[SC ONLY] Troubled Birth

A staging-point for declarations of war and other major diplomatic events. [In character]


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Chargé d'Affaires
Posts: 351
Founded: Mar 26, 2014
Corporate Police State

Postby Iryllia » Mon Jan 07, 2019 4:25 pm

The Diplomat

She was at a different cafe this time, one a roman soldier she'd been chatting up had recommended. Or at least it sounded like a recommendation in between slurred Latin. They really had a terrible ear for Rusinan accents though, she'd been posing as a refugee from the Asgari zone in the north. Woe is her with nowhere warm to stay. It was working wonders. They liked to chat too, nothing too important though she did commend them on that. She had noticed lash scars on the backs of one or two of the soldiers so that'd explain it but when plied with liquor and a gentle nudge here and a wink there they'd talk about a lot. About home or their posting here. Very little of a sensitive matter again the lashes again she presumed. One thing she'd learned last night however, one thing she'd found very difficult to keep her composure for. There was an Iryllian fleet, it'd rocked up a few days ago apparently and was now sitting there a few hundred miles north of the island.

This was her ticket out of here.

Off this blasted rock filled with god damn barbarians and war criminals. An issue remained however, which was contact. She had basically nothing now since the flight from Balthazaar, she'd checked back on the embassy building, a dry cleaners now. Too her knowledge there weren't any safe houses in the city. She needed a radio set. She wasn't about too break into a Roman military base and although some of the dudes she'd slept with had been sweet, they had very anachronistic views in certain places. No, she'd need to find a civilian set, a radio station would be monitored but... There's gotta be a weirdo with a set somewhere. Didn't need much, hell, she vaguely remembered the Morse emergency signal. wouldn't even need much for that. Just the right frequency... She'd need to ask around but her excuse of being from the north only really worked on the Romans. Asgari would recognise an Iryllian accent like that and she didn't sound much like a Harrenite. Maybe, just maybe seeing if someone she knew from the flotilla could get her access somewhere. That'd be a long shot and they all thought she was dead anyway...

The Smuggler

Things just really weren't going her way were they?

After escaping all the bombing, attacks, raiders and all manner of nasty things. Seeing a mushroom cloud rise in the distance Valentina was very much done with this island. Or so she thought, until she found a whole bunch of Myraxians on it. This was just great, she'd mad a particular point of not seeing any Myraxians since Rygan. They made her twitchy, nervous. Well, not quite as bad as the Valari but that seemed like a universal thing rather than just her. Emily Hall, her identity, lost all her documents in a fire bombing in northern Harren. Seemed to pass fairly well. Got her through the refugee checkpoints well enough. Into a work gang well enough. Working for a section of very grumpy looking Myraxian pioneers putting up the shed she was now bunked in with a hundred others. She'd complained at one point, which had amounted to "Fuck you pay me" she'd gotten a good few cheers from the goblins in her work gang. The Myraxian had told her to shut up if she liked getting food. One or two native insults may or may not have slipped out at this. and she noticed the Sergeant whispering and glancing her way when talking to his superior. Maybe it was her Paranoia, but she swore that there were more guards watching after that, watching her specifically.

She struck up her concerns with the seemingly sympathetic goblins, a memorable pair had been part of the merc company in Prokopois, Zahaak and Yavus. They really didn't like the Roman Asgari combo on the island. She talked about her exploits before this place had gone to shit, they'd nodded along and smiled. "Back to Aurum then ey?" They'd asked. "Anywhere but here." She replied. And so, they schemed long into the night.

The Admiral

A few days passed. No word from the consulate. No word from anyone. Commodore Patchriyev had reported... A lot of shipping. Roman and Asgari. Great, two active combatants. He'd circled around the island. Too the south? Worse news. Myraxians and Valari. What on earth had been going on here? Atmospherics indicated a detonation of a nuclear device and a lot of fallout in the air as well as... Unknown particulates. Not chemical, or nuclear apparently. But biological. The records of this island show'd exactly zero abnormalities. So what was all the fuss?

