Grim Winter War (Ausozera Only/IC)

by **Empire of Donner land** » Mon Aug 13, 2018 12:13 am

North Modeno, 2nd Carrier Air Group

5/18/2018

Operation: Dawnbreaker

The ASF-50s making their diversionary strikes on Vanquarian ground forces had seen some confident success, however, they did lose one fighter to ground Anti-Air, the AWACS had made sure then to inform the pilots not to get too cocky as they did have some form of protection, though it was somewhat limited in range. The aircraft had been flying somewhat low then but gained altitude as their mission was beginning to end.

Then, RWR on Donnish Fighters began to ring coming from ahead. The shots were inaccurate but a few struck true. The Donnish fired their volley of AIM-120 AMRAAMs at the Vanquarians, pumped chaff and flares, and turned up the heat on Electronic Countermeasures and Radar Jammers as they beat a retreat back over Modeno away from Erong and safely over Modenian Air Defense to the Aircraft Carrier.

Just as most had spent their Air to Ground munitions on targets, Air Support for the enemy arrived. Thanks to the ASF-50s abilities, and the Electronic Warfare support, they had the edge but took a loss of 5 Aircraft, racking up the total to 6 and lowering the 2nd CAG to a total of 54 Aircraft. As the missiles flew over Modeno between the two sides, leaving white streaks in the sky above the clouds and the contrails dancing, 4 of the 6 pilots survived, and thankfully due to the ASF-50s now fighting a retreat after losing their air to air armaments, were safely behind friendly lines to be recovered by friendly forces, not Vanquarians or Liverpoolians.

The Donnish Casualties in the war now held at a solemn 2 losses, the first losses of the war for the Donnish. Them being 2nd Lieutenants Hars Gerehn and Urhen Yenners, shot down over Modeno. But the 2nd CAG's mission was done, successfully diverting air forces and distracting them so that 2nd Battalion could get into Erong and taking out some ground forces at the same time.

Back on the ground, the 2nd Heliborne Marine Brigade were now making landfall in Erong under the cover of Radar Jamming. they a received a brief "It's all up to you groundhogs" from the flyboys and began their landing into Erong at a low altitude as raging urban combat was occurring below them. The cracks, distant pops and gunshots all melded together to create a symphony of battlefield combat. The helicopters even received a few shots at them and avoided some close calls from IR MANPADS using flares.

This was 2nd Brigade's 'Welcome to Erong' party. And Colonel Terse Benert would be the one to lead the Brigade into combat while they waited for the breakout. What the brigade had managed to send in landed around the city in communicated safe areas. The Colonel's aircraft had landed safely behind friendly lines at a Modenian Command Post and yelled boisterously as he got off with the rest of his staff "Who's in charge here!" over the UH-60's blades chopping the air.

The brigade was made up of 3 Combat Battalions which landed around the city in safe areas and began to dismount. The helicopters themselves began the treacherous way back into friendly lines under the same Radar Jamming and Distraction. The 203rd, 304th, and 192nd Battalions specifically then began to move to support Modenian Positions.

This would hopefully be a morale boost, as Donnish Marines began their movement to Modenian positions in the city.

by **Anowa** » Tue Aug 14, 2018 12:19 am

_{Specialist Soren "Verda" Valiantsson}
_{1st Mot.Inf Division, 2nd Reg, 3rd Bat, C Company, 2nd Platoon. Forward Support Controller.}
_{En Route to Staging Area}
_Anowa
_{5/18/2018 - 01:36 PM AST}

The rear of the L225 was something that Soren had spent a good portion of his life in. Many other nations had schoolbusses, but Soren's day simply started by getting up, getting into a uniform, and climbing into the back of one of these beasts for a ride that took anywhere from an hour to an hour and a half. The seats seemed to have gotten less comfy in the ten years since he started his schooling. In summer they took the canopy off, in winters they added a thicker one, not in the military proper. Here they just slapped whatever they could on, not that anyone cared. The veritable boiler suits ^[1] they wore more than made up for the snow.

"Penny for your thoughts Verda?"

Soren looked to his left, his mind coming back to the present, around him sat first and second squad, half of his platoon and the people he quite literally lived with. More specifically he looked to Corporal Rossel. Soren didn't know her first name, just that she was the paygrade above him, was rather amiable, and that she was rather pretty. Granted, the only indication of who she was, was the nametag velcro'd on to the center of her plate carrier.

"Nothing, just, thinking about how similar this is to when I was younger." came his rather curt reply.

Verda was a name he didn't really choose, it was basically a small ribbing that he was the new guy in the platoon. Only one under the age of 20, and the only one who hadn't actually fired a bullet from his weapon with the intent to kill. Not that they really expected the 16 year old to do much shooting, for he was but a simple Forward Support Controller, and thus, would be spending more time with the Lieutenant than the rest of his squad. But, it wasn't a job with low expectations. One wrong number and all of a sudden the 500 pounder that was supposed to destroy a target, instead lands on a hospital or something.

"Yeah, easier times then. Just had to worry about marks and the occasional wax round match." a pause, "You actually grew up near the Modenian border didn't you?"

Soren nodded, "Yeah, small town called Bravollr. Dad was a custom's officer."

"Right, I think you told me that already."

The duo descended into silence, Soren no longer having anything to add, nothing more that'd help anyways.

_Atlas
Motaro
_{Headhunter Team 47 assigned to "MAM-DAG"}
_{Gründorf, Modeno}
_Modeno
_{5/18/2018 - 11:00 AM AST}

Queen of Spades and Jack of Clubs, the two targets that were in the city proper. Meaning they had to go in somewhat incognito, this mean that helmets were tucked into satchels, and their BDUs were covered with thick fur longcoats, "purchased" from a thrift store some 7 blocks back. And by purchased, Atlas meant 'broke in during the night and left some cash behind.

Regardless, an apartment block in the rundown part of the city wasn't something you could just walk into guns blazing, unless you were extremely lucky. But luck wasn't something the duo tended to rely upon. They stepped past a multitude of people, all none the wiser that they were walking along the street with a duo of highly trained killers. After another block and a half of silence, the familiar sound of Anowan 5-tons rolled through the street, likely on their way to the front lines. A few people on the street gave cheers, but all in all it was a bit hollow.

"This is it." came the voice of Motaro.

Atlas hummed in response, looking up he whistled at the 14 floors of decrepti and unpainted concrete. Funny how run down here was the norm in terms of ANowan housing. SHaking his head, Atlas walked up to the doorway, finding a buzzer panel on the right of the door. Names listed, none of them exactly who they were looking for, but five did stand out. All of them known aliases of five members of the deck, though all on separate floors and in separate apartments.

Motaro sighed, before buzzing one 'Urban Lindenbuerg', a few seconds later a gruff voiced peaked over the comms, "What, who is this?"

Judging by the heavily accented Modenian he was speaking, he wasn't tipped off as to who they were. Good. "We're here to get you out." came Atlas' reply in Anowan, "You're being moved to Grunalia, along with everyone else in the building. War's kicking up and Modenian's have been tipped off by RAMP, they're closing in and we don't have a lot of time."

"Fuck me, you guys were quick, I just heard about what happened with ah... Yeah. Anyways, I'll send word to the others." the line cut out, and the door in front of them gave a buzz and promptly unlocked.

The duo of agents moving in, as the door behind them clicked shut, and the frosted glass of it concealed them, the duo quickly scanned for CCTVs, finding none in the lobby, they swiftly made their way to the stairs, passing a woman and her two children, likely making their way out into a lunch trip or simply grocery shopping. Atlas simply sent a single look to Motaro, and the shorter of the two nodded. There would be no using firearms in here to day. The rounds fired by both of their weapons had a high risk of overpenetration, meaning a single stray round could plow through the drywall and embed itself in someone who didn't deserve the pain of getting shot. Not to mention that they'd likely hear the suppressed gunshot regardless, it really depended on how sound proofed the room was.

First stop, Room 26, on the second floor. It was midway down the hall, and on the west side of the building, it had a very good view of the street, but that would be the only thing positive about this room. Inside was one Huub Luchtenberg, an eco-terroist with very skewed priorities, he blew up an oil rig with a stolen Fuel-Air Bomb, resulting in 400 dead and 4.2 billion in damages to the rig alone. Not to mention the ecological impact and the impact it had on a number of civilian jobs in Anowa. It was later that year the Navy actually had to dock most of it's older craft because of fuel limitations going towards the air force and armored corps.

Atlas rapped the door, a few moment later it cracked open, an eye peering out from under the chain still hooking it to the wall. It closed again, and opened, to a much wider view of the room. The man was holding a massive trunk, "Alright, I'll just get this shit in the van. car whatever whil-"

"We're evacing on foot. Something that big is gonna draw attention, take only exactly what you need and nothing more." Atlas had to admit that Motaro's fast mouth was sometimes a boon, but other times, well, it got them into more shit than needed.

"The fuck do you mean by foot?" he tossed his trunk further into the room with a grunt of anger, "Fuck sake I got too much shit to walk out with, motherfucker!"

The man walked deeper into the apartment, at which point the agents followed, shutting the door behind them. The duo stalked up behind the man, who was now trifling back through a mess in his room, bundles of cash, some ammo, clothing, anything and everything someone who was this embedded into crime would have in a one bedroom apartment. Atlas didn't care what he was looking for, at least at this moment in time, instead, he pulled a garrote out of his inner coat pocket, and then looped it over the man's neck, his knee driving into the small of Huub's back, and leaned in, driving both of them into the bed the man had left in disarray. Motaro quickly joined the fray and grabbed onto the man's feet, to avoid his flailing from alerting anyone below them.

Atlas remained in the position, pressure around his target's neck increasing, even past the point in which the man stopped flailing and his head turned a shade of blue. Rolling the body over, Motaro set to work shuffling through whatever he packed in his suitcase. Atlas however moved back out into the main dwelling. Looking around he spotted everything being dirty, but otherwise not containing anything of note. Simply dirty dishes, dried or moldy food, and the occassionaly grenade or magazine. For someone like this it was odd, but regardless it wasn't anything they'd need to worry about, if the Modenian Police found a compartment with a bomb in it, that was their issue.

Atlas turned back to Motaro, "Heading up to the next target, stay safe."

"Same to you."

Atlas snuck his way back out into the hall, turned down and starting to walk along it towards the opposite end they entered from. At the very end of the hall, Room 33, their next target. Hilmi al-Kabir, a chemical weapons expert from Sishai, involved in a Sarin gas attack on Galvarstead some 4 years ago, resulting in nearly 600 dead and 1800 hospitalized. A real shit show, and in it's 19 year history the first time the CBRN Response Group has actually been deployed. Atlas rapped on the door, this time in a rather sing-song esque pattern.

The door opened, and the motor mouth of a chemist immediately started talking at a million miles an hour, "You're here to get me our right? ell, I sure hope to fuck you got a plan because Modenian Cops are closing in because someone saw some fucking Anowan agents, we don't have a lotta time, both because the COps might throw us in prison forever, or the Internal Affairs fuckos blast us, I need you to help me pack some shit, like, chemicals, detonators, things I really don't want the cops getting."

The man grabbed Atlas by his collar and swiftly directed him toward a counter with a lot of gas tanks on it, each of them likely holding an absolute crap load of some ethyl-methyl-bad-shit. "I need you to start packing those down towards the elevator, there's a truck outback we can use for evac, we usually use it for out of the house related shit but it'll have to do."

Atlas simply took his garrote wire out again and set to work. The height disparity between the two was nearly a foot, so Atlas decided upon a plan of action. Looping the garrote around al-Kabir's throat, Atlas swiftly rotated and place his back against the Sishaian man, before leaning forward, lifting the chemist up a good six inches with nothing more than a simple wire.

The man started gurgling and thrashing, though nothing he would be able to do would reverse his situation, blood was now freely pouring down his front and onto the floor, and his thrashing was allowing the wire to saw deeper and deeper into his neck. Within thirty seconds the man was dead, half his neck having been sliced through.

Atlas slowly set down the body, before making his way over to the door. Stepping outside and closing it behind him.

Motaro was walking towards him from her end of the hall. "Find anything?"

"A lot of chemicals, but nothing else of note. You?"

She held up a single sheet of paper, "RV location for if shit like this happens." Whatever it was, the woman seemed a bit peeved, "Only issue is, that the RV point is in Erong." Yeah, that'd do it.

"Well shit."

Shaking his head, Atlas made his way to the stairs, striding up them like nothing at all in the negative had just happened, Motaro following close behind, as they popped up into the next level, they spotted someone running up the opposite stairs. And the door to their next target was open, in fact, the room for their next target was directly above al-Kabir's room.

There was no need for further thought, Atlas already knew what had happened. Zale Zervas, a former SIGINT specialist with the MIAHS had obviously put something in at least al-Kabir's room to prepare to bug the fuck out. And with her going up, it meant she was going for help. In the form of a Turmenistani arms dealer, Ben Van Der Sandt, and Kunigunde Wahrmann, an Anowan geneticist with enough knowledge in her mind that killing her was a priority, despite her never actually having committed a crime. The worst thing she'd actually done was associate with the Golden Sun.

Atlas and Motaro both tore up the next flight of stairs. helmets being all but ripped from their satchels and weapons being pulled from under their coats, discretion was no longer an option.

"Wahrmann, Help me!" It was a cry that came from the end of the hall, with the distinct wailing that someone screaming bloody murder had that nearly anyone, even if they couldn't speak Anowan, knew that someone was in distress. They were now on the clock.

The door slammed shut, closing in the trio of fugitives into a single room. The duo of Headhunters stacked up in short order, and less than a moment later, Atlas' foot was through the door and he was striding in. On the other side of the room was an open window, and Atlas could see railings, and hear the sound of boots on the metal of the fire escape.

The man strode across the room, all but launching himself through the plate glass in pursuit. below them in the back alley was a blue panel van, and between Atlas and the van was their trio of terroists. Two of them aiming rifles up at him. A round bounced off his plat carrier in a somewhat close call with his chin, as he rolled back into the room as bullets flew into the sky, "Stairs, stairs!"

Motaro was already booking it back down, Atlas hot on her heels as she lead this time. Within thirty seconds she was back down on the landing, hauling ass towards the front door. She didn't stop, simply electing to set her shoulder and plow through the door. With a hearty thump, she knocked it down onto the sidewalk outside, people around her stepped back, as Atlas came out, gun raised. Screeching around the corner was the blue van, roughly merging with traffic, and causing a car to reel into the oncoming lane, the inevitable head on collision not concerning the duo of killers.

Bounding into the street, Atlas took the lead once again, not risking firing a round in such a populated street. Instead, he pulled the same move he did nearly 3 days ago: electing to commandeer a vehicle. Pulling the driver out of a purple sedan, he took the driver's seat as the former occupant backed away. Motaro was in within the next 2 seconds, and her door wasn't even shut before Atlas tore down the street in pursuit. Sirens wailing closer and closer by the second.

[1] Kite BDU - Anowa's standard issue personal protective gear, consisting of modular full body extremity plating and Kevlar layering to provide as much survivability as possible. Known affectionately as 'The Boiler Suit' among troops that wear it, most plating is occasionally removed to void most fatigue. Soren has elected to keep all the plating attached.

by **Valaran** » Thu Aug 16, 2018 8:01 am

‘First Responders’

1,500 km West of Festung, International Waters
7:42 AM, 18/06/2018

The little fleet steamed on.

A thousand leagues west, the Valaran Empire stirred. Sprawling port complexes churned into life. The air was filled with the mechanical traversing of cranes, gears and generators. An army of boots tramped on, vehicles trundling behind them.

But that was all far away. None of the industrial roar crossed the ocean. Right here and now, the little fleet was the present total of Hesseren’s contribution to Modeno. It had set sail from the Sirides — indeed it was primarily recruited from the indigenous forces of that island cluster. The Sirides were much closer to the looming mass of Helsa, the spreading shadow of the Dominion. With Aratoas’ seizure, they had become a frontline, and with Modeno’s invasion they were now first responders.

The Siridian Defence Forces (SDF) ran a tight operation. There was no other option, not on their budget. But they were a defence force; not suited to the vanguard of intervention. The SMDF — their maritime branch — had deployed what they could, emptying the islands of their meagre defences. Two 1980s Frigates epitomised this. Born in the same era as the Regn Frigate of Valaran fame, these ships had none of the all-encompassing capabilities of their cousins. Sensors, air-defences, displacement, anything superfluous was stripped right back. The ships were specialised in ASW warfare and the bare minimum of general purpose; a claim to anything else was an arrogance the SMDF could not afford. These were reinforced by some newer purchases: ASW corvettes, operating far from home and far above their requirements, some pared down Karakols, and the real contribution of the Sirides: three amphibious-aviation vessels, commanded by a towering Ijariq LHD. The Ijariq provided many things for the islands — transporting its forces and personnel, helicopters for aviation and ASW, humanitarian aid for stricken nations. Most of all, they provided a sense of hard-won pride. With them, the Sirides gave something back to Ausozera; what more could they ask for?

The SMDF, to their surprise, formed the heart of this force. However, its combat power remained firmly Valaran. The 7th Patrol Fleet provided eight surface combatants. Half were older Regn Frigates, suited for ASW patrol and scouting roles. A couple of Miadars, fleet workhorses. And there were two real titans, in the form of Varnaus ‘Heavy Destroyers’. Out of fifteen warships, the two Varnaus provided approximately 45% of VLS capacity, and just under half of the ASCM complement. More useful than those measures of brute force were their sensor arrays, several orders of magnitude above anything else deployed. They guarded the command vessel — a Karvas LPH. The Karvas, due to its versatility, had been pressed into many simultaneous roles. Like the destroyers, it conducted air-searches with radars and AEW&C helicopters, and like them it had space for command facilities. Like the Frigates, it lent its helicopters to ASW duties, though it had far more of these. And like the Ijariq, it was now the closest thing the little fleet had to carrier.

Taken together, the little fleet was not quite so little. It mustered twenty-nine ships, which actually made it larger than one of the grand Valaran Expeditionary Fleets. But it was so ad hoc, so unmistakably cobbled together that, out on the ocean, it did not reflect its aggregate. Instead of looking compact, a coiled spring of iron, it looked overstretched. There was a central cluster of vessels, mostly amphibious or auxiliary. The LPH and the LHD were an odd match, one high and squat, the other sleeker, its deck closer to the waves. Spaced around them were Varnaus and Karakols. The four surface combatants formed the corners of a square. Together, they projected a defensive bubble. To the sides and front of this formation ranged eight or so frigates, screening the formation. Below them, the Jyrys swept the depths. Like how a high-school play sought to capture the drama of theatre, the little fleet sought to appear as a Carrier Strike Group, and ended up a threadbare imitation of the real thing.

At least, it looked to this way to Tafrik. He gazed at the shrunk vista from a porthole in the Ijariq. In the top left was the image of passing stormclouds. There had been rain. The view was a common one to Tafrik. His time in the Sirides, at Varhaven had been filled with these blandly grim spectacles. He felt a familiarity watching them.

He took one final look at the scene, before turning back to the small cluster of figures around a desk. Admiral Niels had just been handed a freshly printed communique. Next to him stood two SDF commanders, shorter than the Valarans and with darker blue uniforms. Both looked uneasy.

“More delays?” Tafrik asked.

“Worse.” Niels indicated the report. “We aren’t getting the VRF. Turns out that the readiness-rate was even worse than thought — they would have needed an additional four weeks to mobilise an armoured division. So they cancelled it.” He paced. “We still get the VRM. But that’s it, and it also in a month’s time.”

“What exactly do they expect to fight the invasion with?” One of the SDF commanders spoke.  “Us, I suspect.” Niels was taking this pretty well.

Tafrik cocked his head. “As great as we are, its asking a bit much. Not unless you have any tank divisions secreted in those lifeboats, eh Admiral?”

“Afraid not. On a related note, the lack of VRF has blown a hole right through planning.” Niels gestured at the desk. “I’m open to suggestions.”

Tafrik scratched his forehead. “Right…well, was there any sitrep update for the front?”

“No change, at least from what the Modenans are saying. Flint’s guys report most units are basically unengaged, still sitting in the south. As for the frontline, Erong’s pulling focus — for both sides.”

“If the Modenans are still in the south, its gonna be an absolute nightmare when the CPD and PACT pull in.” Funny how no one else had such extensive readiness issues. The 7th and the SMDF were meant to be the fast response team, but they were barely ahead of the Isle’ish or the CPD, and well behind the 100,000 forces Keenes had flung across the sea. Modeno was unprepared for its own full mobilisation, let alone invasion; there was no way they could handle the foreign legions flooding in. Airports, docks, roads, they would be filled to capacity, even if all civilian traffic was steered away (not exactly easy to do under invasion), And that was before the dozen different militaries, each with their own separate command structure, supply lines, and logistical requirements collided together on the road north.

Tafrik was still impressed by the response. Unnerved even. Modeno did not have a good reputation. It was viewed as a communist puppet of the Remnants, and a geographical irrelevance to boot. But territorial integrity was apparently a strong lure — the one thing that could appeal to all sections of the international community. Oh and everyone hated the Dominion. That also appealed.

“Yes. I have proposed that we do not alter our original landing point, along the west coast. The risk for that is no greater than it was before.” Niels smiled faintly. Tafrik knew the admiral was pretty confident in his own abilities. Nor did the risk appear that high — one thing the Dominion had not done was venture south with their navies. No one wanted to mess with the Valarans. Not at sea. Even Tafrik felt a small sweep of pride at that, though he wasn’t sure how warranted it was. The likelier answer was that the VIN’s reputation mattered less than the massed fleet strength of the allies. The rust buckets of the CPD would join with the small Modenan Navy, and more importantly, the tripartite might of Valaran, Donnerland and the Isles.

