It appeared as a dot on the display and Aksyonov looked up at the board rather than his panel now. This also got the attention of everyone in the room and for a few moments, no one was watching the airspace over Tnemrot except to stare at this contact.

"Evseev, plot the contact's course," Kruglov ordered the junior sergeant who was in charge of the board. With a few buttons, a course was plotted showing that the contact was heading directly for a major military target, the country's nuclear laboratory. The shock of the course could not be a coincidence and Kruglov immediately called to Major Zakharov to see. After less than ninety seconds, Zakharov gave the order to scramble jets to intercept whatever this incoming contact was. For the men inside of this room, tracking and directing the intercept would fall to Kruglov who took his place, plugged in his headset, and waiting for confirmation.

• • • • ‡ • • • •

Sunday, March 5, 1978 | 23:52 hrs
Sector 19, Northern District, Hankala | 14th Interceptor Aviation Regiment Airbase

Only moments earlier, the 14th Interceptor Aviation Regiment Airbase in northern Tnemrot was a quiet location. The duty officers manning the radar and radio rooms at the airfield were looking forward to another quiet and calm night. The airbase was home to thirty ZuB-12P Stervyatnik-A and fifteen ZuB-12PF Stervyatnik-B high-speed interceptors and it was the premier interceptor airbase in Tnemrot outside of the 1st Interception Aviation Regiment Airbase outside of Tnemratia. Pilots who flew the ZuB-12 were some of the most well respected pilots in the country chiefly because they flew the fastest plane in their nation's air force. At any given point in time, four of those aircraft were pre-flighted and ready to fly at a moment's notice. Rarely however did they scramble for real with the vast majority of their scramble orders being mere training exercises to keep them running like a fine-tuned, well-oiled machine.

The ZuB-12 was a high-speed interceptor designed for Mach 3 flight at high-altitude. The aircraft was 30 meters long and had a wingspan of 19.5 meters. It sat at 6.75 meters in height. Empty, the aircraft weighed 28,600 kg and it carried 24,500 kg of fuel and up to 4,500 kg of weapons. At maximum weight, it was 57,600 kg at take-off. It was powered by two Lazarev TRD-17 turbojet engines each capable of putting out 160.13 kilonewtons of force, which propelled the aircraft up to Mach 3.26 at altitude though it was limited to Mach 3.04 to avoid damaging the engine components. Typically, the aircraft cruised at Mach 2.5. Its altitude limit was 30,000 meters but it rarely flew above 24,500 meters. On full afterburner, the aircraft required just 1,350 meters to get airborne but it required 2,745 meters to clear a 15-meter obstacle. At low-level, the aircraft was something of a dog. It was really designed to fly fast and high where the air was thin and the competition was slim.

The aircraft had a very powerful pulse-Doppler radar capable of searching for targets as far as 480 kilometers away. It weighed just over 950 kg and it had a peak output of 12 kilowatts. The aircraft's radar could track as many as twenty-four contacts at once and simultaneously engage two. The ZuB-12PF could engage four at once. It typically carried eight air-to-air missiles into combat: three radar-guided and three infrared-guided long-range air-to-air missiles, and two infrared-guided short-range missiles. A typical payload was just over 3,000 kg. The aircraft was equipped with a 23-millimeter, 6-barrel Gatling gun and 800 rounds of ammunition but the gun was rarely used for it being useless above Mach 1.8. The gun was there strictly because doctrine required it not because pilots needed or preferred it.

Only the best fighter pilots in Tnemrot flew the ZuB-12P and only the best of those flew the ZuB-12PF, which was the newest interceptor and fighter in the nation's arsenal though it was just an upgrade over the ZuB-12P. Orders called for two hundred of both aircraft variants to be built. The first batch of two hundred were completed between 1968 and 1972 while the second batch had just been completed two years ago in 1976. Forty reconnaissance versions, the ZuB-12R Stervyatnik-D were completed between 1972 and 1974.

For the four ZuB-12PF Stervyatniks on alert status, getting into the sky was the only desire of the aircraft for they loathed the ground, perhaps more than any other aircraft in history save for a select few, all of them in the Mach 3 class. The pilots and radar intercept officers - for all ZuB-12s were two-seat - spent their alert periods in a special building located near the tarmac. From the building to the alert aircraft was only one hundred meters. Also sitting in that building were the ground crew personnel who would help get the interceptors aloft. Each interceptor had a five-man crew assigned to it. Two men would assist both the pilot and the RIO into the aircraft, two men would watch the sides of the aircraft and prepare it, while the last man - the lead - would direct the aircraft's engine start and initial taxi. The pilots and their ground crew were a tightly knit bunch and they had to be. They worked and lived together and when it came to duty, the pilots and their RIOs depending on these men to keep their aircraft in working order.

On this particular evening, the thirty-six men were doing a bevy of activities. There were two card games of Gin Rummy going on, several men were playing ping pong, and others were sitting on the well-worn couches watching either television or reading. Debates about everything from combat tactics to sexual positions dominated the conversation when suddenly the klaxons began to blare. Before any of the men could move, the speaker in the ready room blared the voice of the duty officer, "Immediate scramble order! Aircraft 0292, Aircraft 0288. Immediate scramble order! Aircraft 0292, Aircraft 0288. Priority clearance for take-off!" The men assigned to the aircraft sprinted to the gear room where they threw on their G-suits and grabbed their helmets. Before they were out of the door, the ten men assigned to the ground crew already had the aircraft in its take-off stages.

The pilots and the RIOs rushed to the aircraft, sprinting nearly the entire way, their helmets in one hand and flight bags in the other. On the cold night, they didn't feel the chill because they were running so hard. Stervyatnik pilots tended to reduce their layers because flying in the aircraft was a warm experience. The friction of supersonic flight heated the aircraft significantly and while heat was dissipated well, the cockpits were particularly warm environments. Pilots typically flew their entire flights with their air conditioners on but the cockpits rarely came down below 26°C. The men climbed into their individual cockpits where the ground crew personnel assisted. Each aircraft was fully loaded with eight air-to-air missiles and a full load of eight hundred rounds.

In less than five minutes, the two aircraft were roaring to life, their twin turbojet engines awake. The mysterious contact had been detected only eight minutes earlier and it was closing on Tnemratian airspace rapidly. Command surmised the contact was some new reconnaissance aircraft from the enemies in Irkhalla but not just any reconnaissance aircraft, a low observable one since the contact was only showing up on VHF and UHF band radars. That meant its destruction was paramount.

Once the interceptors were buttoned up and the wheel chokes removed, Warrant Officer Kruglov was patched through to them. He informed them of the contact's speed, heading, and altitude and advised its position. He gave the men a course to fly, which included heading, altitude, and airspeed. Tnemrot used ground-controlled interception or GCI as a fundamental tactic. Both aircraft's pilots acknowledged and they began their taxi. At the start of the runway, they didn't bother to stop or wait for clearance. Aircraft 0292 pulled into the lead on the left side of the runway and falling behind and to the right was Aircraft 0288. The interceptors pushed their throttles up to 85% power and then to 100% power while the engines spooled up accordingly. This phased startup of power was meant to avoid a flameout on the runway. Once at 100% the interceptors really began to pick up speed. From there it was through the three stages of afterburner. The first stage was for quick acceleration in combat. The second stage was for climbing performance and high-speed runs. The third stage was for maximum effort on take-offs and truly high-speed runs where the performance of the aircraft was maximized. In this stage, the aircraft's engines ate seventeen kilograms of fuel per second but they delivered the full 160.13 kilonewtons of raw power.

Hurdling down the runway, Aircraft 0292 rotated first. Captain Avdeev was flying this aircraft and he was the senior of the two pilots in the element. In the backseat was Senior Warrant Officer Ermakov. Aircraft 0288 was being piloted by Lieutenant Fokine with Senior Warrant Officer Belousov in his backseat as RIO. RIOs were typically warrant officers but a select few were junior officers of the rank of lieutenant or the lesser junior lieutenant. Avdeev flipped the switch for landing gear retraction and held the aircraft straight as it built up enough speed to climb out from its take-off roll. Behind him by about twenty meters was Fokine. The two roaring engines of the two interceptors would have blown out the eardrums of anyone not wearing ear protection. After approximately three kilometers of flight, the aircraft turned gradually to the right to assume their intercept heading and that's when they instituted a high-performance climb profile.

The two pilots eased the sticks back to assume a nose-up attitude. They couldn't pull the sticks back too far or else they would have lost airspeed in the climb and if they assumed too little of a climb angle they wouldn't get there in time. Thus, the angle had to be perfect but these men were seasoned pros with the ZuB-12PF. The aircraft rapidly climbed and they didn't come off the afterburner. At full afterburner, the ZuB-12PF had twenty-four minutes of flying time, not much considering. The engines of the ZuB-12 were thirsty for fuel and they needed to be to attain the kind of high-speed performance that made the aircraft so capable.

Zooming upwards, the altimeters in each of the cockpits wound through the numbers as the aircraft climbed higher and higher, first out of the dense and thick air below 4,500 meters and then the thinner air where jetliners and most aircraft flew at 11,000 meters. The higher the interceptors flew, the thinner the air got and the higher their speed grew in the absence of the heavy drag of lower altitudes. The rate of climb was continuously adjusted to keep the airspeed positive versus negative in terms of gain. After passing 18,500 meters, the aircraft were no longer in "controlled airspace" anymore and still they kept climbing though their climb was shallower now that the thinner air provided less lift and oxygen for the engines. They leveled off at 25,000 meters, which was 500 meters over their service altitude.

The two interceptors were in level flight now and moving at one and a half times the speed of sound. In the thin air, with the throttles still at maximum afterburner, the interceptors lurched forward. They had little resistance now except for their own airframes and the weapons hanging from them. "Vulture One, Sector Control, contact is bearing zero-two-zero, range two hundred and fifty kilometers. Altitude and speed remain constant."

"Copy Sector Control, Vulture One is requesting radar activation."

"You are clear to activate your radar."

Ermakov, seated in the rear of the aircraft pushed a button on his console and the powerful radar set turned on, going through its thirty-second startup process. They were closing at a tremendous rate of speed, edging towards ninety kilometers per minute. "Radar is on Captain!" Ermakov said thirty seconds later. He tuned the scope to maximum range and maximum power but nothing was visible. He ran a quick self-test but again, nothing was visible. The radar operated on X band as all fire control radars did. "Captain, there are no targets."

"Sector Control, Vulture One, we cannot track the target."

"Vulture Two, Sector Control, activate your radar."

"Roger Sector Control," Lieutenant Fokine answered. Like Ermakov, Belousov turned on the radar and went to maximum power; and like Ermakov, he was looking at a blank scope. "Sector Control, Vulture Two, we cannot see the target either."

"Continue heading, speed, and altitude! Visually acquire the target."

"Roger that Sector Control," Avdeev answered, "give me the range to the target."

"Seventy kilometers and closing, contact in less than forty-five seconds."

"Understood Sector Control, we request permission to conduct maneuvers."

"Permission granted," Kruglov answered. With that, Avdeev could fly his aircraft on his own.

"Vulture Two, Lead, prepare for maneuvers, reduce throttle and speed. Turn out starboard forty degrees."

"Confirm Lead, turning starboard forty degrees. We're on your trail." The two interceptors turned out to the right and the pilots pulled back on the throttles. Hurdling through the air at Mach 2.5 was a speed insufficient for proper maneuverability. By turning out and slowing down just slightly, they could maintain a wider turning radius and still come up behind the aircraft.

"Captain, I have the target on infrared," answered Ermakov moments after the turn began. Their aspect change exposed some of the rear exhaust of the aircraft, which wasn't nearly as hot as an aircraft moving that fast should have had. The I012 IRST on the ZuB-12 had a range of approximately one hundred and forty-five kilometers against a target traveling at Mach 3 though on a subsonic target it was sixty kilometers from the rear and twenty from the front. By all rights, the target should have shown up on their infrared scope much sooner but this was a truly low observable aircraft insofar as even its infrared heat signature was far reduced below what it should have been.

"Slew the radar to the infrared."

"Roger that Captain," Ermakov did as he was told and yet still, the radar could not pick up the target. "Still no luck Captain."

