The Waldflachen Revolution (IC)

by **The Frozen Forest** » Sun Jun 10, 2018 6:03 pm

The Waldflachen Revolution

The great questions of the day will not be settled by means of speeches and majority decisions but by iron and blood.~Otto Von Bismark

OOC

The Situation as of July 4th, 1940
Revolutionary Government
-The Congress has put forth a bill to enforce a draft across all Revolutionary-Controlled cities
-Soldiers stationed on both the Western and Eastern fronts face ammo and weapon scarcity
-Morale in Sardilis is falling dangerously low
-The Revolutionary Government is facing mounting debt.
Royalist Government
-The Royal Administration and Military is weakened as hundreds of people were arrested and charged with corruption
-Dissidents across Royalist Territories have been given mock trials and executed in the name of the Royal Family
-One of Crown Prince Ivan's cousins has been captured by Revolutionaries while trying to cross the border
-There aren't enough able-bodied workers to work the mines and the economy of Vaziri is risking collapse
-Risk of famine throughout Royalist Territory

by **Krenorus** » Sun Jun 10, 2018 10:21 pm

Meanwhile in Sahin:

Ronan & Connor's Pub

"I told you everything, you f*cking Pasta-f*cker. Now let me go, I'm a part of the Irish mob, you fag." The man in a fedora looked at the disgruntled Irish publican as he contemplated what to do. The man in the fedora soon realised what was needed to be done to send a message to his rivals. "Let him go," the man said as the two other mafiosos holding the publican down on a chair stopped. "Wait outside, boys," the man said as one of the mafiosos responded, "Yes, boss." The Irishman looked happy. "You've good thinking, now lea-,' the Irishman said before being interrupted by the man in the fedora. "Sit down!" he shouted. He calmed down as the Irishman sat back on the chair and started drinking Irish whiskey, or 'whisky' as it was known to the Irish. "Now... Ronan... is that your name? Well, I knew when I came in that you have connections with the Irish Mob," he said as he took a sawed-off shotgun. "You also have contacts in Krenorus, don't you?" he continued as he loaded his shotgun, back turned against the Irishman sitting on the chair, with the window of the two-story building behind him. "No, Alessandro, do not do this!" the Irishman shouted. He kept shouting until he heard the last sentence. he was about to hear. "Well, you Leprechaun. Go collect some clovers," the man in the fedora finished. Just as the Irishman realised his fate, he tried to get one last sip of whisky. However, Alessandro Luciano Giovanni would not let that happened as he turned around and fired his shotgun at the man. The Publican flew out of the building's glass window as he fell to the floor on the outside of the building.

The Publican took his last breath as he soon saw nothing but black. The two Mafiosos standing outside proceeded to fire pistol rounds into the man's face. "F*cking Drunk," one of the mafiosos said as they got into their Bugatti Type 55. Giovanni soon walked out of the pub and got into the car. "Boss, weren't you gonna' burn the pub?" one of the mafiosos asked. "Well, I want my rivals to see what I can do. There are five dead mothef*ckers in there and I want my rivals to see their f*cked up faces," Giovanni said as the mafioso continued driving.

by **The Selkie** » Mon Jun 11, 2018 1:49 am

Leuda. Council of Masters.
Guild-Mistress Amy Sparán of the Tribe of Monaghan, had been, in her youth, a beautiful woman. She was blonde, her blue eyes cold, her otherwise rather nice face marred by a scar, which she had gotten at Anfa Ridge, in 1903, as a girl of fifteen Springs.
By now, the woman of 1888-vintage was careworn, her job as the leader of the Merchant Guild of Leuda had made her that. She had been at it since 1936 and this sack of fleas was the old one which she joined as a young woman in 1905. In the same year, the Free Lands of the Selkie had been formally declared, a nation (or at least something approaching it) handing the authority concerning all foreign trade over to the ancient Merchant Guild in Leuda, the last of its kind.
And currently discussing whether or not they should get involved in the civil war and revolution in Waldflachen. There were only two options, whether or to support the Royalists. The Revolutionary Government, to their understanding a wild collection of different ideals and positions, had so far not proven itself as a stable government and had a debt mounting on them, while the Royalists were not only stronger, they were also stable - to some extend, at least.
And then there was the matter of Sahin. The Merchant Guild would like to see the rich island independent, but whether or not that would happen was so far of little concern to the Guild.
That would come later.
The Council of Masters, especially due to Master Finnegan Arbhar of the Tribe of Wicklow from the Grain Export Committee and Mistress Celina Scian of the Tribe of Fermanagh of the Furriers' Committee, was fighting again, only a few of the eight Masters (and heads of the different committees, which made up the leadership of the Guild) being able to keep themselves out of it. Liam Banphrionsa of the Tribe of Cavan, Gabha Blacksmiths Ltd. and the Arms Export Committee, an old man and quite wisened and on no side, glanced over to her and shrugged.
Just now, Arbhar and Scian were preparing to resume their shouting match as Sparán spoke: "Enough."
Her singular word cut through the Council and ended every discussion and argument being prepared.
"I've heard enough.", she said, "The concerns raised by either sides are valid and I do see their points about the risk of the Royalists either loosing or rejecting our aid, but I also see the point of possibilities for much profit. The Guild can not stand idly by and let this opportunity pass. We will start this as we usually do... with a letter."
And that, they did.

To: HRH Crown Prince Ivan of Waldflachen.

Return Adress: Guild-Mistress Amy Sparán of the Tribe of Monaghan, Merchant Guild of Leuda, Leuda.
6th of July, 1940.

Your Royal Highness,
it is with great sadness, that the Merchant Guild of Leuda heard of the revolt, which is currently disrupting the peace in the Kingdom of Waldflachen, and the capture of Your esteemed Father, the King.
The Merchant Guild, as the authority of foreign trade of the Free Lands, but acting independently from any ruling of the Elder Council or the City Council, finds itself willing to help Your Highness in Your endeavours against these revolting rebels.
I don't want to throw dust into Your Highness' eyes, so I ask Your Higness to allow me to be honest in my words: As a Merchant, I'm steadfastly opposed to the mere idea of Communism, as it is represented by Mister Aparina. As a Selkie, it is a longer story then we have time for at the moment.

Sadly, it is not within my powers to offer You troops, but I can offer You the next best thing: Trade.
Trade bringing money and money bringing troops, supplies, weapons and other necessary commodities, such as food.
In return, the Merchant Guild finds itself interested in the ores, which are unearthed in Waldflachen, and is willing to acquire the prospecting rights, willing to establish a corresponding transportation network, which would also aid the food production. To offer, in exchange for these prospecting rights and money, we not only have money, but also weapons and supplies, from modern fighter planes and bombers to rifles, tanks and naval vessels.
Grains, if we are to sell them to you, would be sold at special and reduced prices, for a battle is to be decided in the field, not in the stomach.
In order to discuss prices and other modalities, I would be very glad to welcome a representative of Yours here in Leuda, at the earliest convinience. He or she would then be my personal guest and treated as such.

As a sign of the Guild's good will and intentions, we are currently in the process of assemblying a convoy of freight-bearing vessels to transport food and coal to Waldflachen, a gift from the Guild to You and Your people, with the departure of said convoy in a week's time at the earliest.

I look forward to hearing from You at Your Highness' earliest convinience.

Signed with greatest of respect,
Amy Sparán of the Tribe of Monaghan,
Guild-Mistress of the Merchant Guild of Leuda,
In the name of the Council of Masters.

by **Brendislav** » Mon Jun 11, 2018 9:17 am

In the fields outside of Koch

"Fire!"

Bullets whizzed past Felix's head as his men fired behind him. He watched as the targets in-front of him remained largely unscathed. Sergent Edwin turned to face Felix, "Shall I call for another volley?" Felix rubbed his mustache in contemplation, "Perhaps one more go..." Edwin nods.

"Fire!"

About three more bullets hit their mark, less than half of the squad Felix is overseeing. "Enough!" Felix barked, he stood in front of the men, greatly disappointed. "How do you expect to hit a man when you can't hit a hay bale 30 yards away?" Felix began pacing, "I have never seen a greater waste of 24 rounds of ammunition in my life!" Felix stops and points at one of them, "You, what is your name?"
A lanky man who looks like he is still in his mid-teens stands up, "Jacobs...s-sir" He grips his rifle tensely.
"You made every single shot," Felix states "have you done this before?"
"Yes, Wolfram sir, my father, h-he was a hunter" Jacobs looks down at the ground, "He taught me how to shoot, he's dead now sir."
"Good," Felix turns to face Sergent Edwin, "I will be taking him" Felix begins walking off the field.
"But sir!" Edwin blurts out, "He's in my squad!"
"And I need more than one squad for my mission," Felix explains, "And I need the best men in the force to do it."
"Wait, but how..." Edwin sounded perplexed, "There haven't been any orders from any higher-ups in days."
"Yes, and I am sick of it," then a smile forms on his face, "So I am making my own orders."

Leaving Edwin behind, Felix works with some files to ensure that Jacobs is under him. In Felix's mind, it is not an issue the fact that many men were green, some did have potential like Jacobs, but it was the lack of guns that will doom the Revolution. However, with a couple of men, and a short trip to Sardilis, he planned on getting some of the resources the Revolution needs.

by **Adab** » Tue Jun 12, 2018 1:17 am

Imperial Palace, Adab City

His eyes fluttered, and he began to make sense of his surroundings. The rays of light had broken through the windows, that much was true. What initially appeared hazy to him was now becoming increasingly clear. He raised himself, roused himself from his rest, stared at his surroundings, and groaned. He woke up too late in the morning, missing the time of the morning prayer. It was quite unusual of him, but the previous day's business had drained him of his energy, and he resolved to himself that he deserved a little extra rest. He looked at that grand old longcase at the corner of the Emperor's Bedroom, staring at him, spelling out 8:49 in the morning.

His Imperial Majesty Tizqar III, Emperor of Adab, forced himself off the bed. Step by step, he stumbled into the bathroom, washing his face, brushing his teeth half-heartedly, but for now refusing to avail himself of the bath. He did not smell that bad, did he? No one would notice. He stumbled back onto the bed and extended the covers over his knees. The most urgent business of the week he had resolved, and he realized that there was little for him to do today. The Emperor kept a radio on the table at his bedside. He gently pressed the on/off button and searched for Radio Adab. What would he find there? News, or maybe a little entertainment.

"...the move to Vichy, we have learned, was the result of government ministers finding Clermont unsuited to their needs. Marshal Petain..." Yawn, yet another update from the Second Great War or whatever was happening between the Europeans. It was none of this country's business. He switched over to Al-Ahwa Radio. Arabic and Aramaic opera music, who could have dreamed up something like this thirty or forty years ago?

And then a knock on the door. A gentle knock. He knocked again. And again.

"Come in!" the Emperor bellowed, not even moving a bone on his bed. The door opened slowly, the servant opening it clearly hesitant, perhaps not wanting to gaze upon the Emperor in an... improper condition. Once he had done that task, he launched himself a step or two towards the bed, chin up, almost not daring to actually look at his sovereign. A young servant, and still green, the Emperor thought. He wanted to raise a word, but the servant beat him to it. "The Princess Aisha, Your Imperial Majesty," he announced, and then he bowed out.