“Actually, Niels-”

“Admiral, please.” Niels’ response was instinctive, and there were appearances to maintain in front of the Sirideans.  “-Sorry. Admiral, what I meant to say, is: why should we alter anything at all? Why not just continue up the coast and do exactly what we were going to do?”  “Captain, that seems a touch optimistic. Those plans relied on our first wave being backed up within a week, and by the First Fleet and thirty thousand VRF. Now we won’t be getting any reinforcements for three weeks, and likely won’t be far north of six thousand. Barely double our own forces.”

“Replace them with allied troops then. The Isle’ish are arriving slightly after we are, and by sea as well. And Modeno’s entire navy is sitting in the south, as are what five—six brigades?”

“You think the Isle’ish or Modenans would back us up?” The SDF commander interjected.

“I’m saying there’s no harm in asking. There’s also no point building a strategic reserve if you don’t use it. They know that, and they know that the CPD and Donnish will make up any shortfall anyway.”

Niels frowned. “I will consider it. I am not sure about running the gauntlet, however. I thought it risky in the original plan, and in that we had a full Carrier air-wing right behind us”

“If it looks bad, we can use the secondary landing point, as per the original plan. But if we get Modenan air-cover, or the Isle’ish Carrier, we can still do that. We just have to open up the possibility.”

“We don’t have too long to ask, before EMCON are imposed,” Niels noted. He seemed to be coming around, but Tafrik could not be sure.

“Wire them the plan if you have to.”

“That is too risky. We have no guaranteed-secure data links with their ships, and its time-consuming to create a special channel. I’ll only do that if they’re onboard.”

“Fine.” One problem in the VIN was silos. For all the multilateral flag-waving and naval exercises they ran, the Valaran Imperial Navy were a paranoid bunch. Self-reliance was instilled into Niels’ generation of naval leaders. Everything important had to be removed from allied access. That mean separate R&D, separate weapons development, separate strategic doctrine, and separate operations. The downside of self-reliance though, was that it made cooperation less than encouraged. A fear of dependency had morphed into an overarching mistrust of anything lacking the blue-and-grey.

Tafrik never had that problem. The VRM were too underfunded, too over-deployed, hell, too dependent as it is. They could not refuse partners. Instead, they had cultivated links with foreign branches for decades, especially the Isle’ish and more recently the Donnish. It was partly the nature of what they did too. Even when cooperating, the Navy did so three hundred metres removed, behind walls of steel and encryption. For Tafrik, well, once you bleed by someone, its a hell of a lot harder to disdain them.

“I will consider it.” Niels spoke suddenly.
 “What?”  “Continuing unchanged. It could be feasible.”  “Well I certainly think so.” Tafrik smiled. “Its bold enough, after all. Shock and awe.”

A faint echo of the smile played on Niels’ face. “Shock and awe.”

by **Anowa** » Thu Aug 16, 2018 11:38 pm

_{Cpt. Pyotr Morozov}
_{111th Armored Battalion, 2nd Brigade, 1st Panzer Division}
_{Command Post}
_Modeno
_{5/18/2018 - 06:36 PM AST}

The order of battle was pretty fucked. It didn't take a tactical genius to realize that this defense wasn't going to last longer than another few days, a week maybe. No matter how many Dominion fuck wads they cut down, eventually the bullets would run out, as would food and fuel. The age old addage of 'Populations win wars' was true no matter how distasteful, drown your enemy in the blood of your fallen and you will have conquered them. While the defensive now was still holding as strong as a Pyrrhic hoplite, eventually it'd start to crumple like a can of soda.

These weren't exactly his people he was sending into battle, but they were his men, and his responsibility. So he had some form of dedication to get them out of this mess.

The sound of rotor blades was something Pyotr had almost blocked out, staring at the map of Erong below him, small figures plastered all over it.

Empire of Donner land wrote:"Who's in charge here!"

It was less of a question and more of a demand. The map below him threatening to fly off the table, grabbing a few paper weights he ironed it down as he tipped a few of the flags into their sides so as to not have them blow entirely away.

Turning to the approaching Donnish... colonel, it seemed he gave a nod and offered his hand, "That would be me Colonel. Captain Pyotr Morozov, 111th Armored Battalion, 2nd Brigade, 1st Panzer Division. Battalion commander after my CO got slapped by an ATGM." a pause as the Helo started to lift off, making it easier for the man to speak without screaming, "At the moment we're at a status quo, we kill 5 of them, they bomb a hospital. jamming has fucked our comms, leaving us with city bound landlines, whieh, occasionally get blasted by artillery or airstrikes, so at best I know I'm not the ranking officer in the whole goddamned city, but that's pretty much the limitation of what I know."

"Most civvies are content to sit out in the refugee centers, but 3 out of ten get their shit rocked when a Dommie plane drops munitions on it, it's pissing the troops off, but I don't know if it's intentional or not, but with rumors that the Dommies are capping civilians against walls, people aren't taking it kindly. Some have started forming militias, and while both us and the local law enforcement are basically telling them to sit their asses back down, not all of them are listening. Airspace is contested, which makes it a fucking miracle you got here unmolested. And the Dominion just recently -as in maybe a day ago, my clocks are all broken- started their proper offensive. But we're holding the line."

The captain shrugged as he walked back over to the map, "But we're running out of food, ammo, and fuel. Water is fine, since most plumbing still works and we can boil what we need. But I sure do hope you brought more than just a few hundred extra mouths to feed. Also, some news of the outside world would brighten up my day a bit."

Pyotr looked back down at the map, shaking his head. Outside of his own little corner of the city, the rest was simply blue flags with little question marks giving rough locations. It was a shit situation all around, sipping on cocktails while sitting on one of The Bay's many beaches had, sadly, been put on hold. "This was supposed to be my bloody vacation too."

by **Empire of Donner land** » Thu Aug 23, 2018 9:22 am

North Modeno, Erong

5/18/2018

Operation: Dawnbreaker

The Colonel took the newly inaugurated Captain's hand and shook it as he took off his beret, which visibly had shown the PACT's symbol on the front of it. A new change for uniform regulations when working with other nations in PACT operations as an act of uniformity and solidarity within the organization. They looked tired, and so did every soldier in the surrounded city, but not defeated, which was good. The Colonel didn't intend on losing.

In his G3 Combat Uniform in DONPAT (a Donnish digital pattern created for urban and snowy environments) he stood out amongst the other Modenian Troops as he walked back to the map with Captain Morozov.

Listening to the situation report, it was grim, but not unsurvivable and honestly better than they had anticipated in the first place as to what the situation was. With that fill of poor news, it was time to inform the Captain of the changing situation outside of the city.

"Colonel Iyern Frest, just call me Colonel Frest. 5th Marine Division, 2nd Brigade. We're about 5,000 Strong and at full combat effectiveness at the moment, with our little landing we also brought in DPRT Pararescue to assist in calling in Air Support.

I'm not gonna lie, getting in here was tricky, we had to make a diversionary attack to the west and bring in Prowlers to jam their radar and electronics. We lost some aircraft and 2 Pilots, other than that, the operation went without a hitch. But what's important now is this city's situation. I'll give you the good news first." The colonel said pointing at the map, south of the city.

"We've got support incoming in the form of an Armor Division and Close Air Support from 2 Carriers we have in the seas, infrastructure north of the city on the border, namely bridges and roads, were cruise missile struck to slow their advance and cause supply problems. We're working with the rest of PACT and namely Anowan forces to make a break out of the city, and maybe, just maybe, an offensive for a change." The colonel spoke, drawing various symbols and lines to mark out what he had just said, then his face soured.

"The bad news is that those forces won't be getting here for about 3-4 days, so we'll have to tough it out. But I promise, if our forces give us 4 days and 4 nights of fighting and defense, and hold the line, we will be relieved and the Modenan forces here can enjoy a nice long R&R behind friendly lines. Tell your lads that, and you'll see hope in their eyes. My forces are being split evenly to fill visible gaps, give them the word and they can relieve a unit if you need them to." The Colonel stood up from the map and put his beret back on, adjusting it and giving the Captain a smirk.

"Then you'll get that vacation, too."

by **Vanquaria** » Tue Aug 28, 2018 5:19 am

Erong, Modeno

5/18/2018

Battle of Erong

The Vanquarians chose to rain down ranged firepower on the Donnish and Modenian troops hiding within Erong, regardless of collateral damage to civilians though more careful of causing collateral damage to buildings. Through constant surveillance by drones and satellites, the positions of the Modenians in the city were well known to Command. The Donnish reinforcing their positions did not help turn the tide of the overall battle however. It merely gave more bodies to the Grim Reaper as Vanquarian artillery and drone bombings persisted against Modenian positions.

Advanced and less advanced surveillance drones were launched ahead as Liverpudlian troops surrounded and entrenched themselves around the city's outskirts and forestland. Vanquarian commanders prioritised the setting up of rocket artillery positions over the PACT special forces within Erong so any direct assault was tailed back to allow the conventional forces to set up positions without major engagements. Krasukha-4 jamming stations and Liverpudlian Torndado ECRs flying overhead were used to block the enemy's access to communications with their main force.

After 2 days of bombardment and urban skirmishes, the Prince's Paratrooper cohort was called in to forcefully dismantle pockets of resistance alongside Vanquarian special forces. About 9,00 paratroopers alongside hundreds of Spetsnaz soldiers used armour and superior firepower to surrounded and engage the resistance fighters in direct combat. The battle began upon nightfall, 5/19/2018.

Modenian and Donnish soldiers that resisted bravely faced psychological assault by the loudspeakers of the SS, threatening the decapitation of Modenian children taken hostage by the SS unless they surrendered. Naturally the Donnish soldiers were less susceptible to such threats compared to the Modenians. After all, it was who the Modenian soldiers were supposed to be protecting, the most vulnerable part of any society; the children.

The introduction of the fearsome Uran UGV tank into the urban combat zone would mean the Donnish marines faced advanced firepower without making any kills against the Vanquarians who operated the UGVs safely away from the battle. During the fierce urban combat, chemical weaponry was considered by the SS however upon discovery by the Liverpudlian Prince, a captain in the elite Paratroopers cohort, the idea was quickly scrapped to appease the ethical beliefs of their allies.

There was no cease in the operation to remove the hostile elements still within Erong. A powerful turning point after the UGV was the presence of Bell Viper attack choppers that had arrived from Liverpool, having been transported from CSG-5 all the way to the war-zone. The pilots were members of the elite Special Aviation Force aka. "Vampires," where they, armed with an integrated helmet and display sight system with their Bell Viper were used to provide powerful air support to the special forces fighting the Donnish and Modenians within the city.

Bringing in flame-throwers, SS deathsquad troopers spared none in buildings where enemy soldiers were residing. Even civilians hiding in the same building were not spared. Operators from the Tier-1 counter-terrorism unit, Alpha Force, used Caterpillar D9 bulldozers alongside their Uran-9 UGVs to forcefully access fortified buildings of the resistance.

Booby-traps from the Modenians caused many casualties for the Dominion soldiers, in the hundreds, however their operation was reinforced by 5 entire mechanised marine regiments, each formerly intended to be used against the conventional armies of PACT but redirected to support the urban war happening within Erong. The marines alongside the paratroopers provided the necessary manpower to overwhelmingly outnumber the resistance within Erong. Mouse-holing tactics and the use of BTR-80s against the Donnish and Modenian troops inside Erong allowed breathing space for the beleagured Liverpudlian paratroopers whose orders had now changed to providing support against the larger, oncoming force of PACT forces.

Eventually, the Liverpudlians had left the job of suppressing revolt in Erong to the Vanquarians and Exalibasians, specifically the task was now the responsibility of the SS death-squads to enforce martial law and use all the most efficient methods possible to smoke out those Donnish and Modenian soldiers that continued putting up relevant resistance against their forces.

by **The United Remnants of America** » Wed Aug 29, 2018 12:41 am

Co-Written by The United Remnants of America and Anowa

Sergeant Kazik Winkler

Gründorf, Modeno

5/18/2018 - 14:35

”Give me answers, Sergeant! Your ass is now supremely on the line with this investigation.”

Winkler pulled the cell phone from his face and looked at the screen. Even though he knew the man on the other end of the call couldn’t see the gesture, he imagined the man could understand the pause before Winkler placed the phone back to his ear and responded, “Yes, sir. I understand, sir.”

”Don’t give me that ‘yes, sir’ bullshit, Kazik. This has been going on for too long, now. The assassination shit was fine and all, but the cap has blown on this. Public panic, armed foreigners in the streets of Gründorf? A fucking shootout? Get this over with, Sergeant. Now.” The line clicked off without a goodbye.

Kaz cursed and slid the phone into his pocket. He looked up at the apartment building that was covered in hastily thrown-up police tape and a small army of Gründorf’s Finest. Additionally, Winkler’s own people were also scouring the new investigation zone, looking for any leads to where the unsubs had fled, both the attackers and the attacked.

Gründorf was in a panic. Word had also spread through the country of this mess, that the war had spread further south with black ops raids on Modenian nationals, and the fact that no police spokespeople were offering any comments right now made the rumor machine run even more wild. The police were more focused on finding and containing these people, whoever they were, but they were starting to get an idea.

Two bodies had been found in the apartment block. Both rooms had bad shit in them. Weapons, cash, chemicals, explosives, fake IDs.Kaz’s people were working on the real identities of the first guy, but images of the second guy had pinged facial recognition as one Hilmi al-Kabir, a Sishanite terrorist wanted for a whole lot of bad things. The couple bodies they’d had ID’d already were leading somewhere Kaz wasn’t liking.

He was pulled from his thoughts by another Anowan convoy passing through the city. Gründorf had been a transit zone for the mounting Anowan forces against the Dominion in the north. Winkler chuckled. It was ironic that those soldiers were probably unaware their own countrymen were probably putting him on this damned wild boar chase.

Kaz signalled two of his people who had been nearby for the phone call and called them over. He needed answers, or his captain who’d hung up so abruptly on him was going to start making Modenian heads roll, first of which would be his.

Kaz looked at the two junior detectives, “I want details people. And new ones. Names, updates, anything.”

One of the younger officers nodded, “One of the Gründorf uniforms just told me their guys went chasing after the unsubs.”

Kaz stared at the detective, mouth agape. “And they decided to not tell us that immediately, why?”

The officer shrugged, “Things are a mess here. Apparently these guys don’t deal with shootouts and car chases too often.”

“Fucking…” Kaz handed out his hand and snapped his fingers, “I want a carbon copy of the report in my hands now. I want to know exactly what happened!”

Officer Wieland Daniel

Outside Gründorf, Modeno

5/18/2018 - 11:20

Wieland Daniel and his partner, Rosalie Aust, had a combined decade of policing experience between them. Behind them, in a second squad car, were Isabell Fedorov, and Rodion Fischer. Fischer and Fedorov were more experienced, but they’d gotten to the scene a minute slower, and were now the trail car in what Daniel had decided was a four-car chase.

In front of them, way ahead was what the the backup on-scene had gotten civvies to describe as an unmarked van, while the car directly in front of them, a purple sedan, had Modenian plates and was stolen by some military-looking assholes. Everyone else was back in Gründorf was securing the scene, but these four uniforms were planning on bringing some street justice to these militia-wannabe murderers.

Atlas And Motaro

Outside Gründorf, Modeno

5/18/2018 - 11:20

Meanwhile in the purple sedan, Motaro was assembling her own AU-410, in preparation for outright lobotomizing any part in the van ahead of them that was associated with movement

The flashing lights in the rearview mirror gave rise to a frustrated grunt from Atlas. “Van or the cops?”

Motaro finished popping the barrel into place, “I’ll fire a warning shot. See if that wards them off, second round is going into the van.”

“Please don’t kill them, this is gonna be a big enough of a shitstorm as is.” the sounds of helicopter rotors reached the duo, “Fuck me is that...”

“It’s a news chopper.” came Motaro, “Man, Oleander is gonna chew our asses out for this.”

“Well, someone’s gonna get the scoop of their life.” Atlas sighed, “Alright, you good to go?”

“Yup.” the woman proceeded to shove her armored and armed form out the Sedan’s window, putting one foot against the dash, while her husband grabbed her other with his off hand. Looking back at the police behind the purple sedan, she readied her rifle. Her point of aim would be dead center in the lead car’s windshield, with the goal of getting a point across, as well as spider webbing the glass to slow them down.

She fired the first round, the nigh ten and a half millimeter round cracked the sky, breaking the sound barrier and crossing the distance in less time than it takes to blink.

Aust leaned forward and squinted as a form appeared out the side of the sedan in front of the squad car, “Is that what I-”

“Gun!” Daniel yelped. His heart leapt into his throat as his hands cranked hard on the steering wheel. As the Modenian police car swerved into the oncoming lane to avoid the inevitable, Daniel heard what he’d been expecting.

The crack of terrorist’s rifle fire was loud enough to be heard even over the distance and the speeding of the vehicle. Daniel’s eyes flickered closed and he swore his heart stopped, but a quick glance showed nothing had been hit. In the span of that same half of a second, he looked into the rearview mirror at Fedorov and Fischer’s squad car.

Daniel felt himself lose track of time as he focused on the cracked windshield of the second squad car focused on the driver’s side, the red mist settling on the spiderwebbed glass. He was only able to take in those details before the second squad car cut hard to the right, went up on two tires, flew off the road, and hit a tree head-on, putting the car to a dead stop.

Daniel’s eyes flicked back to the road ahead of him and then to Aust in the seat next to him. She was turned around in her seat and had watched the carnage erupt behind them. She turned back to fact the front, her eyes locking on the stolen sedan, mouth hanging open in dumbfounded shock.

“Rosalie.” Aust didn’t respond. Daniel turned to look at her, ”Rose!”

“Y-yeah…?” Aust’s mouth closed and she began to regain composure as she came back to the situation at hand.

“You remember how to shoot?”

Aust nodded, but Daniel could tell his partner was still shaking, “Yeah, I do.”

“Then roll down the window.”

Aust did as she was told, then glanced at Daniel, suddenly understand what he intended her to do. She didn’t need a follow-up command. Aust slipped her pistol out of its holster, unclipped her seatbelt, and and leaned out of the squad car with her weapon drawn. She put two rounds towards the gunman, and then emptied her magazine at the back of the car, hoping to hit tires, a person, something to punish those fuckers that had just killed their friends.

Motaro didn’t move, eyes rooted to the wreck in the distance, as it drew further and further away. The lead car swerved, she tracked it, and in the final second of her finger contracted, she checked the background.

She regretted not aiming for something infinitely more solid.

“I… I missed.” she called out, but the response was muted. As the passenger of the lead, and now only, car proceeded to mirror Motaro’s actions. Though in a much less restrained manner, emptying their own magazine in a rather wild pattern. But despite this, one round did have an effect beyond shattering glass or ruining bodywork.

Though Motaro wasn’t aware of the caliber, any bullet likely would’ve done the same, as it ripped into her rifle and basically separated it along the upper and lower receivers. The barrel, scope, and chunk of the bolt fell to the road before bouncing past the pursuing car. Seeing no use, she dropped the lower receiver and ducked back into the car.

“I didn’t hear that.”

Atlas repeated what he said seconds before, “Standard ROE now. You kicked a fucking hornet’s nest, you realize that right? Not just a Modenian one but an Anowan one as well.”

“Yeah.” ahead of them the van was starting to slow, a few bullet holes in it from the wild fire from behind them.

Atlas all but stomped down on the accelerator, seeing the next few miles of roadway being empty. “Get ready to empty a PM mag into the goddamn driver’s seat.”

Motaro did as instructed, SMG ready and suppressor removed, the bog standard ammo of the weapon was in the chamber instead of the sub-sonic rounds they’d been using prior. The sedan was much faster than the aging van, as such it was able to close the distance in a rather succinct fashion.

Pulling up next to the unmarked van, Motaro looked up to the driver’s seat, and spotted the Turmenistani arms dealer at the wheel, he made to smash the van into the much lighter sedan, but Motaro was quicker on the draw, both literally and figuratively. A magazine of 32 rounds was dumped into the driver’s side door. Blood from the rapid input of 12.7x35mm SAPHE rounds turning the man into literal chum, and causing the van to rapidly lose control, before rolling and smashing into the guardrail, before careening into the forest.

Atlas nearly followed them as he stamped the brakes on the ABS-lacking sedan. The duo of black ops soldiers immediately ditched the vehicle, before heading towards the road’s edge and forest. “Grey-Box, see what you can do about the cops.” came the voice from the male half of the two.

A simple bleep was all that came in response.

Daniel stood on the police cruiser’s brakes, making the tires lock up and the vehicle slide as it left rubber on the asphalt. The cruiser shuddered to a halt, and Daniel and Aust shared a look before nodding at once to each other. Their cruiser was a hundred feet from the purple sedan, left idling in the road, doors open.

The two Modenians had watched the shooters in the purple sedan waste the van’s driver, which let the van careen off the road, much like Fedorov and Fischer’s car had done. The van had missed an immediate tree, however, and had disappeared into the treeline. The two shooters in the sedan had gone in after them.