"Vulture Two, assume pursuit turn now!" Avdeev said as he turned the aircraft slightly to allow for the gradual turn. He increased the throttle back to the second afterburner stage and the aircraft came around slowly. At these speeds, an aircraft's turning radius was measured in kilometers and nothing smaller. Tests showed that the ZuB-12 operating at maximum speed, on a 48° bank, and at 24,500 meters in altitude required over seventy kilometers to make a 360° turning circle.

For the two ZuB-12PF Stervyatniks, the turn they were making was much more gradual, intended to put them on a single-side intercept. "Vulture Two increase your spacing," Avdeev said as he looked to his right and saw his wingman uncomfortably close. Moving at over Mach 2 meant that they needed a good amount of spacing between them, which was at least two to four kilometers.

"Two, increasing my spacing Lead," came the voice of Fokine who only needed to nudge the stick slightly to open the spacing up between the two interceptors.

"Sector Control, Vulture One, we have target on infrared scope, range is closing at forty kilometers. We still do not have radar contact. Advise if we have permission to engage."

"Vulture One, identify target before engagement. Permission denied."

"Roger that Sector Control," Avdeev answered. In the darkness of the night, a visual identification was going to be impossible. At best, they would be able to see the infrared image of the target as well as visually spot its engines, which were clearly running at maximum power. As far as putting "eyes on the target," they would require night vision goggles to get a glimpse at anything but the aircraft's general form and the Stervyatnik was not yet equipped for NVG usage.

The two interceptors ultimately completed the turn and found themselves on the tail quarter of the object but their airspeed had fallen to 2,250 km/h and the target was moving away from them rapidly. "Full afterburner Vulture Two, let us pursue!"

"Roger that Lead." The pilots advanced their throttles back to maximum afterburner, sending the aircraft lurching forward under the full thrust of the engines. Their airspeed began to climb, initially somewhat slowly while the engines responded and then quicker and quicker until they were moving at 3,250 km/h, a full 550 km/h faster than the target. Closing now at a rate of only nine kilometers per minute, they would be in something of a chase before they got close enough to utilize their weapons. Firing from this far back, which was in excess of twenty kilometers meant that the missiles would run out of energy before they could get to the target.

"Sector Control, Vulture One, we are closing on the target dead ahead. Its airspeed has not change but we do not yet have a visual or a radar identification."

On the ground, Kruglov was standing next to Zakharov who was holding a phone handset to his body so that the microphone was muffled. The two men were listening to the communications and wondering if the radar sets in the aircraft were malfunctioning but they also knew that the S and the L band radars could not adequately track the target. That meant the X band radars in the interceptors would have even more issues. Zakharov knew that in the dead of the night they would have no way to identify the aircraft visually. It was undoubtedly military in nature for its speed, altitude, heading, and low observability could not be replicated by a civilian aircraft yet its identity was unknown. Aksyonov's scope did not tell where the aircraft came from, only showed its contact once it was over the horizon. It was a hard time for the man who had to make a decision.

"Colonel General," Zakharov said as he put the phone to his ear. He was speaking to someone very high up in the chain of command and Zakharov was looking for a decision. "Our interceptors cannot run forever sir. They will be low on fuel shortly after having to chase this target at high speed. It is in our airspace and it is still heading for our nuclear research center. Sir I request permission for target destruction."

The line was silent and in the air, the two interceptors were getting closer. The target had not increased speed nor had it undergone any evasive maneuvers. The two interceptors were running at just over Mach 3 and closing but their fuel was draining rapidly as their engines were thirstily draining fuel. They were heading back towards airfields so it was not a matter of returning to base it was a matter of when to call off the pursuit. "Major Zakharov, you may order your interceptors to shoot down the target."

"Thank you Colonel General!" Zakharov put the phone back against his body. "Order the target's destruction."

"Yes Major!" Kruglov answered and then in the interceptors, his voice came into their headsets. "Vulture One, Sector Command, you have permission to destroy the target. Visual identification is not required."

"Roger that Sector Command, Vulture One will engage." Avdeev saw the target ahead now. The engines were visible just over ten kilometers ahead. The target had a good heat signature from this position and it was still maintaining heading, speed, and altitude. That it was not making any evasive maneuvers led the men to wonder if it were an unmanned, reconnaissance drone. Such could account for its very low radar signature. "Ermakov, I want a salvo system ready. Do you have a radar contact yet?"

"Yes Captain I do."

"How strong?"

"Strong enough Captain," Ermakov answered. He was already locking the weapon systems onto the target, utilizing the radar and the infrared system to obtain a good firing solution for their missiles. "Weapons are ready Captain!" He said moments later.

"Vulture Two, Lead, we are engaging, prepare to fire if we run out of missiles."

"Yes Lead! Two is ready to fire."

"Here we go Ermakov," Avdeev said as he heard the tone in his headset indicating a good lock onto the target. He pushed the thumb trigger on his stick and the interceptor jolted. Nothing happened right away and then two missiles shot off of the rails, one off of each wing. The wing missiles were the first to be shot because they induced the largest amount of drag. It was evident as the aircraft picked up some speed shortly after the missiles ripped forward, accelerating to Mach 4.5. One missile was a heat-seeker and the other was radar-guided. The continuous tone in Avdeev's headset meant that the aircraft's radar was continuing to illuminate the target. This close, with a full power output of 12 kilowatts, the radar was able to obtain a lock.

The airspeed of each missile quickly became 4,800 km/h and at that speed, it was gaining on the target at a speed of 35 km/min or just under 0.6 km/sec. It took only eighteen seconds for the missiles to reach their target. The first one, which was radar guided, kept going, failing to see the target. The heat-seeking missile connected however but exploded behind the target. The shrapnel from its 38 kg warhead might have damaged the target but nothing was evident. Avdeev fired again and another two missiles fired, both from the fuselage of the aircraft. Once again, the interceptor shuttered and the missiles rocketed forward. This salvo moved quickly and exploded on the target. Once again, the radar missile failed to contact but the infrared-guided missile did not. It exploded on contact and the target in front of the interceptor erupted into a huge fireball. "Vulture Two, Lead, we have a splash!" Avdeev said as he pulled back on the stick and reduced the throttle.

The target was thrown into a somersault, still intact however. The G-forces would have probably killed anyone inside and the target immediately lost its flight stability. With its rear section badly damaged and its engines completely knocked out, it began to tumble downwards. Avdeev let the aircraft rise another 5,000 meters before he leveled off and began to slow down. The second aircraft shot past him and then began to slow down as well. The two interceptors came around and slowed down rapidly through Mach 2.5 and through Mach 2. They slowed down even further when they visually identified the flaming target falling through the dark skies. Both interceptors put themselves on a tail chase, watching the target descend. It was only then, at an altitude of just 15,250 meters that Avdeev informed Kruglov of the kill. "Sector Control, Vulture One, we have a positive destruction of the target. Four missiles were fired. Radar missiles were ineffective and failed to contact the target. The first infrared missile detonated but with no visual destruction or damage to the target. The second infrared missile scored the kill. We are descending now with the target and will observe impact."

"Roger Vulture One, report your fuel status."

Avdeev looked down at this fuel gauge for the first time since he took off and he was astonished to see just how much fuel he'd burned. "I have four thousand kilograms."

"Vulture Two, Sector Control, report fuel status."

"Four thousand two hundred kilograms Sector Control."

"Sector Control, advise distance to home base," Avdeev asked. He wondered if he'd have enough fuel to get back.

"One hundred and forty-five kilometers Vulture One," answered Kruglov.

"We can make it on present fuel status; we will continue to observe impact."

"Roger that call 'Bingo' at three thousand kilograms."

"Acknowledge Sector Control, will RTB at three thousand kilograms regardless." Avdeev knew that his aircraft wasn't using much fuel as it was descending. The descent was shallow and he'd come off the throttles a lot to ensure that he did not pick up too much airspeed lest he lose the ability to maneuver. The target as about 5,000 meters below him and still tumbling downwards, it still burning, which provided a visual point of reference. They were descending now at only 1,000 km/h and that meant they could truly coast down since they were subsonic. When the target passed through 5,000 meters of altitude, the interceptors slowed down further so that they could observe the impact and still have enough time to pull out of their dive. The impact occurred shortly thereafter and at 7,200 meters, the two interceptors pulled out of the dive and reported the impact of the target into Lake Drakon, the deepest lake in the entire country with a maximum depth of 1,645 meters and an average depth of 745 meters.

Avdeev called it in and returned to base with Fokine flying alongside his wing. They touched down ten minutes later with just under 2,000 kg of fuel but they were more than successful with Captain Avdeev scoring a confirmed kill along with Senior Warrant Officer Ermakov. By then the entire airbase was awake, alert, and ready to great the returning interceptors. Celebrations were already being planned when the two interceptors touched down but less than twenty minutes into the debriefing, a very stern-faced brigadier entered the debriefing unannounced and without much humor in his bones. With a loud voice he proclaimed the incident top secret and forbade the pilots from talking about it. Celebrations were quickly canceled and in the end, Avdeev, Ermakov, Fokine, and Belousov would not be able to tell their tales chasing a supersonic target across the night sky at 25,000 meters and Mach 3. To add insult to injury, Avdeev was denied credit for the kill.

• • • • ‡ • • • •

Monday, March 6, 1978 | 00:05 hrs
Sector 72, Central District, Hankala | Settlement No. 319

Gordey Volkov was just eleven years old and there was no reason he should have been awake past midnight. In fact, had his mother and father known about it, he would have been in very serious trouble and likely he would have been reprimanded and ordered to sleep, as if that could have made the boy's mind willing to forget the large, fire-breathing dragon that had nearly swallowed him whole. Young Gordey had a very active imagination and he dreamed of writing fantasy stories one day of dragons and heroes battling for the dominion of the Rostilian planet. Of course with his active imagination came plenty of nightmares where he, himself, was the hero trying to slay the dragon. The dragon of his dreams tonight was particularly fearsome and one that he'd never encountered before so when it nearly ate him, Gordey shot out of bed with a violent start.

It was only when Gordey realized that he was in his bedroom that he knew he wasn't having a bad dream; yet, the damage had been done and the young boy was now awake and staring out of the window up to the skies above. It was a moonless night and the sky was particularly dark. To make it even darker, in his settlement, the streetlights had been turned off at 22:00 hours to conserve energy and resources. With no other lights on, Gordey could see the blackness of the night quite easily. It was frightening in and of itself as the young boy looked upwards into what could only be described as an oblivion of nothingness. It was nights like these that could feed his imagination even more but then something miraculous happened.

Looking up, Gordey saw two red dots high up in the sky and then two more. From far below on the ground, he could not tell much of what was up there except for the two red dots but they glowed fiercely. They appeared to take on more form and grow from a dot to a small streak. They moved quickly across the sky and headed perpendicular to his window. Gordey watched up intently as he wondered what was up there, perhaps four dragons battling one another. He could not tell that what he was looking at were the two ZuB-12PF Stervyatnik-B interceptors being flown by Captain Avdeev and Lieutenant Fokine. He could not see nor make out the target that they were chasing for it was as black as the night and its engines were not as furiously spewing fire as the interceptors' engines were.

He watched and watched and for a few minutes, he was captivated by the scene. Then he saw two more flight flashes. They shot out from the glowing orbs of fire and moved forward at tremendous speed. He'd witnessed the first two missiles that Captain Avdeev fired. The young boy, capitalizing on the cloudless, moonless night, watched the two red dots surge forward until one of them exploded in a brilliant but small fireball. The other he lost sight of in the explosion of the other. Then there were two more red dots and they rocketed forward just as quickly. He followed these, exited to think that dragons were spitting balls of fire at something. He imagined four dragons, each one with its fire-breathing mouth open, chasing something in the night and shooting balls of fire at it.

When the second explosion occurred, Gordey was struggling to hold his eyes open and to avoid blinking. He didn't want to miss a thing but moments after the flash, he had to blink and he did so. When he opened his eyes again, the target was on fire and he saw the fifth red dot in the sky, which was what had been hit, the elusive target that Avdeev and Ermakov had successfully shot down. The four original red dots did a dance across the sky but Gordey watched the tumbling, falling fifth red dot, all the way down until he could no longer see it. His imagination ran amok and he wondered if he'd witnessed some epic air battle. After dragons, young Gordey loved fighter planes the most. He would force his father to take him to every airshow and he had several posters of Tnemrot's aircraft, including the ZuB-12 Stervyatnik, his favorite plane because it was so fast and he surmised that no dragon could defeat it. Perhaps he was right in that sense and he fell asleep dreaming of flying the ZuB-12 and fighting dragons in the upper atmosphere where only he and his aircraft could fly.