The Emperor's heart stopped for a second there. Of all the people he expected to see, this was one that he had not seen in a while - four months, as a matter of fact - and did not expect to see anytime soon. The Princess Aisha was many things to the many people who knew and loved her: charming, gregarious, a free spirit, bound to and by nothing. Rumors had spread of the Princess cavorting with men of the nobility and being seen in establishments of a reputation beneath her imperial dignity. He knew her as all that, but most of all as his younger sister, his only sibling. More than anyone else he was concerned about her reputation, and it was to his relief when she announced her engagement to the Marquess of Mosul, with whom she had gone on a tour of this scenic country called Waldflachen, along with a few other smaller countries whose names he could not be bothered to remember, although there were concerns regarding their safety should they go there.

The Princess entered the room, looking rather disheveled and weeping. She rushed to her brother, still in bed, and hugged him tightly. "Sister! When did you come back? Why didn't-"

"I don't know where they took him, I don't know," she said, in a half-whisper amid the tears, holding her brother and sovereign against her. "Amri. We were separated... in the chaos. It was terrible. In the city. They are arresting, killing people they don't like. Everyone. And my beloved Amri nowhere to be found! The revolutionaries are rising up and causing mayhem. Everyone fighting. I beg you, brother, we must find him! I was very lucky to escape that wretched country."

He held her tightly, his beloved sister, comforting her. And then it dawned on him. A peer of the realm, a flower of the country, had disappeared in a wartorn country? What had happened to him? Tizqar was beginning to imagine terrible things, things that he ought not imagine. He had heard the steady stream of rumors from that foreign land, and now he regretted ever allowong his sister and her fiancee to go on holiday there. The King had been captured by revolutionary rabble. A fellow monarch. God's own anointed! The country was indeed falling apart. But in the midst of this darkness Tizqar saw a role for his country. He had always dreamed of a time when Adab would gain its rightful respect in the eyes of the civilized world. This was the time.

"Don't you worry now, sister." His voice was now fueled by an unshakeable resolve. "I will call a meeting of the council. By the grace of Allah, the Empire shall deal with this problem."

by **The Frozen Forest** » Tue Jun 12, 2018 4:14 pm

Sahin, Revolutionary Government

Sahin was already on alert. The island had been preparing for a Royalist invasion ever since it joined the rebels earlier that year. Much of the Royal Police Force had fled in those early days and the remaining officers, excluding the higher ups, had accepted a local amnesty agreement. What was left was a small minority of Ex-Police and almost no trained officers. Men had to be conscripted into the Police and they were, armed with a mismatch of gear and equipment but glad to have found work. They would serve as militia if and when the Royalist invaded the island, but since it was unlikely there would be much warning they would have to be constantly on alert. The negatives of that were of course that crime would be easier to commit, at least petty crime.

The sound of a shotgun was not uncommon, some of the population had found firearms through various means and since it provided more willing defenders, it was allowed by the local governor of Sahin. It was perhaps the sound of screaming and fleeing of civilians that caught the attention of a squad of officers stationed in the so called 'Reddobā' district. Officers Mori Tamachuchi and David Oda were the first to arrive on the scene, narrowly avoiding being hit by a Bugatti Type 55. A crowd had gathered around the building. Ronan and Connors Pub, a seedy dive that most well off citizens wouldn't dare visit. The scene inside was dreadful to say the least, five dead corpses whose blood had stained the joints floors and walls.

Some citizens reported that the building was often used by members of the Sahin-Irish Mafia. The usual round of suspects were gathered, Irish-Waldflachens between the ages of sixteen and forty who had convictions leading to likely mob associations. Normally an interrogation didn't involve torture, but it happened all the same. Generally the story went that the killings had been done by a family called the Giovanni's, who were still relatively unknown to the authorities. The first conclusive lead, coming from a witness who was outside the pub at the time was that the killers escaped in a blue vehicle, probably a Bugatti judging by the description of the car. Police set to work drawing up the names of all those who owned the vehicle, though the records weren't large and were probably inaccurate. In any case the Giovanni's were on the radar and justice would be brought around.

Vaziri Palace, Royalist Government

Salmon was off the table once again. Throughout his youth it had been his favorite meal, seafood all tasted great. The fall of Sardilis to Revolutionary Forces earlier in the year however, left the only port under Royalist control, Ozan, busy with importing more urgent supplies. How could he eat Salmon when the rest of the country went through hardship? Crown Prince Ivan munched on the stale bread before him, sourly dipping it in a sauce prepared for him by his team of chefs. What wine he did have tasted horrible and didn't serve to get him as drunk as he would have liked, and so his meal was mediocre.

After dinner he was brought to his office by numerous attendants. Waldflachens international support had been flagging since the Revolt began, many allies had deserted her for fear of facing a new enemy government if the Rebels happened to win. Those who did support him though, communicated often enough to keep him busy. The first letter thrust upon him was not from any of Waldflachens previous allies but from an entirely new source. The Free Lands of the Selkie, namely a guild in had sent him a letter. He recalled that he had never been to the Selkie lands, but he did have an ambassador he visited frequently as a tourist. Rosebandle, a fine diplomat who oversaw the countries treaties and alliances throughout the region and world. He would be a perfect envoy, and his specialty happened to be economics, to which the letter seemed to be concerned about.

To sell of the rights to mine in Waldflachen, it would give a virtual monopoly to a foreign company. In honesty he was a politican and a soldier, he didn't know much of economics and even littler about how to negotiate a trade deal. It was an unfortunate failure in his training but it didn't matter, he had Rosebandle and he could handle the negotiations. He set to work on another letter, commanding a secretary to send a reply mentioning the sending of an envoy to negotiate the terms. His next concern was the capture of his cousin, Marie. He wasn't surprised, it was known that she fervently enjoyed the furs of the north, her fashion sense would end up killing her.

The final notable letter was a request from his Generals to begin the opening phases of the Invasion of Sardilis. They pleaded that it was time to attack, now before the Rebels could establish allies or find a way to supply their troops. He wrote a letter back, the invasion could commence.

Koch, Revolutionary Government

Addressed to Second Lieutenant Felix Wolfram the Eastern Revolutionary Army

Committee of Transportation

Second Lieutenant Wolfram, regarding your application for a temporary visitation to the city of Sardilis, i along with my fellow committee members are happy to say that you are approved for travel. You may bring up to (2) persons with you; These persons must be members of the the Eastern Revolutionary Army not currently engaged in important activities to which their absence would seriously weaken the unit to which they are assigned. You are hereby permitted to travel without expense by rail, ship or truck to Sardilis in the quickest and most efficient way possible.

You are expected to return to Koch by January 9th, 1941; You may renew this Military-Travel Permit at any time between July 9th 1940 and the date of your return. This may be done by submitting another application for travel to the Committee of Transportation. This travel permit is rendered void under the following circumstances:
A) Your Commanding Officer submits a request for the cancellation of your travel permit
B) You commit a crime against the Revolutionary Government of Waldflachen
C) You assist or help the Occupation government currently located in Vaziri, Ozan and Sevso in any way
D) Your actions prove to be a risk to the state, its military and or its citizens

This Committee reserves the right to cancel your permit at any time for any reason, to which it may or may not dictate the reason.

~Deputy Committee Secretary Olaf Sabjornson

by **Brendislav** » Wed Jun 13, 2018 9:51 am

Unknown Location in The Oretega Sea

Felix felt the cool ocean breeze in his face, and held firmly to the wooden wheel of the boat. The little fishing trawler was surprisingly swift and maneuverable despite it's visible age,grime, and shoddy craftsmanship. It was closing on twilight. The ship slowly rocked on the calm waves. Felix's mind drifted back to the good old days, at least till it was interrupted by Jacobs loudly puking into a bucket. Felix had wished he had brought more companions, perhaps a good crew of 12 or 15, but the travel permit only allowed him to bring two. Luckily for him, one of his most loyal companions, Private Benedict, had stowed away on their train, demanding that he joins. That meant that the ship consisted of Felix, Jacobs, Benedict, and a brooding giant man his former squad named "Stone Hands" for his lethality in hand to hand combat, and the small fishing crew. Felix was glad that he was able to use his rank (and the squads number of weapons) to convince a captain and their small crew to provide a ship. Felix hoped his plan would work. If things went bottoms-up, he would have to explain the third member, and the voiding clause attached to his travel permit "Your actions prove to be a risk to the state, its military and or its citizens" . Felix had counted 4 military members and 4 civilian fishermen that would be put to risk. Benedict slowly stumbled to the helm, clearly still hasn't grown a pair of sea legs Felix mused.
"Felix, we've been out here for a week, there has only been two ships filled with food. We have to go back."
"Not a week, four days," Felix motioned towards a small pile of fish, "Sick of eating the fruits of the sea?"
"Yes!" Benedict shouted, "And this constant rocking is all driving us mad!" Some of the fishermen quietly chuckle.
"We will find our prey soon my friend," Felix reassured, "we just have to get lucky once."
As if on cue, a loud foghorn blares behind them, they all look over their shoulders to see a large freighter being escorted by a small patrol boat. The flag of the Royalist government flies above both ships. Felix looks to Jacobs,"Where was the warning, oh vigilant lookout?" Jacobs mumbles and gets up from the deck of the fishing boat. Slowly, the patrol boat starts heading towards the small band.
"What do we do now Felix? That patrol boat is filled with armed men," Benedict hisses in Felix's ear, "this plan of yours relies that we come across a freighter!"
"Always the optimist I see," Felix smiles, "This might go better than expected."
The squad hides their weapons, keeping small arms on their bodies. The fishermen tense up at the sight of the patrol boat. It is small boat, but compared to the fishing boat it is huge, and is armed with two deck guns on the bow and stern. The two ships get close enough that they are almost touching, and a captain hails them.
"Greetings, I see your ship has no markings or flags, where do you come from?"
Felix steps up, coughs, and speaks with an artificial accent. "Aye, we be from Sardillis, that damned revolutionary force has us fishin' all day n' night, with nothn' to show fer it."
The royalists look at each other, Felix realizes that the accent might of been to much, but they buy it.
"Well if you are looking to serve a better master, you can come with us."
Felix grins "That sounds like a good idea." They took the bait.
The patrol boat allows Felix, Benedict, and "Stonehands" on-board to check paperwork of Waldflachen citizenship, while Jacobs and the fishermen stay behind with three royalists inspecting the fishing boat. While in the bridge of the patrol boat Felix inquires on why this freighter needs an escort.
"New allies of the court have started sending weapon shipments, all we got to give them back is rocks."
"that thar freighter holds guns?" Felix asks.
"Yes, indeed, and plenty of ammunition too."
Felix looses the accent "That's all I needed to hear." He pulls out his pistol from his pants and fires on the captain, hitting him dead center. "Stonehands" quickly turns, using the momentum to throw a punch at a guard next to him. The guard yells and drops his weapon as his nose shatters. Benedict plunges a knife he was hiding into the neck of a guard next to him while he rips a sub-machine gun from his grip and takes it as his own. Benedict runs below deck, as Felix and "Stonehands" go back outside, the patrol boat is caught off guard. "Stonehands" using this opportunity to smash a guard into the wall before throwing him overboard, while Felix shoots two more guards on deck. The three guards on the fishing boat look up at the chaos, leaving their backs facing Jacobs who pulls out a rifle underneath a tarp, firing at the guards next to him. He hits one in the head, ending his life, but hits the other in the shoulder, giving the guard enough time to fire back. The fishermen took arms as well, the third guard is beaten with oars, as well as the one who shot at Jacobs is stabbed in the chest by a fish-cleaning knife. Yells and shouts rise from below-deck, until they are silenced by the loud gunfire of a sub-machine gun.
After the initial chaos the rest of the patrol boat surrenders, four that were mortally injured by the attack, and six that were deeper below deck, leaving five dead including the captain. The fishermen and the squad start tying up the prisoners, until Felix hears a groan. Looking the the source, he finds Jacobs laying on the deck of the fishing boat. "I'm dead sir, they shot me."
Felix laughs, "Look at you, they only got your shin, you can't die if you tried." Felix helps Jacobs up into the patrol boat, "Or if it gets infected." As the squad situates themselves as the new owners of the ship, they hear a gunshot and the sound of shotgun pellets hitting the water. Felix makes his way on deck, and sees a man in a large hat in the distance, welding a shotgun. "You assholes will never take my ship!" He frantically yells in the distance, "We are not part of this stupid civil war, we are protected by the guild!" As he monologues, Felix steps forwards, and takes hold of the deck gun. "If you have the gall to attack us, you will face the full wrath of th-" His speech is interrupted by the deck gun firing, hitting the freighter a few yards from where the other captain was. He falls from the force, but gets back up, "What the hell are you doing! We have piles of ammunition here! You're going to get this entire ship ablaze!"
"Then perhaps we can make a deal," Felix shouts, "you will follow us to Sardilis with all of your cargo, or you will be destroyed." Felix looks at the two only deck guns, "Slowly, but surely."
The captain, looks around, and ducks back to consult his crew. Benedict walks up and stands next to Felix, "Do you think this will work?"
Felix nods, "Of course it will, start flying the Revolutionary flag we brought with us, we need to return home."