Daniel pulled on the driver’s side door handle and kicked it open. He pulled his service pistol as he stood, his eyes scanning the car even though he knew it was empty. He heard Aust’s door open, and without looking, he jerked his head towards the trunk of the cruiser.

“Get the pump. Just in case.”

“No problem.”

Aust’s pistol was still drawn, she dropped the empty magazine from it, threw it in the car, and pulled a fresh one from her duty belt, reloading the weapon before reholstering it. She moved around the car and popped the trunk, pulling the pump-action shotgun that every Modenian cruiser had for tough situations, as well as a handful of shells that she shoved into the weapon’s stock shell-holder. She slammed the trunk closed and walked around the vehicle, coming up on Daniel’s side. Two two moved quickly, but carefully towards the sedan, clearing it before looking at the tire tracks that went into the woods, marking where the van had gone.

Aust looked at Daniel. “Do we go in? With no backup?”

Daniel nodded and then glanced up in the sky at the droning of the news helicopter, “Yeah,” Daniel looked back at Aust, “We’re gonna get those assholes.”

Without further preamble, Daniel strode off the road and down into the forest with Aust in tow, her knuckles white as they squeezed the shotgun for comfort. She pumped it just to make sure a round was loaded. Just in case, like Daniel said.

The first thing that Motaro and Atlas saw that gave the indication of a fight, was the fact the sliding door to the van sailed rather swiftly between their heads before embedding itself in a tree in a mangled mess.

Atlas paused, “Grey-Box, be advised, Wahrmann may be undergoing Gamma Induced Psychosis.”

A synthetic voice chimed in, “Affirm, Detachment 17 Squadron Alpha has been informed and is ready to scramble. Be cautious.”

“Should we tell the cops?” came Motaro.

“No. We can’t let anyone know about what they can do… Which means we have to let her get away.” a pregnant pause followed as the sound of a shotgun racking behind them echoed into the forest.

“Why?”

“DNA.”

Motaro gave a grunt in the affirmative, acknowledging that the van being scrapped was now a bigger priority than catching either of their targets. As they approached the van, they slowly swept along the sides, no sound coming from within, and only a single body in the vehicle itself, that of the now split in half and gruesomely reconfigured Turmenistani arms dealer.

In a single moment, Motaro tossed an incendiary grenade into the vehicle, hoping that the cook off as well as the ensuing upholstery fire would bake the vehicle out.

“Contacts, 6 o’clock.” Atlas spoke mere moment before he shifted behind a rather thick tree at the edge of the now fire lit clearing, as Motaro took refuge behind a log. While it would be unfortunate, the duo of headhunters were cleared to fire when fired upon. Whether or not they would was up to them.

It wasn’t long before the flickering flames and sounds of a fire drew Officers Daniel and Aust directly towards the wrecked van. As they closed, Daniel noticed Aust’s nose crinkle, and he sniffed the air, he couldn’t quite get the smell down, but Aust answered the thought for him.

“Human flesh.”

“You sure?”

Aust nodded, “One of my first calls was a burning car accident. I can’t forget that smell. Flesh and machinery.”

Daniel nodded, not in knowing so much as understanding that she was most likely right.

As the two Modenians got past a thicket of trees, Daniel noticed what looked like the door of the van fused into a larger tree several feet away. Did the van explode? Did they just not hear it? A flicker of movement caught Daniel’s sight and his gun went up. Aust’s shotgun came up a moment later, the female officer mirroring her partner’s motions.

Daniel took another step, pressed the safety off his weapon, and pulled the slide back just enough to ensure a bullet was in the chamber. No movement in front of them except the dancing of the flames in the van. He could swear he could just make out a human-looking shape in the driver’s seat. That might’ve been the source of that smell Aust mentioned, but since it wasn’t moving, they likely weren’t alive.

“Gründorf Police!” Daniel’s voice commanded, “Put your weapons down and come into view with your hands wide open and away from your body!”

The officer felt stupid talking into nothingness, but he was sure he’d seen movement. Aust took a step slightly ahead of him, and another step to the right, trying to get a different angle on the van.

The only response was a shift in tone from the radio Daniels wore on his chest, as if it was tuning to another frequency, or rather something else was tuning in. A few moments of this, and soon enough a voice broke through, gravelly, synthetic, yet perfectly in tune. It was as if someone’s voice box was born robotic, “Officer Daniel was it? I believe we need to speak about your current situation, urgently.”

Daniel nearly jumped out of his skin. The last thing he expected was a voice to come from that close to him. He kept his eyes pinned to the trees and the van, and moved one hand from his pistol to his radio.

Aust looked back at him, she’d heard the voice, too. “Uh. Go for Daniel?” He was beginning to get a feeling that this was going to be bad news.

“Officer Daniel, My name is Grey-Box. I am a Operations Advisor for the Anowan Joint Special Operations Command. I would strongly advise you lower your weapons and take a non-threatening posture, as one of the agents you are pursuing is counting down from 30.” a pause for a few moments as the voice let that set in, “With that out of the way, I would like to inform you that the van has a potential Level 12 Classified Biohazard within, and that it may have negative effects on your health, furthermore one of the unsubs from the van is 100% integrated with said Classified Biohazard, and was responsible for embedding that door into the tree 18 meters to your rear.” a pause.

“I would very much suggest to you that you simply remain where you are, and to not fire upon anyone else you see within the next 10 minutes. For the loss of life in this pursuit has already reached unacceptable levels. Would you agree?”

Daniel couldn’t believe his ears, and he definitely couldn’t believe this voice. Daniel depressed the transmit button on his radio again, “Whoever you’re talking about on the other side of that tree killed my friends, officers of the law, so I’m not lowering my weapon. If they want to come out and talk to me, then they can do that unarmed and we can get all this figured out.

Daniel didn’t know what a biohazard was, and frankly, he didn’t care. These assholes had killed people in Gründorf, and they’d killed two cops. He and Aust had a personal interest in dealing with these people, whoever they were.

“Uh, Wieland?” Daniel looked towards Aust. She was looking at him. “Maybe we should listen to that guy. If these are Anowan spooks…” She hefted her shotgun, “I don’t think we’re prepared. It sounds like we’re in over our heads.”

“We lower our guns, Rose, and they blow us away like they did Izzy and Rod. I’m not taking that chance. These fuckers have a lot more explaining they need to do before I feel comfortable with my finger off this trigger.”

Aust just pursed her lips, but didn’t say anything else. She looked back at the trees ahead of her where she could feel something was lurking, like a predator in the forest, waiting to pounce.

Two puffs from the outside of the clearing, now much closer to the duo of cops than they should’ve been. One round drove towards the weapons of each officer, the SAPHE rounds would make rather quick work of the internals if they hit their mark, but much like the roadway, if either decided to suddenly move, their hands were at risk.

Above them, the news chopper started drifting northwards, it’s own target now swiftly on the move.

Daniel and Aust were suddenly met with the stinging of metal bits and polymer as they weapons exploded in their hands. Aust let out a yelp as the largest pieces of former shotgun fell from her hands while Daniel grimaced, looking down at his hands, seeing small pinpricks of blood from the shrapnel. The two were lucky these special forces types were such good shots. Daniel was still angry, but he was smart enough to know he should be dead if these people wanted him dead.

“Okay, you made your point. Come out.”

Aust’s movement caught the corner of his eye and he glanced at her. Her hands were sprinkled with blood as well, and a cut was on her cheek now, likely from the shrapnel of the weapon in her hands being destroyed. She’d moved her hand towards her hip, where her sidearm was. Daniel hissed to get her attention, then shook his head no. Not yet. Aust nodded and moved her hand away from her hip.

The two stood there, waiting for something, anything to happen.

Atlas made his way out from his hiding spot, a tree no less than three meters away, the six and a half foot tall man had his gun raised and aimed squarely at Aust’s chest, “You’ll be happy to know that my helmet can withstand a .50 BMG impact at muzzle velocity, and the body armor I’m wearing can withstand a 7.62x51mm AP round at 700 meters per second. The most your pistol is gonna is do is piss me off further. So don’t bother reaching for it again. If you do, both of you will die. Period.”

A pause as he switched to the other officer, Daniel, “I will make one thing clear, you stepped in some shit you really shouldn’t have. The contents of that van could’ve included anything from Sarin to a classified mutagen involved in Anowan military experiments. Said experiments link to a genealogical research program in the 90s, namely the Olympian program which knowledge and understanding of is all basically public domain if you feel like googling it later. Short story shorter, we were trying to apprehend a woman who is afflicted with it, as well as a possible bout of acute psychosis. And now she’s running amok in a forest that’s under your jurisdiction. Imagine a woman on half a gallon of PCP, three doses of morphine, half a pound of meth, and enduring 40 years of unmedicated schizophrenia in a span of about 12 hours, and that’s basically what you have on your hands.”

“The only reason you two aren’t dead right now is because technically speaking all you had to do was ask the two mysterious people what the fuck they were doing and they’d be obligated to tell you. Instead, you swerved during a warning shot, that was supposed to go wide and the ballistics got fucked, killing your friends.” His safety flicked on, and he lowered his weapon, digging for something tucked behind his plate carrier. Pulling the object free, it was a rather rugged looking ID card, “In case you were wondering, I’m part of the Anowan Ministry of Internal Affairs and Homeland Security. Since a CSAR chopper is inbound to help us find the target we’re after, Gründorf is likely to be very busy over the next few days, and now, it’s more than likely the rest of our targets will flee the country because of this.” he then dropped all sense of posture and stood in a rather lax pose.

“Sorry about your hands. And before you ask, standard procedure for deaths like your fellow officers during operations like this is three times their salary paid to their families over a course of 40 years, followed by all debts such as student or outstanding loans being paid out and their names being inscripted into our Black Rock. It won’t heal the pain or bring them back, but at least we aren’t sweeping it under the rug like some others.”

A silence settled in between the two Modenian police officers and the Anowan special forces man. The Anowan had explained himself completely and succinctly. It was a lot of information to absorb in the span of a couple minutes, especially since the minutes prior to that were full of adrenaline, shooting, and terrorists.

Aust, on one hand, was struck dumbfounded. Her eyes were the size of dinner plates and her body was stiff and trembling. Her arms hung limply at her sides as her vision dimmed and her eyes stayed pinned to the special forces man in the exotic foreign armor. To say she was currently dissociating into a mild form of shock was an understatement.

Daniel, on the other hand, stared the foreign man down before finally coming up with a practical, but efficient response, “Well, fuck you anyways! You have no right to be here and neither do your crazy people. You all have a lot of answering to do for all this. You people are supposed to be stopping an invasion, not killing my friends and letting your crazies run loose in our cities! So, fuck you…” Even as he began to lash out, Daniel was quickly losing steam, his own reserves running dry in the face of such an absurd situation and and his partner had been forced into. It still didn’t stop him from trying to inject as much venom and vigor into his words as he could muster.

Atlas shook his head, evidently not caring about the words the officer had so bluntly stated. Either Atlas acknowledged them or simply ignored them, regardless, he spoke, “Emotional outbursts aren’t going to get you anywhere. In situations like this, you’re supposed to take a rational outlook on things and let the emotions take a backseat. Let them come back after things settle down. It’s like that as much with law enforcement than it is with the military.”

He started walking to the edge of the clearing. “I would very much advise you inform your superiors, and tell them that we’re heading to Erong. It’s where most of our targets are supposed to be heading anyways.” a pause as he stopped near the clearing, “Aust was it? Don’t hesitate with the hip draw next time.”

The man faded into the treeline, nothing more but the sound of a crackling fire burning out in the clearing as the inside of the van lost it’s fuel. Along with only one body held within.

Sergeant Kazik Winkler

Gründorf, Modeno

5/18/2018 - 14:40

Kazik looked up from the hastily-written report. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

Kazik’s teammate, who’d stood by while he read the report just shrugged, “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I want you to say that you’re fucking with me and you have the real report somewhere else, in which case, I should pistol whip you for wasting my time.”

The junior detective offered another shrug, “That’s the only report, sir.” He wasn’t in a joking mood, apparently.

“Right,” Kazik sighed and looked at the ground, “Well, round up our people. The local uniforms can handle this. We’re going to Erong.”

“But Erong’s a warzone, Sarge.”

It was Kaz’s turn to shrug, “I’m aware, but we’re just gonna have to bite the bullet and do what we can with what we have, so off with you, I wanna be packed and going in five minutes. Also, see if you can find those two street cops, I’m deputizing them in the name of the national office since they’re experts on this case.”

“Uh, yes, sir.”

As the teammate nodded, turned, and left to gather the detective team, as well as Officers Daniel and Aust, Kaz shuddered as he realized his figure of speech could become less figurative and more literal. He just hoped that if anyone would be biting any bullets, it wasn’t anymore of his people. While he believed the report, albeit cautiously due to the stress Daniel and Aust were probably under and still were experiencing, he didn’t believe a word that Anowan spook had told the two young cops. For all Kazik cared, they were all problems and threats to the peace and security of his country, and they’d all answer to some extent for the bullshit they’d put him and his team through these last few days.

by **Vacif** » Wed Sep 26, 2018 4:24 pm

_{Col. Chet Bo Nin}
_{CO of Vacifan 72nd Mechanized Brigade
Festung International Airport}
_{Festung, Modeno}
_{United Socialist States of Modeno}
_{05/18/2018 - 14:55 MST}

The Colonel sat in the shuttle bus quietly as it ferried him and a number of other soldiers and support staff to the terminal where they would then transfer to another means of transport taking them to the rails station. He leaned his head against the headrest. He hated flying. It was why he was a Mechanized commander instead of an airborne one. He sighed at the thought that many of the 72nd might actually see real combat these coming weeks. Turmenista didn't count. Roving gangs, bandits, and disgruntled civilians did not count. They did however get some great real life exposure to the effects of war and the deployment of nuclear ordnance and what it does to a civilian population. Handling desperate civilians was an important skill to learn, and it could only be learned through real life experience. But it wasn't real combat.

"Is... something wrong Colonel?" Inquired Corporal Win. He was his scribe. Everything he did, words, actions, commands, he recorded for an official record. He was kind of like a stenographer, but for everything. The army wanted to know everything, and wanted no gaps in the process as long as he was in command. That way if they ever got prosecuted, they had a record to detail their innocence... or their damnation. If he sat down at 13:14 for lunch, Win would record that, what he had, how long he took, and more. If he went to take a leak, he'd record, that and if washed his hands, and so forth.

"Hm?" Chet hummed. "It's nothing Corporal. I just dislike flying. I think we're... three hours ahead of home? That much alone will mess me up. How you young guys just bounce back from this I do not know." As he said this, he could hear Win furiously typing away on his laptop as he watched the Colonel. He smirked, at least the man did his job. The Colonel broke eye contact and went back to his mental musing. Enjoying the time to think of whatever he wanted to while he still had the chance.

Somewhere along the lines it had been agreed that the 7th Mechanized would be the designated expeditionary element of Vacif for PACT operations. Like Turmenista, the 72nd was the last unit to land in the host country. The other Brigades were already on their way north via Modenan Rail. They were here to show the Vacifan government's commitment to PACT and its values. There were reservations back home about the effectiveness of hurling thousands of Vacifan soldiers across the planet, let alone the cost to deploy and operate overseas, but these were mostly held by the older more conservative members of the country. The younger, more eager members of the population were willing to support and unlikely aware of the true cost of the government's dedication overseas.

The army though? They were just happy all the training they were getting was finally being used. Most military units sat at base training and drilling for a war on their door step that probably wouldn't come for a good while. Hopefully. It was kind of funny to think most cops, or rather federal agents probably saw more action than the standard army trooper. They at least saw regular action against pirates, smugglers, and anyone foolish enough to do something warranting MIST^[1]. Some joked that the Army was a kind of training program for becoming a cop because of the high amounts of people joining the army just to raise their chances of getting into police or federal agencies.

The shuttle bus came to a halt, and the Vacifan Forces members began to disembark. They were at the bus terminal that would then send them to the 60th Street Rail Station. From there they would be on an unstopped journey to the staging point in tandem with their Valaran naval counterparts. The rough idea for Operation: Modenian Guard was for the Valaran naval elements to secure the beach head of the AO, while Vacifan Mechanized to push up from behind and continue the assault. The 72nd would be held in reserve as usual while the 70th and 71st would lead the assault. Valaran naval assets would control the seas, while Ranger reconnaissance stirred up chaos across the battle space. All the while, the 4th Air Wing would provide close support for the assault. The West had been relatively quiet since the front was established, and now they were going to shake things up.

_{[1] MIST - Ministry of Internal Security Team, the spear of the Ministry operates where local assets may not, either due to geography or threat level. Established in the 80s after local Tactical Units were unable to engage high threat targets in the jungle and in the city. Think of FBI SWAT/HRT units.}

by **Anowa** » Mon Oct 01, 2018 1:46 am

_{Queen Oleander Pyrrhas II}
_{Anowan Head of State}
_{Anowan Royal Palace, Terrenus}
_Anowa
_{5/17/2018 - 11:11 AM AST}

Oleander never really felt safe in the royal palace. Despite it's size, and the fact it was quite literally a fortress [1], it always had a sense of emptiness and the unknown. As a child she'd hear things, sometimes see things out of the corner of her eye in some random hall and run back to her parents. Now she knew it was designed that way back when it was built to ward off assassins and invaders, but it still creeped her out at times. But despite that, the massive building never felt right, as if she was being watched by someone or something nearly all the godsdamned time. Even after spending a few month having MIAHS personnel combing the palace for listening devices and cameras, she still felt vulnerable.

Regardless, the situation of how creepy her new home was, was ultimately irrelevant to the current goings on. 8 personnel from the treasury, the entire Joint Chiefs of Staff, and 32 interns of the MIAHS, and herself were currently sorting through nearly 30 years of documents for any discrepancy for why the nation was tanking economically when on paper they should've been climbing in wealth.

The documents in question were for the only ministry that was regularly over budget, which was the Ministry of Defense. They'd been overbudget for a lot of things despite having by and far the largest chunk of the national budget. The navy was always overbudget, mainly due to the fact that they were trying to build new ships along with repairing old ones, the biggest 'fuck you' being the godawful cigar with her own name plastered onto it. Though the fact they always had their budget drawn from by the Army and Air Force meant they likely weren't the sole source of the issue. Though the Air Force did have an abundant amount of tech demonstrators [2] they were exactly that, one off proof of concept designs, and the largest draw was an attempt to make an airborne aircraft carrier. While they started said project it was then mothballed and turned to scrap some twenty years prior.

Which left the Army, and the mass collection of general bullshit they churned out to no effect. The Kite system wasn't too much of a bad thing, it had practicality issues, namely in the form of overprotection, but ever since it started getting issued less people had been dying. The Olympian program was a clusterfuck of epic proportions, with so many dying from it and it's preliminary tests it was a literal miracle Oleander's uncle hadn't executed the whole of the program's staff. The ultimate end result being indefatiguable soldiers with a slew of mental health concerns. Then there was the fact that Kelgar Mine, which was quite literally the largest titanium mine in East Helsa was drying up because of all the steel needed to keep up with manufacturing costs of not only the Kite system and some of the components for most Anowan rifles, but also to get things out for the medical and aviation industries. That was just for titanium, steel, and polymers were also being snatched up faster than they could be manufactured leading to deficits in multiple industries. But somehow on paper the Military was going along just as fine as they should've been. To say it was fishy would be an understatement.

"80 Drach says it's the new cruisers the Navy's fucking about with." a few people looked up from their current vetting process and cast a rather quick glance at the woman next to Oleander, looking through her own stack of files. "If arsenal ships were as cheap as they're saying they are, they wouldn't be as nigh unheard of as they are globally."

Oleander sighed, Ingrid was one of maybe 4 people she could honestly trust her life with, they'd known each other since they were 6, a little after they started school together. They both enlisted into the Airborne, and after a few small hiccups involving the Olympian program, they spent the next 8 years or so in the same unit. Getting married during that time. Well, married was the legal term, Anowa technically didn't have marriage like the rest of the world did, it was more of a social contract in Anowa. But away with the digression, Ingrid had a habit of drawing parallels where they weren't really any there. Like four cruisers being the reason nearly 30 years of funds were fucked to the high hells.

"As much as I want to take that bet, we both have a joint bank account so it'd be rather fruitless." came the dry reply from the albino, "That and the fact-"

"I'm sorry to inturrupt your Majesty, but I may have found something." It was the voice of one of the younger interns present. Oleander's interest was piqued.

"Oh"?

_Atlas
Motaro
_{Headhunter Team 47 assigned to "MAM-DAG"}
_{Erong, Modeno}
_Modeno
_{5/20/2018 - 5:02 AM AMT}

Given their skill set, sneaking past the frontline and into Erong wasn't difficult, Liverpool troops were rather lax in their sentry duty, and the PACT troops they bunked with for a few hours didn't shoot them as they pushed forward.

Right now, their goal was a small apartment building in the northeast sector, it was comparatively lacking in any military presence, and likely bombed to high hell and back. Within would be the remainder of their targets in Modeno, and likely the last cohesive leadership of the Golden Suns. This would be all but the killing blow to whatever momentum the insurrection still had. It was hotel dead center in the middle of a large square, a number of similarly tall buildings surrounding the square in a veritable wall, one of said buildings is the one that Atlas had set himself up in, rifle at the ready and binoculars scouting out the surroundings for sentries or Dommie soldiers.