• • • • ‡ • • • •

Monday, March 13, 1978 | 10:00 hrs
Sector 1, Capital District, Tnemratia | Central Government Headquarters

The Central Government Headquarters was an imposing building in Sector 1 in Central Tnemratia. It stood three hundred and thirty meters tall and it had one hundred and five floors. It was shaped like a large pyramid but it was more of an isosceles triangle than it was equilateral, emphasizing height. At its very top sat the office and the residence of the Overlord of Tnemrot who at this present date and time was Overlord Vladislav Bocharov. Overlord Bocharov had come to power in the wake of Komarov's death on October 10, 1957. Bocharov knew that Komarov had died from natural causes at the age of seventy-five but he spun the tale to the people to suit his needs. Under his version, Komarov was assassinated by a foreign-backed, seditionist group of rebels. Within hours of his ascent to power, Bocharov issued several decrees tightening the grip of the government. The last vestiges of freedom and liberty vanished from Tnemratian society in those immediate moments following Komarov's death. Since then, Bocharov ruled with an iron fist and his supporters were hardly the most loved in the government.

Bocharov was sixty-three and his health wasn't very good. His opponents were plotting his demise, hoping that he would die sooner rather than later so that they could enact their designs sooner. The man leading that cabal was Nestor Golubov, who held the rank of Colonel General in the Tnemratian Air Defense Forces. Golubov was the man who'd ordered the destruction of the mysterious target just one week prior and he'd been following the situation closely since. He was called before Bocharov on this morning to give his final report, which was less than a report and more like an open-ended mystery novel of the sort that was banned by the nation's many censors.

"Colonel General Golubov," Bocharov said when the man entered his office, "please have a seat. My time is short today and I want to know what has come of last week's little incident."

"Yes sir," Golubov answered, playing the part of a good and loyal soldier. "As you are aware, our radars picked up the incoming contact moving at high-altitude and high-speed with a direct course to overfly our top nuclear research facility. Interceptors were scrambled and gave chase quickly thereafter, at which point they were ordered to engage and destroy the target. The target did not alter its heading, speed, or altitude and it did not make evasive maneuvers. This leads us to believe it may have been an unmanned vehicle sir."

"May have? Have you not recovered the wreckage?"

"We have not sir. The wreckage crashed into Lake Drakon and a sonar analysis shows that it is resting on the bottom of the late at a depth of approximately 1,482 meters. Parts are presumably scattered around the bottom of the lake after we calculated the likely force of impact. It is unrecoverable at that depth sir."

"Do we not have deep-diving submersibles?"

"Sir we do but they require mother ships to operate. None of those mother ships exists on this lake nor could we transport them overland to operate on this lake. Perhaps one day we may be able to build a robotic system but that is not in our near future sir."

"So we will never know the identity of the target?"

"We will not. As I understand it sir no one has claimed the loss of the aircraft?"

"That is correct. Do we know anything from the initial course?"

"It is unlikely that the target was flew directly from another nation. Unmanned vehicles such as this could have been would have been launched beyond the horizon by an aircraft mother ship. It would have been dropped into the air and allowed to fly a preprogrammed course. It is unknown what it would have done had it completed its course. It could have been a reconnaissance vehicle, which is most likely, or it could have had weaponry onboard."

"We could not have taken the chance either way Colonel General."

"What of our hero pilots?"

"They have been ordered silent sir. There is no word of this incident to be spoken."

"Good. It is a shame for them but that is the duty they do for this land. I will expect the final report on my desk by tomorrow afternoon. You are dismissed Colonel General."

Golubov stood up; and with a click of his boots, he saluted sharply. Golubov departed moments later and such ended the mysterious incident.

• • • † • • •

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by **Euro Asian Republics** » Tue Mar 06, 2018 11:05 pm

“It is said that flying is comprised of hours of pure boredom, punctuated by stark moments of terror...”
– Col. Richard Inglebard, Euro-Asian Air Force, 1978

[ PAST ]

[ Mature: Heavy Blood and Violence ]

Air Ambush
[ ROSTIL 4.0 (NON-CANON) ]

7 February 1950 | 11:23 Hours
10,000 Feet over the Red Line, Euro-Alisonian border

First Lieutenant Richard “Cannonball” Inglebard sighed out of boredom, keeping a steady hand on the his HJ-1 Irene’s flight stick. The flight leader of the Euro-Asian Air Forces’ 118th Fighter Squadron ‘Mobius’ was expecting this mission to be easy; no challenge at all. Their mission being to escort RJ-2 Balda straight wing ground attack jets across the Red Line to hit the Alisonian White Rock Fortress; a milk run. Alisonia’s top of the line fighters, the Svakova Aerospace Sv-1s, were outclassed by the Irene at this point. Despite the fact that the mission was boring, it was one of great importance.

One week ago, the Euro-Asian Army, after surviving their defense of Chopinburg from the besieging Alisonians, had pushed across the Red Line in pursuit; with the inclusion of Eurasian airborne infantry dropping deep behind Alisonian lines to clear the way for the main advance. Two detachments of the Euro-Asian Army, a penal unit known as the 422nd Platoon and mechanized infantry units of the 3rd Regiment, managed to link up with paratroopers at an ancient fortification known as White Rock Fortress where they were cut-off and encircled by the Alisonian Army.

Since then, the paratroopers, the 3rd Regiment, and the penal 422nd Platoon have been trying to find ways of breaking out to regroup further south, but to no avail. This airstrike is seen as the key to relieving the trapped Eurasian soldiers at, and even in, White Rock Fortress.

So far, there has been very little resistance in the air. Aside from a few flak bursts, Mobius and Golem squadrons held their course. As the strike package officially crossed into Alisonian airspace, Richard caught something silhouetting itself against the clouds; something that didn’t belong there. He informed his wingmen, “Tally-ho, Mobius Flight. I’m seeing a bogey at vector zero-one-zero, at what looks like twenty miles and closing.”

His number three pilot in the flight, First Lieutenant James “Trigger” Simoneit replied, “Roger, I’ve got eyes on him. Looks like an Sv-1 from here. Should we break off and pursue?”

Richard, being cautious and wondering if breaking off to engage the Sv-1 would be too risky, responded, “Negative. I have a gut feeling that something else is going on. And I don’t like it.”

Sure enough, the Sv-1 banked and pulled away, like a worm on a fishing hook to lure Mobius Squadron away from Golem Squadron. Then, Richard had some sort of premonition, he looked to his number two, Second Lieutenant Aristotelis “Clown” Michelakos, and noticed he had the same sort of premonition, and was looking to their ten o’clock: Another dot silhouetted against a white cloud, closing in on them. Richard was starting wonder if there was some sort of ambush in the works when frantic calls from Golem flight pierced Mobius Flight’s headsets.

“AMBUSH!!!” the lead pilot in Golem flight shouted on the radio as his numbers two, three, and six were shot down without warning, confirming the Mobius flight lead’s fears.

Richard craned his head around and saw, in horror, Golem Squadron’s RJ-2s getting slaughtered by what look like the USSR’s new MiG-15s, but with cranked swept wings and in Alisonian colors. Without missing a beat, he ordered, “Mobius Squadron, engage!”

Richard winged his HJ-1 Irene, which he nicknamed Lace & Ribbon, depicted with the image of his fiancee on the port side, and dove after the new Alisonian fighters, being careful not to exceed the speed limitations of his fighter. Several sharp cracks were heard as the four fighters pierced the Sound Barrier.

Soon enough, Lace & Ribbon got onto the tail of one of the new Alisonian fighters, letting the radar-ranging gun sight fall into line, and pulled the trigger. The Irene’s six .455 caliber machine guns barked to life, tearing into Richard’s opponent. After a two second burst, the Alisonian fighter went down.

Aristotelis then shouted with alarm, “Cannonball, I’ve got one on my tail! He’s firing!” But before Richard could do anything, his wingman’s fighter was perforated by cannon fire.

Horrified, Richard tried to get in contact with his wingman, “Clown! Clown! Respond!” There was no response. He made a quick glance and saw that Aristotelis was slumped over; a motionless bloodied mess in the cockpit; blood staining the cockpit interior. As Aristotelis' Irene started nosing over in a death dive, anger began to boil over inside Richard, as he subsequently barrel rolled his HJ-1 and quickly got behind his wingman’s killer. On the Alisonian’s six o’clock, he fired his machine guns into the enemy plane, tearing both the Alisonian fighter and its pilot to shreds; there was no ejection.

Eventually, the remaining RJ-2s of Golem Squadron made it to their objective, bombing Alisonian armoured forces and strafing their supporting infantry; anything that can be done to give the encircled Eurasian ground forces some extra breathing space. Unfortunately, due to the fact that the striking force was halved by the Alisonians' air ambush, their attack was not as successful as it was planned to be.

“This is Golem lead, we’ve hit the Alisonian ground forces. We’re heading home.” As they turned south, the new Alisonian fighters, unexpectedly broke off their attack as well. James asked out of shock, “What the?! The bastards are starting to cut-and-run...” to which Richard cautiously replied, “Leave them. We’re getting the strike force home... what’s left of them, anyway.”

On the trip back to base, there were no further attacks on the two formations. James, during this silent return home, asked, “Cannonball, what the hell were those?” to which Richard replied just as clueless, “I have no idea what those fighters were, exactly, but I fear that this may have turned the tide of the war up here.”

What Mobius and Golem flights encountered and entangled with was Alisonia’s newest top of the line fighter, the Svakova Sv-2. The attempt at supporting the Eurasian ground forces trapped at White Rock Fortress was not a resounding success. The Euro-Asian Air Force’s high command, becoming hardpressed to free the Euro-Asian Army forces thus sent a massive level bomber attack on the Alisonian ground forces three days later, with far better success.

The Air War over the Red Line has turned into a war of attrition...

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by **Estainia** » Fri Jul 13, 2018 10:51 pm

[ PAST ]
The Pale Lady

The Kingdom of Amber
1193rd Year of the Sixth Age of the World

Gaius Lucius lay in a field of green, stained by red. Prior, there had been a great clash of arms in the field between two armies, of which he was a part. Now, he lay here, most certainly dying. He felt himself grow colder at first, until finally he was still, forevermore, never to move again. A creeping terror began to grip at Gaius over his lack of movement, for he knew the stories and the ways of the light well and knew what was to come next if he did not. He had no desire to descend into the service of the enemy, he had no desire to be twisted and made unwholesome yet, for all that, he could do nothing. Gaius was patient in his terror, a vigil of near silence, interrupted only by the groans of those who died more slowly than he had. He had no concept of time, not any more, though he could watch the Lady rise, he could not tell the length of Her rays.

In silent, terrible wonder, Gaius Lucius beheld much, and little, as his spark lay there, entombed within its former vessel. His vision of the world descended into blackness suddenly. The comprehension of the wolves having come was beyond him as the beasts tore at the temple of his body. When the command came to stand, he was glad of it, and stood on rotting legs. He had no idea how long it had been, over the course of a week, beasts and rot had taken their toll on his temple, yet he was compelled, by a voice mightier than the Song of Irene. An arm was missing, torn off and taken away by hungering dogs, his eyes were gouged out by carrion birds, and swaths of his extremities had given way to mortified flesh, where bone itself did not reign. His tongue had been plucked out by a fox, and when the voice commanded it, he did not speak as he had before.

A rattle came up from his former throat, unnatural and formed by ghastly magics that forced his compulsion. No words that he recognized as speech emerged, a guttural cry, horrific in tone and in sound tore forth into the world. Beasts fled, birds flew, nature found it repugnant.

It was then, Gaius was forced back. His rotting body tottered for but a moment before it collapsed into a heap of shattered bone and destroyed limbs. What used to be his head rolled off, and there he stood once more, in Glory and in Light. The foul thing that stood before him was in a moment fascinated and terrified. It was not a master of the art it had attempted to partake in, but that was not its worst concern. In a radiant glory of red and gold hues, stepped from eternity a being both like and unlike others, incomprehensible and well known simultaneously a paradox and a fact.