After a few days Admiral Naumann was getting what he thought to be a pretty good picture. The tin pot dictator Balthazar had some rebel problems. That had apparently been over the news nets a bit. According to the diplomatic corps reports Kathrin had survived a rebel attack on the consulate, assisting Balthazar with an emergency monetary fund. However, both Rome and Asgareth had stuck their fingers in the pie, assisting Balthazars flotilla back onto the mainland. Reports from Kathrin had been steady roughly up until... Ah, yes. Balthazar's assassination by Myraxians. Missing, presumed dead. Interestingly enough however the Myraxians never claimed the assassination. They didn't deny it either. All the hullabaloo was coming from the Roman camp who'd gone and set up a seemingly more pliant puppet in the tin pot dictators stead. Politicking and power play. Business as usual. No mention however of an Iryllian diplomat showing up in any reports. No kills claimed, no exposure. In fact if it wasn't for Kathrin's reports very few people would know she'd ever been there.

Then, something else developed.

He'd retired to his quarters, examining the print out on his desk which read:

Wired: ID UNKNOWN. Harrenite standard civic encryption.
Claim: Representative of Gautima (Current Premier of the Hegemony)

Officially, considering our status as a Roman Puppet, the Hegemony is your enemy. Unofficially, the Romans have been nothing but a bane towards all Harrenians. Is there anything we can offer you to, get involved, on our mainland?
To, replace, our Roman overlords.


He had to be very careful in measuring his response, he was an admiral yes, but no diplomat.

Wired: RETURN TO SENDER. Harrenite standard civic encryption

A detailed report on the current situation is required before any action is taken.
1. What is the status of the Iryllian Consulate to the Hegemony
2. What active foreign nations are operating on this island and in what strength.
3. What do you have to offer.

- Admiral Alexander Naumann, Iryllian 10th Fleet

He nodded, seemingly happy with his response. Shortly after sending it however, his first officer stuck his head into his office, "Sir, an additional transmission."
"What is it?"
"It's from the Myraxians sir."
"Yessir, I'll leave the transcript here."

Wired: ID UNKNOWN Open Channel
Sent via Myraxian built system

no go away.

Last edited by Iryllia on Mon Jan 07, 2019 5:20 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Sovereign Charter

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Romae in Perpetuum
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Founded: Mar 14, 2016
Iron Fist Consumerists

Postby Romae in Perpetuum » Wed Jan 09, 2019 3:49 pm

Castra Praetoria, Nova Roma, Imperium Romae in Perpetuum

“These reports could be more encouraging…” Prefect Sejanus remarked dryly to the three intelligence officers sitting opposite him.
“About 300,000 dead, sir.” Remarked Prefect Caelius, who had just flown in from Harren Island. “Old Agrippa ordered a total decimation of the Heartlands and didn’t shrink from committing serious resources to it.” He passed another file to the Head of Intelligence. “Men and materials earmarked for the next phase of the campaign were needlessly diverted for his little ‘lesson’. Not to mention we’ve intercepted messages from the Hegemony to the Iryllians, reportedly working for Gautima.”
Sejanus snorted whilst perusing the document. “Impossible. Gautima has been under intensive surveillance since he got here and no one could sneak onto Kos. Regardless keep an eye on the situation and make sure Agrippa doesn’t smother him, for now. Anyway this would explain the request for additional supplies Nero received a few days ago, interesting how these reports weren’t includes in the Prefectus’ last dispatches.”
“Indeed, sir.” Replied Caelius who had begun to smirk. “Nor the fact that preliminary reports indicate he has radicalised nearly 9% of the population. Thanks to our dear Praefectus I will now require much greater support to quell the rural population. People may even start to suspect the truth…”
“Quiet.” Snapped Sejanus. “Not even here, we cannot even chance exposure.”