Motaro on the other hand was slowly rappelling down from the roof towards one of the few windows that still had glass in it. the top right corner of Atlas' hud was displaying Motaro's point of view, as well as the audio. The sound coming from inside was a number of voices, all of them talking about the current situation. Motaro simply pulled a grenade from her belt, finger looping around the pin.

_{Queen Oleander Pyrrhas II}
_{Anowan Head of State}
_{Naval Base Kitsap, Aulavik}
_Anowa
_{5/18/2018 - 5:44 PM AST}

"Told you it was the cruisers."

"So you were right for once, big whoop." Oleander couldn't help but feel a bit chilly, Aulavik was a port town in the northernmost state of Anowa, not all too north but it was still cold enough to have snow in May. "It was a coincidence, not much more."

"You're just sour that you didn't pick it up first." came the rather playful tone of her redheaded companion.

Oleander sighed again. The helicopter they were in was starting to approach the ship in dock. The oddly named RANV Fuckslayer, the first of a cruiser class that was more rocket fuel than steel. It was one of 8 planned Arsenal ships, two of which were completed and the third of which was under construction. It was a program that a number of people saw as a waste of money, and based on the one document they found in thousands, it was quite the opposite. They were on budget, to a degree which was suspiciously exact. So, they were visiting one with less than 5 hours notice.

The ship itself was moored at the docking facility it called home, drawn away from it's strike group for refit due to an electrical fire less than four weeks ago. Something that, in itself seemed fishy, especially for such an ordinance laden ship such as the Fuckslayer.

A voice cut in from the cockpit, FLight Lieutenant Wagner was one of the two pilots who were personally assigned to Oleander's flight detail."I don't mean to sound like a conspiracy theorist, but does anyone else draw parallels between a cargo ship and that overengineered pile of scrap?"

Oleander got a look at the ship as they went in for a landing on it's rear end, and while she was far from the most open minded to things such as this, an early life of being praised as a child of prophecy put a damper on that, she did notice the similarities. "I suppose large ships with a rearward tower do look the same." The pilot gave no response, likely because he was currently landing, but a part of Oleander did agree with the man.

As the H-12 settled down onto the rearmost deck a duo of officers stood to the side waiting for whomever was onboard to disembark, Ingrid moved to open the door, Oleander always wondered why the woman wore a full BDU whenever they did something that wasn't staying at home or sleeping. But the monarch did suppose it was good for the cold nights like tonight. As the door slid open and the cold snowy air all but slapped her in the face, the two officers barely restrained a look of surprise.

"Good evening Shipmaster, Commander." Oleander gave a nod to both men as she approached.

"Uh, good evening, your majesty. We weren't expecting you tonight." came the rather hesitant voice of the Shipmaster.

Oleander simply gave a rather restrained response, "That was the point, I'd like a tour of the ship, that means all of it. If I ask a question I expect an answer. Is that understood?"

The Commander looked a bit shocked, as his compatriot started sweating despite the chill., "Y-yes Ma'am."

_{Specialist Soren "Verda" Valiantsson}
_{1st Mot.Inf Division, 2nd Reg, 3rd Bat, C Company, 2nd Platoon. Forward Support Controller.}
_{Operation Dawnbreaker Staging Area}
_Anowa
_{5/20/2018 - 05:02 AM AMT}

Operation Dawnbreaker.

The operation in which the main goal was to give those inside Erong a breakout. Get them out of the now hellhole of a city while getting fresh troops in to hold the veritable lighthouse in the frontline. If Soren was to hazard a guess, Erong would then be used as the spearpoint for the rest of the counterinvasion. As of this moment n one was getting to Erong, but things would change rather swiftly as Donnish Armor and a collection of Anowan Motorized units would be pushing into the belly of the beast.

It was a rather ambitious plan, especially given that an Anowan made it, and that it was actually a modified plan from an invasion strategy... and that the Anowan military spent all of ten minutes in training explaining how to perform offensive actions.

Soren supposed that was the reason why they were among the ones defending the corridor. Instead of, y'know, spearheading it.

_{Queen Oleander Pyrrhas II}
_{Anowan Head of State}
_{Naval Base Kitsap, Aulavik}
_Anowa
_{5/18/2018 - 6:53 PM AST}

"Pardon me?"

"What's behind the door Shipmaster?" The tour of the ship was nearly completed, except for what lay behind a small singular door at the bottom of the tower. It was a bulkhead, but unlike every other bulkhead on the ship it looked, different. It was recessed from the surrounding wall and very obvious weld seams could be seen surrounding the small patch of wall connected directly to it.

The Shipmaster looked extremely conflicted, his mouth opening to speak but his mind either not finding the words or simply refusing to say them. An ensign across the room responded for him, "There's nothing."

Oleander was about to rip the young man a new one, until the tone of the way he said it reached her ears. It wasn't one of defiance, but rather resignation, as if what he just said was the answer a mother was looking for from a disobedient child. Oleander's eyes narrowed, "What do you mean 'nothing', ensign?"

The young man simply walked over to the door and opened it, with a rather unmaintained sound echoing through the small cabin, as well as whatever the room on the other side was. Oleander outwardly cringed at the sound of metal screeching against metal, and she could swear she saw flakes of rust falling down from the top of the portal.

Inquisitively stepping forward she peered into what lay beyond. An incredulous look spread across her face before she turned towards the Shipmaster, "Why in the name of all things holy did you not report this sooner?"

_Atlas
Motaro
_{Headhunter Team 47 assigned to "MAM-DAG"}
_{Erong, Modeno}
_Modeno
_{5/20/2018 - 5:03 AM AMT}

"Motaro, stop."

The action of pulling a pin on the frag grenade ceased immediately, the woman remaining stock still like a statue hanging fifteen feet off the ground. A single click from her microphone was the interrogative sound of asking 'Why the fuck did I have to stop?'

Atlas responded, "More headhunters, east side building, third floor, second window from the right."

Motaro looked up, and to the untrained eye one might've just spotted rubble, but to a headhunter, especially one who knew what they were looking for, she spotted it immediately. Another team of headhunters. They hadn't been fired upon, so their mission's objectives likely coincided, the only issue was a lack of comms. Motaro put the grenade back into her belt, and slowly flashed through some sign language easily visible to the other headhunters.

Within moments they were all on the same channel, a notably feminine voice asking a straightforward question as their IFF winked on above them. "Team 32, identify."

"Team 47. Objectives?" came Atlas reply

"Evacuate MIAHS Personnel under duress. You?"

"Eliminate Golden Suns leadership. Card Deck 18. And why were you sent to evac us, we aren't under duress?" A pause on the other end as Motaro went back to surveying the inside of the building, more with her ears than her eyes. The conversation remaining a constant in her mind.

"I don't think we were sent to evacuate you, someone inside that building sent the signal."

_{Queen Oleander Pyrrhas II}
_{Anowan Head of State}
_{Anowan Royal Palace, Terrenus}
_Anowa
_{5/19/2018 - 9:53 AM AST}

"It's the same for all the other Arsenal ships ma'am. I have no clue why and I have no clue how. But it got past me and for whatever reason the folks in the treasury didn't pick up on it either."

To say the last meeting with the Joint Chiefs of Staff was an easy one would be blatantly wrong. An emergency conference during wartime was far from an easy thing to organize, and the result of said meeting was less than stellar. No one knew why the the nine hells they had three ships without any functioning armaments, where the funding was going, or why there was a distinct lack of communications about such a thing. Claims of having families threatened if the info was leaked was common among the personnel of such ships.

The monarch gave an exasperated sigh as she leaned backwards in her chair, "Alright Admiral, you can leave now." As the man gave his thanks, he exited the room.

The past day had been a veritable explosion of tomfoolery. Not a single ship planned for the next 3 years had any sort of armament. No VLS tubes, no functioning guns, hell, even the CIWS on almost all of them were simply mock ups. The only thing real on them was the engines and control towers, everything else was aluminum sheeting and fancy paint. It was a scandal of obnoxious proportions and despite the questioning she had given the joint chiefs, they'd still be going through a proper investigation. Everyone involved would be going through a proper investigation. Ranging from the joint chiefs down to the men in charge of the boats. It would be a very long time before any info came out and by then there'd probably be a new PM in office and she'd be close to topping herself from the stress of shit like this.

She longed for the day in which she could just, sit at home, her proper home, the family cabin up near Nunavut, with family and friends gathered around the fireplace. Instead of having to wait for the cold day in hell where both her spouses, both her kids and her parents all had the free time to make their way up to the cold city. Either coinciding with full blown nuclear war or when they all get so old that they no longer have to worry about applying for leave or finding freetime. But at that point most of them may well be dead.

Standing up, she started to walk. Her office was no longer where she wanted to be really, and seeing as she was the monarch no one could really fire her if she went home early. So that's exactly what she did. Granted home was maybe a 3 minute walk across the massive citadel that had stood for over 500 years. It housed the barracks for SPECTRS personnel as well as those from the Royal Guard, not to mention the various embassies and the housing for the families of all previously mentioned folks. It was, and likely always will be the largest citadel still standing. Despite the best efforts of the USSN in recent years to build needlessly large concrete structures. Despite the ceremonial home of the royal family being damn near dead center of the structure, Oleander had never actually been in the building until she was 17.

Stepping into the place she now called home she felt a weight get lifted off her shoulders, though the still monumental weight of running a nation of soldiers, terrorists and suicidal remained a constant, only rising itself a wee bit every so often. Being home was one of those times.

The smell of tea reached her nose, and she immediately identified it as Ägidius' favourite. In the norther tundra of Anowa grew a rather odd species of plant, it didn't have a normal growth cycle, in fact it was a species of pine tree, it's needles were oddly dry and the pine cones it produced were capped with a brilliant purple flower. Said flowers contained a number of things beneficial to one's health, but most importantly it tasted like pine syrup, and was sweet inherently. Oleander wasn't too fond of it, but she could see the appeal.

Oleander called out, "Ägidius, I didn't expect you home."

The sound of something being spilled followed, "Fucking god above!" more frantic sounds of metal and ceramics clattering, "Aren't you still supposed to be sorting out that navy buggery?"

Oleander entered the kitchen, seeing a surprisingly small amount of tea spilled on the counter, Ägidius already mopping it up with a towel. "I was, I've decided to throw caution to the wind and stay home for the day. If they want me that badly they can come to my home and talk to me here."

"That bad?" came Ägidius somewhat somber reply.

Oleander let a drawn out sigh, something she was doing a lot of recently, "There are nearly 18 billion drachma missing from the Military's budget. Not wasted or used, but not accounted for."

A pregnant pause, "Well, that's probably just the tip of the iceberg." Ägidius proceeded to pour more tea into his somewhat sticky cup, "You want any?"

"No, we still have orange juice in the fridge, I'm not all too thirsty anyways." a pause, "And what do you mean tip of the iceberg?"

Ägidius shrugged while taking a sip of tea, "Someone's found an exploit in the system, likely at the tip top if that much money is gone and 4 ships have been pre-emptively mothballed under false pre-tenses. I'd look for anyone making large purchases at the top of the ladder, or anyone who's been spending a whole wack of money on election campaigns. Could look through past records, or wait until the next election. Though with how close to the top this is the next election may not have the right end point."

The man looked up from his tea and into his spouse's eyes, now looking at him as if he'd grown an extra head, "What?"

"Aren't you a pilot?"

The man furrowed his brow, "A pilot can't have common sense? But yeah, in any event, look for some folks who have something to gain from this. Like-"

"The Ministry of defense." came Oleander in a somewhat hollow tone.

"Yeah, like them. You look like you've just seen a ghost."

"How much does our country make a year?"

"Close to 1.7 trillion, why?"

Oleander stopped looking at the floor and stared her husband directly in the eye, "What's our national budget?"

"About the same? You getting at something or is this another pop quiz?"

_Atlas
Motaro
_{Headhunter Team 47 assigned to "MAM-DAG"}
_{Erong, Modeno}
_Modeno
_{5/20/2018 - 5:03 AM AMT}

Someone inside the building had sent a rather well encrypted signal of which could only be broadcasted by a device that was handed out to MIAHS HUMINT personnel. Someone inside this building of highly wanted individuals who wouldn't hesitate to shoot was friendly. Wonderful.

"Do we know who?" came Atlas' response.

"Callsign Morningstar."

"Any alias?"

"None that are in Deck 18."

A pregnant pause followed, "Grey-Box, you there?"

"Affirmative. I'm scanning the database for relevant callsign, estimate for discovery 30 seconds. One more thing."

"-Why the fuck are there two Headhunter teams other than us here? Are they hostile?" came an unknown voice, as IFFs winked on in the building's basement.

"Teams 47 and 32. Identify yourselves."

"Team 44. Good to know you aren't gonna try and kill us."

"Objective?"

"Secure vital intel contained within the building. I assume you have similar objectives."

Atlas answered, "Negative, Team 32 is here for extract of Morningstar. Team 47 is present for execution of HVTs."

A pause came over all channels, until Grey-Box broke it, "Callsign Morningstar, relevant alias: June West."

The pause continued until Motaro shuffled down beside the window, "Morningstar!" The conversation inside died immediately. As weapons started getting readied.

A voice cut above all else, "MoD's cutting off loose ends Headhunter. We've been had, all of us."

Another voice came from within, "West the fuck are you talking about?"

"I'll let you know when the headhunters get inside."

Motaro spoke, "There's 6 of us here with conflicting orders, you wouldn't happen to know what that's about?"

"I do, but we're on borrowed time and it'll be a hell of a lot safer for all of us if you all get inside."

_{Commander Ingrid Grimsdottir}
_{SPECTRS Officer}
_{Anowan Royal Palace, Terrenus}
_Anowa
_{5/20/2018 - 10:53 PM AST}

Leave would only last another three days, but even then members of her unit weren't deployed all too often, and seeing as her house was a four minute jog from her barracks, it wasn't all that bad. She was lucky, Ägidius was en route to the plane that would roll him back up to Fulgrim, for his leave had ended yesterday. So here she was, watching TV with her daughter. Well, daughter wasn't 100% accurate in the traditional term. Ophelia was the biological child of Ägidius and Olly. But she was still family nonetheless, and Ingrid still had guardianship over Ophelia in case anything happened to the other two parents.

"Hey, Móðir." the 12 year old's voice was somewhat hesitant. Ingrid looked down on the raven haired girl. She had her mother's facial structure, but her father's hair and eye color, the latter of which being a rather distinct blue, almost purple in this light.

"What is it sweetie?"

"What's the first few weeks of training like?" came the answer that, for most parents around the globe would raise multiple concerns, but in Anowa, where the 12 year old would be shipped off to a cadet barracks somewhere in the nation for the next few years, it was normal. The girl had maybe two months before she had to board a bus to her new home for the next 2-3 years.

"Well, there'll be a lot of yelling, try to get you into the simple regimental lifestyle that normal schooling hasn't gotten you used to yet. Most of what you'll be doing is physical training, but to a much more extensive degree than in school before. Though other than that you'll be doing simple drills and marching."

The girl swallowed another spoonful of cereal before speaking again, "Nik said that the food won't be very good."

"It won't. It's infinitely better than what comes in the MREs."

"Right, that chalky stuff you complain about right?"

"Mhm." the 'Chalky Stuff' was what constituted the Anowan MRE. A waxy substance coated in a sugary powder that was basically 100% vitamins and vegetable proteins. It tasted like literal garbage, but on the plus side it was 100% digestable, meaning you wouldn't have the sudden urge to shit in the middle of a firefight. Alongside it was stick of juice powder. Either to supplement your canteen or to wash the taste of the wax block away.

The TV, which had been previously showing a cartoon which was 30% Propaganda, 30% Moto bullshit, and 40% sub-par animation, very suddenly and startlingly switched to the emergency broadcast tone, displaying a rather distinct block of text as an automated voice blared over the speakers.

Ingrid, more dumdfounded than anything as to what the contents were gave a simple reply.

"Huh."

Less than a second later a 135mm round blasted through the kitchen.

_Atlas
Motaro
_{Headhunter Team 47 assigned to "MAM-DAG"}
_{Erong, Modeno}
_Modeno
_{5/20/2018 - 10:20 PM AMT}

"Alright, back the fuck up. The insurrection is manufactured to gear up out military industrial complex and populace for a fucking demonic invasion?" came the incredulous voice of Haphaestus, the lead of Team 44.

June nodded, "Originally, yes."

Atlas cut in, "And how exactly did the Ministry of Health get roped into this? The MoD I get since military build up is their MO and all, but what did the MoH get out of it."

June nodded, "Understandable, the MoH got a solid understanding and a rather complete sequencing of the human genome. That and the fact that a populace all but trained for warfare means a lack of sedentary diseases. The treasury is in on the mess to to help fudge the numbers up, but they were more than likely coerced into things than willingly allowed to take part."

Motaro remained silent as the questions were asked, she'd been paying apt attention, keeping everything down and having her helmet cam on, no doubt shit was about to muddy the waters very quickly. The Ministry of Defense, health, and the Clergy of Maccabeus were all in on a nearly 30 year plan to prepare for a demonic invasion, seeing Oleander's birth as a sparking point for the end times.

This lead to some rather shocking events, such as a manufactured insurrection to give a veritable casus belli on beefing up the military to such a degree, while the conscription model of 40 years ago was improved upon. More than what was initially planned for the MoD. It also lead to a mcokery of the national budget being drafted up for the next three decades. June was rather solid with the number and charts she'd plotted out, and Grey-Box had also shockingly confirmed their credibility. The Ministry of Defense, on official papers only took about 30% of the national budget. In reality they were close to 70%. It was the reason their economy was stagnating if not tanking instead of growing. It's why taxes were getting hiked up, and it's why miners were getting laid off due to a lack of work in actually getting materials.

At this point the MoD had a shit ton of mothballed tech demonstrators either made in sparing amounts of, or one of a kind WMDs. Ranging from the RANV Oleander II which had some credbility as a working craft, to the Jormungand Aerial Command Craft, which could land fucking S-37s on it and had 2 nuclear reactors powering it. Not to mention the UAV variants of the aging F-15s they had. It was all very obvious if one just took a step back, but ith everyone in the MoD either out of the loop or hushed with a gun or money, it was rather hard to get the big picture.

Motaro inturrupted Athena, the lead for Team 32, "Do we have a way out of this warzone?"

June shook her head, "Panzer's got his hands tied, he's got a full division under his command but he doesn't have any aviation left after the airbase was bombed to shit. Unless you have something hidden up your ass, we're walking."

Motaro looked out the window, tracers in the distance sailing into the air, in the nearvy buildings were movements she didn't recognize. "Grey-Box."

"Yes."

"Put out a distress signal to PACT forces," a rough headcount in her head followed, Twelver seperate Tier One security assets needing extract. Estimate to being overrun: immediate." a pause, "Everyone get armed and get down!"

"Confirmed." a pause, "Signal is being tightbeamed through Gungnir's channel, someone within 120 kilometers will hear it."

"Add on that Anowan MoD personnel are not to be trusted as friendlies until further notice."

"Confirmed, sent."

by **Empire of Donner land** » Mon Oct 01, 2018 1:45 pm

50 KM from Erong, Modeno

5/20/2018

Operation: Dawnbreaker

The stage was set for the Donnish Part in the Dawnbreaker offensive on Erong to break the pocket. The Marine Battalion in Erong had held off long enough for II Corps to arrive from Central Modeno and have Erong within earshot. If the Donnish Politicians had any hope in making this a Donnish Effort and improve their and PACT's image as the International "Good Guys" it would be now, liberating Erong. For the main event, numerous amounts of Military PR personnel were attached to the Armored Battalions specifically (feeling this would make the Donnish look stronger, tanks and everything, rather than APCs) to record the whole thing.

Now the Donnish waited for the go signal to storm in and act as the main spearhead into the city. From there, much-needed supplies and relief could then feed the long famished military units stuck in the city. All of this was a bit of a gamble, but it was a gamble with high chances of success. Or at least that's what Oneste Wherhg had thought. She knew that Vacifican and Valaran Forces were conducting their own operations on the Western part of the Frontline, which would be taking valuable attention from the Dominion forces ahead of them. And whenever they wanted, the Donnish could have Air Supremacy over the area, rather than sporadic CAS strikes, which they would be taking full advantage of, along with the Aircraft that could jam enemy electronics and radar. All in all, it looked like the PACT forces had it in the bag. The Dommies haven't made any major offensives besides the one that took Erong in the first place, meaning it was likely their forces had stalled.

The 5th and 6th Mechanized would take the east part of the Frontline around Erong, while the 8th and 9th Armored would take the west side of the front line in preparation for the spearhead. Meaning that the 5th and 6th would pull security as the 9th and 8th went in until it was their turn to head in. Everything would go to plan if they could count on their Anowan and Modenian allies.

Oneste Wherhg wasn't sure about trusting the Modenian and Anowans. If it was up to her, the Donnish Alone could take the city with little to no help at all. It was plain to all that the Donnish had made up 90% of PACT air and ground strength in Modeno, let alone in the alliance itself, and while debatable, had the most experience regarding Land-Air Operations, relative to the Anowan Military anyway.

Oneste was the PACT attaché to the 9th Armored Ranger Division, essentially an Ambassador to any other PACT units they'd be working with, making sure no toes were stepped on, etcetera. The administration PACT had set up regarding international unit cohesion was quickly propped up, but it worked regardless, and it'd need reforms later. For now, it would have to wait until Modeno was secure. Though she disliked the Beret with the PACT's symbol adorned atop it, she was still Donnish Military, and someone had to do it.