Death had come in Her Dread Glory, almost. A common mistake, really, the fire-haired goddess waved a mighty hand all the same, and the necromancer collapsed, spent utterly, ancient wards matchless against Her. She stepped over the wretched corpses, waving Her hands, their bodies giving way to the sands of time, collapsing from decay and into dust. There were so many battles these days, it took even Her some time to arrive at all the fields of the slain. She parceled them out, according to their deeds, and sent them on their ways, to the Grey Land, to the Court of Irene, to the Golden Field or the Stalwart Hall, it varied considerably.

Finally, Faula, the Goddess of Decay, the Reaper of Men, the Doom, stopped before the scorching Sun that was Gaius Lucius's Spark. She smiled at him, and he was afraid, possessed not only by terror unlike anything he had felt, alive or dead, but true horror as well. It was a kindly, and gentle smile, Faula was not an Enemy of the Light, but they were all afraid, such was the Resplendence of the Gods, some were even truly unfortunate, and saw Them in Their Glory while of the flesh and they were... no more. Gaius however, had no such issue. For his, like all those She had sent forward was a point of light against the darkness of Anemoi's creeping influence, it was a fire in the night against His Dread Servants, crafted meticulously by Heuris Herself, in Her sister's image, Unconquerable Light.

She did not speak, nor did he need Her to do so. She waved a hand, and he knew, it was time to go, to go home at last. He was not to Fall, not today, at least...

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by **Euro Asian Republics** » Sun Mar 03, 2019 11:42 am

“We thought we'd knew what war was like; but nothing prepared us for this...”
- 2nd Lieutenant Christophe Portmann, Euro-Asian Army 7th Platoon

[ PAST ]

[ Mature: Questionable Morals (Result of Genocide) ]

The Liberation of Fauzen
Part of
Storm & Fire:
The Bond of Conflict
[ ROSTIL 4.0 (NON-CANON) ]

17 January 1919 | 1034 Hours
Fauzen, Northwestern Belkaland

Ted Ustinov was racing back to the city of Fauzen as fast as his legs could make him go. When he eventually arrived, he breathlessly started asking literally everyone in Seventh Platoon in the area, “Anyone seen Major Gunther anywhere?” To his luck, Dallas Wyatt pointed him in the direction of the town’s beer hall, confused as to why Ted was in such a hurry, not to mention him looking like he saw a ghost. Running into the beer hall, Ted almost collided into Welkin Gunther. Catching his breath, he tells his recently promoted commanding officer, “Major Gunther... We found something you need to see...” Welkin, a little perplexed by this, asks for clarification, “Slow down, Ted. What did you guys find?” Ted simply replied, “I don’t know, sir... I don’t know...” It was at that point that Welkin turns to his younger, adopted sister, Isara, and the rest of his second in commands, Alicia Melchiott, Kreis Czherny, Largo Potter, Brigitte ‘Rosie’ Stark, Vyse Inglebard, and Edy Nelson, “Rally your detachments and board the transports. Portmann’s patrol found something.” With a salute, the seven detachment leaders in the room headed off to inform their assigned detachment members. Welkin then heads outside and informs both Dallas and their medic, Fina Sellers, “Portmann’s patrol found something, Dallas, Fina, you two are with me and Ted.” The two replied with a simple nod.

As Seventh Platoon headed through the forest on motorized vehicles with the other platoons behind them, Ted pointed the direction to where they are to head. It was in that direction that they eventually came across what looked to be some sort of very large encampment surrounded by both barbed and electric wire fences. At the gate, they found Christophe Portmann, Ramal Valt, Oscar Bielert, and Wendy Cheslock; all four with the same look as on Ted’s face; the look that seemed as if they just saw Death himself staring in their face. Welkin, bewildered by what he was seeing, ordered the closest engineer; in this case, Homer Peron; to sever the chains that were holding the gate locked. In Belkan, Homer told the inmates to stand back while he cut the chains. The gate opened with an audible screech, and Seventh Platoon entered.

Entering the camp itself, nearly all the members were confused as to what they were seeing, even smelling. “Dear God, what is this place?” Dallas asked Christophe, to which he couldn’t even answer. What they were seeing were people who were emaciated. The prisoners’ eyes sunken in wide sockets, hair shaved off, many of them wearing very light prison uniforms with the Darcsen marking on them. But they were not the only ones. They even found what looked like Gypsies and homosexuals. Some of them even had the markings of Socialists, even intellectuals, on their uniforms. Even the most devoutly religious people in the platoon began wondering, If this isn’t Hell on Rostil, I don’t know what else would be...

Rosie was finding it difficult to differentiate the living from the dead in this camp. Only the haunting eyes told her if the skeleton was still alive. In another part of the camp, in her rather limited Taenic, Aisha Neumann; the youngest Seventh Platoon member; says to a few of the Darcsen prisoners, “We’re Eurasians. We’re here to save you.” but they don’t say anything in return; they don’t yell; they don’t cheer. Most of them just stand or sit there, silently. As Welkin, Alicia and Isara look around in another part of the massive camp, they find at least one prisoner who manages to barely make a salute to them. The three, out of sadness, return the gesture. One Darcsen comes up and hugs Isara as if in hope; the younger, adopted sister to Welkin just returns the hug silently, but her eyes start welling up. Vyse and his childhood friend, Aika Thompson, on the other hand were trying to make sense of this Hell, “What kind of camp is this?” Aika asks herself. They then meet up with Christophe, Dallas, Karl Landzaat, and his fiancee, Lynn Appelo, who were trying to understand the same Hell, themselves. They were hardly having any luck. The prisoner they’re talking to was barely audible. Lynn, acting as a translator, says to Christophe, Dallas, Vyse, Aika and Karl, “He says the Belkan doctors here had been conducting experiments on his throat... and he no longer has a voice box...” This left the rest of the group stunned. They heard horrifying rumors about what the Belkan Schwarze Sonne Party’s paramilitary were doing to minorities in Belkaland and the occupied territories, but this confirmed it for them. Knowing by the symbol on the prisoner’s uniform that he is a Darcsen, Vyse, wanting confirmation on something, asks Lynn, “Can you ask him which nationality he is?” Lynn, quick to oblige, immediately asks the prisoner in Taenic; to which the Darcsen prisoner replies and Lynn translates, “He a Belkan Darcsen...” It was at this point that the six of them realized why they were here; and what they were fighting for.

While this was happening, Welkin and Alicia were attempting to understand, themselves, with Isara as their translator. Welkin asks, “Is, can you ask her what kind of camp this is? Why are they here?” Isara nods and asks the female prisoner, to which she quickly gets a response, “She says that the Belkans labeled this place as... a ‘Work Camp’ of some sort. I’m not sure what that means, Welks.” The Darcsen prisoner continues, to which Isara translates, “She says to follow her...” They do what they’re asked and eventually meet up with Christophe, Dallas, Vyse, Aika, Lynn and Karl in front of a building with a large chimney. All six of them, through the looks on their faces, indirectly tell them, “If you want to know the truth, go inside.” A sign at the building’s entrance stating the words, Das Krematorium explained the rest. Isara’s eyes widened as she said with horror, “I-It’s a death camp...” Venturing inside, the three find skulls, bones, and ashes everywhere. Finger nails which had been gouged out were still stuck in the walls. The female Darcsen prisoner finally says to them, in Belkan, “Vergessen sie nicht.” The three Eurasians immediately knew what she meant, “Do not forget.” They couldn’t; even if they wanted to.

Venturing back out of the building and walking to the camp’s main avenue, Welkin, Alicia, Isara, Vyse and Christophe met up with Rosie, Largo and Edy; the faces on the latter three said the same thing: The place was meant for mass murder, far unlike the kind they’ve seen in the trenches. Welkin confirms this by saying to them, “It’s a death camp. There’s a crematorium just a few thousand yards behind us.” Largo nods, “Rosie, Edy, and I came across what looks to be a large room with showers. The bodies inside tell a very different story.” Rosie, shocked by what she’s seen so far, continued, “The bodies inside are stacked like wood. Each one of those bodies have numbers tattooed on their arms, as if they’ve been treated and slaughtered like livestock.” Edy, also almost at a loss for words, even adds in, “The survivors in the shelters are packed together. And what’s more, there are no signs of any Belkan guards in this place. Absolutely none.” This led to only one conclusion from Alicia, “Someone in the town must’ve warned the guards here that we were coming.”

It was at this point that Ramal, Julius Klotz, and Mintz Kiefer walked up to them, to which Mintz stated, “Some of the survivors here said that the Belkan guards torched many of the shelters, with the prisoners still inside them, alive. The guards then apparently machine gunned and hung many of the others; and fled in a hurry when they ran out of rope and bullets.” Isara could only say one thing: “Dear God...”

Fifteen minutes later, at the entrance, General Eleanor Varrot showed up with the war correspondent Irene Ellet and her photographers, to which Ellet could only say, with a cloth covering her nose and mouth, “My God...” Welkin, upon noticing her presence, immediately says to Ellet, “Get your notes out and tell your photographers to take as many pictures as possible. The world needs to know about this.” As Ellet and her photographers start setting up to tell the world of what the Belkans have done, Varrot walks with Welkin back toward the center of the main avenue to rejoin the others. Upon doing so, she informs them, “Me and several others in High Command got word that our allies throughout the Roman and Polish Fronts have seen similar things to this.” Largo, not certain of the answer he’d get, asks, “How bad?” to which Varrot replies rather grimly, “Some of them are as bad as this. The Californians, British and Romans found ones with gas chambers and crematoriums.” Christophe immediately made the connection, chiming in, almost speechless in the sheer horror of what the Belkans conducted, “Like this one...” Varrot nodded, “Also the ones the rest of the Allied Coalition found literally pale in comparison to this one’s size. Our bombers and reconnaissance planes could easily see it at altitude, but they thought it was just a very large prisoner of war camp. They never realized the importance of this place nor what it did.”

“The total absence of guards here leads us to the conclusion that they were tipped off by someone in town. They left in a hurry according to many of the survivors.” Alicia informed the General. Varrot nodded in agreement with Alicia’s conclusion. “Alright. Right now, we need to requisition food and water from the town and give them to the survivors. And one last thing: I don’t care about what the Californians and British stated in their reports, do not limit the their food intake!” This got an immediate response from the rest of the group, “Yes, ma’am!” Varrot finally stated to them, very grimly, “With this, we now know why we are fighting this war...”

They were about to divide into groups and head back into town when they heard a very weak, but familiar voice, “Welkin..?” It was a voice that he, Alicia, Isara and Rosie immediately recognized. Turning to the source of the voice, they saw, in abject horror, their comrade, Zaka Holzmann, who was listed as Missing in Action for over a year. He was hardly recognizable at this point, heavily emaciated, his hair shaved off, missing his right eye, and his left eye sunken in a wide socket; much like the other prisoners; his eyes were now completely devoid of their color; but his voice they clearly recognized. “Zaka?” Isara asks with tears spilling down her cheeks. Seventh Platoon’s long lost second-in-command took a couple of steps forward, only to stumble and collapse. Alicia was quick to catch him; Welkin and Varrot called out for any of the nearby medics. Zaka’s life, what’s left of it, was fading, fast. “You’re okay, Zaka! You’re okay!” Alicia tried her best to reassure her Darcsen comrade, only for Zaka to say to her and Isara very weakly, “It’s too late... I’m not... I’m not going to make it...” Rosie suddenly retorts, trying her best to inject some sense of hope for him, “Zaka, please don’t say that! You still have your dream to open that toy factory that you talked about.” It was little use, as their dying comrade simply replied, “I-I’m sorry. I guess the Enigma Box... will never happen... after all...” and with that, the last spark of life left in him faded away in Alicia’s arms. Everyone around him suddenly felt as if a hole was created in their hearts. Isara, unable to hold back her tears any longer, collapsed to her knees and started sobbing audibly, even crying out in Taenic, “Where are you, God?!”