Caelus straightened, chastised. “Of course, sir, regardless the actions of the rebels are both an irritant to the Imperium and a potentially dangerous outlier for…our friends.”
“We have prepared a proposal.” Interjected one of the other officers. “We’ve achieved moderate success with infiltration up until now and are ready to move on some of the larger cells. The problem is the terrorists seem to be totally decentralised and highly motivated.”
“I disagree.” Interrupted the last officer. “We to resume our search for their leader, a woman named Langton. If we can take her alive, we should be able to extract enough information to bring down the cell network.”
“I keep telling you Camillus, she’s dead!” His friend said exasperated. “Our agents in Rie said she disappeared. Her associates certainly have no idea where she is, trust me I’ve seen the pictures.”
“But they’ve been making coordinated attacks! The poisoned fish for one…”
“That’s enough both of you.” Said Sejanus forcefully. “I don’t care what unwashed savage is leading these scum, I just want this dealt with before I have to burn down another fishmongers! Caelius.” He said, pointing to the middle figure. “You’ll have your men and then some. Establish a mass surveillance network across the interior of the island. Arrest and quietly dispose off anyone who even considers treason, and have their families enslaved.”
“Yes, sir.” Caelius said, smirk returning as he tallied up the potential profits.

The head of intelligence then turned to Camillus.
“Centurion give one of my aides a copy of that report. Inform them to discreetly send it to one of Agrippa’s rivals in the Senate. His family have been around for long enough, he should have a good few. It should lead to an official accusation of incompetence being levied against him, make the old fucker buck his ideas up. You.” He said pointing to the remaining agent. “Start intercepting Agrippa’s dispatches to the Imperial Palace, it’s time we paid more attention to that rock and importantly keep Caesar’s interests elsewhere. The last thing we need is bloody Imperial oversight. Dismissed.”