One day later in Sardilis

The entire port was caught off guard, there hasn't been a freighter that has come in such a long time, much less a Royalist one being escorted by a Revolutionary Patrol boat. When reaching landfall, Felix and his squad were immediately taken away for interrogation. As it turned out, after the first day out at sea, the travel permit was made void because of Benedict's disappearance. And due to the search for him, they also found Felix and the rest missing as well, causing a widespread search. They were all spared from execution because of the number of weapons and ammo that was brought in. Not enough to supply the whole army, but perhaps enough to put up a fight on the front lines. Felix and the squad spent the rest of the day, celebrating in Sardilis, bathing in the admiration of his fellow comrades.

by **Frostyr** » Wed Jun 13, 2018 10:55 am

Royal Palace, Vinntyr, Frostyr,
A weary government diplomat makes his way through the halls of the King's home, escorted by silent Imperial Guards. Trying to keep as calm as possible, despite the sweat pouring down his forehead. Soon, the convoy of men come to a set of large iron doors, loudly opening to reveal a business quarters of sorts for the King. Outside on the balcony, the morning sun beams into the room, producing the shadowy figure of the ever-watchful King Vilmund Diethelm, overlooking the city of Vinntyr. The loud noise of the doors opening called forth Vilmund's attention, curious as to what was the matter...or was it opportunity?

"My liege, the situation in Waldflachen has fully collapsed. King Alexei remains imprisoned, and emergency powers have been handed over to his son, the Young Prince Ivan. A simple protest over bread prices erupted into a full blown riot, and it appears Civil War is at hand. The information we've been gathering over Waldflachen detailed this as inevitable, and our final draft for the Thornbush Proposal has been completed. In addition, Young Prince Ivan has called out to the Monarchies of the world to aid his cause in the war. What shall we do, sir?"

Vilmund was a warrior at heart, but he had gained a sense of politics during his time of rule, especially from example of his wife. He had known that Monarchies in a further advancing world were either having powers being taken more and more from them or were being outright overthrown by the likes of liberal protestors, or anarchists as Vilmund liked to imagine it more. The time to aid another one was now, and restore full and absolute control of the Waldflachen government to either King Alexei or Prince Ivan, and make an example out of this Revolutionary Government before it was too late. "Send out the telegram, if Ivan is smart he'll accept the aid from the Thornbush Pact. And, once you send it out, begin proposal for a second round of military aid, combined with humanitary relief. He'll use the money gained from the first one in time, but his state is going to suffer with a Civil War right after the other war, so assemble work teams, food exchanges, and whatever else your team can concoct. Monarchy shall not be dealt a blow yet!" He said, partially monologuing. With the orders emplaced, the Imperial Guardsmen escorted the worker out.

From the Frostyrian Government, and King Vilmund

To: Crown Prince Ivan and the Noble Authority
Classification: Top Secret
Firstly, we would like to humbly apologize for the actions taken by the democratic criminals in your state. Their disobedience to the command and authority of your father and yourself showcases these revolutionary's arrogance. They blame the hardships faced by your country on you, rather than accepting the harshness of the times, and shed even more blood then is necessary in the circumstances. Now, with a full blown revolution in play, it has given an even further look on you to your own people; however, Frostyr seeks to come to your aid. Having a split nation proves difficult to fight, and morale may be damaged from your people because of familiar blood being flown from both sides, so we would like to provide military aid to support your war effort. An attached telegram will detail the specifics in what we would like to send at first. Along with this, rather than investing into your nation, as a symbol of friendship and cooperation, we would like to provide a gift of $5,000,000 Stahls converted to your own coin as a sign of good will even during these hard times.

The few officials who know of this idea so far have since called the proposed alliance the Thornbush Pact, a symbol that where dangerous weeds grow, the power of our kingdoms will burn down the obstacles. We are readily awaiting your answer.

With an extending hand,
King Vilmund, with all of Frostyr.

Attatched:
Frostyr has the advantage when it comes to land army size and strength, and thus a Field Army of 100,000 Infantryment backed up by several platoons of support roles such as medical teams and Machine Gunners, supported by Motorized developments. 4 Artillery Batteries made up of 600 men and an Armored Regiment of 1,500 men using MBT's will be sent for ground cover as well. Along with this, an attache of several officers will be sent along with those sent to lead the volunteers to help train and lead Monarchist forces. To support land troops, a wing of 450 fighters will be sent along with a flight of 100 bombers. Naval support will also be required for the support of the royalist forces, and thus 5 battleships with 6 destroyers, 5 heavy and 5 light cruisers, and a large number of amphibious landing vessels to move the land troops along the coast. So far, 8 Attack-Submarines will be sent, but the development of far more will be sent when another rallied force is available to send.

by **Adab** » Thu Jun 14, 2018 1:34 am

Imperial Palace, Adab City

The Lord Chancellor, Rahman al-Ahl, settled slowly onto his seat in the room. Private matters had held him from confirming his attendance at the meeting until almost the last minute. Several seats away from him, Princess Aisha was struggling to hold back the tears, but the old man was not very sympathetic regarding her plight. "So, my lords, just to make sure that I'm hearing this right, a peer of the realm has apparently disappeared in a foreign country under revolution while vacationing with his fiancee Her Royal Highness, and that we had been kept in the dark regarding the situation befalling these two same people until very recently, and that we were only made aware of it when Her Royal Highness returned to the palace, with absolutely no notice beforehand, and now we have many - most of them probably spurious - reports of his sighting all over that wicked country. Am I correct about this?"

News of the disappearance of Amri Hassan, the young Marquess of Mosul and fiance of the Emperor's sister, had taken the country by storm. The Adabian public had not been aware of what the Marquess and his fiancee the Princess were up to in the last four months, ever since they set out on what the Imperial Palace called a vacation in a statement begging for their privacy to be honored. That the couple were visiting several foreign countries was clear and very much the only thing that the public knew about this vacation. What invited concern was that one of those countries, Waldflachen, although having an overall good reputation among Adabians (at least those who were actually aware of the country's existence), had reportedly been engaged in a war with a neighboring country and were now in the throes of revolution. The fact that any news relating to the vacation, if it did exist, failed to reach the public did not do much to lessen their worry and concern. Now that the people knew, the Imperial Palace - and the Emperor himself - was subjected to an unending stream of criticism for allowing the couple to even go there. The Emperor wanted to find his soon-to-be brother-in-law for his sister's sake, but at the same time he was eager to protect his own reputation, assist a monarchy in danger, and assert his own power and position against revolutionary elements in his own country.

"Aye, Lord Chancellor, that much is true," said Emperor Tizqar, arm around his sister, thinking about the momentous step he and his country were about to take. The country had not been at war for many years, and he was unsure about the readiness of his military. Yet at the same time the people were clamoring for an expedition to this foreign country, to protect God's anointed against revolutionary rabble and rescue the Marquess of Mosul. Reports of his sighting abounded, mostly thanks to the community of fellow Adabian vacationers or expatriates also escaping the war. Some reported seeing him around the city of Koch, where he and the Princess had been separated as they were about to board a ship to escape the utter chaos of the bread riot; some others claimed to have seen him in Sardilis; he was reportedly in a crowd of refugees escaping to the Scaevola Plains or some other place in the west; he had taken a boat down the river system around Koch and Sardilis; he had been slain, either by a royalist or a revolutionary; and the latest report, from a friend of a friend of the Lord High Constable, claimed that the Marquess had been sighted at the scene of a murder in a Sahin pub.

"I am determined to put an end to this confusion as soon as possible," the Emperor stated resolutely. "A letter shall be sent to the Crown Prince of Waldflachen, declaring our full support and offering military aid to quash this revolutionary sentiment and establish peace in that land, and dispatching our men to find the Marquess of Mosul. Let it be done."

The Empire of Adab
Fluctuat nec mergitur
She is tossed by the waves but does not sink

To: His Royal Highness Ivan, Crown Prince of Waldflachen
From: His Imperial Majesty Tizqar III, Emperor of Adab

Greetings,

It is with much concern that we learn of the situation befalling your country and the capture by revolutionary elements of your father the King. It is our belief that this so-called revolution constitutes a divine and worldly transgression against the authority which God Almighty has, in His infinite wisdom, transmitted to your royal house. The violence and bloodshed in lands under the spell of the revolution contribute no sign that they are capable of offering peace or anything approaching a stable government. It is our sacred duty to come to the defense of our fellow monarchs, and therefore we would like to contribute 50,000 troops under the banner of the Adab Expeditionary Forces to assist you in achieving victory over the revolutionaries.

Furthermore, we have learned that Amri Hassan, Marquess of Mosul and fiancee of His Imperial Majesty's sister The Princess Aisha, has disappeared in lands currently under revolutionary control. The disappearance of a Peer of the Realm is no doubt a cause for major concern and therefore, if it pleases you, we would like to dispatch our men to locate the Marquess.

Given at our court at the Imperial Palace of Adab.

By His Imperial Majesty's command.