Unbeknownst to the various cries out to Him, God did answer; a God, anyway. Several weeks before the harrowing discovery of the Seventh Platoon and others, a small group of Darcsen who paid for it with their lives gave sacrifice to their lord. They sang, with the same voices that started the Light Wars so long ago. The Lord of Sunlight was not blind to His peoples’ plight, and He did reach down. The Belkans, who had held as tightly as wrought iron while they did their evil, collapsed. Their ‘great leader’ vanished, as though he had never existed, and the Belkan political and war machine imploded as the Schwarze Sonne began fighting with itself over who was the next ‘enlightened’ of their death-cult run state. Many Belkans, as though released from some profane spell, began to openly defy the central authorities. Generals began surrendering en masse, and the Kaiserliche Marine, or what was left of it, scuttled their ships rather than sortie any longer, and those generals who did not surrender, save for the very depraved, turned their armies in coordination with the coming Eurasians and Imperials. The most terrible of wars did not end that day, sadly. It took a few more months both in Belkaland and elsewhere to finally bring the Great War to an end, in titanic battles at Dinsmark, Roskilde and Selene, but, end the war they did, as all wars before it had ended, with one notable difference.

The world that the Great War left behind was a hollower one, millions had died in ways never seen or imagined before, and while a good deal of them were soldiers, the vast majority were innocent people, who’s only crime had been having been born. Twenty-nine million Darcsen were killed, in addition to seven million Gypsies, and an uncounted number of homosexuals, socialists, and other ‘undesirables’ that were not ethnically based within the Reich. All together, seventy-two million people died in the Great War, the War to End All Wars, they had called it. The Darcsen call it something else: The Great Calamity, and the legacy of the ‘last war’ reverberated down through history on unto the present day... What a legacy indeed...

Zaka Holzmann was eventually buried with full military honors in the Eurasian section of the Katowice Military Cemetery in Poland-Lithuania. In 1923, the Euro-Asian government gave permission to have his body exhumed and relocated to a tomb in his home town of San Salvacion. His tomb, and many others like it around the world, serve as a poignant reminder of the ultimate cost of when the whole world descended into the utter madness that was the War to End All Wars.

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by **Euro Asian Republics** » Sun Nov 08, 2020 4:20 pm

[ PRESENT ]

[ Mature ]
[ Strong Violence, Gore, Strong Language, and Questionable Morals ]

Inside a white van driving along the streets of Saint Ark, Usea, a group of armed men, no older than their late twenties, prepare to martyr themselves for the future of their organization and their homeland. They were visibly nervous. However, their fears were dispelled when the following video message started playing on a cell phone:

“Our war, our cause, is to remove all foreign powers from our soil. They claim to be ‘fighting for peace and stability’. We do not think so! Look hard at the truth! Look hard through the imperialist lies fabricated by the Assembly of Nations! We, the People of God’s Army, fight without sorrow. We wage war without sympathy. This is the only way to live...and die... A true soldier.”

The message was from the leader of the People of God’s Army, Khaista Sulemani. Emboldened by his message, the insurgents exit the van into a crowd of pedestrians on one of the streets leading to the Peace Column roundabout. The pedestrians, many of them tourists and students from abroad, step back and scream in abject horror as a man strapped with a C4 vest reaches his right hand out, about to pull the trigger on a detonator.

Chain Reaction

Saint Ark, Usea
12 November 2025 – Six Minutes Earlier

Amidst the cars driving and pedestrians walking through the streets of Saint Ark, an SUV drives away from the roundabout. Inside, 2nd Lieutenant Elske van der Meulen of Chimera Team 7’s 422nd Platoon is riding with members of the Saint Ark Metropolitan Police’s Counter Terrorist Specialist Unit. The police unit’s superior, callsign “Raven Actual” radios them. “2nd Lieutenant van der Meulen, do you read me?” Elske replied, “Read you Lima-Charlie. Over.” Raven Actual now begins the situation briefing, “Terror threat level is now critical. Possibly multiple attackers, bombers, or something worse.” Realizing that the civilians could be sitting ducks if something goes off, Elske asked, “Do we have assets in position?” Raven Actual then replied grimly, “Negative. We can’t unduly alarm the public.”

‘Shit...’ Elske cursed inwardly. This violates every rule in the book, but then again bureaucratic red tape has always had a habit of getting in the way. “Insurgents know that too, ma’am?” Now Raven Actual gave a warning, “2nd Lieutenant van der Meulen, my orders are that you don’t turn Saint Ark into a war zone. Am I clear?” to which Elske could only state, “Inescapably clear, ma’am. Out.” Turning toward the other three occupants in the SUV, Elske could only say, “Dammit... Looks like we’re on our own, guys. Either way, let’s get this done.” This was answered by the police units officers, “Don’t worry, ma’am. We got this.”

Slowly continuing down the street, the SUV’s occupants eventually spotted a white van approaching in the opposite direction. It looked a bit dilapidated; didn’t belong there. One of the officers stated out loud, “Heads up. We’ve got a suspicious looking van up ahead.” The occupants looks inside the van windows and sees three men inside. An armed insurgent is spotted holstering a pistol and explosives are visible inside as well.

Another of the officers stated, “Weapons in view...” Elske replied assuredly, “It’s them, alright...” getting back on the radio, Elske informs the officers’ superior, “Nameless One-Seven to Raven Actual, white van, multiple military-aged males, weapons visible, moving to intercept.” As Elske and the others ready their pistols, they exit the SUV and heads towards the van. A car abruptly stops and almost hits one of the officers. While this was happening Raven Actual was informing Elske and the officers, “Roger. Unless an attack is imminent, do not engage.” The officer that almost got hit informed, Elske, “White van. Right side.” Elske then gave the order to move in, “Go! Go! Go!”

Four PGA insurgents in a nearby car see Elske and her team heading towards the van. An insurgent gets out of the car to inform his comrades in the van that they are coming. “They’re here, brothers! They’re here! Go!” Another one of the insurgents is pulled to the ground by one of the officers, “Come here and stay down!” the officer shouted as he proceeded to cuff the insurgent.

Two more insurgents stepped out of the back of the van. The third officer shouts at them, “You two! Put your hands where I can see them!” One of them heeds the officer’s words, but the other continues walking toward said officer and Elske. “No, you put down your weapons.” Elske made an order, “Drop your weapon and get down on the ground now!” The armed insurgent with a twisted smile on his face, says to the four people standing in his way, “I’m afraid it is you who has made a big mistake.”

The next thing they realized, the white van suddenly started speeding off. Elske tried to inform Raven Actual, “Raven Actual, suspect vehicle is heading your way!” but before she could get a reply, the van detonated at the Peace Column roundabout, setting off an explosion that knocks Elske and one of the officers off their feet. Metallic debris from one of the other vehicles struck another officer in the neck; decapitating him instantly. The radio message sounded off, “Nameless One-Seven, missed your last message! Say again?” Slowly getting back up, what both Elske and the officer next to her saw was carnage. Civilians were lying wounded or dead on the ground and some wrecked cars were on fire. The next thing they heard was the sound of a pistol’s firing pin being cocked. Looking toward the source of the sound, they witnessed, in horror, the fourth officer being gunned down by the insurgent with an audible bang. “No...” Elske could only say to herself, as the officer next to her got out his own pistol and shot the insurgent in the head. “Fuck! We’ve got two officers down!” Raven Actual tried once more to get in contact with the two survivors, “Nameless One-Seven, what the hell is going on down there?” Elske, in a vain effort to try keeping herself calm, responded, “There’s been a detonation at the Peace Column roundabout! Shots fired! One officer gunned down! Another decapitated by debris! We need orders!” Raven Actual replied, “Head to the Peace Column, Nameless One-Seven! Take control of the situation. I’m going to try getting in contact with your comrades in Chimera Team 7 to scramble and assist you. Out.” With that, Elske stated, “Right. Let’s move!”

As the two head down the street toward the roundabout, they spotted a PGA insurgent standing on top of a car and shooting the driver multiple times with a light machine gun. Two more police officers get out of their car to assist Elske and the surviving officer. She points out the insurgent shooting into the car, “On the car! Take him down!” As she and the police officers fire their pistols at the heavily armed insurgent, more PGA insurgents show up with assault rifles as civilians run away in a panic from their attackers. “That’s KN fire!” Elske shouted, to which one of the officers shouted in reply, “Yeah, and we have nothing but fucking sidearms!” Noticing the crowd of panic stricken civilians, Elske shouts at them, “Get down and get to safety! Run!” On the radio, Raven Actual informs, “All units, be advised, armed suspects are moving through the shops.” Hearing this, Elske shouted to the officers around her, “They’re in the buildings! We need to clear ’em out!”

As a radio request from Raven Actual for an ambulance is heard, one of the officers asks in sheer panic, “Which way?!” Elske replied, “Just follow me!” On the radio, Raven Actual continued informing any nearby officers, “All units, all units! Terrorist attack is underway at the Peace Column roundabout. Multiple IC1 shooters on site.” Reaching the roundabout, the scene of absolute chaos, a familiar voice was heard on the radio, “This is Nameless Actual to Raven Actual. Me and my team are en route to the scene. Be advised we’re strung out piecemeal dealing with PGA members all over the area. Over.” The voice belonged to Elske’s platoon commander, Captain Sebastien Vanneste of Chimera Team 7’s 422nd Platoon. Elske then asked Sebastien over the radio, “This is One-Seven, who is the closest to my position? Me and a group of police officers are at the east end of the roundabout. How copy?” This was answered by another familiar voice, “This is One-Two, I’m currently engaging PGA members holding hostages in the bookstore, less than three thousand meters from your position. Over.” This voice came from Nameless One-Two, the enigmatic 1st Lieutenant Edward “Ghost” Verhasselt. Elske replied, “Roger, One-Two. We’re seeing PGA members taking up position inside the restaurant across the street from you. Check your fire in case you see either us or civilians.”

Heading toward the restaurant, Elske heard a PGA member shouting, “Your government has brought nothing but death to our lands! We shall return this death in kind. You will bleed as our children have bled!” The next thing they heard were gunshots from inside, but they weren’t aimed at them. A stark realization thus came to her and the nearby officers. “Gunshots! More civilians down! The PGA just fucking executed them!” As they got to the restaurant’s front door, they unwittingly got themselves into a five meter contact with a couple of armed PGA insurgents; they quite literally had a meeting engagement with the insurgents. Elske put a bullet in the first one’s head before he could even aim his assault rifle. One of the officers charges and knocks down the second insurgent, but got riddled with bullets in the process.

“Raven Actual, this is Sergeant Anke. Where’s the rest of the Army?!” one police officer asked out of worry. Raven Actual replied, “Special Forces units are already in the area assisting you. Check your fire in case you see them. As for any other units, an Army Assault Team has been deployed. No ETA, though.” Heading across the scene toward an electronics store on the northwest side, they noticed a PGA suicide bomber charging towards Elske, who proceeded to shoot the bomber. Upon going down, the bomber exploded. “Fucking hell! He blew up! He just blew himself up!” Arriving at the electronics store, Elske informed, “Raven Actual, we’ve got officers down outside the electronics store! Northwest corner of the roundabout! I repeat, we have officers down!” Raven Actual replied, “Damn it all! We have word of hostages inside that store. Get them out of there!” As Elske tried to lift the fallen doors, an insurgent began charging at her with a knife. However, the insurgent was stopped by a bullet to his head. Sebastien, 2nd Lieutenant Gwendoline Parmentier, Staff Sergeant Marthe Speleers, and Sergeant Peter Bauwens finally show up to assist. “Hold fire! Blue! Blue!” Sebastien stated, “We see you. You still good?” Elske simply replied, “Yes sir.” Sebastien and Marthe proceeded to help Elske lift the fallen doors.