City of Galatea, Republic of Harren, Harren Island

Opening the door, Maria paused, cocking an eyebrow. Before speaking or moving into the room, she waved away her aides and ordered her Myraxian Guard to wait outside. Coming through and shutting the door behind her, Maria smiled, "Colour me surprised. I wouldn't have expected you to have the balls to come here.".
"I must admit I expected more screaming." Replied Agrippa lazily, his feet resting on her desk. "That's how these things usually go..."
She snorted as she walked over to her wall, sliding a tall crystal decanter towards herself, "Why shouldn't I just call in the Myraxians and hear your screaming?", she poured two glasses and slid one across to him on the desk.
"Simply put my dear, they wouldn't believe you." He replied a half smile on his face. "I'm not actually here you see." He put his hand through the glass in front of him, as if to prove a point. "Hologram."
"Should have told me earlier,", Maria glowered before downing her glass, "wouldn't want to waste good Whisky", then she grabbed the second. "I presume you're here to either threaten me or make me an offer, so spit it out."
"And they say courtesy is dead..." The Prefectus smirked, a cup of wine materializing in his hand. "I've been reading your file. Fascinating stuff, I have a feeling idle threats wouldn't do much." He took a sip. "Though as you people have seen over the past few weeks, my threats tend to have substance."
She rolled her eyes, "Oh, please, ", and drained the second glass, "flattery followed by a primitive macho display. Get on with it or get out, I'm getting bored."
"To think most of my colleagues believe women have no place in politics!" Not one to be outdone he drained his own cup. "They are, of course, correct but you give a good argument. I'll be blunt; defect."
"Let me guess, for money and power?", she laughed, loud and smooth, "I've seen the power Gautima and Dio have. No, the answer is no.".
"Gautima is weak and Dio insane." Agrippa said dismissively. "You my dear have so much more to offer..."
She leant down on the desk, giving the hologram a great view of her cleavage before batting her eyelids and laying on a sweet, mocking voice, "Honeyed words," then she stood up straight and her face became icy and her voice cold, "hiding poison."
Agrippa smiled warmly, either appreciating the view or enjoying the memories of the people he had actually poisoned. It was hard to tell. "Why, if you were to re-join the Hegemony..." He let the sentence hang as another cup of wine materialised. "Let's just say Gautima won't last forever."
"If I rejoined the Hegemony, Gautima wouldn't last the day." Maria chuckled as she sat down opposite the hologram, "In any case, why would I trade down? I'm supported by the second most powerful nation in the world and it's obvious that the Republic will have all of Harren in the end.".
"You have no idea how much I'd enjoy seeing that." The old man replied, still smiling. "A nation on the other side of the world? Embedded in a ruinous conflict with arguably the strongest power? Even their staunchest ally despises them. If you don't believe me look out the window." He gestured dismissively. "Count the Asgarthian tanks. " Agrippa suddenly leaned forward, a sudden fury burning in his eyes. "Besides, as you well know, Harren will belong to the Hegenomy. Or she will burn."
Maria stared into the Hologram's eyes, weighing up the words and judging the man behind them. Moments passed and then she nodded. "In that case," she said with a faint smile, "if you would buy me, buy me. I've seen the dreck you've shovelled at the Hegemony. You won't give me dreck, you'll give me submarines."
The Prefectus leaned back while tensing his fingers, confident in his assessment of the young woman in front of him. "My dear, expel the Myraxians, and ill gift you a fleet."
"No no.", She laughed loudly, also leaning back in her seat, "You expect me to risk everything for a promise? You must really have a low opinion of women if you think I'm that stupid.".She gazed up at the wall and her portrait there, "No, I'm not trusting to promises. Balthazar trusted to promises.... and if you try and feed me lies again about Myraxia doing it, this conversation is over." Her eyes dropped to meet his, "I want my submarines first, shall we say ten. They don't need to be top of the line but I do need to have them in my harbour and inspected to ensure there's no treachery before I will jeopardise my position with the Myraxians."
"How would you explain your windfall to your valiant allies?"
She shrugged dismissively, "Salvage.".
Now it was Agrippa's turn to laugh aloud. "Gods, you are a bold one!" He said amusement in his eyes. "You don't truly believe they're that stupid, do you?"
"If you've been true to your word...", she paused there, deliberately letting it hang before continuing, "by the time they've called me out on it and determined the truth, I'll have made my move."
"Does the word of Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa mean nothing to you?"
"Yep!" She stood up and went over for another glass, "Exactly nothing."
The old man turned his head to follow her. "Have I ever lied to the people of Harren." He said softly.
Snorting, she cocked her head with her glass in hand and a grin on her face, "Does it look like I give a shit?".
Agrippa laughed again. "My dear you are an impertinent one, but I enjoy you so!" He knocked back his cup. "Very well, you can have your submarines, but I need something from you first."
He met her eyes, his voice suddenly serious. "I require the location, numbers and the command structure off all Myraxian forces supporting your rebellion."
She nodded her acquiescence before pointing her glass and finger at him, “When the submarines are en route."
"You sound like my Great-Granddaughter, not believing she will get pudding if she finishes her dinner." He smirked, pleased that he could still anticipate the young and hungry. Agrippa held out his hand and the holographic image of a submarine appeared. "insdiator-class. A few years out of date but adequate for your needs, non-nuclear of course."
Maria tipped her head and raised her glass in farewell.
" A pleasure my dear, I imagine you will want to strip your office looking for my little projector. I wouldn't bother, it’s primed to explode. Besides, it has been quite a while since I've conversed with a lovely young woman who did not reek of fear." He raised his own empty cup. "Until the next time, Deputy Premier."

Near Baruch, Harren Hegenomy, Harren Island

An armoured convoy drove through the dirt roads of the Harrenite countryside. The sleek black of the two troop transports almost unnoticeable in the dark. Centurion Gallo had planned this operation intricately, picking a night with no moon to make them even harder to see from a distance and choosing men drafted from the local area, to reduce the chance of being misdirected in the dark. He looked around at the rest of the men in the transport, whilst he had brought some fellow Praetorian Agents the majority of his men were Harrenites that had been selected for the HISS (Harrenite Internal Securety Service). At first, he had been unsure of their quality but after half a year of training, and the standard intensive indoctrination, he was feeling confident about the organization’s future.