Signed,
His Imperial Majesty Tizqar III, Emperor

by **The Selkie** » Thu Jun 14, 2018 11:05 am

A few days later.
The chance to do great things came shortly afterwards, with Prince Ivan's representative coming a few days after the original message had been sent. Mister Rosebandle was a known figure in the region, who had made vacations around their parts quite a few times in the past.
The Merchant Guild of Leuda respected him and Sparán had been thrilled to talk to him about the opportunities for both sides. His departure would, by sheer and utter coincidence, coincide with the departure of the convoy of aid ships for the Royalist Government.
Their talks didn't take too long: Rosebandle, a hard negotiator, found the Guild with sensible propositions to the various questions popping up, which led to agreements suited quite well for both sides.
Ironcastle Ironworks, one of the companies represented by the Guild, would cover the start-up costs of the prospecting and would pay a good share, around a third, of the infrastructure development costs in those regions, while Traein Railways would cover another third in exchange for shares in the Waldflachen Railway Company to be established (which would control all railways in Waldflachen, 15 percent of it in the hands of Traein Railways and the rest owned by the Government of Waldflachen or other shareholders).
Another topic, the duration of the prospecting rights, was solved simple as well: Ironcastle Ironworks, who would establish a branch in Waldflachen, hiring locally, would own these prospecting rights for the next century and would pay all necessary taxes, plus ten percent of their profits made in Waldflachen, to the Royalist Government.
Generally, Traein Railways also signalled its willingness to continue infrastructure development with the Royalist Government even after the war had ended.
They also came to an agreement concerning the shipments of weapons, supplies and food: The MGoL would offer the grains at a price below world market prices, which barely covered transport and production costs, in return for immediate payment. On the other hand, military equipment and civilian construction equipment would be sold in a lend-lease-scheme, with an interest rate of one percent per annum, with repayments starting three years after the war's conclusion. He was given pamphlets of the weapons, vehicles, pieces of equipment and ships in question (in case of the Gabha R-15 Carbines, Gabha R-22 Machine Guns and Gabha Pistol, Automatic, Model 1923, he was even given one crate each, for his superiors to test them out themselves) and if his government had interest, they should establish contact themselves.
All in all, Sparán believed, that they got a fair deal for both sides, no one having one or the other major advantage over the other, with, at least to her knowledge, both sides getting what they wanted... and, as she waved goodbye to the ships carrying the Ambassador and a vital shipment of grains as a gift, she had to smile: All was according to plan, as the plans had been accepted.

by **Ruskland-Preuben** » Wed Jun 20, 2018 7:21 am

Palas Fomalhaut, R'lyeh, Ruskland-Preuben

A fat messenger runs along the snowy grounds of the palace, his chubby feet not taking him far in terms of distance between feet but his pace and speed more than compensates for that, one may wonder why he hasn't grown slim yet. The man arrives at the entrance, and after a brief explanation to the guards stationed there, he is led inside, and another pair of guardsmen take him in to bring him to the Imperial Office. It takes about ten minutes of unrelenting walking through the maze like halls of Palas Fomalhaut, but in due time they arrive to a unassuming steel door in the middle of the hall, one of the guards straps on a iron gauntlet, and both knock on the doors in a certain rhythm, and the door is opened by a single guard by a small hall two meters across and leads into a dimly lit office. Yet again the chubby man explains to the single guard, and he is quickly ushered in, and once he enters, the creaking of the steel door behind him can be heard.

The messenger quickly walks into the room, and seats himself in front of an ironwood table that has ornate carvings of various Great Old Ones. And at the back of the table is seated none other than the emperor himself, Iohannes II of Suesani. He currently had an empty mug of coffee on his table, as well as some papers in a one foot tall stack and some pens, black, red, and blue.

"Have you heard of the Revolution in Waldflachen my liege?" The fat person in front of the table began, "The Revolutionaries have taken over much of the northern parts and the Royalists have an iron fist around the southern, though it may not take much time until said fist is thrown into the furnace, if you know what I mean." The messenger summarized quickly the rapidly devolving situation in Waldflachen, the Imperator only nodded at this

"Yes, the reports you sent me have been most informative, and prior to your current visit to me, I have already been working on a way to proceed on the current situation," Iohannes replied, "I would be most delighted if you were to deliver this draft to the Warmaster, he will commit to this plan, and this show will have its curtains drawn to a close in but a few.".

"Ah," the man started, his voice sounding a bit monotone, "Of course." And so he grabbed the plan from the emperor's stretched hand, and went on his way, leaving the Imperator to his own devices.

"Ah, what a wonderful day for Perfected Communism..."

by **Gebeta** » Wed Jun 20, 2018 10:41 am

GBS Whilem Bau.

Pocket Battleship
Enroute to Sahin based on recent intel.

The ship heaved in the rough seas. Being moved around ever so was a flaw in its hull, its bow to be exact.
Captain Heimal stood on the bridge of the ship. Looking down he could see turret Antov, the fore 3 gun turret. its 3 9inch guns were suitable for its original mission of taking on cruisers and lower ships.
"How far are we from the port? He asked. He had estimated about 16 hours.
"Kaptain. The Port of Sahin is about 500 miles out. Estimated arrival in 16 to 17 hours." The navigator said.
Heimal thought about the ship's mission. Officially its to provide protection to shipping in the area, and shell positions in retaliation of an attack on shipping. The Fleet was to have been larger, but Command wanted a single ship.

"Comms. When will we be in radio contact with the port? I think it best to not keep our presence unknown to avoid conflict."
"Nothing on the radio so far. I'll check again in 10. Would you like a message sent out?"

The captain nodded as he jotted down a note for the comms.
It read.
-----This is the Gebetan Warship GBS Whilem Bau... We are seeking to port in Sahin for 4 days... Word should have been sent forward via Gebeta Diplomatic channels earlier.

Heimal gave the note to the comms.
"When you make contact wake me." He said, tapping the comms officer on hi shoulder.

"Commander Geier you have the deck. Ill be retiring for the time being. Keep course and check fire. Alert me to any worries the ship encounters." Heimal said as he took his leave.

"Aye" Geier said. " Command transferred. The ship will follow the course, checking fire. I'll alert you of any changes in status."

The ship would follow its course for the next 3 hours. At that time the message was finally able to be sent out to the port. Hopefully, the mission would be uneventful. More so hopefully the rebel fleet was able to meet the ship before the loyalist. Whilem Bau could bloody them but was not expected to be able to survive.

by **New England Syndicates** » Fri Jun 22, 2018 4:57 pm

Boston, New England

President Howard Poole sat at the head of the table. Stretching down to either side were the members of the Politburo, the central governing body of the Commonwealth. Scattered across the table were numerous papers concerning the growing crisis in Waldflachen.

"Comrades," President Poole began, "I believe the time has come to act. We cannot stand idly by while the capitalists move to snuff out the spark of freedom now burning in Waldflachen. We must intervene."

Heads nodded, and voices murmured assent. "The conditions are favorable, Comrade President," concurred General David Camden, Commissar for Military Affairs and the senior uniformed officer of the New English military. "Naval power will be critical, given the terrain prevailing on the mainland. That's the kind of war we know how to fight." He gestured at a map of Waldflachen, most of which was water. "Beyond direct intervention, we can supply the revolutionaries with better weapons."

"There are also opportunities for economic aid," added Theodore Hawthorne, Commissar for Trade. "Countries that have thrown off the bonds of capitalism always find it difficult to attract trade, and it is the duty of more established socialist countries to assist them."

Others chimed in, voicing their support. President Poole knew there had already been some informal aid, even volunteers going to fight for the Waldflachen Revolution.

"In that case, I call for a vote. All in favor of an intervention in Waldflachen?"

Every hand shot up.

"The matter is settled, then. Commissar-General Camden, please set up a briefing for tomorrow concerning plans for our military intervention. Bring Admiral Fitzgerald and Marshal Stark. Commissar Hawthorne, I'll give you discretion to implement a reasonable economic aid plan. Commissar Lee," he nodded to the Commissar for Foreign Affairs, "issue a statement recognizing the revolutionary government, and appoint an ambassador immediately."

He rose, and the others rose with him. "Comrades, history will look upon this day, and say that New England did not abandon its comrades in Waldflachen! To the revolution!"

"To the revolution!" they responded.

by **The Frozen Forest** » Sat Jun 23, 2018 1:11 am

Sardilis, Revolutionary Government

The Revolutionary Government and her territory faced starvation. Throughout the North food was barely enough to meet the needs of the people and the military. Nearly everything caught, killed or grown went straight to market. Luxuries like jam and butter and even silverware had disappeared almost overnight, sold off or used for rations that would last longer and keep their owners alive longer. This starvation, along with the fact that the Southerners were now eating fully with shipments from The Selkie, it tinged the entire Revolution with anger and desperation. Supplies weren't as bad in Sardilis, where the fishermen were out day and night to collect just enough so that the city didn't starve. Perhaps there would be ecological issues one day regarding the huge catches but that was a problem long off, and between that and dying the choice was obvious.

Those in Sardilis were fortunate not just for the fish, but for the capture of a Selkie freighter by a certain second lieutenant. Its contents included bountiful amounts of grain, rice and clean water. Additionally there was salt and even a small bit of spices. Those small luxuries were of course hoarded by the military, except for the necessities. Overnight it seemed that Felix Wolfram became one of the Revolutions first War-Hero's. The fact that he had violated his travel permit, endangered the lives of a civilian fishing crew and had not informed his superiors of his travel were quickly forgotten. It would seem nearly every newspaper in the city and around the North had composed an article on the victory, albeit small. Even President Julian Schneider took an interest. It was a fact that the Military lacked many talented individuals.

South-Sardilis Trenches, Royalist Offensive

The Sardilis Offensive was kicked off by the thunder of Artillery. Supplies had been mustered over the month and the final culmination was that of a huge attack on the rebel defenses. The First Army consisting of 140,000 Men was led by General Heinrich "Little Hand" Brakov. His rise to prominence had been sudden as his predecessor had been caught and tried as a traitor for purposely weakening the War-Effort in favor of the Rebels with whom he had connections to. Brakov himself was a hero of the war against Azindhal and a vocal supporter of the Monarchy. His methods tended to be brutal and savage but effective, the results were convincing and so he was given the command.

Miles of forest separated Sardilis and the Royalists forces. They were defended by entrenched infantry, as green as the leaves by which they fought in. There happened to be 72,000 of them in the Southern Army which was commanded by General Philips Barkwood and General Tulikov Morgan. Supplies were low but alleviated somewhat by the fact that a freighter of Selkie weapons had been seized a few weeks prior. The decision to dig in was a natural one, fighting in the open would only lead to a slaughter. They didn't have many sandbag and so with farmers tools and the assistance of the local population they had created primitive trenches. Whatever other weapons could be salvaged were, even ancient hunting rifles dating back as far as 1895.

Heavy rain did nothing to alleviate the problems in the trenches. Pumps were unavailable and trench-foot was nearly a serious problem. Doctors were in short supply, almost as much of a shortage as there was of medicine anywhere in the north. The dispersion of small flasks of wine would seem to be the only comfort the soldiers enjoyed as artillery ripped apart the woodlands. During the small intermissions many left their trenches to hunt whatever wildlife was left, shrinking an already shrunk pile of ammunition but stopping starvation.

Vaziri, Royalist Government

Letters had been collected over the last month. Cordial relations were maintained while they were read and addressed by the Prince. The first key letter was addressed to him from the Frostyrian Government. The offer of five-million Stahls was generous and would do wonders for the war-effort. The additional allied forces would also give him the opportunity to punish the rebels with a more free hand. Perhaps he could pressure Scaevola before the year was out? Another important letter arrived from a nation called Adab, it mentioned the loss of a certain member of their aristocracy, or so it seemed. A relative of their ruler and therefore a man of enormous importance to the other state, the fact that he had been lost was embarrassing and pressing.