Upon getting the doors out of the way, the members of the “Nameless” entered the electronics store. They suddenly hear the beeping sound. It could only mean one thing: A bomb is in the building. Sebastien ordered, “Bauwens, Permentier, check those corners.” Heading up a small flight of stairs, both Sebastien and Elske found several hostages; one of them has a bomb strapped to his body. One of the hostages, a male, screams, “Help! HELP!!!” another, a female, screams, “Someone! Someone please!” Noticing the bomb-strapped hostage, Sebastien ordered one of the nearby “Nameless” members, 1st Lieutenant Jan-Hendrik Laverne, their combat engineer, on the radio “Laverne, I need you here, now!” to which, Jan-Hendrick replied grimly, “Negative, Captain. I have my hands tied over here.” Noticing that the bomb strapped to the hostage’s chest was beginning to count down, Sebastien called out to Elske, Marthe, Gwendoline, and Peter, “Shit... Guys! I need you up here!” The hostage screams, “Get it off me! Please! Get it off me!” Sebastien informs all those on the radio, “All stations, we have a hostage with a bomb strapped to him in the electronics store. Keep your distance.” The technically inexperienced Elske looked over the explosives vest looking for a way to remove it. She notices a padlock holding the vest together, and tries to forcibly remove it. It was no use. “Dammit! It won’t open!” Sebastien, who is also not that experienced in removing explosives, asked frantically, “Can you help him?! Try cutting the wires!” Elske replied, just as frantically, “I’m trying! I’m trying!” Cutting one the wires on the vest with her knife, the timer and beeping started accelerating. “It’s going to go off!” Sweat dripping profusely down her face, Elske stated, “Fuck! I must’ve got the wrong wire! It looks to be going into fail safe mode! I need to try aga-” She was interrupted by Sebastien, who shouted, “No time!” as he shoved her back toward the other members of the “Nameless”, and proceeded to lift the bomb-strapped hostage over the railing, despite said hostage’s begging and pleading, “Help me! Help me! Wait! What are you doing?! No! Don’t!” It was at this point that Elske tried pleading with her platoon leader, “Captain! No!”

Sebastien jumped out of the way in time before the bomb exploded, killing the hostage but sparing everyone else in the room. The members of the “Nameless” next found themselves lying on the floor, recovering from the shockwave of the explosion. Sebastien began informing on the radio, “All stations... Bomber’s clear! Prep medical, we’re coming out.” Turning toward the others in the room, he asked, “Everyone good?” Gwendoline responded with, “We’re good.” no one else contradicted her. Sebastien then informed the rest of the hostages, “Alright... Everybody stay calm. We’re gonna get you out of here.” before turning his head back to his platoon members, “Let’s go.”

It was the worst terrorist attack the Usean Federation had ever experienced in its history. Over five hundred civilians were killed in the attack. After the attack, Chimera Team 7 went on a hunt for the PGA leadership in Ardstan.

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by **Mackjaracotavon** » Tue Nov 10, 2020 6:44 am

[ PRESENT ]

[ MATURE - DEPICTIONS OF GRAPHIC HORROR, STRONG LANGUAGE ]

AIR IXIOM FLIGHT 943 DISASTER - INVESTIGATION PART 1

Monday, November 10, 2025 | 02:32 hrs
Royal Transportation Safety Authority (RTSA) Headquarters, Ruunfield

Jean-Luc de Hartcold, Second son of the late Thomas de Hartcold, was working tirelessly throughout the late night and very early morning hours as he worked with his colleagues in the RTSA on the investigation into the tragic fate of Air Ixiom Flight 943, a Skyfleet S340 inbound to the County of Rivia from Usea. With many sleepless nights behind him and many of his crew, his saving grace usually consisted of protein bars and coffee, while many of his colleagues opted to sleep at their desks, rather than drive home knowing of the chance they'd have to turn back.

"Let's see... Flight 943 was flying above a field, here... but lost control around here, when eye witnesses heard a loud bang before the plane suddenly went down... Sir, I just don't know where to go from here, the cockpit voice recorder doesn't match the data from the Flight Data Recorder-" a young female from the easternmost lands named Arabella Reid spoke as she once again traced the path that the aircraft took the day that the disaster occurred. Jean-Luc shook his head in response, groaning in an almost snarl. "We're missing something important here, Bella... Kristoff, play the tape from the Cockpit Voice Recorder again, maybe we overlooked a key detail." he said as he walked towards the backlit board, where flight levels and altitude ranges have been placed to better understand how the plane descended, taking the marker from his female counterpart. The other man in the room, Kristoff Shultz, played the cockpit voice recorder tape back.

Air Ixiom Flight 943 - Captain
"Glavada Approach, Air Ixiom Flight 943 with you. Inbound for Munard International, flight level one seven zero."

Glavada Approach
"Air Ixiom Flight 943, radar contact. Turn right, heading three zero five, descend and maintain flight level one three zero."

Air Ixiom Flight 943 - Captain
"Turn right, heading three zero five, descend and maintain flight level one three zero, Air Ixiom Flight 943."

[COCKPIT ALARM]

Air Ixiom Flight 943 - First Officer
"What the... losing thrust on Engine One."

Air Ixiom Flight 943 - Captain
"Counter with additional thrust on Engine Two."

[COCKPIT ALARM STOPS]

Air Ixiom Flight 943 - First Officer
"Thrust on Engine One returning to normal... strange..."

Air Ixiom Flight 943 - Captain
"Probably a sensor malfunction, but... just to be safe... Glavada Approach, this is Air Ixiom Flight 943, we've just had a cockpit alarm alert us to a short-lived loss of thrust in Engine One. We're suspecting a sensor malfunction, but cannot verify at present time, so we're going to go ahead and declare an emergency."

As Jean-Luc listened to the voice recorder, he began to wonder if a faulty fuel valve or throttle may have been a deciding factor in the crash. "Their troubles started as they descended from seventeen thousand feet... But what caused them to lose control so violently?"

Glavada Approach
"Air Ixiom Flight 943, we confirm that you are declaring an emergency at this time. Descend and maintain five thousand feet, turn left heading two zero four. Contact Glavada International on one seven eight point four."

Air Ixiom Flight 943 - Captain
"Descend and maintain five thousand feet, turn left heading two zero four. Contacting Glavada International on one seven eight-"

[COCKPIT ALARM]

Air Ixiom Flight 943 - First Officer
"Engine One thrust, dropping rapidly!"

[EXPLOSION, FOLLOWED BY NEW COCKPIT ALARMS]

Air Ixiom Flight 943 - Captain
"I'm losing control... Shit! Shit! Shit!"

Air Ixiom Flight 943 - First Officer
"GOD, help us!"

Air Ixiom Flight 943 - Captain
"Mayday! Mayday! Mayday! Glavada Approach, this is Air Ixiom Flight 943, we've had an explosion on board, and we're losing control! Altitude is dropping rapidly! Can't recover-"
[SILENCE]

Kristoff thought hard about the tape, as Jean-Luc marked the point in which the explosion happened with an X. As before, the explosion happened roughly the same time as the sudden loss of control. "Jean-Luc, if I may... I've investigated a similar accident in the Twenty-Tens. Different aircraft, different manufacturer, same chain of events... I think what happened, is that a violent engine explosion ripped the wing off."

Jean-Luc thought a moment. It was a very likely lead, and he knew better to distrust the thoughts and ideas of his colleagues. "Alright. We'll return to the hangar at Glavada International and look at the wreckage."

Monday, November 10, 2025 | 10:43 hrs
A Closed Off Hangar, Glavada International Airport, Rivia

Jean-Luc de Hartcold, Arabella Reid and Kristoff Shultz looked through the wreckage of the airliner. Fragments of the plane had to be meticulously pieced together to assemble what was the basic structure of the Skyfleet S340. Arabella paid close attention to the structure where the left wing met the fuselage, going outward along the wing itself, until she spotted a peculiar sight. "Sir, Look at this! The way the wing fractured at the spot where the engine pylon was located indicates damage sustained in a violent explosion, the one we heard from the tapes and eye-witness accounts. There's evidence of shockwave and shrapnel damage along the wing structure, and it looks like the wing spars along this area cracked." she announced, piecing together what went wrong.

"So, can we rule in a bomb explosion yet? Or possibly a magical anomaly?" Kristoff asked as he shown a flashlight on the area that Arabella was pointing towards.

"Nay. There was no explosive residue on the wing surfaces or structure. I'm beginning to suspect a situation where the fuel mixture in Engine One got too rich, then too lean." Arabella said.

"So a fuel-air explosion... but what triggered it?" Jean-Luc asked.

"Unknown right now..." Arabella said, sighing heavily as her thought processes hit a dead end. "I don't think it will hurt to have a talk with Air Ixiom's mechanics, to figure out who last looked at this plane." Kristoff said.

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by **Euro Asian Republics** » Sat Jan 29, 2022 10:51 pm

[ PRESENT ]

[ Mature ]
[ Strong Violence ]

Operation Blacksmith

30 January 2026 | 0004 Hours Local Time
Saint Ark, Usea | Presidential Palace | Military Command Center

It had been two months since the People of God’s Army insurgents committed their large-scale attack on the civilians at the Peace Column in the Usean Federation’s capital of Saint Ark, and during that intervening time, the Usean Military’s Joint Special Operations Command –in collaboration with the Usean Special Intelligence Service– had managed to pinpoint the exact location of Khaista Sulemani, the leader of the People of God’s Army. More specifically, they have figured out the routes he takes to and from his headquarters, and where said headquarters were located. Looking at a piece of the latest intelligence, JSOC’s high ranking members were on edge, and for good reason, as two weeks prior, the PGA leader had a near miss with a Usean Air Force drone strike. Because of this near miss, they feared that Sulemani may have gone into hiding, to which it would’ve taken months, even years to track him down again.

However, it appeared that Sulemani had disregarded the previous attempt on his life as an idle bluff. This led to High Command, and even Usean President Robert Sinclair, to question whether the PGA leader had become too arrogant, or if this bit of intelligence was a set up for a deadly trap by the PGA. “Alright, ladies and gentlemen. Should we really consider going ahead with this?”, to which Army Marshal Akke Lautenbach confidently stated, “To be honest, Mr. President, even if this were a trap, this could be our last chance to take Sulemani out.” UAF Air Marshal Steven Bleeker concurred, “I concur with my Army counterpart. If Sulemani tries to make an escape, we will take him out in a cleanup effort via air strike.”

“We are simply awaiting the go ahead, Mr. President.” Lautenbach concluded. President Sinclair exhaled deeply before answering, “Alright. Send the encrypted message to Chimera.”

No less than ten minutes had passed before the following encrypted message was sent out to the members of the Usean Army’s 1st Spec-Ops Operational Detachment “Chimera”:

Code: Select all
DECAPITATE THE SNAKE | REPEAT: DECAPITATE THE SNAKE

29 January 2026 | 2014 Hours Local Time
Rurbahar, Ardstan | Assembly of Nations base

Upon receiving the coded message, the members of Chimera Teams 1, 2, 7, and 9 scrambled to the UADS Gadfly medium utility helicopters, determined to carry out their mission to the letter. Boarding one of the helicopters, Captain Sebastien Vanneste of Chimera Team 7, better known as the “Nameless”, said to his colleagues, “Well, here goes!”

The helicopters, once full, lifted off from the Assembly of Nations base near the Ardstani capital, and headed off into the night toward the western region of the country.

29 January 2026 | 2140 Hours Local Time
Kahsuran, Ardstan | Western Region

After over an hour and a half in flight, the Chimera Team members were alerted to the message from the pilots, “Three mikes to target!” With that, the Team members were now on heightened awareness, not sure if they’re be coming under anti-air fire or not. Surprisingly enough, there was none, which made them even more nervous.

Arriving at Sulemani’s compound-slash-headquarters, Chimera Team 7’s helicopter went into a hover over the roof, to which the pilot shouted on the intercom, “Go! Go! Go!” and the members of Nameless rappelled down into the compound. Captain Vanneste stated in a hushed tone, “Move.”

Going down the stairs, using their night vision goggles, Chimera Team 7 continued into the compound, listening carefully for any conversations inside each room. Luckily, they overheard talking in the far-end room. The enigmatic 1st Lieutenant Edward “Ghost” Verhasselt asked a rather confident question, “Alright, everyone. Ready to make history?” Everyone nodded before the team burst into the room, firing their silenced KOG Mk. II 6.5×45mm compact assault rifles and silenced PDW-57 5.7×28mm submachine guns into the room.

When the firing ceased, Chimera Team 7 looked around the room and found that, by sheer luck, their target, Khaista Sulemani, leader of the People of God’s Army, was gunned down along with his two top Lieutenants. Captain Verhasselt shouted, almost ecstatically, to the other helicopters and team members, “Team 7 to all units: The Snake’s head has been cut off! I repeat: Khaista Sulemani is confirmed K.I.A! Commencing extraction!”