He checked his watch, it was almost showtime.
“Alright boys.” He called out clearly. “What we have here is your standard rebel cell, operating out of a nearby farm. Amatures and former militia men, who thought wearing bright blue uniforms was a good way to stay hidden. Armed with older equipment and those crappy SMG’s the Hegenomy was armed with before they were given the good shit.” The centurion patted his rifle affectionately. “This lot also have a few stolen Fulmen’s, what happens when you let some pansy marines do a guardsman’s job eh?” The men grinned in appreciation, there was nothing wrong with a little professional rivalry Gallo thought. Rome had built an empire on it.
“Dumb fuckers thought a barn could hide missiles from thermal scans.” He continued shaking his head. “We do this quick and quiet; in the Heartlands anything goes, but the good folks of the Eastern cities don’t need cause to worry now do they?”
“No, sir.” The squad chorused. Gallo had brought about 25 men with him, including the bunch in the other APC and intelligence believed the enemy cell to be about 40 men strong but that was no issue. They were drunken peasants and his men were hardened killers. Few casualties were expected.
“Alright lads nearly there, you know the rules, first kill gets a day off!”

The convoy came to a silent halt near the peripheries of the farm, the Centurion put on his coal scuttle helmet and gestured for his men to file out, feeling his back click as he rose. He was getting a bit old for field work he thought as he blocked the pain out, but he’d be damned if he was gonna sit in a fancy desk in Cyma whilst the young men got to go out killing. Gallo divided his men into teams of 5 and they split up to converge on the farmhouse from all directions. Satellite imaging revealed that the farm was being used as a makeshift base cum training camp, so the centurion sent two squads to clear out some of the old buildings being used as barracks, one to investigate the barn where they believed the missiles were and finally, he himself led the final two teams for the assault on the farmhouse.

Gallio surveyed the area with his night vision goggles and clicked his tongue in disapproval. The rebels had established no regular patrols and as far as he could tell hadn’t even set up a night watch. The damn fools, he thought, Rome had been putting down rebels since this island was nothing but a disparate collection of city states. Did a bunch of illiterate farmers think they could defy her?

The centurion’s question remained unanswered as he finally saw one of the rebels emerge from the farmhouse, uniform out of place, with a drunken swagger and no weapon. Pathetic. Gallio gestured for his men to spread out as he snuck up behind the rebel, who was relieving himself against the nearest wall. Quick as a viper the Praetorian grabbed him by the mouth and thrust a pugio into his jugular. Dark red blood sprayed all over the wall, the Harrenite and, much to the Centurions disgust, himself. He held man firmly until he felt him go completely limp and dropped him. Another disadvantage of light blue Gallio thought mildly, it went terribly with red.

His team moved to secure all entrances to the sizable farmhouse and making sure that everyone was in place he activated his radio.
“All squads report.”
“Team 1 standing ready at first barracks.”
“Team 2 standing ready at second barracks.”
“Team 3 standing ready at barn.” Came a slew of responses.
“Ok then.” He whispered back. “Let’s do it!” He then shouted at the top of his lungs before kicking the door in. If the shout didn’t wake everyone up, the spray of bullets the centurion fired into the hallway certainly did. Even above the shouts of his men Gallio could hear sympathetic shots from around the compound as his men mowed down the terrorists in their beds.

Gallio stormed upstairs with 5 of his men, making a beeline for the master bedroom. He broke down the door and saw an older man lying in bed with a naked young woman, old enough to be his daughter. The centurion and him stared at each other before the old man made a dart for the pistol at his bedside. Gallio, however, expecting the move charged at him and slammed the rebel commander in the face with the but of his rifle. Hard. The man slumped unconscious, but not dead Gallio noticed with a certain satisfaction, removing his goggles. It wasn’t his first time. As if designed to spoil his mood the girl began to scream hysterically, sighing the centurion pointed his rifle at her and she soon bit her tongue, literally if the blood dribbling down her lips was any indication. An unexpected bonus the Praetorian thought, a few more of her around and he would make a bit of profit from this.
“Centurion, this is team 3. The missiles have been recovered.” His radio crackled.
“Confirmed.” He responded. “Team 4 round up any survivors, I know a few unpleasant men in Cyma that will be delighted to see them…”
Quidquid latine dictum sit, altum videtur.