Sahin, Revolutionary Government

The comings and goings of ships to the Island had become smaller in the former sense. Apart from the Revolutionary Governments Navy, there was very little activity with ships going on and off the Island. Be it because of the war or the tax-policies or even just the bad weather as of late, those in control of the ports docking hadn't had much work to do. What was not seen by the dockers however, were the multitude of Subs prowling just below the surface. Six-hundred miles from the shore they had detected a ship which they identified as non-loyalist. It was the GBS Whilem Bau, or so it appeared to be. It was followed carefully as a message was sent to port and back. When identification was clear and it was certain that the pocket-battleship was indeed under the control of Gebeta, a non-loyalist supporting nation, the submarines were called off and the port was left to conduct the standard procedures.

----This is James Buckner, Head of Sahin-Port Activity. You've been cleared to dock in Sahin upon arrival. A portion of the dock has been reserved for you and your crew for the duration of your stay. You are also entitled to have your ship restocked and repaired if you should wish to do so, the brass on the Mainland assure me that you won't be charged.---- James Buckner was inexperienced but worked round the clock, he would see the Whilem Bau in and out of port.

What was unknown to him however, was that the Royalists had caught wind of the Gebeta's ship deployment. Either by spies or other intelligence they came to expect a much larger force, but with the order to attack any suspect shipping going to the port of Sahin, they moved in on their prey. It was unfortunate that the entirely of the Rebel Subs had returned home apart from one unlucky crew. One battleship and two heavy cruisers, a significant and unneeded amount of firepower. They bore the Royalist Flag as they began to fire at Whilem Bau, simultaneously a signal was sent to them. ----This is Admiral Howklitz of the Royalist Government of Waldflachen. Submit to boarding immediately or suffer the consequences----

by **Krenorus** » Sat Jun 23, 2018 3:03 am

Sahin | Papa Marco Restaurant, Giovanni Crime Family Headquarters

Alessandro Giovanni sipped a glass of wine as the round table full of mafiosos ate pasta, drank wine, and told jokes of the day. They were all happy. After all, if Giovanni hadn't come to Sahin with his brother, Silvio Giovanni, the Italian community would continue to be in its disunited and dying shape. In the past years, while the Irish Mob and other mobs had gained major growth, the Italian community was warring between themselves, those natives and the immigrants, the Sicilians and the Northerners, not to mention that the largest Italian Family, the Alfonsi, were puppets of the Irish Mob. When Giovanni Brothers came, all hell broke loose, all the members of the Alfonsi Family were slaughtered and the Giovanni Brothers quickly took control and dominated the Italian Mob, eventually establishing the Italian Mafia and being its leading faction. Now, they were warring with the Irish Mob, which would be quite a hard task. After all, the Irish Mob was one of the strongest mobs in Sahin. However, for now... they celebrated with wine and food, for it was the time to laugh and to talk, not to shoot and to kill and to bury the brethren killed.

"Everyone!" one of the drunk mafiosos shouted. The whole roundtable along with the other mafiosos all over the second floor of the restaurant turned to the man. "We have but two people to thank for today, for unity, for our new-found strength." Everyone knew what he was about to say and they prepared their wine glasses to toast. "Those two people are our boss, "Alessandro Giovanni and Silvio Giovanni!" he said to cheers. "Let us toast to these two great people!" as everyone took their cups. "Brindare! Evviva!" he shouted before everyone else said the same thing. They then drank the wine. "Thank you all so much, amici," Alessandro Giovanni said with a smile. Tomorrow, we attack the Irlandesi and we will destroy the bastardi!" he said to cheers. "Alla vittoria e alla gloria!" he said as everyone repeated the phrase. To victory and glory.

by **New England Syndicates** » Sat Jun 23, 2018 2:45 pm

New Haven, New England

The expeditionary force departed with all the pomp of a May Day Parade. Crowds came out waving the Maple and Cog to see off their sons, brothers, and husbands (and boyfriends). President Poole gave a brief speech before turning the podium over to the honorable Walter Douglas, newly appointed ambassador to Waldflachen. The Internationale was sung as the boys boarded their ships, which were soon steaming out into the Atlantic. Two heavy cruisers, three light cruisers, five destroyers, and twelve corvettes, escorting transports and freighters carrying 8,000 troops and surplus equipment, all bound for Waldflachen.

Cable from Boston to Koch,

To: President Julian Schneider

The People of New England congratulate you on the successes of your revolution. As you have no doubt heard, we have dispatched forces to support your campaign against the reactionaries. Our intention is to establish a naval base at Sahin, from which we can project power across the coast. If you feel another destination is more appropriate, please inform us.

We would also like to offer you some surplus military equipment. Beyond the usual gear - helmets, boots, phones - we are prepared to donate the light cruiser NES Proletariat to your own navy. While antiquated by New English standards, she is still a formidable combatant.

Finally, we have dispatched Walter Douglas as our Ambassador to Waldflachen, and ask that you accept his credentials.

Sincerely,
President Howard Poole
Boston, New England

by **Frostyr** » Sat Jun 23, 2018 10:54 pm

Royal Palace, Vinntyr, Frostyr

"My, Liege, incoming telegram from Waldflachen!" The young diplomatic official in charge of managing communications in the Waldflachen Revolution said aloud, escorted by several Imperial Guardsmen.

The King turned swiftly in response to the alarming news. "Thank you on the swift response, take a seat and set it on my desk here, please," Vilmund stated as the worker complied swiftly. He raised his reading glasses and read over the document. "Very welcomed and appreciated...grateful...invite personally to Vaziri...Crown Prince Ivan of Waldflachen." King Vilmund muttered, as the rest of the room hushed into a booming silence. "Quite the development indeed. I shall have a meeting with my son, we will reverse roles for the time being with him governing in my absence, as it is necessary to show the willingness of Absolute Monarchs such as ourselves to these revolutionaries, and the seriousness of our terms. In the meantime, we need to prepare several things: First, young man, I need you to write over the five million Stahls to Prince Ivan. Secondly, begin drawing up the plan for the second round of aid, this time factoring in beneficiary humanitarian aid along with economic, accompanying another round of armies being sent to aid Ivan. Thirdly, create a formal invitation to be handed out with me to any other nations possibly attending this banquet. With this, your duties, for the time being, are over.

Imperial Guardsmen, however, I will require your further assistance. Send out the word that the authorization of our intervention in the war for Waldflachen is approved, and to begin preparations of not only the movement of the arms and men, but also a protected convoy dedicated to carrying me to Vaziri, with, of course, necessary protections aboard the convoy in case it gets attacked. Begin gathering officers capable of leading the men in the war, as well as several higher-ups to interact with the Ivanian High Command and build relations. Both our brilliant minds and our more Media Personality leaders. You are all dismissed."

The Imperial Guardsmen readied themselves, with the diplomatic officer in the middle of their rank, and all formally left Vilmund's work area, leaving the King alone to prepare for his departure, a move rarely seen in the dying race of powerful Monarchs such as himself in recent years.

by **Ruskland-Preuben** » Sun Jun 24, 2018 2:29 am

A letter sent to the Royalists, the public one, but there was also another one for the Revolutionaries, the opposite, the private.

And so the fun began, and the spider’s web began to form.

by **Gebeta** » Sun Jun 24, 2018 10:04 am

GBS Whilem Bau
The first shells splashed fore of the ship, geysers of water that surprised the crew. Look out had mentioned the ships that had fired upon them, but in the light of day the flashes went un noticed.
“Captain!! They are hailing us to stop and prepared to be border.” The Comms said. The Captain was not at the helm, but it was the radio mans response from years of training and honing.

“Like hell, we aren’t yielding after being fired upon. Sound quarters.” LT…..

Just as the klaxon started to wail and General Quarters was being shouted out, the Captain Heimal rushed in
“Report. Why aren’t we firing back yet” He said as more splashes bracket the ship. By this time Antov had trained and fired. The front of the ship billowed smoke and fire as 3 shells flew towards the hostiles.

In Turret Antov
“Adjust, RIGHT!!!!!” The Aimer said. He made rapid but minute adjustments to the sights. The Gunners could see this as well and trained the sights they had on the adjusted hash mark.
Loud thuds sounded as 3 shells lifted out of the armory below. WHACK!!! As the elevator split in half sealing off the armory and turret. The Gunners grabbed the 3 shells.
THUD!!! The shell was rammed into the breech. Followed by 2 more as powder charges were loaded in.
A loud clang sounded as the 3 guns were closed in seconds of each other, firing seconds apart as well.

GBS Whilem Bau. Bridge
The Ship rocked as a shell found its mark.
“SIR, Ship taken a hit. Damage reports coming in. Casualties sustained.”

Rear of center stack.
There was smoke, fire, heat. Intense heat. A Sailor slipped in something wet. He stood up, looking down at his once white pants. They were blackened from smoke and sticky with the blood of at least a dozen men that were in the hall. They were running to quarters from below deck when the shell hit. To the right of the hall was more thuds as the 3-inch secondaries joined. Screaming and rushing around. He fumbled and found his medical pack. He started treating wounded as other men in fire suits rushed to start putting out fires and setting up deluge pumps.
Onboard the Lead Cruiser
Cheers as the crew reported a hit in the pocket ship. “They taken a hit!!!” they yelled. They were enlightened. The Dark Grey Gebetan warship, a symbol of perfection had been bloodied. None of them thought of the consequence.
“Sir, the appear to be making a dash to the port. We must act quickly if we are to sink her.” --- said.
“Have the gunners double efforts. Let them know they have struck the giant, and that its afraid. Running in fear.
GBS Whilem Bau.
“Make steam. Pour smoke and turn to the 8. Present a smaller target.” Captain ---- said.
“Aye, make steam, tuning to 8 ah clock.” The Crew responded. The ship lurched from another volley leaving the ship. Or from the near misses. It did not matter why, just that it did.
“Fire teams report fire under control. They are purging the ship of sea water as they work. Reports no holes.”

The GBS Whilem Bau steamed forward, flashes leaving her as she returned fire.

Enemy Cruiser
The ship lurched and swayed as she took a salvo of 2 shells. One went through the ship, killing 8 men as it did, holing above the water line while the second one hit the armored turret, failing to pen, but exploding in a violent fire ball, sending shards of red hot metal across the foredeck. Like the Gebetan warship, the men were all inside the ship. Little fires started here and there as the glowing embers ignited the wooden deck. Only to be extinguished as the sea rushed over the deck from the waves, or the splashes of water from other shells missing.
In a scene echoing the first hit on the Pocket ship, men screamed in agony from wounded. Some were mild wounds. One was out right dead; the shell having torn threw him spraying his innards and blood all over.

From above, a sea bird watched. Strange grey objects, bursting with fire. 2 of them bleaching black smoke. The lone grey object erupted in a bright flash as another fire ball erupted on it. Adding to the black smoke leaving it was more smoke and flashes of hellish red fire. Burning embers erupting from the cannons as they returned the death and carnage.