In the distance was Erong, it had a sound to it, minus the hum of the Hydrogen Fuel Cell engines she was constantly surrounded by within Tanks. She heard the pops and clacks of gunfire, and artillery hitting the ground, as well as distant jets high in the sky above the overcast clouds. The unit's attached Self Propelled Artillery Guns themselves were firing away, answering the calls of needed artillery support coming from Erong and Frontline troops. Troops in Donnish Domestically produced SUD-4[1] fatigues covered in DONPAT-W[2] camouflage lugged around crates of supplies and walked between points A and B. The sight of the Donnish Military was something different than seeing it in 2010 to 2014 and before[3].

Instead of just "Property of Donnish Department of Defense" on cargo crates, it also had the word PACT stamped on the side in bold white letters, as if to remind fossils from even before the Domestic Terror War in the 90s and 80s that they were in a new Army, and that the Isolationism of old had not only come apart but disintegrated entirely after the 2nd Helsan War and the ensuing coup, not to mention the now ongoing elections and the Liberal's gaining a massive lead already back home.

Oneste was called from behind, "Captain!" they yelled, and waved over by the Company's Major, a young commander by the name of Wuhnerhg. She walked over, gave a quick salute and held her Commisioned Officer's sword in front of her as tradition and nodded. Major Wuhnerhd kept it short and concise, "Get your equipment, just the vest, and a sidearm, keep the Beret. You'll be heading in with a camera crew. Brass said you had a pretty enough face to be the, and I quote, 'Face of Donnish PACT Efforts in Modeno'. It'll be broadcasted live, so look your best in a couple of hours." The Major was a little too quick and had only left the Captain with questions, interrupted before she could ask, the Major pointed at the Camera Crew in question and went back to more important duties talking to what looked like angry Modenian COs.

Oneste couldn't argue with a superior and begrudgingly "took" the assignment. She had gone from Attache to glorified News Crew Escort in less than a few seconds, all of this despite her status as a Captain in the Donnish Army. She felt that such a task belonged to a pay grade lower than hers, but then again, they probably just wanted the best they could muster on the frontline that was available.

1. SUD-4 stands for Standard Uniform Dress 4th Generation. It's Donnish Produced military fatigues invented in 2015 to replace the Donnish Military BDU's used through the early 2010s, created with integrated kevlar fabric knee and elbow pads.
2. DONPAT-W is a variant of the winter Donnish Pattern DONPAT, it's a digital camouflage for woodland and green environments.
3. The Donnish Military before the 2nd Helsan War had undergone radical changes in military equipment, including multiple rollouts of upgrades for infantry rifles, vehicles, and uniforms themselves. Not to mention the new Donnish Tutten Class Cruisers.

by **Vanquaria** » Mon Oct 01, 2018 8:02 pm

Erong, Modeno

5/20/2018

Battle of Erong

SS deathsquads were also armed with expanding bullets rather than traditional law enforcement weapons. The reasoning was pretty obvious if you knew what Vanquarians were like.

Indeed Dominion forces had not made any major offensive actions since their occupation of the city of Erong. Furious Vanquarian military commanders had lambasted their Liverpudlian counterparts, each warrior of the black falcon a devoted disciple of the Blitzkrieg art of warfare, for what they perceived as cowardly hesitation in the face of the enemy. Yet, there was reason behind the Liverpudlian's decision to move things at a steady pace.

Since World War 2, Liverpool had staunchly stood by its policy of isolationism. Remaining incredibly passive in the affairs of the world stage they had silently witnessed the major events that had rocked Ausozera this past decade, eyes particularly on their Central Helsan neighbour Vanquaria. Aggressive, militant foreign policies made sure that if there was a conflict somewhere in the world, chances were the Vanquarians were involved in some way or another. Undefeated unlike their Isleish ally in World War 2 though definitely not unscathed, a pillar that held the Iron Empire together during the tough, economically trying times after the largest global conflict in Ausozera was their ideology.

Deemed blatantly racist by their more multicultural rivals in the South, their belief in the ethnic purity of the Hervaren peoples and the necessity to defend what their ideology deemed to be ethnically pure human blood against those not of such purity or rather "subhumans" made sure that those who adhered to such an ideology were individuals who inherently gravitated towards strong-arm figures of leadership.

This reflected in the global community's perception of Vanquaria today. And Liverpool was one of those nations that inherently saw benefit in aligning themselves with such a country. Rather than ensuring their safety in such a hostile geopolitical atmosphere Liverpool wished to acquire opportunities for power only an imperialist warlord like Scott could provide. However, the Emperor of Liverpool had spent too many years away from the world, he had underestimated the extent to which war can cause damage to everything within it.

Over 100 Liverpudlian lives had been lost in the first offensive to capture the city of Erong not including the battle against the Donnish and Modenian resistance fighters which had been costlier. Public opinion back home needed to be sustained by the power of propaganda and promises of wealth lest they turn against the war. A solution was to fly in a member of the infamous SS organisation from Vanquaria. A government figure also serving as an SS officer, the man's qualities in the art of media control were vouched for by none other than Autarch Scott himself to the Liverpudlian Emperor.

Yet, the decision was nonetheless made to not push any further and consolidate their gains in order to attempt another offensive this time to capture the city of Hochburg and beyond into the deeper, less known territories of the USSN regime of Modeno. Though they possessed an inappropriate level of influence within the Liverpudlian military apparatus, absolute control was out of the question. Thus, the Vanquarian Command was forced to go along with the methods of their ally.

SS units within the city had been given the task of imprisoning civilians inside their apartment homes in the city. There would be no exiting the warzone as a refugee. Those attempting to flee would be punished adequately by the numerous SS deathsquads that had taken over the job of enforcing martial law from the Liverpudlians, freeing up manpower for the coming battle. Punishments were mostly being captured as working slaves for the Vanquarians to use in the war, constructing military bases or if they were unfortunate; being sent back to the Iron Empire as a meatbag for a crazed SS scientist. Liverpudlian and Vanquarian engineers were constructing killzones inside the city, deadly firing positions that would be built within or near the homes of civilians. The SS commander, Colonel Febiven, had ordered the food stocks of all civilians be requisitioned by the Dominion military and rations to be issued out to the civilians by the military. Whether the re-acquisition process was done peacefully or by force was up to the civilians themselves.

DSOF and SRS commandos already in the battlefield were being deployed on deep reconnaissance operations into the blindingly white landscape of Modeno. Unmanned surveillance drones had been sent out en masse, along with satellite footage they reported back the ominous massed movement of the PACT forces towards Erong.

In response, orders came through for the Liverpudlians to entrench themselves across the entire front against the encroaching enemy. The II and IV cohorts were to defend the Western flanks of the land outside Erong. The I cohort and III cohort was to defend the Eastern flanks. The centre would be defended by none other than the Majesty's Imperial cohort. Each of the cohorts would be supported by the total strength of 2 paratrooper legions. All in all, a comparably sized force to counter the encroaching Donnish army. The naturally white, snow-capped forests would be where the Liverpudlians entrench their soldiers and place their Leopard 2A7+ MBTs in winter combat camouflage.

Members of their special forces cohort had and were still in the process of planting road mines as the PACT forces approached within sight of Erong. The TM-83 tank mine and the PMA-2 anti-personnel mine were sewn across the snow-capped roads leading to Erong and even in streets within Erong. If the enemy stepped on them, all hell would let loose not just from the mine but from Liverpudlian firepower as the enemy's position would have been identified by the explosion.

However, it would be foolish to assume the Vanquarians were placing their bets on the Liverpudlians to win this war for them. The armies of Scott had begun arriving in Liverpool before the first PACT fleet had even entered East Helsan waters.

3 Exalibasian armoured regiments that had been placed on reserve in the backlines during the offensive to take Erong had been pushed forward to sit behind the lines of the Liverpudlians, within and in front of the city of Erong alongside the 5 Imperial mechanised marine regiments and the special forces already in the city. Digging into the natural cover of the snowy landscape, a harsh battlefield environment for those not used to winter warfare, these mobile winter troops had brought forth their anti-material guns and powerful PK machine-gun emplacements. Those troops within the city had entrenched themselves in the civilians homes and underground tunnels where entire arms caches could be located in the subways.

In the streets of the city rolled dozens of T-90 tanks while Vanquarian soldiers that were outside had the job of manning the fearsome vehicles of the Jobaria MLRS and M119 Howitzers. Strategic positions, particularly near civilian residences, were set up to allow these artillery weapons to be manned there.

The backline of the battle was situated behind the city of Erong, within the forests and outskirts. An entire legion of one of the Imperial Army's ABCT alongside multiple elements of the Vanquarian and Liverpudlian special forces had established themselves there. Entire roads and land were taken up by the presence of the rocket artillery vehicle that was the M142 HIMARS. Already locked and loaded, the crews awaited confirmation of the enemy's positions where they then would release rockets capable of hitting a target area hundreds of kilometres away. Alongside these vehicles were the 2k22 Tungukas providing protection against enemy air power. Already the earth were cracked and broken from the weight of these war vehicles.

20 Tornado ADVs of the 2nd Air Combat Wing of the Liverpudlian Air Force alongside 20 F-15 Eagles of the 177th Imperial Ground Attack Expeditionary Air Wing had been deployed to fly ahead of the ground forces defending Erong. Each aircraft had been outfitted with Khibiny ECM modules to delay the enemy's detection of their presence. Enemy airborne detection such as drones were being targeted by the long-range Krasukha-4 jamming stations back in Erong. Behind and below the jets were dozens of airborne drones from the Liverpudlians, each one being retail-purchased and not exactly the fancy UCAV one would expect from the Vanquarians but their purpose was to provide information to the dug-in troops as to the positions of the PACT forces so that their artillery could begin firing.

It was inevitable that soon, they would encounter the Donnish. Vanquarian commanders were observing enemy troop movement from the cameras of a RQ-170 Sentinel spy drone of the Dominion. The order was given for the first HIMAR vehicle to release its cache of rockets at the PACT forces approaching the Western flanks.

2 Exalibasian Virginia-class submarines pulsed through the deep blue of the ocean. Above it, was a Vanquarian carrier strike group accompanied by a force of Liverpudlian frigates. They were leaving a military port of western Liverpool, destination being the western coast of Modeno.

The class act of CSG-4 being the Nimitz-class super-carrier, its hull was under the protection of a single Kirov-class battlecruiser, 2 Arleigh-Burke destroyers and a Zumwalt-class destroyer. Their Liverpudlian allies were a Sachsen class frigates and a Brandenburg class frigate. A powerful naval force combined, they left port as soon as reports came out that the PACT was launching a counter-offensive operation in an attempt to recapture Erong.

Satellite footage displayed the presence of Valaran and Vacifican navies in Modenian waters. To protect their ground force's flanks and attack the PACT ground forces by sea this fleet had been deployed.

Ahead of them, 2 Braunschweig-class corvettes and a Type-214 diesel-submarine of the Liverpudlian Navy had been deployed from the gulf of Liverpool at the same time as the CSG. They would reach the waters off the beach of north-western Modeno relatively quickly and from there, Liverpudlian Privateers, a unit of elite seaborne special forces, would disembark to secure the beachhead for the main fleet to arrive.

For Reference

DSOF : Dominion Special Operations Forces (Shock-Trooper Units Selected From Dominion Countries)

SRS : Special Reconnaissance Service (Vanquarian Special Operations Unit)

SS : Secret Service (Vanquarian Secret Police)

Alpha Force : Vanquarian Counter-Terrorism Unit

by **Anowa** » Tue Oct 02, 2018 9:18 pm

_{Specialist Soren "Verda" Valiantsson}
_{1st Mot.Inf Division, 2nd Reg, 3rd Bat, C Company, 2nd Platoon. Forward Support Controller.}
_{Operation Dawnbreaker Staging Area}
_Anowa
_{5/20/2018 - 09:22 PM AMT}

Their little battle line was the lowest elevation into the valley. That wasn't to say it wasn't high up, at nearly 22 meters above the base of the valley, and roughly 14 for the outside, there was a gradual hill to defend against, but a rather steep incline to a road below to defend. It was the jugular of the operation, and while the nearly 300 meter stretch of land had the whole bloody company watching it, it was the obvious go to for the Dommies. It was also dead center of the wooded greenbelt that lead into the valley, being the only route in other than Erong and the staging area that wasn't covered in rocks or moss. The either side of the valley was basically that, rocks, moss and a bunch of battle ready Anowans.

Themselves had already gotten to the point of entrenching as the Donnish started their little fuck train towards Erong. Shovels were busted out as the few with them started placing AP mines among the foliage and entrenching charges and det cord made short work of trees and any of the colder ground. It was an efficient system, and nearly 4 years of training were still fresh in the mind of the only newbie in the platoon.

Soren for his part was digging a rather satisfactory foxhole, the snow here was much like the snow back in his native Nordland, dense, fluffy, and decent for making snowballs out of. But time for a snowball fight, this wasn't. The moon cast a haunting blue glow onto the forest and it's white decoration. Each tree a pine that had stood for nearly a hundred years, either that or knocked down to provide a solid chunk of nigh concrete dense cover. Branches shorn off were used to reinforced the dirt of each foxhole, and as the other started setting up the various battlements, Soren made sure everything in his foxhole was as it should be: Deep enough to crouch fully in, shallow enough where you could stand up and shoot. And solid enough where a mortar round landing some 80 meters away wouldn't collapse it and bury you alive.

Soren sat on the edge of said foxhole as his battle-buddy, Corporal Rossel, was grabbing more branches to shore everything up. Rossel was okay, she wasn't as demanding or strict as most other corporals Soren had met, granted he didn't know many other corporals to base such an opinion off of.

His eyes snapped to something just barely perceptible at this angle in the snow, a shadow. further more, a dual reflection of the flakes of snow in on the ground. Normally it wouldn't be easy to spot, but for someone who grew up in one of the most remote chunks of Anowa where it dropped to -50C nearly every night, knowing snow was like breathing to the young man.

His body was already tensed for something when the hand grabbed the back of his collar, wrenching him down. The triangular dagger that had reflected the moonlight into the snow, and into Soren's eyes was dropping down toward's Soren's neck. The human body would instinctively drop their chin when threatened, it was a way to protect the neck, several arteries, and the main pathway of oxygen into the body resided in it, so the autonomous motion to shift his head down is what saved him, as the massive ceramic plate that covered his face in it's distinct wedge shape made the knife glide off and into the dirt, barely missing his shoulder.

Muscle memory from so many sessions of CQC katas and sparring kicked in for the young lad, and with an alert yell, his left arm curled up, pinning the offender's arm to Soren's collarbone, and unable to move. With the other hand reaching up towards the offender's own collar. Soren's quads and abs flexed, bringing his legs upwards almost entirely. As his hand curled around the top of the offender's plate carrier. He pitched his back up, and his legs downwards in a spring of momentum, shifting the weight of both fighters forward, and thus into the enclosed space of Soren's foxhole. The offender didn't waste the time either, gun having been drawn from his belt in the form of a pistol, the rapid shift of weight throing his aim off by a fraction of a centimeter, the AlON faceplate saving Soren's life again as the bullet lodged itself into the ceramic face, leaving a spiderweb of cracks in the laminated chunk of ballistic glass.

As they landed, Soren used his head, now much harder, and edged than any normal human, he brought it down towards the balaclava and goggle clad face of his opponent. Once, twice, three times, each with a resounding crack, his hand reaching for his own ballistic salvation as the offender was dazed: the HKR M12M, the standard service pistol of the Anowan military, chambered in the 12.7x40mm HKR round. Normally an FMJ would put a orange sized permanent cavity in the chest of anything it hit. But it wasn't loaded with FMJ, it was loaded with a subsonic SAP-HE load.

A single round plowed through the goggles the man wore, eyes were violently ejected from their places, the entry wound becoming a geyser of grey red, the exit wound ending up being the ass end of the helmet, resulting in the explosive charge being primed and an even more brutal result of gore erupting from the now fractured and overpressured man's head. The AlON faceplate that was once shiny and polished, had now become a battlescarred and blood caked relic in less than 3 seconds. It took Soren a moment to realize the screaming was coming from him, but the gunfire around him wasn't.

Wiping the gore off his faceplate, holstering his pistol, and grabbing his rifle, which had been by his feet the whole while, he stood back up, as the smell of a dead body smacked him clear in the face, he had forgotten the few tales his trainer had given him about the smell of death, how there was no dignity in one's waste expelling from one's self as everything let go. He had no time to dwell on it, yanking on the charging handle of the 68B he brought it to bear, a muzzle flash from the trees to his left, a two round burst found it's way towards the hostile, one round lodging itself into the tree, the second round hitting home on the man's shoulder.

Normal rifle rounds would simply pass through and leave a golfball sized exit wound, at least the smaller ones would, like 5.56 or 5.45 millimeters. The .338 Anowan, which sat at 8.6mm in size, was not as forgiving for those who weren't aware of who was around them. A grapefruit sized chunk was blasted off the man's shoulder, bits of bone peeling off in fragments, nerves either becoming catastrophically fried or torn away completely. The man dropped to the ground screaming in agony, his arm hanging limpy from what little muscle and skin remained as his collarbone and jagged shoulder blade sat visible through the torn fabric and blasted off flesh.

Besides the dying man his comrade adjusted his aim, Soren did as well. The younger of the two found no need to pull the trigger as a burst of fire ripped the man in half, his internal organs either spilling out his torso or from what remained of his lower half, courtesy of the GMG that Garm and his trio had carried up here.

Soren noted a distinct lack of gunfire at that point, as his own hearing was screaming for a moment. But above it all he heard someone calling his name.

"Soren!"

Turning, he found Rossel now crawling towards his foxhole, and the Lieutenant in a neighbouring one. He was an Inuk man, who, if Soren was to be honest, had a name the youngest of the trio wouldn't try to pronounce correctly, "Yes, Sir?"

"Call this in, we've met with Dominion special forces, attempted ambush, likely harassment or probing upon our defenses. We need to let the other units know."

"Aye aye!"

Ducking down into his foxhole, Soren pulled the receiver off his right ruck strap and made ready, "Viking 2-Actual to all.. Dominion Special Forces have been encountered, likely a disruption or probing force, stay on the look out. Over." A plethora of affirmative responses echoed back, "Copy response, Viking 2-Actual, out."

Looking down at the man in his foxhole, Soren noted the path he had on his shoulder, and the trio of shell casings in the trench. Reaching down, he grabbed all three jackets of brass and pocketed them, a keep sake, maybe a reminder of what he just did.

"Soren." The young man looked up at his battle buddy, Rossel was looking at him with, well he couldn't tell what kind of look, given she had about an inch of ceramics between her face and the outside world, "Help me get this corpse out of our hole. Yeah?" Soren nodded, helping his buddy get the rather heavy man out of the hole, draping him in front of the pit to act as another layer of cover as others did the same. That was, dragging bodies to use as fleshy sandbags.

Soren couldn't help but feel a bit, numb. On one hand, he'd killed a person, two people rather, but on the other hand they were Dominion SF -and ignoring the achievement that that was alone- they might've done any number of horrid or particularly nasty things to soldiers and civillians alike. After a moment or two of contemplation, Soren resolved himself, anyone who willingly fought and trained with such tenacity for the tyrannical fuckers on that godforsaken chunk of land deserved to have the life snatched out of them, and if these were the best they could send, this would be an easy campaign. But those were thoughts for later, the night was young, and so was the battle.

by **The United Remnants of America** » Fri Oct 05, 2018 12:58 pm

Corporal Terenti Forst

Erong, Namenia

5/20/2018 - 22:26

The last two days had been hell.

Night had fallen about two and a half hours ago. The sky was clear, the stars and moon were bright enough to provide a good amount of light on the ground. Snow off the ground was kicked up in the light breeze, creating swirls in corners of buildings. Even though night time never stopped the constant battling of the last several days, it was quiet around their neighborhood. That didn't stop the constant rumble of artillery and bombing explosions through the ground, or the chatter of weapons fire in the distance.

Forst and his squad, what was left of them, anyways, sat huddled around a small electric heater they'd pulled from a nearby apartment complex. They were using it for warmth as well as to heat up the rations they'd gotten sent to them. The only one who wasn't heating up food was Forst himself. He was using a red-filtered flashlight to look over a map of the city and various scrawled reports he'd gotten. Krieg and Wentz had become his de facto seconds-in-command for his six-man squad, not like that mattered for a group of six people, but even they'd gone back to the heater after a while. But Forst still looked at the handwritten notes.

Rumors were abound. The jamming the Dominion had put across the entire city apparently wrecked all communications, regardless of if it was PACT, Modenian, or Dominion. It was an odd strategy, but it was effective. The Modenians had resorted to using walking injured, non-combat personnel, and even civil servants as messengers between the various units scattered through the city. Hand-written messages were the coin of information, now. Forst couldn't confirm any of them, but the fact he was getting intelligence reports meant he was recognized as some sort of front line commander. That made him anxious at the responsibility, and also at the implication that there was a dwindling amount of upper-ranked troops commanding the effort. What if all that was left was squad leaders on the front lines? What if they were all just out there and alone, connected by a messenger network with no overarching strategy but 'survive'?

He knew it wasn't true. The written rumors reported status updates of everyone. Apparently all that was left of the Modenians in Erong were the surviving remains of 1st Brigade. Most of the others had been wiped out by now, but they were the support troops of other brigades that got caught on the edges of the city as the Dommies rolled in. The Brigadier General in charge of 1st Brigade, as well as his entire command unit, was apparently gone, lost in an accurate bombing run. But there were still several battalions of troops left in the city, as well as the divisional command.