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Harren Island
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Founded: Nov 02, 2018
Corrupt Dictatorship

Postby Harren Island » Wed Jan 09, 2019 4:54 pm

Republic of Harren

Maria left her office immediately after the conversation with Agrippa, her room was obviously bugged and she didn’t want to jeopardise anything by having it searched or telling the Myraxians. No. Safest to simply leave. She decided to go to Element 44. It was secret, out of the way, secure and had landline communications that were more difficult to intercept. She would wait there until she heard that the subs were on the way.

Almost a day later, her office received and passed on a Roman Message stating that the submarines had been abandoned in a spot on the coast of Archon but they would only send the exact coordinates when she sent them the data they had requested. She didn’t respond straight away, instead ordering a couple transports prepared in Galatea and filled with trainee crew. Then she got into her jeep, winking at her Myraxian Guards as they joined her “You fellas will love this.”, and headed over to the harbour herself.

Maria boarded one of the vessels a couple hours later. She gave the order to make way and when the engines started up, she had the information sent. Within moments, coordinates were sent back and she smiled, muttering to herself, “Now we’ll have to see if you’re true to your word.”.

The journey across to the mainland didn’t take long but the Myraxian Guards were getting pushy, demanding to be brought into the loop. She was getting a little exasperated with them when the shoreline came into view but then a huge grin split her face and she exclaimed, “There! Gentlemen, there! I told you, you’d love it. Ten Roman Submarines, gift wrapped for me.”. Standing on the metal deck as it rolled from side to side, everyone could see a row of submarines tied together in an inlet up ahead. Turning away from her Myraxian Guards she called up to the Captain of the transport, “I want all of those submarines inspected from stem to stern and internally, check for bombs, recording devices, anything that could spike this gift. Step to it as well, I don’t want to stay here a second longer than necessary.”.

Three and a half hours later, the subs had gone through a preliminary inspection and had passed. No explosives located, however, many recording devices were found but they believed that to have been part of the original construction and not a recent addition. Having been given the all clear, Maria boarded the lead submarine along with her trainee crews and gave the order to make way back to Galatea, on the surface because the crews weren’t familiar with these new vessels and broadcasting Republic IDs to prevent any potential accidents with the Myraxians.

Fig. Two of the Insdiator submarines on their way over to Galatea.

Maria stood atop the conning tower of the lead vessel, sketching on a piece of paper as they went. Wind ruffled it and threatened to rip it from her grasp but she flattened it on the side and leant her elbow on it to prevent it flying away. A couple times she pulled out a rubber from her pocket and corrected a mistake. When they passed into the Bay of Airi and Galatea was in sight, she looked at the paper and the drawing she’d made and then kissed it in the top corner before folding it and sealing it in an envelope.

Disembarking in Galatea, she handed the envelope to Phoebe, “Have that sent by courier to the Acropolis Hotel and specifically Agrippa. If the courier has any issues he’s to say it’s from the Deputy Premier.”. Boarding her Presidential Jeep, she ordered the driver to take her to Kalitea and the new Myraxian headquarters there, to inform them about everything so that they could invalidate the intel she had sent to the Romans.

Fig. Maria's letter to Agrippa.

She smiled to herself as her jeep rumbled up the road, “I wish I could see Agrippa’s face.”.
Last edited by Harren Island on Wed Jan 09, 2019 4:56 pm, edited 3 times in total.

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Posts: 278
Founded: Mar 26, 2014
Corporate Police State