Getting out of the compound and boarding their helicopter, the Chimera teams departed the area and headed back to the Assembly of Nations base. Their superiors would then inform President Sinclair, who then told the extraordinary news to his people, and to the peoples of the world.

In Saint Ark, President Sinclair began his message, “Good evening. Tonight I come to you with a message of good news: Justice has been served for the lives lost in the November 12th Peace Column Attack. Exactly one hour ago, Usean Special Forces had located and successfully assassinated People of God’s Army leader Khaista Sulemani and his two top Lieutenants. The peoples of the world can now sleep easily, knowing that the head of the snake has been cut off; a great evil has been eliminated.”

Four months after the success of Operation Blacksmith, the Ardstani Civil War came to an end with a government victory, not long after the majority of the world was too distracted by the Proteus Event to intervene. The long-standing Ardstani president, to the surprise of many, resigned in the aftermath of this military victory and called for new elections; perhaps for the best intentions of the common people of Ardstan. Soon enough, a new president was elected; one that remained committed to being friendly to all sides of the Ardstani people, and to the members of the Assembly of Nations.

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by **-Ormest-** » Sat Jul 09, 2022 11:47 am

[ Past ]

The Breaking of the Bells
Authored By: Leithor Celembrien, Adjuntant Professor of Macro-Economics, Ducal University of Lenora

The Breaking of the Bells is a allegorical title referring to the passage of Conclave Superior Resolution 45-081A, otherwise known by its in-document title as the New Principles and Foundation for Imperial Economical Systems, on Salenis 11, 5440 AL and received the Seal of Assent from Emperor Nimmel the same day, which revoked the 5251 law Imperial Guilds and Others. This legislative piece was one of the most comprehensive passed by the Conclave in generations, as it revoked and completely rewrote the legal authority and definition of Guilds, the quasi-monopolies that had dominated the economy for centuries, and transformed the empire’s entire economical system. The economic reform was mostly the work of Imben Mundon, a senior delegate from the Duchy of Berethia, who was able to champion the bill through mostly thanks to support from Prince Tarathel, the Emperor’s brother and apart of his appointed delegation to the Conclave, he commanded the largest faction present in that body and through his marriage to Princess Oldhinel, daughter of the late King Iaurphen IV of Irthia, he was able to command also significant political influence outside of the Conclave.

The reform did not begin overnight, and truthfully the first acorn of its inception was laid two decades prior in 5420s, when the Golden Sickle Guild, which at the time was the controller of 90% of the empire’s agricultural production, and the Berthron Guild, which controlled a similar position in the mining sector, merged by leadership agreement, forming the Malthorn Guild. Following the merger, they also formed a cooperative agreement with the Forgeworks Guild, and began searching for ways to further automate agricultural work through the use of machines and robots, so they could shift manpower elsewhere. By 5425, 45% of the former Golden Sickle workforce had been “license transferred” to the Dihaudh Guild (controller of 80% of raw mining production in the country), which despite being legally a distinct entity was in actuality controlled, illegally, behind closed doors by Forgeworks. This move was met with great worker unrest, as their pay was not increased and working conditions were extremely poor, compared to their prior positions. When 4,000 senior works attempted to buy out their licensees, which would allow them to leave the Guild, the Dihaudh responded by firing all of them before the Imperial Court could grant the move; at the time, there was no severance protections or other such worker rights. Protests occurred around Dihaudh sites, but the fervor reached new levels with the Forgeworks-Dihaudh relationship was fully revealed in the Orfalas Herald, the largest newspaper in the country, thanks to a Dihaudh executive getting drunk and leaving their key to their office behind at the bar, which the Herald reporter was able to use to access and discover files implicating the two.

Thanks to the Herald’s publication, the following week, strikes containing tens of thousands of workers began at Forgeworks, Malthorn, and Dihaudh facilities. By 5429, 65% of their workforces were on strike, a strike that extended 19 more more months before the Imperial Court intervened - the Court bought-out Dihaudh entirely, and broke up the Guild, spinning of six different companies, three owned by the Court and three owned by selected former employees, to handle the operation of their former sites. While the breakup was able to solve the scandal in the immediate, more serious issues continued to burgeon. Despite the scandal, Malthorn was successful in implementing it’s automation reforms, employing 60% fewer workers than the prior two decades, and continuing to buy and level new hectares to expand land output. Faced with tougher exchange rates internationally and seeking to grow profits, other Guilds began to take similar steps, largely within the primary sector. By 5435, the ‘Robot Revolution’ had occurred, and manufacturing jobs were hit the hardest - the Velfine Automative Plant, the second largest factory in Ormest, was closed by the Velfine Guild, listed as unnecessary to current operational needs, had been in operation since 5340 and comprised of more than 650 acres in the Dragontail mountains, straddling the Arenethel River. Three years later, Forgeworks “significantly reduced” their operation at the Naurbâr Works plant, which was home to the largest steel foundry in the world and Ferropolis, literally known as the City of Steel and Iron, as it had produced the most steel, and other forged metal products.

In the wake of the increased automation, worker unrest began to rise as more and more were laid off in droves, and thanks to the Guild system of licensing, facing a 20 year journey to gain a job in another similar position. Malthron raised food prices in the early months of 5436, citing increased import costs from Estainia and beyond, and food riots began in Illegion, whose unemployment rate had spiked to 15% in the last three years, Peria and the Northern Marches facing similar unemployment rates and unrest as well. Emperor Nimmel issued a decree calling for the creation of an special investigative committee to explore resolutions to the issue, whereas delegates in the Conclave began to try their own measures of reforming the system to address worker’s issues, but none were serious or credible until Delegate Mundon invited the eighteen leaders of the largest worker’s right groups to meet with him in Akysso; the result of that meeting was a report that he presented to both the Conclave, and the Court’s special committee, that detailed how too much wealth was being retained at the “top of the system”, and it was being next to impossible for those below to competitively gain or produce wealth to achieve parity. He contrasted these with shrinking growth by the economy at large, as the world moved more and more towards integrated globalization he opinioned that Ormest’s long-held position as the biggest industrial powerbase on the planet was at jeopardy unless serious measures where taken. He was able to convince the Court with this argument, and subsequently the special committee threw their weight behind his efforts, which culminated as detailed above in SR-45-081A. That bill was just one part of the package though, there was a second -081B which established and formulated a code of entrenched worker’s rights and the first attempt in Ormessian history at wealth distribution based on “wealth saturation” - if too much of the local fief is top heavy, it is mandated that some of the wealth is redistributed, either through a special “parity tax” on the ruling noble, “capital gains” tax on the top 5% wealthiest residents, or in financial investments from the Treasury.

The reforms largely worked, though it would take a decade for them to be felt across the entire country, and they were still being implemented when Proteus hit in 5474. Between 5440 and 5460, more than 1,500 new companies were founded, the GDP per capita rose to ₯52,000 for the first time (without inflation-adjusting historical records), and unemployment in every realm was trending towards historical lows. Further economic reforms were passed by the Conclave in the late 60s that further encoded basic worker rights, such as a mandated ‘minimum compensation’, and guaranteed protections that had long been left to the realms such as childcare allowances, bereavement considerations, and an Imperial-backed and run central administration for professional credentialing.

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by **Euro Asian Republics** » Thu Sep 15, 2022 1:13 pm

[ PRESENT ]

[ Mature ]
[ Strong Violence and Strong Language ]

In EV 1906, the Empire forced the independence of Oskburg from the Usean Federation. It has been seen by many as mere petty revenge for Usean support of the Alisonian rebels and that Oskburg has been seen as nothing more than an Imperial puppet. This was confirmed in 1909 when the Imperial Navy intervened in the Teblyaen-Oskburg War.

To this day, (the Imperial domain of) Oskburg has been vehemently and aggressively maintaining their status of “independence”. An aggressiveness that could spark another major flashpoint between them and Usea in the Southern Archipelago.

Southern Flashpoint

18 February 2026 – 0540 Hours
Usean Navy Southern Task Force | Southern Archipelago
International Waters

A Usean Naval task force, led by the rialyte-fueled aircraft carriers UFS Kestrel and UFS Eagle, victoriously sails northward to home after taking part in the decapitation of the People of God’s Army in Ardstan. With the two carriers are the Usean surface vessels comprised of the Aegir-class rialyte-fueled guided missile cruiser UFS Sparrow, the Lazuli-class guided missile destroyers Fenrir, Kolga, Othinus, and Gloria, and the Thalassa-class guided missile frigates Taisch, Herne, Thiassi, Atlantis, Aearis, and Taen.

Aboard the carrier Eagle, a pair of Tempest-Cs taxi to the catapults for a routine barrier combat air patrol mission between the task force and Oskburg’s maritime border. These two fighters are of the Usean Navy’s 4th Carrier Air Wing 14th Fighter-Attack Squadron ‘Cocoon’; more specifically, Cocoon 1-1 Actual, piloted by Lieutenant Commander Alysson ‘Catwalk’ Leclercq, and Cocoon 1-2, piloted by Lieutenant Nisse ‘Prince’ Van Der Werf.

Giving the salute to the catapult crew, the two planes were launched off their ship, one after the other. At 0546 Hours, they formed up to begin their BARCAP mission.

At around 0630 Hours, their E-4 carrier-based Airborne Warning and Control aircraft, callsign ‘Heavy Cloud’, picked up something on its radar. “Cocoon flight, this is Heavy Cloud. Picking up four bogies at 3-4-5 for 40 at Angels 2-2.” Leclercq replied, “Cocoon 1-1 Actual, roger.” She then data links instructions to her wingman, informing ‘Prince’ that she is climbing two-thousand feet above him, into a ‘Loose-Deuce’ formation. Reaching her desired altitude, the seasoned Tempest-C pilot kept her eyes outside the cockpit. ‘Heavy Cloud’ gave them an update, “Heavy Cloud, bogies are now less than thirty miles from your position and closing rapidly.”

There was a short pause as the two pilots scanned the skies before the next update came in, “This is Heavy Cloud, Warning Yellow; weapons hold. I repeat: weapons hold. Pass from carrier.” The words “Warning Yellow” caused both ‘Catwalk’ and ‘Prince’s respective hearts to skip a beat. They knew that an alert like that meant they now have authorization to fire if the bogies fire on them first. ‘Catwalk’ data links instructions to ‘Prince’ to have video recorders turned on in case the worst case scenario happens. If it does, then the Usean government will have evidence to show to the Assembly of Nations.

‘Prince’ was beginning to wonder if this was going to be a routine intercept when, without warning, one of the bogies fires on him, causing him to curse out loud, “Mother fuckers!” Leclercq nearly shouts in shock at Heavy Cloud, “This is Cocoon 1-1 Actual, bogies are confirmed hostile. They’re firing on my wingman. I repeat: bogies confirmed hostile. We’re defending.” As ‘Prince’ broke into the incoming missile, their AWACS replied, “Cocoon flight, copy. The Kestrel is launching the Alert Five aircraft in support.” ‘Prince’ was on the verge of panicking at this point, “Tell them to hurry! I’ve noticed two of the bandits have what look like anti-ship missiles on them!”

“‘Catwalk’, Fox Two!” Leclercq stated as she fired an IR-guided missile at one of the air-to-air armed bandits; an Imperial-built F-9C Super Falcon. The missile guided off bore sight, embedding itself into the Oskburg-marked aircraft. “This is ‘Catwalk’, splash one bandit!” Leclercq nearly shouted in joy, as the enemy pilot ejected, allowing the burning hulk to fall to the sea below.

Meanwhile, ‘Prince’ was dealing with one of the anti-ship missile armed aircraft. He was about to fire a radar-guided missile when the bandit surprised him: the Oskburg-marked fighter decided to go into a turning fight, despite being weighed down by the heavy anti-ship missile. “What the...” As the enemy fighter thundered past, ‘Prince’ was able to make out the silhouette of a Cretian-built Alestra V/STOL multirole fighter. Realizing what he was up against, ‘Prince’ informs their AWACS, and by extension, the two Usean carriers, “This is Cocoon 1-2, the anti-ship missile armed aircraft are Alestras! I repeat: V/STOL fighters are engaging me!” Leclercq replied, “This is ‘Catwalk’, I’m moving to assist you.”