The Donnish that had arrived two days ago had really extended the life of the city's defense. However, they'd been taking their own losses as the Dominion kept coming. Apparently the dead Dommies had been seen with Vanquarian, Exalibasian, and Liverpudlian uniforms. Everyone was coming to crush the city. Meanwhile, there'd been reports of Dommie special forces trying to penetrate the shrinking ring of defense in the city. While scary, there'd been equal reports of Anowan special forces cutting them down like ghosts in the night. Things like that gave Forst hope as much as it scared the shit out of him. It was like through the whole battle, there was a smaller hidden battle going on between bad-ass special forces troops. Now all they needed was the Modenian special forces, wherever the fuck they were.

In the written notes, there were a few pages titled "status" where every unit leader who got the paper reports wrote a few short sentences and signed off on them before handing them to the next messenger, who usually came on the hour as long as someone wasn't killed. One of the status updates said "Anowans on the way. PACT to the rescue." Forst fought the feeling of hope rising within him. If PACT was sending more reinforcements, that would be amazing. But they'd already lost so much ground in Erong, he wasn't sure if they'd get there in time, or if they'd even make a difference at this point.

Forst glanced at his group of kids. Five of them left out of a squad of twelve. They'd grown a lot since this battle started, seeing the things they had. The group had been forced to start raiding empty apartments in order to grab food. There weren't any civvies here on the edges of the ring. Almost all civvies were now in refugee shelters, mainly because after the stories of Dommie executions became widespread, even the hardest home-defender had packed up and gone. Some people had even left "gift baskets" in their apartments with notes written for "Our Guardian Angels" as the civvies had taken to calling the military fighting to keep them safe. Some had even done what they could by leaving hunting weapons and ammunition behind, because they knew the military's weapon stocks were running thin. Wentz had taken to using a semi-automatic civilian version of a military rifle that had been left in an apartment. It was scoped and 5.56, so he'd become a DMR for the group. They'd heard other troops had taken to doing this, too. Even the Dominion had been seen looting buildings for food and supplies, which could be a good sign if they were so pressed to do that. Or maybe they were just depriving the resources from defenders?

Forst exhaled, sending a puff of frosty steam over the papers in his hands. He stifled a shiver and thought of the mantra he'd thought every night the last few days: The Dominion will take Erong, but they will pay for every house, every block, and every murder. Forst knew that as long as they were here, the Dominion had to be here rather than someone else. Every Dommie soldier killed couldn't go south. Every Dommie unit sent to take Erong wasn't being sent somewhere else.

Forst stood to walk back over towards the heater. He had to warm up some food and eat before the fighting cycled back to their neighborhood, as it always did. There were only a squads, maybe a platoon, defending this neighborhood. There used to be double that. Forst sat with his team and stared at the red-hot elements of the appropriated heater.

All he saw was the fire of war.

Captain Silke Dunst

Over Erong, Namenia

5/20/2018 - 22:27

Dunst banked hard in her Mig-29, her thumb resting on the cannon trigger, her eyes scanning for any wingmen to the Dommie fighter she'd just sent to the dirt. None she could see, her wingmen confirming the immediate airspace clear.

Upside: In the last three days, Dunst had scored five kills. She was technically an ace fighter pilot, now. Her flight had scored a combined 12 kills. and they weren't the only flight of Mig-29s. The 1st Tactical Air Force Wing was entirely committed to the defense of Erong and the surround air space. That meant 35 Mig-29s, as well as elements from other Air Wings coming up to take the pressure off of the relatively limited capabilities of the 1st Wing. The support had to come from elsewhere, meanwhile the 1st Wing was scattered, some taking off from Erong's local airfields that weren't in danger of being lost yet, and some from beyond the front.

Downside: Everyone was taking losses. Every Air Wing had been touched by war so far, and everyone had at least lost one air crew. The 1st Wing, due to their current role, had lost 8 Mig-29s in the last few days. No matter how many Dominion aircraft they seemed to take down, there were always more. Dunst couldn't believe how many Dommie aircraft there were.

Additionally, the Dominion had taken to using reinforcements on the ground. She wasn't sure what the ground was like in Erong, but she assumed it wasn't good. If they lost the city, then Air Force command would probably pull the 1st Wing back from the area and mark it as lost airspace. That was already happening in reality. With the amount of Dominion aircraft, and the fact they were now figuring out how to jam radar, it meant Dunst and her wingmen were slower to get out and intercept bombers and incursions. It also meant Dominion aircraft were able to catch an advantage by getting closer than ever before until they were sighted. That was the main reason about a quarter of the 1st Wing had been wiped out.

The pilots had been forced to go from hot-bunking to nearly constant sorties. Dunst was exhausted, her wingmen were exhausted. Everyone was exhausted. But they had to keep going. The airspace was still considered contested, and they had to keep that going or else lose the air over Erong, which would basically lose the city. The only fun part of the fighting was when the Dominion tried moving helicopters into the city, and drones. Easy prey for a quick gun run from a MiG. The Dominion had been forced to keep their helicopters grounded, and they'd apparently started using lesser-able consumer drones since they were smaller. One of Dunst's wingmen had said he'd killed a couple Dommie consumer drones by flying close to them, using the jetwash to tear them apart. She didn't believe it, but it was a good thing to do. Anything to keep the guys on the ground safe.

Anything: Even if it meant sacrifice. This was a full holding action, now. And Durst was committed to holding this air.

Major General Wasylyna Swango

Erong, Namenia

5/20/2018 - 22:28

Major General Wasylyna Swango looked over every report as well as the battle map laid out over the conference table of the room she'd been more or less living in for the last several days. They'd taken to using sticky notes and pen caps as unit markers on the map. They'd also just drawn concentric circles around the map of Erong, showing the encroaching Dominion forces, as well as lines and breaks in the circle to show recent advancements and offensives.

Based on everything, the Logistics Battalion the Support Service had had in Erong was gone. As well as the 2nd and 3rd Brigade units that had been stuck in the city. That left just the 1st Brigade in the city, which had taken its own losses. The biggest blow to the brigade was the loss of almost the entirety of the brigade's HQ and signals company. Without them, in a normal scenario, the brigade could fall apart. However, since they were all in the city together using paper messengers, it didn't cause a lot of issue. Especially since Swango could direct the brigade herself. The inverse was true for the outside, where 2nd and 3rd Brigades were cut off from their divisional command structure, forced to fend for themselves.

Most of Swango's command structure was intact. A few had been lost in bombings, but the bigger setback was that even with Donnish and Anowan troops in Erong helping, the Dominion was still pushing in further. Reports of executions and looting was rampant. And through all this, those damn Donnish and Anowan troops hadn't even sent any liaison to her. The Donnish were working with battalion commanders, which helped on a tactical level, but Swango could've used them here to come up with a better plan. Meanwhile, the Anowans, special forces by all accounts, were hitting Dominion incursions and fading again. She had nobody in contact with them. Just as well, so long as they didn't accidentally hit a Modenian position. Supposedly, there were Anowan regulars coming to support Erong, but news from outside was sparse, and she'd believe it when Anowan armor broke through Dominion lines and came into this city.

Swango sighed, he hands spread on the table, wrinkling the map. Based on all reports, and based on her own intuition, Erong was tactically lost. The Donnish reinforcement had been a relief action, not a breakout. The Anowan or any other PACT reinforcement would be helpful, but Erong was lost, as was the 1st Brigade. They'd gone from a short-term defensive position to only a handful of days later, just trying to survive. While Erong was only a quarter of a million people in peace, it was still a major city. Taking such a city so fast was unheard of, even in modern military history. And the Dominion was about to make military history if the Modenian defense broke here.

Swango had to remind herself that the city was behind the front and cut off, it made sense that without reinforcements, of course Erong was falling, but she couldn't accept it, especially when she was in the city with her troops. She couldn't think on that now, though. Defense had turned to diversion. Erong was a diversionary tactic for the larger war effort. For every day Erong held, and Modenian troops fought here, that was another day Dominion troops were tied up in Erong. They couldn't leave the city to fight elsewhere, less they risk a breakout offensive from the 1st Brigade. It forced the Dominion to slow down and waste resources, troops, and armor pushing into Erong. With the Donnish in the equation, the Dominion had been floundering on more offensives, but forward recce units had said there were even more Dominion, as if they'd been reinforced as well, so even if more offensives were failing, the Dominion had started assaulting more often. They'd eventually start taking more ground and pushing in, it was a matter of time. Erong's resources were being stretched, food and ammo conserved since they didn't know when resupply would come. The Air Force was burning fuel and sacrificing aircraft keeping the skies as clear as they could, but even the flyers were letting more Dominion aircraft through.

Erong's civil administration were almost all missing or dead, just their buildings remained that Swango used as command posts. Erong's city police as well as the local branch of the national police were nowhere to be found, most of them being counted as dead as they tried to go into enemy-held neighborhoods to protect civilians. That left civilian protection to the military, and it opened up the police stations to military usage. That was a bittersweet idea: Using police buildings and supplies because they were all dead.

It was difficult to mesh her reality with her wants. The reality was they were all dead, just trying to take the Dominion with them. The wants was that Swango hoped for a change in situation, or else this was going to be a long occupation.

Sergeant Kazik Winkler

Outside Erong, Modeno

5/20/2018 - 22:35

Sergeant Kazik Winkler had two sedans and a van with him. They were about fifteen kilometers southeast of Erong, and unable to go any further unless they ran directly into Dominion troops on the roads. Through binoculars, he didn't think the Dominion was advancing soon, but that could change and they'd end up dead. Kazik didn't know how, why, or where those criminals had gone, but he knew they were on a vector to Erong. Someone important had to be in the besieged city.

With Kazik and his total of 8 officers were Wieland Daniel and Rosalie Aust, the Gründorf officers that had spoken with the wanted terrorists. All signs pointed to them being Anowan with some sort of kill list. They were cleaning something up, Kaz was sure of it. They just couldn't figure out what until they found those two and got some answers. But with the Dominion around the city, Kaz knew they couldn't get in. They'd have to wait for something, anything that could change. At the very least, those Anowans would either die in the city or come out the way they'd gone in, right?

by **The United Remnants of America** » Fri Oct 05, 2018 4:22 pm

Commander Susan Grey

Coast Of M[size=85]odeno

5/20/2018 - 22:40

The CPD fleet had finally made it to Modeno. Little fanfare had been given to the major naval unit as they moved northward along the coast of Modeno, collecting both Modenian flotillas as supporting vessels. In addition, the Naval Aviation forces had been flying over them as well, providing real air cover in the form of Mig-29s. They were only down one aircraft since the war began due to mechanical malfunction.

The massive CPD-Modenian joint force was 200km south of the PACT fleet. Commander Grey and Admiral Stuber had met with each other and gone over the briefings the Valarans had given them. They were set to support the operation, but they'd be roughly a day behind the assault. A sort of second wave to the PACT operation, as well as a backdoor unit made to protect the amphibious operation against any Dominion naval assets. For the initial assault, the only thing from Modeno the Valarans and Donnish, as well as the incoming Isleish, would get in support were the Modenian Naval Aviation, some Air Force support once they were on the ground. The CPD was taking the airships northward as fast as they would go in order to provide aerial support, as well as the 8 VTOL aircraft carrying the Black Widows, Dragoons, and Killer Elite special units as a forward special forces unit.

Additionally, Modeno was shuttling up Captain Wolfram Yount's Naval Special Forces, who would be flying in their own air transport alongside the CPD VTOLs. That would provide roughly 8 platoons of special forces to assist the initial assault before the CPD and Modenian amphibious forces arrived. Grey also heard rumors that more special forces units were being mobilized, and they might arrive with the day-late assault force, but that wasn't in her pay grade. The Donnish and Valarans had to survive the assault for a day without disaster. The CPD and Modenians were 16 hours behind them.

Then the fun would really begin.

Chancellor Shawn Ball

Hochburg, Namenia

5/20/2018 - 22:41

Every night was a council meeting, now.

Shawn Ball stood around a massive table. Around the table with him were his Vice Chancellor, his eight most senior ministers, his chief of staff, and the military's Inspector General, as well as the three other Inspectors of the Army, Navy, and Air Force. On video conference were the Army's General Langenberg, Air Force's General Szczepański, and Vice Chief of Staff Utkin who headed up the Support Service. Admiral Stuber wasn't on the line, as she had gone to join Flotilla Admirals Ślusarski and Geißler on the coast, where the entire Navy had amassed.

"Alright," Ball said, "Gimme a rundown."

Vice Chancellor Schroeter spoke first. As Prime Minister, she was in charge of the cabinet, "The government is running fine. Currently, no major disruptions."

Minister Wechsler of Treasury spoke next, "Inflation is surprisingly stable, and business where the war hasn't hit is running normally. Minister Kuznetsov and I are handling most of the business, but since we lack any massive corporations, it's a bit easier to cajole the smaller businesses into staying operational so long as the war isn't directly affecting them. We can keep hoping for that."

Minister Knepp of State was next, "I've been working with PACT representatives. They've been very helpful and open-minded to our plight. Panic has been kept to a minimum as well. Some refugees have moved south to get away from the war, but North Modeno is sparse enough that the military is left able to keep what few people are there safe."

Ball nodded, "Good. Military?"

Minister Zientek spoke, "PACT and the URA's proxies are helping. I don't know who else I can get to support us, but those countries have been amassing large groups for rescuing us from Dominion forces."

General Langenberg spoke next: "1st Division is a mess. General Swango is stuck in Erong with an entire brigade an a half. The rest of her division is currently being directed by General Tritten, who's been mobilizing troops up towards the border to assist, looking at the coming Dominion forces. Erong is most likely going to fall despite Donnish reinforcements. They are providing a spectacular diversionary action, however, and it has slowed Dominion progress along the front line, reducing the amount of theaters we have to respond to. PACT has requested support for their operation. I've granted them all of the Special Forces to go up and assist, but they say they need 'conventional' troops. I've told General Haas to begin readying a brigade of our airborne soldiers, but that will take time. Until them, they and General Stolarz's Helsa Corps are in reserve right now."

Navy Inspector Hintzen spoke as there were no other naval representatives present, "Everyone but me and my staff are on the water. First and Second Flotillas have linked up with the Contracted Personnel Division to go north and join PACT's fleet. Admiral Stuber has joined them aboard one of the frigates. Naval Aviation is fully mobilizing to support the upcoming operation. Frigate Captain Yount has already moved the Naval Special Forces towards Festung. He'll be flying with CPD special forces towards the operation to support it as it happens. Meanwhile, the fleet will arrive about a day late."

General Szczepański spoke next on behalf of Air Force, "1st Wing is taking losses keeping Erong and the airspace around it in a contested position. Most wings have taken losses of some kind simply due to the war effort. Everyone is hands on deck right now, as we've moved a lot of our aircraft into North Modeno. The SAM Wing and ground regiments are still in South Modeno. We can move them given more time, which might be prudent, given the slowing of Dominion advances.

Vice Chief of Staff Utkin was last, "I've written off the 4th Logistics Battalion that was lost in Erong. No reports in several days from anyone makes me think they're gone. The other logistics battalions and engineering battalion are working to move supplies and create defensive escarpments for troops along the front. As for the Military Police, they've mostly been deployed to the major cities. The Guard Battalion is in Hochburg, while a MP Regiment is here and two more are deployed to Festung and Tetrarch. The CBRN Battalions are currently is Krepest, but they are set to move at a moment's notice if weapons of such kind are used. I've been working closely with local and national police. Things are generally quiet and orderly. Of note to the opposite, are the loss of everyone in Erong. I haven't been able to contact any personnel there at all. Additionally, there was a shootout in Gründorf, which seems to follow an investigation covering half of North Modeno. I'm not sure on the specifics, but it seems there's some foreign meddling."

Ball nodded and dismissed the group with a simple, "Thank you. All of you. We'll meet again in 24 hours unless anything major changes. Hintzen, I want an update every two hours on the naval situation due to this being a major undertaking. Good night, everyone."

As the personnel in the room filtered out, and representatives hung up, Ball leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and rubbed his temples with his palms. This was not how a leader was supposed to run a country: Into the ground in war.

First Lieutenant Lars Ghurosky

South Modeno

5/20/2018 - 22:43

The two Vanguard stood at the same table with the captain of the 9th Sentinel Battalion and Brigadier General Ziemowit Meier of the Modenian Special Forces command. Frigate Captain Yount and his Naval Special forces platoons had already mounted up and flown off towards the west to link up with the Navy. While Ghurosky and Kane weren't commanders of any forces here, just advisors, they'd earned a position at the table with the Sentinel captain and the Modenian general.

"Can we rely on your people to join us in battle?" Ziemowit asked.

Ghurosky shrugged and looked from his second to the Sentinel, "We're just training advisers. The URA hasn't even declared war, and the GRCS in general is trying to avoid the conflict, save for the CPD hit put out on defending your country."

Ziemowit's eyebrows knit together as he leaned in, "My people need your help. Your battalion nearly matches my unit in size, but they far outpace our people in training and experience. They have to help us."

Ghurosky looked to the captain for an answer, but he merely shrugged, "Hey, Lieutenant, I'm all for busting some Dommie heads. I say we go get some."

Ghurosky shook his head, "We'd be going against orders. General Wolffe would have our heads."

Ziemowit nodded, "I understand consequences. We have our own rules. But the Naval Forces, they need help. Frigate Captain Yount is my friend. I've been given open orders to move, I can requisition more aircraft to lift your people with mine. Please, Captain, Lieutenant."

The Sentinel captain looked at Ghurosky and shrugged again. Ghurosky looked at Kane, who nodded his head. Ghurosky nodded as well, thinking. "Fine. We'll go."

Ziemowit smiled, "Gather your men, we shall leave as soon as we can!" The Modenian turned and left the conference room.

Ghurosky glanced at Kane and the Sentinel captain, "I hope you two understand we just walked into shit. This is not a place we should be going."

The captain nodded, "True, but if it works out, it'll be a huge win for us. Also, we're just supporting the Modenians, PACT, and the CPD. We'll be fine."

Ghurosky deadpanned, "Yeah. Fine. We're always fine."

19-Meletis

Outside Erong, Namenia

5/20/2018 - 22:45

Ten klicks northeast of Erong was nothing but rolling hills of snowy forests. In those forests, three sets of visored eyes laid in the snow, allowing the frozen dust to cover them and hide them from thermal views. They'd been marching for four days, and when they finally came upon the city, it had been obvious from a distance war had broken here. It had also been obvious war was not going well for Modeno. There were a lot of Dominion forces swarming the city from where they could see, and Meletis, Sedge, and Caulum weren't sure what they could do from their position.

Meletis turned slightly enough to catch Caulum and Sedge's attention, "So, how do we get in?"

"What?" Caulum's helmet turned and stared.

"You heard me."

"I thought I was the funny, but he makes jokes now!" Sedge quipped.

"No," Meletis remarked, "I'm serious. We need to get down there."

"Yeah, no, nope," Caulum's head shook.

"C'mon, Cal. We have to do something."

"We can. We can leave, and go somewhere else and then go home."

Meletis shook his head, "No, Cal." He shook the snow off and lifting himself into a kneeling position, "There are people down there. Isn't our job to help people?"

"Yeah, Remnant people. Those are Modenian," Caulum rose into a kneeling position as well.

Meletis stared down Caulum, "No. We help people. We were made to save people from monsters, and," Mel pointed at Erong, "Aren't those guys monsters?"

Sedge shrugged, "Who, Dommies?"

"Yes."

Another shrug, "Yeah, sure. I think they're just edgy pricks, but monsters is a good word, too."

Sedge could sense the flat stares from Meletis and Caulum before Caulum broke the short silence, "Yeah, sure. Fuck it. We're alone anyways."

Meletis stood up and nodded, "Alright, let's go down and see what we can see."

Caulum and Sedge followed, standing as well. Caulum sighed, "When we die, I'm going to remind you of how you said this was a good idea."

by **Vacif** » Sat Oct 13, 2018 2:48 pm

_{1st Lt. Kai Bo Wei}
_{7th Mech.Inf Division, 70th Bde, 1st Btn, A Company, 1st Platoon Leader}
_{Operation Dificult Agency}
_{Road to Sereda}
_{United Socialist States of Modeno, Dominion occupied territory}
05/20/18 – 00:30 MST

As planned the 70th Mechanized Brigade’s 1st Battalion, Alpha Company would be the lead element of PACT’s western ground incursion into Dominion occupied territory. In the cover of the darkest night, the 7th Mechanized Division would push north from their staging point into enemy occupied territory and liberate the numerous small villages in the west. Meanwhile the 71st would push closer to the coast in order to link up with Valaran naval infantry elements making landfall ahead of them. The goal was to pull forces away from Erong, and to prevent Dominion assets in the west from reinforcing the enemy encirclement. Admittedly it was a hastily organized and bold operation that probably wouldn’t pull too many assets from Erong, but the Vacifan forces were eager and ready. Afterall, fortune favours the bold.