It was a numbers game. The Gebetans would score hits, but 6 main guns vs. at least 12 made for sheer numbers. More hits would land on the ship than it could put out. One of the ships in the Loyalist fleet took a hit aft, fore of the rear gun. A mast shattered in wooden spears and fragments, as they ignited from the heat of the flames. The rear of the ship was awash in smoke and burning embers. Yet the rear turret fired.
It was becoming hell aboard the Pocket ship. Fires spreading as another hit on the rear of the ship ignited a grease fire in the mess. In addition to the fire, the heat was spreading. Some halls slick with blood from the fresh wounded, others the heat scorching the blood spilled. Flames raged as the fire fighters doused the flames, only creating burning steam from the intense heat. White halls blackened from the fire.
One of the fire fighters screamed in agony as a water pipe busted behind him sending boiling hot water threw his garments. The immense pressure even causing skin to peel as it boiled off. He fell to the floor, withering in pain as a medic tossed him over and stuck his exposed back with a morphine shot. He quickly applied a bandage to it as untold stories of horror unfolded around them.

In the bridge Captain Heimal was worried.
Multiple fires. He was still in the fight, but it was a losing fight. 1 of the loyalist ships was smoking, but not ablaze like his.
He would never ask his men to follow him to hell and back. No one should have to go twice.

Below the waves, silently stalking was a rebel submarine.
In the twilight of the waning day, it focused on the fight.
“We need to help. I suggest one of the smaller ships. The Battleship is a tempting target but doubt we can sink it. We can take out one of the smaller ships immediately, probably forcing the other two to flee, allowing us to follow and sink them at our leisure.” The second in command said.
“I agree. The immediate threat is the smaller ship. If we kill her, we cut the number of guns down. The battleship may survive a few hits. Her damage control teams are at full alert right now. They would get the flooding under control.”

Some Captains cared about career progression only. Here were men that had come to his country to help, being attacked by men that cared little of even the people they were to protect… It would spend the next 20 minutes maneuvering to get the best spread of torpedoes on the ship. At least take it out of the fight, at best kill it out right. The Captain was unsure if the Loyalist had any fleet assets near and wanted to kill something to levitate the pressure.

GBS Whilem Bau
“COMMS, COMMS!!!” Some one shouted. We have comms. Sending a distress call.” They said. It wasn’t the regular radio man. Shrapnel had killed him. A busted window from earlier when a shell struck the ships tower.
“This is the GBS Whilem BauWe are under attack and need aide immediately. Loyalist fleet of 3 is engaging us. We have sustained heavy fire and casualties!!”

Enemy Battleship

“Sir, transmission intercepted. It came from the Gebetan ship. They called for help.”
“Tell the gunners to pick up the pace. Our time is numbered here.” He said.
As he watched the lead ship, a plume of water erupted on its right side. He figured it was the Gebetan ship.

Enemy Lead Cruiser
“Sir, reporting damage to the side of the ship. We been torpedoed.”
“How, the Gebetans are out of torpedo range… “
He was cut off as a second explosion rocked his ship. He was tossed about this time.
Below decks in the first coal room was a sudden violent explosion as the ships boilers were engulfed in cold sea water. Men scrambled for life only to be violently beaten against the cold steel of the ship, bone breaking blows. Screams of help and agony as the ship’s crew had no choice but to seal of the room. You just had to ignore the beating of metal tools against the sealed bulkhead. Eventually, and heavy hearted you knew why the stopped. Trading a few lives to save many.

The Bridge
“Damage control has the flooding sealed. We can’t keep up the pace. Engine room 1 reported under water. Men lost…”
The joy of victory was taken away now as they realized the horrors. Below decks men were fighting to save the ship. Another room was to be sealed. How many in that room would not make it?

He gasped for air as he came out of the water. Looking down her could see the lights dimming as the water flooded the room. Him and 5 others huddled in a corner. One man beat on a hatch above them. Screaming to open the damned thing. The man that watched him took a deep breath and exhaled. He thought of his daughter. Only 2 years old. He thought of the horrors of war. He had no idea the resulting raids she would be in. Raids he had caused. He felt cold, from the water, from the closing hands of the thing that tied all men in the end. A final beat, a final thought. He could have sworn the memories of his daughter and wife warmed him in the end.

Enemy Battleship
“We need to break off the engagement. There has to be an enemy submarine in the area. We can’t risk our vessel to it. 3 ships for 1 is a heavy price.” The Second in command said. “Damnit man” He said as he grabbed the captain by the arms. “You won’t have a promotion if you don’t live to report the sinking of the ship”
“Yes, your right. Make steam, they have to know the risk.”

“Sir, radio intercept. The Rebel fleet is massing. I think air support is being sent out.

GBS Whilem Bau
Fredrick Bauer. He was a strong, tough man. Not smart. He was very low. But he knew his job. At 6 feet even, he towered above many others. He was also kind. Joining the navy so his younger brother could go to school on his GI, Bauer enjoyed the navy.
He was scared now. He huddled in the corner. His turret had taken a hit and was jammed. Un able to traverse.
“Bauer. Listen to me.” His commander said, calmly. “You need to help the ship. Your thick skinned. You’ll be good.” Bauer didn’t need much to convince. He himself had learned that the muscles he built up absorbed all the hurting blows.

Bauer took the ladder out, into the ships bowls. Heat was the first thing he came to feel. A fleeting helo echoed down the hall. He rushed into the room he thought it was from.
Inside were medics attending to wounded, dragging them out once able too. In the center was a beam, collapsed partially into a fire on one side, and pinning down a man on the other.
“Bauer help us” two men said, as they tried to save the man from burning alive. As they were on the opposite side of the man, away from the fire, Bauer took the flame side.
The man screamed in agony as he lifted. He screamed as he feared losing a ship mate, from being scared, but also from the immense heat that burned his skin. But behold it worked. Tears flowed from his eyes as he held tight and strong. The two men helping pulled out the pinned man.
“God’s sake drop it Bauer!!!” The pinned man yelled. He did so. His hands burnt severely Flesh falling at the slightest touch.
“It hurts Becker.” Bauer said. A medic rushed to the gentle giant with wet rags. “Here, wrap your hands in this.” He said, helping the giant do so.

The Ship had taken close to 700 hits. Yet she floated for now. From the bridge everyone breathed a sigh of relief as the Loyalist fleet trailed. Leaving behind the wounded ship from before. It had to have been a sub. An angel in the dark waters watching over the ship. In 20 minuets a squadron of rebel planes few over.

Another hour of hell was still at hand. The sight to behold as the burning ship limped into port. Somehow, the flooding had been held back.
Captain Heimal was moved by the turn out of people. Fishers moving to the stricken ship to help offload wounded. It wasn’t hard. The port was shallow. The ship would sink. She had fought just as hard as her crew to make it here. It was as if the ship knew it was her time to die. Though, there was still working to be done on the ship. On deck some of the locals mixed with the crew. If any Loyalist were here, they looked beyond the meager lines of Nations. They looked at the decency in man to love and help one another in times like this. Wounded carried out. Bodies bloodied and charred from the fires. The ship was at an angle, slightly so. It was to the rear of the ship. Despite all the chaos, and death, the crew had done a remarkable job. Not one jumped over ship. Not one left post.

Hell was a terrible place. He knew, he had been there today

by **Adab** » Sun Jun 24, 2018 12:12 pm

HIMS Imperious, Oretega Sea

Emperor Tizqar III sat in the room alone, poring over the piles of paper on the table. The lamp was dimly-lit, but it was enough for daylight. Over at the corner of the room was his poor sister, looking out at the window. Perhaps it was a mistake asking her to come on this journey, for it only caused those memories to come flooding in, but if they did find the Marquess of Mosul it would at leadt provide for a quick reunion, one that would not require an arduous return journey. That, of course, assuming that they did find the Marquess alive. Or that they found him in the first place. The Crown Prince of Waldflachen had delivered him reports that the Marquess was imprisoned in rebel-held Grimstad, although those reports could not be verified yet (that the rebels had rejected a prisoner exchange offer certainly didn't help).

"We will find him, Aisha," the Emperor tried to reassure his sister, though he knew that not even the sweetest words could soothe his sister. "He might be in Sahin, he might in Grimstad, but wherever he is right now, we will find him. Allah does not betray those who believe and put their faith in Him, even in times of great difficulties." He thought about his words and realized just how much he sounded like a philosopher, or at least someone who dreamed of becoming one. But it was Amri that his sister needed, not a philosopher.

But finding the Marquess was not the only reason this journey was being undertaken for. Imperious, the battlecruiser the Emperor and his entourage were on, was part of the first convoy carrying Adabian troops to Waldflachen. The Emperor had promised at least 50,000 troops to aid in quelling the revolution, and this convoy was carrying 10,000 of them, divided between two passenger liners hastily pressed into service as troopships and three attack transports, guarded by five battlecruisers, including the Imperious. They would land at Ozan, after which the Emperor planned on proceeding to Vaziri for a meeting with the Crown Prince of Waldflachen.

The door opened slightly, and a tall, burly man entered the room, bowing at the sight of the Emperor and the Princess. The Emperor had appointed 60-year-old General Ali Tevfik as commander-in-chief of the Adabian Expeditionary Forces. Tevfik had had a long, colorful career. He served the Ottoman Empire from his teenage years, witnessing the carnage of the Balkan Wars and World War I as he rose through the ranks. Following the collapse of the empire, he tried his luck in Adab and quickly earned the Emperor's late father, serving with distinction in the War of Reunification.

The Emperor bid him to sit across the table from him. "Thank you, Your Imperial Majesty," he said, grabbing a chair and sitting down. "It seems that luck is on our side. The monarchy is rightfully receiving quite the amount of international support, especially when compared to the revolutionary rabble. Winning the war against the revolutionaries will be easy. Let's just hope finding the Marquess will also be that easy."

"I sure hope you will be able to back up your words, General," the Emperor replied, glancing at her sister, still looking out at the window. "So, I assume we are sticking with the plan that we have now?"

"I believe it will be better that way, Sir. The offensive in Sardilis is still ongoing and I intend to have our troops sent there to take part in the action and give a helping hand to our allies. The sooner they participate, the better. And of course, if necessary, I shall insist on our troops being under our command, fighting side by side, rather than being scattered among Waldflachen's units. I do not anticipate this particular situation arising, though I still think it is good for us to prepare, just in case. Sir, allow me to accompany you to the meeting with the Crown Prince. Should he have any questions about our tactics, I should be able to give a satisfying explanation."

"I shall consider it." The Emperor appeared to be writing something on a scrap of paper. "Do remind me to bring up the issue of the Marquess and the Grimstad camp and all that. But of course he can be anywhere right now and we're keeping all options open. Tell me about the mission to Sahin."

General Tevfik smiled, something which he did not do very often. "Everything is exactly as I have planned and it's been smooth sailing thus far. The hardest part will be when they do land in Sahin, however. Every useful inch of that island must be scoured for any sign of the Marquess."

by **Krenorus** » Mon Jun 25, 2018 2:17 am

The Next Day:

THE REMNANTS of the Irish Mob were located in a small district of shops in Sahin. They were weak from newly-started infighting. Soon, however, their new leader, Rowan McMaster, would unify the Mob. Alessandro Giovanni knew this. He, his brother, and another twenty mafiosos - armed with Thompson sub-machineguns - would storm the village and massacre all the Irish mobsters, who were normally armed with a simple pistol. At eight o'clock in the morning, they set the plan into motion. The cars stopped right outside the district of shops. A. Giovanni got out with his Tommy Gun and walked up to the entrance to the district. A guard smoking a cigarette watched him walk up to him. To the right of Giovanni was his brother, Silvio. The guard walked up to Alessandro and took the cigarette out of his mouth. "Mister Giovanni, what business do you have with the Irish Mob?" the guard asked as the other mafiosos got out from their cars. There was a steel door the mafiosos needed to get through to get into the district of shops. A. Giovanni knew this. So he had set up a plan.