Leclercq soon got a radar lock on the Alestra engaging her wingman. “‘Catwalk’, Fox Three!” The missile launched off the rail and tracked straight to the target. The Alestra almost defeats it by attempting a Viff-ing maneuver, but to no avail. The missile buries itself in the tail of its intended victim. The Oskburg pilot ejected from the stricken craft. “‘Catwalk’, splash two!” But there was no time to celebrate, as the second air-to-air armed fighter, another Super Falcon, dove on Leclercq, firing its guns. The two Tempest-Cs broke hard right, forcing the F-9C to overshoot.

‘Prince’ suddenly came to a stark realization: the diving F-9C was acting as a distraction to allow the sole remaining Alestra to continue toward the task force. “This is ‘Prince’, I’ll handle this goon. You get that last Alestra.” he informed as he pulled into a low yo-yo maneuver. Leclercq replied, surprised by her wingman taking the initiative, “This is ‘Catwalk’, roger. Be careful.” before she broke away to pursue the sole remaining anti-ship armed bandit.

‘Prince’ stated to himself, “Okay, let’s see what you’ve got.” and pulled into a steep climb; the sudden loss of airspeed forced his opponent to overshoot again. Rolling back over, he caught sight of the Super Falcon desperately trying to re-engage. “I have you now. ‘Prince’, Fox Two!” The missile leaves the rail and attempts to track its target through a high-G turn, only for it to lose lock due to the enemy fighter dumping flares. “Shit! Missed!” He tries to re-acquire lock on, only for his enemy to start hitting the brakes. Realizing this, he switches to his 27mm gun, “Guns! Guns!” and lets it rip into the Super Falcon. The bullets tear into the F-9C’s tail fin and starboard wing, forcing its pilot to eject. “This is ‘Prince’, splash one!”

Meanwhile, Leclercq was closing in on the last bandit. She got a radar tone, and fired, “‘Catwalk’, Fox Three!” The missile tracks straight to the target, making her wonder if the Cretian-built fighter was about to launch its payload. The pilot ejected, but no parachute was seen. “This is ‘Catwalk’, splash three! Enemy pilot is falling free. No chute.”

“This is Cocoon flight, bandits are down. The sky is clear.” Leclercq stated to the Heavy Cloud, who then relayed the info to the carriers. Half a minute passed before their AWACS replied, “Heavy Cloud to Cocoon flight, job well done. You are clear to RTB at this time, over.” Leclercq replied, “Cocoon flight copies all. Returning to the carrier now.”

A few days later, the representative of Oskburg tried to condemn the Useans at the Assembly of Nations, claiming that the latter acted out of “unprovoked aggression”. The Usean government representatives responded by providing video proof of the Useans committing self-defense. The video footage in question showed Oskburg F-9C Super Falcons and Alestras; all armed to the brim with anti-air and anti-ship missiles.

The Oskburg government’s response to the fiasco was indignation. Their military high command ordered the flight lead to be court martialed and executed, and the other two imprisoned, for their failure to strike a blow at their Usean enemies.

by **-Ormest-** » Fri Oct 21, 2022 2:42 pm

[ Past ]

Operation Blue Shadow
Excerpt from the Catalouge of Ormessian Modern Maritime Military Affair, Library of the University of Padonela (Published 5445 AL)

Operation Blue Shadow refers to the Ormessian military campaign, particularly the naval action, against the Ruzhian government and their military forces between the spring of 5415 and the following early months of 5417; it’s also referred to as the Ormessian-Ruzhian War, the SS Nîmen Incident, and a variety of Ruzhian words to described the Ormessian aggression.

Background:
At the end of 5415 and the beginning of 5416, the Ormessian merchant fleet had continued to expand as the economics reforms started a century ago by Emperor Ondindo and continued by his grandson, and current Emperor, Nimmel, began to bear fruit and the manufacturing age reached new zeniths, thus mandating even higher outputs of trade goods to be spread across the globe, as globalism began to mature. In particular, this decade Ormessian companies had begun seeking increased trade with Eastern Imperium nations with increasing volume, such as Cuthana, Zostros, Cheyla, and even as far as Aswistan. Ormessian merchants had also traditionally refused to respect other nations custom fees, unless a prior agreement had been arranged, which was usually only with fellow great powers, such as the Kasierreich, the Estainian Empire, and others. Of particular issue this was to Ruzhia, whose maritime waters bordered a narrow trans Ceres-Athenian crossing that was vital to Ormessian, and international, trade. However, the extreme range from Ormessian coasts, almost 3,000 km at some junctions, meant that only the largest escort surface vessels in the Ormessian Navy could frequently patrol that range, but only with a heavy support system, such as a network of tender ships and bases, which at the time the Navy did not view cost effective, and thus patrols were infrequent; safety was presumed to a universal respect of international maritime law.

The First Moves:

The first unusual incident was not a singular event but rather a collection of them, occurring between Cereis 11 and Palladis 22 of 5415, when more than 74 Ormessian merchant vessels were all stopped by the Ruzhian Navy for “surprise” inspections, and more than half were boarded, with rumors of some even having their cargo seized for “violating Ruzhian smuggling laws”; the Ormessian merchants denied the accusations when they got back home, claiming they had been transporting basic materials, and accused the Ruzhian’s of state sanctioned piracy.

The Admiralty lodged an formal complaint with the Ruzhian government after an a brief inquiry, and the Imperial Court followed at their behest though it seemingly resulted in nothing, when on Salenis 17, while transiting the channel the SS Nimben which was a 35,000 ton break bulk freighter carrying a full load of processed industrial components was flagged by the Ruzhian Navy to stop for boarding a search just 8 miles south of their most southern island-chain. The captain of the Nimbenrefused, knowing he was well in international waters, and instead attempted to lose them in the bad weather ahead; after ten minutes of chase, the chasing Ruzhian vessel opened fire with their guns, and eventually two missiles struck the Nimben, disabling it. The crew were able to escape via an escape craft and reached shore in Peshait, where they told their story to the local Ormessian consulate.

An Ormessian cruiser, the AC Linnon, reached the location they gave the following day but was able to conclude that the vessel had sunk due to the damage. Emperor Nimmel summoned the Ruzhian ambassador to explain his country’s actions, but expelled him for failure to rationalize, and terminated diplomatic relations with Ruzhia.

The Admiralty was immediately contacted to ensure the safety of Ormessian merchants traveling in that channel; plans were drafted to commit the entirety of the northern fleets cruiser squadrons to serve as convoy escorts, but the head of BuShips Vice Admiral Istor Feriorian proposed his own plan of deploying the nascent submarine force that had been slowly expanded within the past decade; key to his plan was the recent introduction of the Faror class attack submarines, which were the first nuclear powered vessels within the naval service, and this allowed them a practically unlimited range; he posited that instead of spending millions of ikonis filling dozens of colliers and tenders and then deploying them in strategic spots, the submarines would be able to conduct an campaign of silent warfare, unhindered by the long distances. Out of this idea, Operation Blue Shadow was formed; at the time of his suggestion, the Navy had 19 Faror attack subs in active commission, and were set to commission an additional five the following year. In addition to these, they also had their strategically deployed Eglamben class submarines, numbering seven at the time. VA Feriorian proposed that all 19 attack submarines be sent to the north Athenian, grouped in small groups of three or more, and operate in packs, using their combined sensors and equipment to detect and track Ruzhian maritime traffic.

The initial goal of the plan was the submarines would be deployed on a harassment and raiding campaign against Ruzhian naval traffic, which the Admiralty believed after a few weeks would bring them to the negotiation table. In addition, they moved ahead with a specially formed contingent of cruisers and other surface vessels termed Task Force H to patrol the designated channel, but it would arrive a week after the subs did. Their plans were irrevocably changed when another Ormessian merchant vessel, this time a dry bulk carrier with 28,000 tons of food, was seized by the Ruzhian Navy on Salenis 28. Three days later, on the 33rd, the AC Haudhon (SSN-118), a Faror class attack submarine, observed a Ruzhian destroyer and frigate moving to intercept a group of three Ormessian dry bulk carriers; the carriers issued three warnings for them to wave off or defensive fire would be used; when the Ruzhian destroyer entered minimum weapons range, the Haudhonfired a full spread of four torpedoes and it and it’s sister vessels. One torpedo missed, while two hit the destroyer and a third hit the frigate; due to its older nature, small size, and the fact the hit took place directly on the waterline near it’s primary magazine, the frigate suffered a larger secondary explosion within 11 minutes, with the bow separating from the remainder of the hull and sunk quickly. The destroyer was left dead in the water, and the Haudhonfinished it with a third torpedo. Three days later, the submarines of N3 (3rd Submarine Squadron), located, tracked and sank 11 different Ruzhian merchants, totaling more than 540,000 GRT.

By the time Task Force H arrived on station, a force consisting of 8 heavy cruisers, 15 light cruisers, and 8 frigates, the 19 submarines of N1-7 had sunk 2,100,000 GRT of the Ruzhian merchant fleet. VA Feriorian had flag command aboard the heavy cruiser AC Morlond, and issued general warnings on general maritime frequency channels warning all traffic that any Ruzhian flagged vessel would be treated as hostile by the Imperial Ormessian Navy, and any vessel with a destination in an Ruzhian port would be stopped.

He knew the Ruzhians would respond to the attacks in kind, but he knew the best way to defeat them would be to have the submarines pick them off, divided. He used his task force as bait, and then sent his submarines on “hunting missions''; this strategy succeeded until a major Ruzhian battlefleet managed to use a storm as cover and engage Task Force H; the result was an indecisive one, two Ormessian light cruisers were sunk in exchange for 8 Ruzhian escorts and a battleship; the Admiralty decided to take a two fold response; on the morning of Othnius 15, just inside international waters but near a major Ruzhian naval base on their southern Athenian island, two Eglamben class ballistic missile submarines conducted a “test launch” of a single UM-9 Medlivornfan submarine-launched ballistic missile, each capable of a 5.6 MT warhead release with their 14 warhead RV’s each. They launched well within international waters, but the missiles exploded at a high atmospheric level approximately 15 miles inside Ruzhian airspace, over the island. Immediately following the test, VA Feriorian ordered a renewed hunt from all submarines, and even some surface ships capable of high speeds.

The Ruzhian government denounced the actions, and called for an official condemnation from the Assembly of Nations, but the non-committal stance of larger delegations left the issue floundering. In exchange, Ruzhia declared war on Ormest, noting that it had existed since the first aggressive actions had been taken earlier in the year, with Ormest stating any and all actions were taken in defense of herself, her interests, and her people. A major battle occurred much closer to the Adiyan side of the channel on Eireneanis 19 5416, when a Ruzhian battlefleet consisting of at least four battleships and an appropriate escorting force met with the majority of Task Force H, in an apparent attempt to break deeper into the Athenian Sea. The battle would last until the 23rd, and while for the first two days the extreme ranges that it was fought at saw little success for either side, Feriorian ordered the seven Faror subs with his force to get engaged; he paired them with a destroyer or smaller cruiser, and used the surface ship to mask the submarine’s movements and was able to sink two Ruzhian escorts before they moved to close the lines; the ensuing naval gun-duel pitted the 4 Ruzhian battleships and 4 cruisers against 4 Ormessian battleships, 4 heavy cruisers and 5 light cruisers; all but a single Ruzhian cruiser was sunk, while the Ruzhians managed to sink three of the Ormessian light cruisers, seriously damage two of the heavy cruisers and disable two of the guns on a single battleship. The battle was the most consequential pitched action fought by the Navy since any of the Great Wars, and the Admiralty was keen to push their advantage. Despite having been deployed for already four months at a time, the submarine squadrons were use to scout for key naval bases along the southern coast and sink ships at port when able. By the start of the winter of 4516, when the Navy had to call some of them home to rotate deployments, more than 3,500,000 GRT of civilian vessels had been sunk by the submarine task forces, which Ormessian intelligence estimated to be at least half of the Ruzhian’s total capabilities.

Task Force H would persist as a channel patrol force and occasional convoy escort unit until the summer of 4517, when by this point the now 25 Faror submarines returned for a second raiding campaign within Ruzhian waters, but it was drawn sort as diplomatic delegations at the Assembly of Nations from either nation coordinated a ceasefire on Artemis 11, 5417, and a general accord the following year.

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