The first inland target of many was the town of Sereda, arguably the largest town in the area with a population of some 30 000 people. All the while other units would assault villagers further inland or along the front. Undoubtedly the Dominion would have established a base of operations in the town due to its proximity to the frontline and its natural geography. The northern part of Modeno was vast and much less urbanized than their southern counterpart. Population centers were small and far between. Roughly an hour or so between towns and villages. Their industry relied heavily on the exploitation of natural resources and manufacturing. Their roads unsuitable for heavy use by military grade vehicles. This was both a blessing and a curse as Donnish Air/Naval units had bombed all major transportation infrastructure between the border and the frontline preventing the Dominion from easily deploying additional forces to the front. This meant Dominion forces had to either use smaller municipal roads, or spend time repairing rail lines and highways. Unfortunately this meant PACT forces would also have to use small municipal roads as there were little if any large roads in this part of the country. They could always go off road but that came with its own benefits and downturns.

Liverpudlian forces were expected to make up the bulk of the forces in this sector, Ranger reconnaissance indicated a combination of mechanized and motorized infantry. He didn’t know much about a fair fight but he was sure they’d get a thrashing one way or another. The Modenian ground and naval forces were on their way, but their air force was able to be scrambled at any time, so in conjuncture with the 4th Air Wing they’d either have aerial superiority or at the very least prevent the enemy from gaining aerial superiority. Civilians had generally been confined to their homes, so artillery and general area strikes were out of the question. They would have to manually dislodge their enemy.

1st Lieutenant Kai sat silently in the lead vehicle as they neared the target. The interior of the LAV was lit up with dim green overhead lights. The only sounds inside of the vehicle were the sounds of the engine humming and the sounds of various electronic devices giving off ambient noise. Until they were in sight of the objective they were strictly radio silent. He didn’t like the situation. He wanted more time, to better assess the situation, to drill for the operation, for the Rangers to gather more intel but this was it. They were out of time, Erong was about to hit its flashpoint, Dominion forces had been sitting pretty on their side of the front for long enough, and so had PACTs. It was going to happen. With Erong singlehandedly being the largest and most strategic position in the north, the enemy would dedicate a large chunk of their assets to take it. They wouldn’t care about 10 or so small villages to the west. If anything, they probably already pulled assets out of the west for Erong already.

But that was the thing. They wouldn’t care about those small villages if they had a big fight like Erong to deal with. While their attention was elsewhere they would strike here and now. Take back the territory lost during the scramble and make the west important. The frontline was absurdly large, no way in his mind could the Dominion hold the entire front and dedicate a large enough force to take Erong, it wasn’t feasible. Sure, the enemy was on alert but with so much territory to watch over it was hard.

Kai looked around at the seven other soldiers sitting with him. They were all young, like him. They tried to maintain a hard a stoic expression but he could easily see through the façade, they were out of their element. They shuddered, their teeth chattered, and their noses wet with snot. The 7th Mechanized found its home in the northern mountain range of Kasara but that wasn’t much compared to the literal tundra that was north Modeno. Only a few units like Lieutenant Colonel Laza's 3rd Battalion spent prolonged time in the part of the mountain that was actually cold. Right now, it was somewhere below 20 degrees centigrade, about 45 degrees colder than they were usually accustomed to. They’d burn a lot of energy just moving in these conditions let alone fighting. His men would be enough for him to deal with, he just hoped their equipment would hold up to the conditions.

Speaking of… The army had barely scrounged up enough cold weather kit for the division. Their weapons and equipment were designed for the ruggedness of the jungle. While the army kept cold weather gear on hand, it wasn’t en-masse. They’d be hard pressed to adequately equip further reinforcements. If the war went well the general populace would probably support sending in troops like the 3rd Mountain Division, or the 4th Mechanized, but even with the support they wouldn’t be able to properly clothe all the soldiers. At least not without support. It’d likely take another month or two at least to get those division ready for deployment, what with the hardware they would need to transport. It was a wonder how they were even here with their LAVs, let alone with divisional support assets.

The Lieutenant checked his watch, it was just about time they reached Sereda. The LAVs stopped some distance away from town limits, hidden in the treeline. Infantry would move up on foot while the snipers and APCs/IFVs were on stand by to lay down covering fire for the infantry. A number of armored bulldozers from the division EOD unit had been assigned to assist in clearing the town of barricades and traps. They would assault the small town from three directions and sweep and clear. Sweep every building and check every corner wary of the tactics they were taught for home defense back home. Close helicopter was on stand by but they wanted to keep silent for as long as possible. It would likely take them at least a week to dislodge the defenders, but the faster they moved, the less time the enemy had to wake up and reorganize.

Once initial resistance was eliminated, armoured vehicles would advance to support the infantry as they pushed further into town. From here it would be the arduous task of fighting in an urban environment. The Liveroudilan forces had the urban defensive advantage, but Ranger reconnaissance showed the Vacifans had the numbers advantage. The LAV eased to a stop and the inside lights went green. The back ramp lowered and the Lieutenant and his men dismounted. It was show time. Operation Difficult Agency was underway.

by **The United Remnants of America** » Sat Nov 10, 2018 5:20 pm

Captain Silke Dunst

Over Erong, Namenia

5/21/2018 - 01:26

Dunst's MiG-29 sailed effortlessly through the sky. This was her 3rd combat air patrol of the last 24 hours, and her aircraft's 6th. Three MiG-29s trailed after Dunst in a diamond pattern. All were freshly fueled and re-armed for the air patrol. The last patrol, other than the skirmishes, had been mostly uneventful. The Dominion seemed to be slowing the air attacks, since they'd been taking more losses than they had expected, most likely.

Each MiG was fully loaded on their 30mm cannons, as well as loading down their hardpoints with R-73s and R-27s. The aircraft here were set to air-to-air engagements only. It was the only way contested airspace could be dealt with. That meant the troops on the ground weren't getting direct air support, but it also meant the Dominion wasn't, either. This was an air battle through and through.

The Dominion had been doing radar jamming measures, but those were as effective as they could be. Sometimes Dominion aircraft breached the lines and caused havoc, sometimes they got caught by a perceptive picket patrol and dealt with early. It was the way the world worked. Sometimes they lost more than they wanted, sometimes the Dominion did. War was hell.

Dunst's flight was in Fairy Squadron, 3rd Flight. Dunst was Fairy 3-1, and her wingmen were 3-2, 3-3, and 3-4. Creatively named, her flight was, but it served a simple purpose. Of course they had personal callsigns. 3-2 was Arrow. 3-3 was Fiend. 3-4 was Thriller. And of course, Dunst was Angel. The four had served through this war more or less intact, though Arrow was a new addition, as the original 3-2 had been downed and seriously injured in the first 36 hours of the Siege of Erong, and the conflict in general. Since then, however, Dunst's flight had been a strong asset to the Modenian Air Force and the defense of Erong.

"Uh, I think I have a contact, bearing from due west of our position." That was Fiend's voice on the comms.

"Fiend, this is Angel, you want to repeat that?"

"Angel, Fiend. Repeat: Potential unknown radar contact bearing 270 degrees from our current position."

Angel glanced at her radar readout. "Fiend, Angel. Confirm a hazy reading at 107km and closing."

"Maybe clouds?" That was Arrow's voice.

"Hmm, no. Moving too fast and directly for us. Has to be aircraft."

"Hostile?"

"Possibly."

A few moments passed before Arrow's strained voice came back on the radio, "Radar lock. Repeat, I've been hit by active radar lock."

Angel took a breath, getting into the rhythm of the old song and dance, "Alright, flight break on 270 degrees, engage hostile contacts at will."

The four MiG pilots broke their formation and swept left towards the unknown radar contact, increasing their speed to gain ground and close on the target. As they neared, the radar contact on the screen began to shimmer more and break apart, becoming two, three, four, more contacts. They closed to within 60 kilometers, and counted fully 8 contacts resembling Liverpudlian Eurofighters. Durst cursed silently.

The Liverpudlian Eurofighter could most likely be overcome by a Modenian MiG-29, especially in a one-on-one dogfight, even more so when considering that the Modenian pilots, or what few there were, had all gained live battle experience in the last few weeks, while the Liverpudlian pilots were generally untested until they came down into Modeno. However, the radar was reading 8 Eurofighters, double the amount of MiGs in Durst's flight.

"Air Control, Fairy Squadron Lead, copy?" Durst called out on the squadron network. No response. That was the usual in the last several days due to the increased jamming protocols of the Dominion, which would block signals as they got further from the airfield. No doubt the Dominion had covered the area surrounding this incursion flight with extra jamming power to protect them as well as cover the calls of prey.

"Fairy Squadron Lead, this is Fairy 3-1, copy?" Again, no answer. Durst swapped back to the flight's channel, "Angel to Flight. Squadron not responding. We're on our own."

A trio of acknowledgements rang out, almost immediately followed by Arrow "I'm being lit up again... I've been fired on."

Arrow broke out of the run and jinked hard to the right and up out of the way, a long-range AIM-120 fired from a Eurofighter towards him.

"3rd Flight, light 'em up." Durst's command coincided with the MiGs activating their active radar to begin weapon locks. Almost immediately, Durst got a lock and snapped off an R-27 towards a Eurofighter, which she saw on radar turn away, the hazy dot moving off-course.

Seconds passed as they closed distances. In those seconds, the AIM-120 streaked towards Arrow, who had to pull into a hard high-G turn to evade, the missile losing its lock and streaming off into the night sky. The Eurofighter Durst had fired on wasn't so lucky. A second later, an orange flower bloom appeared in the night sky and the radar smudge disappeared off the screen.

That made it seven-to-four. A better competition. They were roughly 30 kilometers apart now, within range of shorter-range missiles. Arrow, Fiend, Thriller all reported getting radar locks as well as getting locked themselves. Durst ran into the same situation. It was like a meeting of knights of old, about to trade blows.

7 Eurofighter-launched AIM-9 Sidewinders fired simultaneously with 4 R-73s. The missiles were virtually the same and went about their business the same. 8 aircraft jinked and dodged to get away from their personal demons in physical form, meanwhile 3 Eurofighters rose up higher in altitude to break from the fighting.

As the aircraft scattered, another Eurofighter ran out of luck, taking a Vympel explosion to its engines and going up in flames. Meanwhile, Fiend's own time ran out as a Sidewinder detonation sheared off his starboard wing, putting Fiend into a downward spiral towards the ground. Fiend didn't black out, but the aircraft was spinning to fast for him to get his hand to the ejection mechanism. Fiend was aware as his MiG-29 smashed into the ground at terminal velocity.

Six versus three. Durst had no time the grieve the death of her friend right now. Emotion was shut out as her brain was in full operation mode, and her adrenaline was in a high buzz right now as she successfully evaded the Sidewinder with her name on it. "Status?" Thriller and Arrow responded.

The three Eurofighters that were targeted had wrapped around, meanwhile the trio that hadn't been targeted came out of the upper altitude they held, which they used to close on the Modenian aircraft. Liverpudlian 27mm canon rounds fired in short bursts downwards towards Arrow, Thriller and Durst. Bright tracer rounds arced past Durst's cockpit, and through the glass, she watched as those same tracer rounds punched into Arrow's own cockpit.

"Arrow? Arrow, respond." Durst watched the MiG-29 veer off-course at a downward angle to meet its destination with the earth below. Durst knew in the back of her mind Arrow had been killed, but it didn't connect with her current running thoughts. It would eventually, after the firefight. Time to grieve was later, though.

Durst and her remaining wingmate shoved their aircraft upwards, their aircraft's bigger cannon rounds streaking back towards the Eurofighters in response, lancing up into the sides of two Eurofighters, putting them both offline. The third Eurofighter saw it had overestimated, and dodged to move out of the way. Meanwhile, the other trio of Eurofighters took this chance to re-lock and fire a trio of Sidewinders at Thriller and Durst. One Sidewinder went after Durst, and the other two locked onto Thriller.

As Durst had to drag her throttle and stick away to once again dodge an incoming missile, she didn't have time to see Thriller's vain efforts to dodge two missiles coming at slightly different vectors. He spun his MiG-29 down and to the left, letting one explode just out of range, peppering his aircraft with shrapnel. But even as the first missile 'missed,' the second found its mark, detonating over top the center of the aircraft, knocking out both engines, the cockpit, and all major systems at once. With Thriller unconscious from the blast impact as well as quickly bleeding out from shrapnel wounds, his unresponsive aircraft almost literally fell out of the sky.

It was now four versus a very lonely one. All four of the surviving Eurofighters reoriented on Durst. Durst's aircraft had alarm klaxons blaring as four separate target locks announced themselves. She had a lock of her own. Durst fired off the five remaining missiles she had at one target while 4 Sidewinders lanced towards her. Durst made no attempt to dodge, no attempt to beat four missiles. She merely closed her eyes and hoped she'd used her last munitions to take down a Liverpudlian with her. She hoped it was one of the ones that had killed her wingmates.

Captain Silke "Angel" Durst died over the skies of Erong. When the 1st Wing command heard of Durst and her flight's exploits, she was posthumously given the Fuhrer's Cross, one of the highest awards a Modenian soldier can receive. Additionally, she was credited with 8 kills, making her the best woman ace of Modeno, as well as the best best Ace Modeno had ever had. Modeno Air Force cadets would learn of Captain Durst's heroism for years to come.

by **Anowa** » Thu Nov 15, 2018 6:53 pm

_{Commander Hildebrandt Kraus
Lieutenant Commander Luca Blomberg}
_{Detachment 17 Flight assigned to Erong Battlespace}
_{Erong, Namenia}
_USSN
_{5/20/2018 - 11:26 PM AMT}

From the sealed cockpit of an SH-12J, the sound of war were but a distant echo, with enough titanium and AlON between them that the only thing that could threaten them wasn't carried by a person. The duo had put in easily a thousand hours of flight time into craft like this, enough experience to get past the rules and regulations keeping idiots behind the stick of a bird marked with D-17 insignia. To say they were anything less than the best was an insult.

To say they weren't ready to land in literal dragon's teeth to get some of their people out of the mess would be a gross understatement. So when the call came in that a bunch of spooks were at risk of being overrun, and with the risks of the dominion capturing them, the duo of pilots and their flight jumped into action. The SECEVAC was in one of the farthest corners of Erong. Meaning ground wouldn't get there in time, and it was clouded with enough AA and SAMs that any normal incursion would kill more people than they were rescuing. The Vacifians had a SF team capable of deploying but they were too far out, and the Donnish troops were too spread thin as is. Meaning this was up to them.

With the sensitivity and risk of the mission they would be going low, fast and hard from start to finish. Looking at the altimeter he frowned, 8 meters. Pulling the craft down two meters set them into the recessed bottom of the valley, it was a straight shot from here to Erong.

As they neared the top speed the craft would allow, Kraus spared no time to look at the tracers being cast over the valley nor the vehicles scant feet below him ferrying people and supplies back and forth. More than a few canvas tops were ripped clear due to the wake of the massive rotary craft. Time was ticking for the people that needed and evac, and he'd sooner spit on his father's grave than let them die.

Erong was approaching fast, tilting the craft back a fraction, he lowered the collective and started to slow, behind him the rear SH-12J did the same, fewer than two craft lengths behind. The main street had been cleared thanks to the Donnish armored advance, and was to be the main artery for the D-17 helos. They would follow it for another 3 kilometers before splitting off into other streets and all but scraping over the shorter buildings.

Below him he could see the faces of Tank commanders, civvies, and Modenian troops alike staring at the sheer size of the pilot's balls. Flying this fast and this low below building level was something very rarely seen in the world, especially not in an active combat zone. But his job required it, so it's what he'd be doing, at least as much as he could until he got those people out.

_{Specialist Soren "Verda" Valiantsson}
_{1st Mot.Inf Division, 2nd Reg, 3rd Bat, C Company, 2nd Platoon. Forward Support Controller.}
_{Operation Dawnbreaker Staging Area}
_Anowa
_{5/21/2018 - 00:22 PM AMT}

The last three hours had been basically non stop firefights. Ten minute gaps of silence followed by short intense battles lasting roughly 2 minutes. So far the Dominion's attempts at a breakthrough had been like trying to take down a brick wall with a tee ball bat. In those ten minute stretches they grab Dommie bodies, living or not, and use them as another layer of protection, using them as fleshy sandbags stacked three or four layers deep. Soren had blocked out the smell nearly an hour ago.

This was the longest gap of time in which there was no gunfire, and with his ears somewhat okay, he could hear the sounds of combat elsewhere, gunfire, engines, helicopter rotors blasting through the valley. All with the intent of saving or taking as many lives as possible. He was sure he could even hear jet engines.

"Hey Soren."

"Yeah?" Looking to his left, Soren spotted Rossel staring out into the abyss of the night somewhere. Marksman rifle raised and aiming at, something.

"There's a ridge about 400 meters out, you mind taking a look?" Soren nodded.

The 4.5x on the woman's rifle likely wasn't magnified enough to get a decent look, but his designator, which had up to 40x magnification could. Pulling it out of his rear belt pack his took aim at the ridge to their west. He immediately spotted a shape he could honestly say didn't belong. It was a duo of what he could describe as heads, both of them looking at something near them. The time of day as well as the shadows dancing across the earth made it hard to discern what they were doing. So Soren did the normal thing and clicked a button on the right side of the device. Washing the whole of his sight in a dull green glow.

His heart shuddered as he spotted a single bright green lance of uninturrupted light coming from the odd shapes. Winding back the magnification, he noticed it reached it's terminus less then 40 meters from where Soren was standing. He also registered that the dull whine of a jet engine was getting louder. It didn't take much to put two and two together.

"INCOMING!" The youngest of the platoon grabbed his battle buddy and dragged her into their foxhole. Waiting for the subsequent hellfire to wash over them. Moments turned into seconds, and then, it didn't seem as if anything was going to happen. Soren for an instant thought he was wrong.

Up ahead, one of his comrades stood up, calling out to him, "Soren, the fuck are you-"

The words were ripped from the man's mouth, the air ripped from Soren's lungs, and his feet ripped from their perch. The young man smashed into the rear of his foxhole, his ears ringing like they never had before, and he took a ragged and shocked breath. Standing back up, his now shaken form protested, most of his body now screaming due to the sudden massive influx of biochemicals and fear. Soren didn't want to see what had happened, but he had to, like looking at a car wreck the innate human need to know things overrode his will to stay down, keep himself safe and shield his mind from further horrors.

But he could not take back what he saw. Bodies lay strewn across the field, a massive crater lay smack dab in the middle of their line, and Anowan soldiers.. His brothers and sister thrashing screaming at the wounds inflicted upon them. Soren jumped as something landed on the edge of his foxhole, it took his brain a moment to register that it was someone's leg.

His mind skipped over the nonsensical shock, years of training now kicking in, as he now realized there was a gap in the line that needed to be filled, and wounded to be triaged. He bound up from his foxhole, Rossel following close behind. All around he spotted his comrades, left thankfully alive from the bomb grabbing wounded and pulling them into foxholes. he passed by people he knew, nametags worn on their plate carriers. Dermann was laying in half dead, everything from his waist down missing, and his internal organs having formed a pool of viscera around the gap in his form. Oskar was standing and looking around for something, likely his now missing arm, he was being herded to a foxhole by Hilda and Ioannas. Ahead he spotted Ladislav crawling towards his mangled rifle, helmet now missing, likely blown off from the explosion. The tinnitus in Soren's ears was beginning to drown out, the sound of agony, screaming and warfare coming to him suddenly.

He and Rossel had the same idea, grabbing the now one legged man and dragging him into a now misshapen foxhole. Rossel immediately set to work on his leg as Soren took overwatch, bracing for the assault that was moments from beginning.

"I need my rifle!" Soren winced, the shock of losing a limb wasn't something the human mind took well. It starts diverting attention, telling it to look for other things to focus on as it tried to distract you from the fact that death was close, if not imminent. Dumping you full of enough catecholamines that you started to lose touch with reality. Right now Ladislav was focussing on his rifle, training having hammered into him that losing it would get you in deep shit. His mind was reverting to fearing a stern yelling, instead of his death.

Though Soren's wince wasn't entirely over Ladislav's insistence on grabbing his rifle. Rather it was the fact that Anowan IFAKs were bottom bidder packages filled with some bandages and literal super glue. The only person in the platoon who would have earnest tourniquets was the Platoon Medic. Everyone else would have to make do, since Soren knew they didn't have enough.

Soren ducked, giving a cry of surprise as he heard another sound that he really didn't want to hear. The shrill screech of mortar shells. "Incoming!"

Both himself and Rossel used themselves to shield Ladislav, who was now openly sobbing. Soren cursed himself in knowing such things, but the odds of surviving a mortar barrage weren't good. He began mumbling a prayer to Freyja, one that neither Ladislav nor Rossel heard above the ungodly cacophony of mortar shells raining hot death upon them.

Thirty five seconds, and more rounds than Soren bothered to keep track of. Rossel had made a make shift tourniquet out of a rifle round and one of the bandages they had. It was all she could do. Soren stood, weapon at the ready as he popped his head out of the foxhole. He saw smouldering craters, he heard ringing, he felt terrible, and most of all he saw motionless bodies. More dead, more than he counted prior. He heard no voices, just a few more heads popping out of foxholes scattered about.

"Contact front!" The voice was distant, but it was within his unit. Turning around back to face the enemy, he readied his rifle for another stint of combat. The wounded would have to wait... as depressing a thought as that was.

by **Imperial Valaran** » Mon Nov 19, 2018 6:43 pm

‘Interior Lighting’

54 km South of the Liverpool’s coast, International Waters
04:23 AM, 18/06/2018

Tafrik panted, wiping beads of sweat. Interior lighting lanced into his eyes. His body knew it should be asleep, and it was reacting accordingly. On the plus side, this time of night was one of the few times the gym was empty. Tafrik didn’t need his men to see him like this. They needed their captain to be as enthusiastic and confident as he had been, back when he first proposed that offensive. They needed to see his energy, not peer at his late-night doubts.