Postby Myraxia » Fri Jan 11, 2019 11:22 pm

Naval Station Kalitea, Task Force Harren HQ Building

Colonel Pyrion Razek raised one eyebrow at Maria's story. He hadn't been the man she'd wanted to see - she would have preferred the more personable Vyr, Razek just seemed emotionless every time she'd met him - but she'd been informed by a Staff Lieutenant - no, wait; Operations Lieutenant, that was what the Myraxians called their Staff office - who'd been sent out to greet her that General Vyr (apparently he'd been promoted) was currently indisposed, in close discussion with the Operations Office planning for if the Iryllians should launch an assault. Colonel Razek was available, though, she'd been told - bringing her here.
"So let me make sure I've understood this correctly." He spoke without emotion, old scar tissue across his throat rippling as he did. "You were contacted by the leader of the Roman forces in the Hegemony.
"By Agrippa, yes." she replied confidently, locking eyes with the Myraxian.
"And he attempted to entice you to... defect... by bribing you with submarines." There was a subtle emphasis on the last word.
She smiled at the memory of how easily she'd played the arrogant Roman. He'd actually believed her, best she could tell, which was the best part. "That's correct, although I insisted on payment before the fact."
"With the full intention of playing him?"
She nodded. It'd almost been too easy. Her eyes briefly flickered again to the scar tissue at the man's throat. Looking at it, she was amazed the man was still alive. Then, she was shocked to realise, he cracked a smile.
"Excellent work."
She was almost taken aback. That wasn't quite the reaction she'd been expecting. "Thank you."
"Of course, he'll be pissed. We'll double your guard, make sure he doesn't try anything. Shift our deployment schedules around, make whatever you told him irrelevant." He paused. "You made the right choice, reporting this. Many would have taken the deal."
She scoffed at that. "That was an easy decision. What have the Romans done for Harren? Bombed it, murdered it's people, bringing their mailed fist down upon the north. I don't want that shit to happen to the rest of Harren if I can help it. The Myraxians... well, you haven't invaded this island, killing as you come. You came in peace, you've helped rebuild our cities, protect our people. Do you have other motives, somewhere in your plans? I'm certain of it. Are you using me? Absolutely, but I'm using you right back. This benefits both Harren and Myraxia, whereas Roman rule benefits no-one except the Romans. So, if you don't mind, I've made my choice."
Razek took all this without reaction, before leaning back slightly. "A good speech. And a good choice, too. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an entire deployment to rearrange."
It was a good speech, she reflected to herself. Was it true? Mostly, she supposed, although she'd guessed it was what the Myraxian wanted to hear. And guessed correctly, it appeared. As she got up to leave, he spoke up again.
"Iryllian bayonet, Rygan metro tunnels. Better part of nine years ago."
She turned back towards his desk. "Excuse me?"
"The scar. "A hint of emotion crept into his voice, the first he'd even begun to show. "Bastards put a bayonet through my throat and left me for dead. Took Drekhite nano-tech to knit it back together, never sounded quite the same afterwards." He stood up, locking eyes with her. "I know what it's like to have your home invaded. Your cities bombed, your people killed. Not here. Not again." He broke the eye contact, and sat back down, spinning his chair back to face the window. "That will be all, Madam President."