"I wanna' see your boss," Giovanni said in a short burst. The guard looked surprised and decided to question Giovanni. "For what purpose?" he questioned to the obvious annoyment of Giovanni. "A truce. Now let me pass."

"No," the guard said in a serious tone. "I'll check with the boss first."

"Listen," Giovanni said in a dark tone. "You better open the f*cking door and let me through or when I get to talk to your boss, I'll make your life miserable." The guard froze. After a small paused, he was able to move again. Mister McMaster was known for his brutal punishments for his minions. "Fine," the guard finally said to the smiles of Alessandro and Silvio. "Mother Mary forgive if I sin," he said while opening the door with the key he had. Alessandro did not know he had a key, if he had, the guard would have been dead by now. Not that it mattered.

As the guard opened the door. S. Giovanni took a knife out of his pocket and stabbed the man in the back of the neck. S. Giovanni opened the door fully as the mafiosos charged in. "Good thinking," Alessandro said as he walked by Silvio. Inside the district, a massacre ensued. Dozens were slaughtered by the ever-continuing bursts of the Tommy Guns. When one mafioso stopped to reload, another took his place. The 50-bullet drum magazines were proving effective. The Irish mobsters tried to rally and defend, but they were cut down. Many civilians of Irish descent were also killed. It was an ethnic war.

"Move!" a mafioso shouted as his brothers stormed the large house where McMaster was staying. Quite a few of them were cut down by the Irish, but the mobsters were overwhelmed by the mafiosos. After a while, there was only one room left. The man who toasted to Alessandro and Silvio was the first to go in. He was cut down in an instant. Blood flowed from his mouth as he breathed his last breath. The next two man were also cut down. McMaster was using a machinegun. When Alessandro came up, he immediately took a Tommy Gun and fired it at the door. The bullets went through the wood. He then kicked down the door. They came to the sight of McMaster, who was but a corpse.

The Irish Mob was no more...

by **Brendislav** » Mon Jun 25, 2018 8:22 am

Inside the national armory of Sardilis

"Do you fully understand what you did!" The Colonel's face was a bright cherry red, you could see all of his muscles tense up as he shouted at Felix, "Piracy is an international crime! But whats worse is that you simply walked away from your duties and endanger my... yours.... our men! What will the world think of us, resorting to becoming common criminals!" Felix's eyebrow raised, "I simply thought it was the best course of action, sir."
"Best course of action! Why if the vice-president and I...." The Colonel took a deep breath and managed to turn his rage into irritation, "If it was up to me and the Vice President, we would have you court marshaled. Treason, piracy, and endangerment of civilians is something we will not stand. Fortunately for you the President has heard of your daring exploits, and like the rest of the populace, has swooned over your reckless behavior as if you where the hero in an adventure novel. Everyone seems to think of you as a national hero."
Felix managed to hide a smug smile underneath a face of indifference, "Well that's what people tend to think when you finally bring food for them to eat, and weapons to defend themselves."
"Yes, it really seems that way," the Colonel grumbled, he handed over a small package to Felix, "This is for you, from the President."
Felix grabbed the package, opening it to find a letter signed by the president, along with keys, a new ration card, and insignias for the rank of Lieutenant Colonel. "The letter explains it all." the Colonel sat back in his chair, "You are now in command of Battalion IV, with this rank you are given the proper rations and accommodations that come with it." The Colonel motioned Felix to leave the office, but as he reached for the door the Colonel coughed, "And if you wish to follow orders, we will see you manning the front line by the end of this week." Felix looked back at the Colonel, seeing him in a different light now that he was only a single rank higher than him, and with the knowledge the he had favor with the President.

Apartment #39, Sardilis

Benedict was stuffing his face with mashed potatoes and some canned ham, while Felix paced around a frayed and dirty map of the South-Sardilis Trenches, and its surrounding area. Benedict took a short pause in stuffing his face, "Ah common Felix, you're always brooding! You just got promoted, celebrate!" Felix looked to his old friend, they had both served together in the war against Azindhal, he was a logistics officer who had smuggled supplies into the hands of many of the Officers serving there, while he was court marshaled, the officers that received the chocolate, magazines, and alcohol were untouched. He was re-enlisted into the army after the draft. Despite his position away from the front lines, Felix could see the scars that the war had left on him, his pessimism, the terrified look when he hears artillery, and his hedonistic tendencies. Felix stood over the map, looking at the topography, the positioning of both armies, anything he could find that could give the Revolution a better chance. Benedict stumbled over to Felix, tripping over a small foot-stool, "Agh, damn all this furniture, do they really have to give you all this stuff," he leaned over the map, twisting his face as he tires to scrutinize it, "What are you looking at?"
"The South-Sardilis Trenches, it is vital that we push the Royalists out."
"Why are you so concerned about that-"
Benedict was interrupted by Jacobs entering the room, he was holding a small letter, was was in full uniform. Felix turned away from the map and greeted him, "Good evening! I'm surprised you recovered so fastSergent ." Felix put in emphasis on the Sergent part, to Benedict's dismay.
"Well you know, it wasn't too serious sir." Jacobs smiled, "A worthy sacrifice for what we have achieved."
"Oh, look at Sergent pretty boy," Benedict snapped, as he walked over back to the food, "you're even starting to be as snarky as our 'dear hero' as well"
Jacobs stopped beaming, he knew that Benedict was far older and experienced than him. But Felix defended his decision none the less, "You both know perfectly well why Jacobs is Sergent, he shoots well, and should be in command of a squad that shoots well." Felix then pointed at Benedict, "Also, if you stay a private, I can keep you by my side without question."
"Great," Benedict moaned, "I have a leash."
Jacobs chuckled, and handed a small letter to Felix, "Here sir, a letter from high command." Felix thanked Jacobs as he grabbed it, and slowly opened it, even though he knew what it probably said. He held it up high, and read the message out-loud, " Lieutenant Colonel Felix Wolfram, you and your men, Battalion IV, are to be stationed at the front lines in the South-Sardilis Trenches..."
"Oh shit," Benedict interrupted, "the front lines."

by **Northern Poland** » Wed Jun 27, 2018 10:21 am

Sevso Front, Revolutionary Army Trenches
Aleksandar stands in the trench, looking through the binoculars taken off a dead royalist officer. He views the royalist trench, looking at the machine guns staring his Squad down. He calls up his second in command, a Lance Corporal by the name of Jackson. He says, "Get the mortar crew to fire on this location" He tells Jackson, showing him the royalist parapet on the other side. Jackson nods, and a runner comes up, saying "The Battalion Commander has issued a order to attack the other trench, prepare your squad." Aleksandar nods, and calls up the other 13 Soldiers under his command. The soldiers didn't have a standard uniform, just jackets with a red arm band, or the occasional stolen royalist uniform with the insignia replaced. He told everyone the plan, then he heard the explosions of the mortar shells. He gets everyone in the stance to charge, then the Battalion commander blows the whistle, signaling to charge. The 500 Men charge, and his squad is not far behind. Aleksander goes with his squad, as a royalist Browning machine gun tears apart the 15th Platoon to his right. He raises his Nagant, he aims at a royalist ammo carrier, he fires, killing the soldier. He sees a soldier with a MP40 get killed 50 feet away, so he runs over to the corpse, picking up the MP40 and the ammo attached to it. He slings the MP40, running back to his squad. He notices that 4 of his men lay dead, 7 wounded, and the rest are fine. He got one of his soldiers to run back to the trench to tell the commander that they need to pull back. Before he starts running, they lay down rifle and sub machine gun fire down onto the enemy positions. The runner made it back, then signaled to follow The men who where still able to run mounted those who couldn't on their backs, and ran as fast as they could, being covered by the 23rd Platoon of 5th Battalion Aleksander jumps in the trench, calling for stretcher bearers. They take the wounded to the medical area, though the medics have been running out of supplies. Aleksander doubts he'l see them in fighting shape again. Later, the order to retreat ig given, and the remaining men fall back to the trenches. Reports say that there are only 347 men left in the Battalion, and the 15th, 29th, and 12th platoon are all wiped out. A Messenger tells him the Battalion commander wants to see him. He goes to the commander's dugout, and asks, "You asked to see me comrade?" The Battalion commander says,"Due to recent events, the 15th platoon leader and a few of their men are dead. I saw you managed to get back most of your men are still alive. A hard feat during this battle, thus, I want you and your men to be transferred to the 15th Platoon Lieutenant." Aleksander notices he called him a lieutenant, and the battalion commander hands him a officer's cap and a M1911 pistol with 30 rounds. He adds, "Officer's get a standard uniform, go see the quartermaster." He salutes, grabs the gun and ammo, puts it in his pocket, and heads to the quartermaster. He gets the uniform, puts it on, puts the ushanka on, attaches the holster to the belt, then walks back to his men. He tells them of the situation, then leads them to the 17th Platoon. He says to the men, "Alright, your leader is KIA, and i am here to replace him with some of my men." He says to the 29 men assembled before him (Not including the 4 of his OG squad) He adds, "So, lets get to work."

Fin.

Officer's Uniform

Lance Corporal Jackson Explaining to the Squad about the Attack
(with Holster)

by **Ralkovian Grand Island** » Wed Jun 27, 2018 8:45 pm

From: President Igor Stromvlad of The Socialist Democratic Commonwealth of Wallachia
To: His Comrade and Brother, President Julian Schneider

My dearest compatriot, I hope this letter finds you well in tough times. I understand the fight you are waging against your imperialist oppressors. You are men of iron and wheat, you are true heroes. The People of Wallachia send you nothing but love and friendship. Having thrown the yoke of our own villains, the Wallachians have no greater desire than to issue you aid in both food and weapons. However, brother you should also express excitement if you find yourself in agreement to this latter proposal. The people of Wallachia seek to aid you in combat as well. From my own progeny, my son, and from the progeny of the freedom-loving masses, come an additional fifty thousand young men to serve your cause. These men are trained and have volunteered from our own combat brigades.

Already three vessels bearing grain, medicine, and non-perishables shall arrive within the fortnite. And whence your council agree we can send our volunteers post-haste.

We wish you nothing but success and love,

President Igor Stromvlad
Socialist Democratic Commonwealth of Wallachia

"Is that good enough?" Igor said, bringing the whiskey to his lips with a solid smile.

"Very good. I liked the sending of the son, it is good personal touch. The Lord-Emperor will be pleased to hear of your cooperation," the Ralkovian answered, with his own smile.

"Of course. I am thankful that his Lord and Majesty has seen fit to bestow me such rank and power in this nation. I only look forward to the day that this veil can be dropped and the people of Wallachia know the grace of his royal might," Igor responded, making sure to bow his neck at each reference to the Emperor. Igor was a well-educated man, having graduated from a Ralkovian Foreign University, he knew the culture well. He was also practical and pragmatic, in the sense that he knew fully that his present position was entirely due to his status as an agent of the Empire.

When he had returned home after university, he was already an agent. When the revolution had started against the King of Wallachia, his handlers had guided him to be a 'Revolutionary Hero.' His Overlord's had shaped his future every step of the way. And every step had brought success and power to it, which in turn fed his predilection for wealth and sex.

He was no hero, just a servant to a powerful master.