Straining his muscles gave his mind no peace. Tafrik wasn’t sleeping well. He hadn’t really been doing so for some time. A marine was meant to fucking be used to life inside ships. If felt wrong to even criticise the vessels, it was like rejecting the soul of Valaran. The nation had poured its wealth and its hope into the grey hulls. They were not being repaid well.

His mind went over the plan again, as if repetition was going to ease the tension. The Valarans and the Isle’ish would head north along Modeno’s coast. Skirting round Liverpool’s eastern peninsula, they would then push north. On the way they would receive Modenan naval assets, special forces and air cover. The combined forces would form a mobile bastion, shielding various amphibious units as they sailed to the front.

A second journey was being taken by the Vacifcan 7th Division. Having landed at Festung, they would take the land route, shadowing the naval task force. Ideally, a Modenan force would join them. If the Valarans and Isle’ish had naval strength, Vacificans would provide the mainstay of the ground forces, with three mechanised brigades to the Valaran one.

The various forces would rendezvous at a cove 108 miles south of the front line. It was the last friendly landing site in the north. There, they would assess the situation. If the front was holding and the enemy overstretched, they would conduct a sharp fresh assault. If the enemy was advancing in force, the jumble of allied forces would seek to stabilise the front, with diversionary attacks or a defence in depth. Either way, they were the opening move in what was to be an extended engagement. Fresh Valaran units were being prepared back home, and the CPD would be massing in the south, along with other Isle’ish forces. Achieving critical mass would come, in time, but the situation in the north would not wait for the traffic jams to be sorted out, nor for the vast coalition forces to array themselves in splendour. The enemy was not working to the allied timetable.

Despite the confused mix of nationalities, the plan was not especially complex. It had two clear axes of advance, each one operating in mutual support of the other. Modenan and perhaps Vacifican planes would provide air cover for the naval force. The Ships themselves would screen against any Dominion amphibious landing, and provide a missile blanket of their own. Supplies would have to go the land route mostly, though the small forces greatly aided the logistical situation.

But the longer Tafrik thought about it, the worse it made him feel. There was so little information coming out of this front. Supposedly the Modenans were holding, but in truth no one knew. Communication about the state of affairs from Hochburg was sparse, and Tafrik suspected their leadership didn’t even know themselves what was going. With everyone fixed on Erong, this was a forgotten front.

For the Dominion too, apparently. Their jets had conducted some probing attacks, nothing serious. Their navies had done even less. But this actually made it harder to know what they were doing, or what forces they had present. Perhaps a horde of their own was being massed, somewhere in the peninsula of Liverpool that extended downwards, or perhaps they were simply lying in wait for targets of opportunity.

And the coalition would be stepping right into this nest, hoping there were few hornets. Sailing past Liverpool’s territory might spook that nation. Liverpool had not deployed most of its forces for the invasion, but if it feared its own territory might come under attack, they might panic. The Vanquarians were a slightly more known quality. Decades of tension and brinkmanship since the World War left their methods a constant source of Valaran study. But what had been learned was not comforting. Autarch Scott was cunning but not methodical, prone to gambles and then to a sudden awareness of risks.

They were venturing into the unknown here. Admiral Niels blathered on with the confidence most VIN officers shared, but Tafrik had lost his own certainty in events. He was VRM. And VRM didn’t have the luxury of hiding in the bowls of Cruisers, didn’t have the luxury of steel and precision-guided munitions as guards. VRM bled and died, all over, and they did so on nothing. They were the most deployed Valaran ground force, and the worst funded. What kind of mentality did you think that would breed?

The Siridians shared his view. They had two ranking officers with the force, commanding a jumble of ships and the bulk of the ground forces. Like most of the islanders, they talked little, but Tafrik sensed what was behind their gazes. The Siridians didn’t like what they were being asked to do. They had been told to fight, but they suspected that they had been ordered to die.

And even if everything went perfectly, they would find themselves stranded. Astaria was dragging its feet about the reinforcements. First delays, then cuts, then more delays. They would get barely 6,000 out of the promised 35,000, and in two months rather than two weeks. The other nations were no better. The Modenans were apparently sluggish about defending their own nation. Most of their troops languished in the south, and they spared almost nothing from that stockpile. The Donnish were committed, and the CPD had no reason to help. The Valaran enmity for the Remnants reeked from the capital. There was a staccato of accusation, bilious hatred coursing through the political arteries of the nation. The unifying threat of the Dominion would fade as the front stabilised, in fact this operation would continue. Tafrik suspected that once it did, the divisions would show.

That was probably why the reinforcements had been cut down so fucking much. It was probably why they were taking so fucking long. The government in Astaria was content to sit this one out. Do enough for political purposes, but really, if the Remnants wanted this country so bad, they should bleed for it. If that meant some of the Siridians died, who really cared anyway, they were least important colony anyway, the least independent. Just lesser Valarans. This was the unvoiced fear of the SMDF officers. They knew somewhere deep down, that as much as the Islanders saw themselves as imperial citizens, the Empire didn’t quite care about them. It saw them as instruments more than its citizens. Somewhere deep down, all VRM felt the same.

But Tafrik only suspected all this. It was a haze of prediction, no substance. All he really knew was that assuming they survived, he and his men would be stuck in north Moreno when winter came. That none of his men had snow camouflage. And that Modenan winters were frost-choked and bitter.

‘The Fabric of Purpose’

The Valaran fleet formation had three elements: the Greaves, the Plate and the Trail. These names had a semi-ordained status within the VIN; each sub-component or squadron had its own proper designation, a jumble of letters and numbers, but every operator used the terms as a shorthand.

The Plate was the most self-explanantory. It was a simple six ship cluster, three kilometres long and two kilometres wide. It was commanded by the two aviation ships, and guarded by the four air-defence warships — two Varnaus ‘Heavy Destroyers’ of the VIN, and the two Karakol Frigates of the SMDF.

The Varnaus’ were the Navy’s steel spine, and its mailed fists. They provided area air-defence to the Plate, and theatre air-defence to the entire Formation. Together, they had a greater number of vertically launched missiles than the rest of the fleet combined. One Varnaus steered its radar beams to the air-search functions. The other scanned the surface. In theory, each of the ‘Heavy Destroyers’ could perform both roles simultaneously. In practice, it was better for the ships to specialise, because the needs were so different. Air-searches were broad brushstrokes, trying to cover as much space as possible. Air-targets had no cover, but the space to cover was vast. Surface sweeps required more precision. Scans had to be fine-tuned to avoid returns from the clutter of the waves. They were tightly limited by physical constraints — the curvature of the earth, the height of the radar, and the sea state. For air-scans, the unchecked space brought its own blessings and curses. Each Varnaus was supported by a Karakol in a supplementary role. They were equipped with a 2003 set-up — APAR arrays and SMART-Ls working in concert. Perfect for area air-defence, but not quite theatre level engagement capacity.

The Greaves referred to the outer screen. Three Frigate classes provided defences here.They ranged 10-15km ahead of the formations, flanks sweeping out in a crescent. They were well within the air-blanket of the formation core, but were able to pick up surface objects further in advance. This was a much needed boost, as reaction times regarding surface threats were the most precious. However it also left the Frigates more exposed. Although well within the air-blanket, they would have to deal with surface threats themselves.

There was a flipside. Out in their small squadrons, they had nothing to protect. This made them unencumbered; they could manoeuvre around as packs of vessels, each fanged. The Frigates typically had a medium range radar for combat purposes, and a longer aerial search radar to complement the efforts of the Destroyers.

And then there was the Trail. This was the non-combat elements of the any Task Force, the extended cluster of aviation ships and support vessels that attended to any Fleet, or housed an amphibious corps. It did not trail in a literal sense — mostly it was ensconced within the Plate. But to the minds of VIN admirals, it was deadweight in an engagement, and absolutely vital for anything else. The 7th’s Trail was officially guarded by a number of SMDF corvettes, which bristled with ASCMs and point-defence weaponry, but lacked the staying power of their larger cousins.

This formation was standard for the Valarans. The VIN in its modern incarnation was an aggressive beast. It believe in decisive battles, the cut and thrust of naval warfare. Its aim was sea control, and its creed was of a hunter. Its movements were predatory. Recent Valaran ships reflected this. They sat low in the water, built to inflict damage, less escort than raider.

An older VIN did not have this mindset. Previous incarnations lacked the budget, the size or the confidence for this mentality. It focused on mundane tasks, like patrol and convoy protection, playing the part of routine escorts. It belonged to an Empire unwilling or unable to risk battles, and unconvinced of the merits of surface combat. It had been the fashion of the 1980s and 1970s to declare surface combatants one step from obsolescence. Offensive action would be solely a domain of carrier aviation and submarines; destroyers and frigates were relegated to mere protective roles. Radar had not yet been good enough to confidently handle the emergent missile threat, meanwhile ships were dismissed as the main platform to launch missiles. It was very much an international norm, but a damaging one for the VIN, which had seen its Carrier programmes vanish into the cuts on the 1970s. The Valarans had allowed themselves to be bound by the assumptions of others. They had been timid to declare their own doctrine, or the hard thinking behind it. That had all changed, and through toil, the VIN found itself more confident in the path it had chosen.

Unfortunately for the Seventh, it was not a new fleet. Most of the classes present were conceived in a transitional period, when planners took halting steps back towards the latter, and fearful reliance on the former. The ships straddled the gap between old and new Valaran, between timid orthodoxy and predatory resurgence.The Varnaus’ and Miadars were the only truly new vessels, and which was why they possessed such a disproportionate level of the Seventh’s striking force.

The Siridians were also very much stuck in this transition. The VIN had the budget to remake itself every decade or so; the colonies did not. The SMDF had long been stuck in the roles of local patrol and ASW, doing local oceanic housekeeping for the VIN. Safe within the tight constraints of such focuses and rendered spare by slim budgets, they had specialised. Most of the surface combatants it had were now four decades old, and were strictly functional affairs. The SMDF’s modern ships were its amphibious ones, and they were perhaps too ambitious. The Iljariq LHD was a cavernous, lumbering creature, more whale than shark. The expense of two, and their roles of aid-relief and aviation, meant defences were lacking. The Raef LPD was smaller yet better defended — courtesy of it being designed for the VIN, and not for the SMDF. Its Valaran origin meant it was also over engineered and expensive, and this was reflected in its cost. The SMDF managed one, and even that stretched their reach, limited as that was.

The formation was in EMCON. Speed had been set at 12 knots. This was enough for Towed-Array Sonars (TAS) to be deployed, and for none of the formation to lag behind. Fleet cohesion was going to be a crucial thing in the coming events, and so was ASW. TAS’ were currently switched to passive, so as to not unduly alert a hostile submarine. The Valarans and Siridians also had a high number of helicopters present — thirty-four. Most were SMDF operated, the old and reliable light-utility H-9 Ruukhas or the bulky transport-oriented H-18 Kharons. They were kept on the Iljariq and the two LPDs, but a few were scattered across its complement of frigates. All versions mounted a search-radar, and the Ruukhas also carried dipping sonar and around six sonobuys. The Valaran had a more serious ASW component — six H-16/C Siviras. The Sivira had a a magnetic anomaly detector/dipping sonar, and when fully equipped for ASW, it contained a 25-tube sonobuoy launcher, and two light torpedoes. A Sivira could be found on each Regn frigate in the edges and two more were stocked on the Karvas LPH. The LPH also mounted another kind of helicopter — an AEW&C rotorcraft, designated the H/17 Skavanir. In the absence of fixed-wings, this was the Seventh’s principal airborne search platform, though the radars on the Siviras could also conduct their own scans. Admiral Niels would be relying heavily on the Skavanirs in the period to come, but right now they were conserved, sitting on deck. Flying them up high would give the enemy a target indication too, so they would be saved for when (it was a when) slipping past was no longer an option.

Finally there were the Submarines. Of the four present, two ranged ahead, scouting for threats. Another could be found on each flank. The Jyry’s were Valaran’s most common submarine, and like much of the Seventh, they were not fully suited to the task ahead. They lacked the range or the speed of SSNs, relying as they did on lead-iron batteries. But fate had a way of twisting things. The jagged Heslan coastline, the Jyrys would ironically find themselves in a landscape they were born for. As the Seventh neared the danger zone, the submarines surfaced one last time, and recharged their batteries. As they sank below, they switched to air-independent propulsion (AIP) systems — the racks of Proton Exchange Membrane fuel cells they had installed. Of all the scattered Valaran and Siridean ships, they would be the ones most eager to hunt.

by **Empire of Donner land** » Tue Nov 20, 2018 9:46 am

Erong, Modeno

5/20/2018

Operation: Dawnbreaker

The Donnish 2nd Marine Brigade had managed to extend the holdout of the city for the 2 days it had been there. The Dominion assaults on the town had been rough going, but thanks to what was left of the city being used as cover, the Dominion were left only trying to break their way into the interior of the city through the outskirts. The 2nd Marine Brigade's combat effectiveness in the 2 days they had been there dropped 10% to 90% thanks to combat losses and them taking up most of the fighting, filling in the gaps the Modenians had that were open in the city.

Every time a Dominion assault took place, 2nd Brigade had successfully repelled it with minor losses of ground after needing to fall back to regroup to a better position. They had still kept the Dominion out of the interior of the city and keeping the fighting in the outskirts. Regardless of their efforts, the civilian population left out had suffered, and 2nd Brigade did their best to save and send civilians to rally points where they could stay out of the line of fire.

In a Machine Gun entrenchment within a ruined apartment complex which was watching an important road into the city, the floor was littered with shell casings of 12.7mm, 7.62 and 40mm as well as a number of magazines for their assault rifles. Every time the Apartment took some form of fire, the M2 HMG the Donnish Platoon had set up opened fire in bursts at the muzzle flashes to keep the Dominion forces from thinking of advancing. It was set up on a tripod just poking out of a window which had the best viewpoint on the road upwards towards the inner city.

Nothing, however, was stopping the Dominion from doing an all-out assault on their position regardless. Besides 4 Mortars, the M2 and the platoon itself. Come evening, Dominion forces had popped smoke on the road to cover an attack, and like clockwork, the M2 and the rest of the Platoon including the Mortars behind them were giving suppressing fire into the smoke and attempting to make their presence bigger than it was with all the fire going down the street. Tracers from the M2 particularly were extremely bright and made a show of ricocheting off the ground and flying straight into the air.

Before they could actually even see anything, the building was taking small arms fire and the muzzle flashes through the smoke were making themselves targets as the Donnish could now lay down a more accurate fire on the Dominion advance. As this happened an order came down from Company HQ for their position to hold the line, as Civilians were being moved through near them to a rallying point, an all-clear would be sent "shortly" to clear them to fall back to a better position should they need to once the Civilians were moved out of harm's way.

With the Dominion forces moving up on them suppressed, the smoke was dispersing. With the enemy fixed, they could send a portion of their troops to flank and get the Dominion Forces to fall back and retreat. The Platoon commander sent 2 squads out to flank the Dominion attack on the road, with the HMG and squads left in the apartment set to keeping the Dommies suppressed. They didn't know how many were attacking, but they estimated about platoon strength.

After an hour, the Dominion Platoon had popped more smoke to cover their retreat. Leftover in the battle was a number of bodies, but only 2 Donnish wounded and 1 Dead from the flank maneuver. Later the Donnish had realized that they had annihilated around 50% of their strength if it was a Platoon, 25 Dominion bodies littered the road.

Erong, Modeno

5/21/2018

Operation: Dawnbreaker

Finally, as the night was coming in, and day broke, Donnish Armored elements created a spearhead from the staging point and drove in for the killing blow on Erong with support from Carrier Air support, and hopefully, a full counter-offensive to the liverpoolian border would result. Immediately, the front around it broke into a crescendo of gunfire which lit up the surrounding sky. Self Propelled Guns fired all night and into the morning, firing and moving, moving and firing.

As the Armored Forces supported by Modenian Infantry and their allies slammed into enemy line, the Dominion forces within the city itself were in threat of becoming encircled as the Spearhead was within of spitting distance of the 2nd Brigade of Donnish Marines and their trapped allies. Within, the 2nd Brigade had their hopes realized as they could hear the offensive get closer and closer.

By daybreak, it was solidified that the Armored Push was able to make it to the city and accomplish their objectives by the next day, and a wide but expanding corridor for escaping troops and civilians was made as the combat intensified when the need arrived. By evening the Armored divisions had taken between nine hundred to over a thousand Estimated casualties spearheading into the enemy line and continuing in with Self-Propelled Anti-Air moving in, keeping the airspace of Erong as PACT controlled.

In the process of trying to break the encirclement, it was confirmed that around 1,500 Donnish Personnel were casualties in the fighting, with an estimated 200 being apart of the 2nd Brigade of Marines that had helped hold the line. A more solid count wouldn't be had until after the conflict was settled. But the Divisions involved had all accomplished their objectives for the day. On the 22nd, the city would be taken and until then dug in for Dominion Counter Attacks.

by **The United Remnants of America** » Wed Nov 21, 2018 3:12 pm

GRCS: The Greater Remnant Cooperation Sphere never sees major fighting in Modeno. Even the special forces and advisers in Modeno are only maneuvered around several various points before the war ends. While their support is greatly appreciated, the GRCS publicly laments not being able to send more troops in time and make a true show of force.

Modeno: Modeno survives the war more or less intact. The Dominion offensive flounders in the northern border as they dump resources into Erong and to fend off the coalition amphibious assaults along Modeno's northeastern coast. After the war, Modeno publicly thanks PACT and the GRCS for their assistance in saving their people and way of life from the expected genocide under Dominion occupation. Shortly following the war, Modeno petitions to join the GRCS under the pretense that they can help preserve the Modenian way of life. The GRCS admits the rustic socialist nation in hopes of strengthening ties with PACT, who worked alongside the GRCS to save Modeno.

CPD: The CPD assisted PACT and Modenian forces in several amphibious raids in Modeno to destabilize Dominion advances. While they take negligible losses and serve a mostly support role to cover PACT forces, as well as holding ground PACT troops took.

Commander Susan Grey: The commander of the CPD, and thus the leader of the entire private army, led the CPD support action in Modeno, however she later realized a mistake was made. Too large a force had been used in the defense, and the CPD had bled money in the operation, forcing a layoff of 150,000 employees. This causes a bloom of new, smaller private security companies to form throughout the CPD as well as damage the reputation of the CPD overall.

Immortals: Meletis, Caulum, and Sedge were able to safely evacuate from Modeno by skirting around Erong. However, unknown to the supersoldiers, the war had ended by the time they'd reached a location in which to contact their handlers. The Immortals have yet to prove themselves in a combat situation.

Shawn Ball: Chancellor Shawn Ball of Modeno won a challenge election shortly after the war, due to a spike in popularity for "shielding the nation from the Dominion barbarians." Ball led the country into the GRCS and is an outspoken proponent of looser regulation within the GRCS.

Wasylyna Swango: The General of the 1st Panzerdivision and trapped in Erong, Swango barely survived with her life, something not many of her troops could say. Swango was offered a promotion to command of the Imperial Army Corps for her spectacular defense of Erong, but declined the offer due to guilt of losing so many troops in the war. Swango is now working to rebuild the 1st Panzerdivision.

Ziemowit Meier: The Brigadier General of the Modenian special forces units led his troops and the Naval Special Forces to several small, but key victories during the amphibious assaults, cementing the need for special forces within the Modenian military.

Silke Dunst: The famed fighter ace of the war against the Dominion died a heroine of the nation. A statue was erected to the greatest pilot in Modenian military history in front of the Modeno Air Force Flight Academy.

Kazik Winkler: The National Police sergeant never really caught the serial killers, but several low-level messages were sent to Anowa as a result of Kazik's prodding. Winkler was able to use his influence to bring Officers Daniel and Aust onto the National Police under his command.

Terenti Forst: The young corporal was promoted to sergeant for his exemplary work in Erong, fighting until the end of the war. Forst was put in command of his squad officially, and he was granted new recruits after the war. Forst and his squad were transferred to the infantry battalion of the 1st Brigade, 1st Panzerdivision, which took heavy losses through the war as the primary defensive ground unit. Forst, despite his young age, became something of a local hero for his staunch defense of Erong, one of a hundred heroes born in the fires of war.

by **Empire of Donner land** » Wed Nov 21, 2018 3:51 pm

1st Donnish Marine Brigade: The Donnish 1st Marine Brigade sent in to stall the Dominion Assault on the encircled city of Erong suffered over 50% casualties during the course of the conflict. In the aftermath after being relieved by Donnish Armored Forces in Operation Dawnbreaker, they were given a Council Unit Citation for their sacrifice and assisted in the PACT/GRCS Offensive that would drive the War to its end.

DNS Soraught's Pride and Nemen's Newborn: The newly minted Tutten Class Cruisers saw their first combat action by severely hampering the Dominion's Supply lines and advance with their cruise missile strikes on important infrastructure. The two sister ships would prove that the ships were combat ready.

The 5th, 6th, 8th and 9th Ranger Divisions: The Donnish Ranger Divisions sent into Modeno took the heaviest casualties out of what was sent by the Donnish Army. Being the Spearhead into Erong, they took 5,500 Confirmed casualties in the intense fighting around the city and in the offensive going onward.

Grim Winter War (Ausozera Only/IC)

Fall of an Angel

Summary

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