And he would serve. They would all serve.

by **The Frozen Forest** » Wed Jun 27, 2018 9:11 pm

Sahin

The so called "Freezing Night" was the worst massacre in the cities history. Many Irish-Waldflachens were dead, more so were wounded and in emergency medical tents or the overcrowded hospitals. Criminal Activity in the affected area had dropped significantly, but white-hot hatred ran deep as blood slathered the streets. The City as a whole was outraged by the attack, even those of Italian descent were uneasy as it was learned that at least five children were killed, all below the ages of 12. The Cities reigning Governor was quite rightly furious as his nephew was involved, albeit uninjured. The investigation, if it could be called that, was done publicly. Newspapers gathered the grim details and those on the mainland would find alongside other articles, news of violence in a supposedly safe city.

Immediately it was expected that those responsible were of the Giovanni Family. The abundance of survivors along with public outrage made it clear that it wasn't an attack by any normal group, the Giovanni's would face the repercussions of their violence. The Governors orders were anything but legal, driven by fury he ordered the arrest of over two dozen individuals suspected of being members of the Family. Trials were short, evidence was lacking and the sentence was death on all but a few cases. They were shot publicly, and the Italian Community itself grew full of hatred at the so called Mock-Trials that had been held. The survivors of the Irish Mob, as few as they were could not band together. Around six individuals fled the Island for the Mainland, there was a single case of a survivor going haywire and machine-gunning a local Italian Store, killing seven and leaving fourteen others with injuries.

The other families noticed of course. The Russian Mob was naturally more cautious than the Irish, and those procedures were stepped up in light of the attack. A buddy system was put in place and heavy weapons were to be carried at all time, despite even the cost of bribing the Police to allow it. Of course they would be stepping up recruitment as well, bringing in much needed specialists to build defenses around their compounds. Nikolai Yakovich, leader of the Yakovich Family and head of the collective Russian Mobs, made it clear that he intended vengeance on the Giovanni to establish the prior status quo.

On the other hand, the Sahin Mafia took not steps. They dominated the scene and the squabbling of the "Little Mobs" meant very little. Some changes were made just in case, but based just on the size of the organization, they were confident that any attack from another mob would be crushed simply through numbers and heavy firepower.

Grimstad, Royalist Capital

Another Ally had joined the cause. The news had allowed it to spread like wildfire across the country, it was a good thing to hear when there was so much chatter about the Royalist attacks on Sardilis. While the support wasn't huge, the fact that Waldflachen was getting International Support aid at all was a blessing in and of its own. With so many countries stacked against them, it had seemed that their cause was forsaken but that feeling had fortunately drifted. The city chattered as it usually did, a cool snow was blowing despite it being summer, it was like that year round in Grimstad and was not unusual.

In his office the President sat, his VP pacing from one end of the space to the other. "I'm not surprised that other Socialists are coming to our aid, but they wish to base in Sahin. Is that really so wise? A report came across my desk today, dozens have been killed just this week. Wouldn't it be wiser to have them come to one of our ports, maybe even Koch?" Julian shook his head in response, grey lines streaked through his hair and his eyes were notably ringed from lack of sleep and nutrition. He worked day and night, writing letters insistently. There weren't enough people to do it for him, they couldn't afford to hire on more secretaries, the Revolutionary Mark was already floundering since its birth, borrowing for unnecessary things would only dig a hole that he wasn't eager to have dug.

"Koch is too close to Sardilis, and if Sardilis falls then Koch will be the next target. We can't risk endangering their fleet, besides our fleet is based in Sahin and they can assist more directly there. There happened to be another letter, one that the dear president did not see. Viktor Aparina, the leader of the Communist Faction had received an interesting communication from the Ruskland-Preuben's, detailing a possible contingency plan for if the war fell short. Naturally he wouldn't inform the president, since it would surely lead to a buildup of defenses in Sahin. No he kept the letter to himself until the moment he had the time to burn it.

Sahin Port

Doctors were rushed from the city to the docks in order to treat the wounded. Supplies were quickly gathered and the city of Sahin fell under a period of emergency. Revolutionary Subs were deployed to deal with the intruding Royalists, who fled, and mechanics did all they could to try and ensure the ship remained floating while she was evacuated. It was fortunate that it had made it to port, where the water wasn't so deep as to entirely submerge the ship. It meant that the possibility of rising her from the sea at a later date wasn't out of the question. Gebeta was supposed to be simply keeping order, was it not? Anger flooded through the city as injured sailors were treated. Police units previously used to keep Mafia activity low were called out to help keep the streets cleared for response. The lack of medical supplies was substituted lightly by generous donations of clean cloth and private alcohol stores, as well as sewing needs and thread needed to stitch together injuries.

Tents were pitched on the nearby beach and spare bits of earth which could house the sailors while they healed. Those who died were buried in the nearby cemetery, they could be moved in the future. Food and water, whatever could be spared was offered to the men. Both the Sahin and the Russian Mafias quickly moved to smuggle in additional medical supplies, donating them despite the ongoing war with the Giovanni's. Captain Heimal himself was treated by the best doctors on the Island, who in hindsight were only above average for Pre-War Waldflachen. His life wouldn't be in danger, fortunately.

Vaziri, Royalist Government

Frostyr had accepted the Invitation, this was received through the diplomatic channels with some joy. To Ivan it meant a diplomatic meeting that would ensure an ally for his government, along with a potential friendship. To his underlings it signaled a reason to celebrate and enjoy themselves, it also meant a further securing of power between the monarchy and foreign realms. The Common-Folk saw the ordeal as a potential ending to the conflict, the more ally's that were won then the higher the chance that the war would end sooner rather than later, and as told to them by the Monarchy, things would finally improve for the nation.

Preparation were done quickly despite the visit being possibly weeks or months down the road. The finest cutlery, furniture and food were found and ready to be prepared in the banquet hall. With just six-hours notice they could preform a spectacle and return the Palace to its former glory, at least for one night. He looked forwards to the food, it was also an excuse for him though he'd never admit it. There wasn't enough to go around, but if it were to help end the war, that was justification enough.

The first order of business was a letter from the Ruskland-Preubens. They wished to discuss the war, and offered what he thought was overgenerous. That was until he reached the end of the letter, which detailed the price for such assistance. The Island of Sahin, as well as Samog. Losing Sahin, it was a huge loss for certain. The amount of money made annually from the spices and ores coming off the Island, it was a lucrative territory to hold. Samog, Samog was minuscule compared to Sahin. He could probably fit hundreds of Samog's inside Sahin. Samog was still valuable though. Diamonds, Garnets and gem-quality peridots were common around the shoals of the island. It was common back when the island was newly discovered, for a Royal to walk the beach with a blindfold and to take only the first gem he could find among the sand.

Whether that was true or not, he didn't know. Samog was a peculiarity that one would hardly notice on a map, but one could say it was a diamond in the rough. He knew that inevitably he could give the Island to the Rusklanders, he could save the lives of many by not assaulting it personally.

To Warmaster Abbadon of Suesani

I would like to thank you for your concern over my Family Members. Their capture was most unfortunate and i expect that many will be executed in retaliation once we march north. I would of course be open to hearing about potential rescue attempts, as my father the King still remains in the clutches of vile criminals. I will be sure to speak with your liege concerning this matter at a later date. Regarding your offer of Men and Money i have to say that i'm intrigued. I do not believe that such an agreement has ever been made in the History of my Nation, and many of my compatriots hold the land sacred as it has belonged to Waldflachen for over 300 years.

After much deliberation i concede that i do require your support. I would be willing to offer you the Islands in return for two additional concessions, by which i am required by my constituents to hold to. The first is that you must claim the Island by yourself, my Navy and Army cannot assist you. My intelligence reports between 40,000 and 65,000 Rebels reside on the Island, as well as a majority of their fleet. If you are capable of taking Sahin through your own means, i will grant it to you legally following the war. The second concession deals with Samog and her valuable gems, which i'm sure you've heard about. Traditionally our Monarchs have selected Crown Jewels by visiting the Island and taking a walk on the beech blindfolded, taking the first few gems they find to be made into jewelry or kept as Royal Property. I have to have this concession, that the Northwest shoal and beach will remain a guarded area and that the gems there will not be touched. My father, myself and any future Kings or Queens must retain the right to use the beach for the aforementioned purpose. All other materials on the Island may be taken and used by yourself.

If these conditions are acceptable, then i offer you my blessing to take Sahin. I will be in need of the promised money in order to help restore order on the mainland, i hope this letter reaches you in haste and i thank you again for your interest and assistance.

Crown Prince Ivan of The Kingdom of Waldflachen

Additionally the Adab forces would be arriving any day now. He presumed that he would be meeting with their leader first, before the Frostyr delegation finally arrived. Their timing was impeccable and his generals estimated that by the time they landed and linked up with his forces around South-Sardilis, the main thrust would begin. Waldflachen men had never served with Adabians, he knew that it would certainly be a hassle to make sure everyone was coordinated and applied force where necessary, though the additional forces would help tip the balance in their favor. He ordered the final preparation to be made as he awaited news of the Adab-Forces arrival.

Sevso Front

The Battle was a surprise to both the Royalist and the Rebels. Rebel General Ulikov Monkovich's orders were to simply hold the Sevso Front, to keep it stable while the Rebels protected the Trenches in Sardilis, in the East. Ambitious as ever though, the General launched an Assault and it was a surprise success, albeit with heavy casualties. With no supplies the looting of Royalist corpses was necessary to keep Ammo abundant enough to continue. Of course eventually it stabilized, but he ground gained was a worry to the Royalists. Ulikov's Counter-Offensive, as the Newspapers coined it, seemed to be a great moral victory if nothing else. Sevso, now threatened with immediate Rebel Attack was able to pull of troops from the main offensive on Sardilis.

Back at command however, Ulikov was coming under heavy scrutiny despite the success. He had disobeyed orders and if it had failed then the entire front could have collapsed! The anger of the High Command would have been more furious if it didn't happen that the Royalists were aching against the Sevso rivers. Notably, commanders such as Aleksandar Dћejmston, James Bullington and Armin White became distinguished, earning their promotions. The three, along with their General would be under the watch of the Rebel Army, following the progress on the new front.

South-Sardilis Trenches, Royalist Offensive

The Guns were on fire. Thousands of shells fired daily, 291 Shells fired every hour. The Forest caught fire, burning and smoking both the Royalist and Rebel forces, causing a huge effort to bring in rags and gas-masks. Smoke asphyxiation brought about around 3,000 Rebel and 700 Royalist causalities. Rushed from the front to Army Hospitals, immediate treatment was done not just from the smoke an artillery fire but by a horrible new flu which spread rapidly through the ranks of both Armies. The Generals did whatever they could to alleviate the problems, medicine was in short supply by both sides though.

Skirmishers sent forth by the Royalist claimed the lives of two hundred men just on the first day, Battalion IV suffered fifteen casualties on its own, its Commander still not at the Front. Felix Wolfram was still a darling of the Royalist Press, and the Royalist Press had gotten wind of the Hero. Demonized and hated, he became a target for the coming assault. Standing at the forefront of the fighting, Battalion IV's men came from all different places, they were not a unified Battalion and would likely suffer the worse when the Royalist came to them. They were ill-disciplined and green, the opposite of their soon to be combatants. For now the sounds of Artillery rings through the air, reaching as far as Koch. Thus ends the month of July.