Republican Militia HQ, City of Galatea, Republic of Harren

Several rough lines of men and women stood on the packed dirt of the training field, humid air causing beads of sweat to drip down their foreheads. Thirty six Harrenites, all told - all volunteers for the new Republican Militia. They'd volunteered for a variety of reasons - some, because it was an easy place for a refugee to find employment; others, a sense of patriotic duty; and still others, because, well, the pay wasn't half bad. What they had in common, though, was that they hadn't volunteered expecting to be left standing in the heat.
"You call this a formation!?" A voice rang out through the air. Some of the Harrenites reflexively stood straighter, others looked around for the source of the voice - a figure in stripped down Myraxian combat gear, harness donned over a uniform tied off around the waist, undershirt visible to all. Several of the Harrenites were relieved to see that at least the Myraxian was sweating too. "Fourteen year olds can do better than this back home. It's three straight lines, not a difficult concept to grasp. Come on, let's go, tidy it up." The Harrenites shuffled about, moving into somewhat straighter lines. "Better. Now," the Myraxian moved in front of the group. "My name is Sergeant Kyranis. I'm here to train you. Myraxians have been fighting wars since before most of you were a twinkle in your parents eyes. Some say we've gotten quite good at it. As such. the Republic of Harren - that's yours - has asked very politely if we wouldn't mind coming and helping them train their militia. And, well, quite frankly, you need it. I've reviewed the records from the fall of the Confederacy - the last battles of the Confederate Militia - and, well... it's not good enough. Not if you want to hold back the Romans and their puppets. You've got spirit, I'll give you that. But spirit will only carry you so far. For the rest, you need discipline, you need combat reflexes, and you need good equipment." He hefted an old Harrenite SMG, taken from a rack set to one side. "What is this? Anyone?" He walked along the line, before picking a trainee. "You, trainee. Name?"
"Uh - Kyo Stevenson, sir." The trainee in question, a woman in her mid twenties with dark hair pulled back into a bun, jumped in surprise when the Myraxian stepped in close.
"I'm not an officer, Stevenson. I'm a Sergeant, not a sir. Your name, again."
"Kyo Stevenson, Sergeant!"
"Better. Now, Trainee Stevenson, what is this that I am holding?"
"It's... an old Harrenite SMG, Sergeant."
"Good guess, but wrong. Next!" He pointed his free hand at another trainee, an older man this time, with short graying hair.
"Isador Carlyle, Sergeant!"
"Good, Trainee Carlyle. Your guess?"
"I'm... not certain, Sergeant."
"Excellent! Always better to admit you don't know something than to make a wild guess. Anyone else?" No suggestions were volunteered. "Then I'll tell you. This," he hefted the SMG again. "is obsolete. It lacks the power to combat modern body armor, and lacks the accuracy to aim around it. If you're going to defend your homes - and you will - you'll need something from this century." He passed the SMG to another waiting Myraxian, before drawing their attention to the rack as he retrieved another rifle - this one much more modern looking. "This is an XR-25RH combat rifle, modified to sit the specifications of the Republic. Drum mags and duplex ammo, which has the advantage of meaning I don't have to teach you marksmanship. You will each be issued one of these, and then you will learn every inch of it. You will learn how to fire it, how to clean it, how to repair it when it breaks. In short, this rifle will be your closest friend. But first..." he pointed a knife hand at Kyo. "Trainee Stevenson! Why are you here?"
"I'm not in the habit of repeating myself, Stevenson."
"I... I don't know, Sergeant."
The Myraxian considered this, before thrusting a rifle at her. She scrambled to catch it. "Better figure that out quick, Stevenson." He moved on. "Trainee Carlyle! Why are you here?"
"My wife and daughter lived in Salome, Sergeant."
The Myraxian stepped in close and whispered something in his ear. Kyo couldn't quite make out what it was, but when he was done, he handed Isador a rifle, before moving off down the line. She looked questioningly at the older man, who replied with a slow nod - his eyes seeing something else, far away.

Naval Station Kalitea, Task Force Harren HQ Building

The newly-promoted General Hyrkan Vyr ('Exemplary service to the Union in a role above and beyond your expected station', he'd been told - it had come with a Distinguished Service Medal too, along with a pay rise, so he wasn't really disappointed about the whole thing) leaned back in his chair, grateful for the brief respite the departure of the Operations staff from his office had brought. They now had a workable plan in the event of an Iryllian invasion of the Republic, although, based on the message he'd just received from Colonel Razek, that might soon be the least of his problems. He had to admire Maria's... well, balls, at playing the Roman like that, although it would probably just provoke him into trying something more drastic. Razek had been right to increase the size of Maria's guard detail. Agrippa's gall astonished him, honestly. To risk such a blatant provocation of the Myraxians on Harren like this... what else would the man risk? Frowning, he reached for his intercom. "Commander Valyn to CO's office."
Within a few minutes, Valyn, the Combined Forces Intelligence Harren Section Chief was stood before him. "What can I do for you, General?"
"I need a briefing on Roman coalition forces in the Hegemony, including Hegemony forces, as well as how that compares to our own."
Unfazed, Valyn motioned to the office's projection table. "If I may, General?" Activating the table, he swiftly pulled up several files using his own authorization codes, pulling the relevant files down the hardline from the CFI server uplink elsewhere on the base. "We've been maintaining satellite reconnaissance over Hegemony territory, as well as SIGINT and whatever intelligence we've gleaned from the more cooperative elements of the Heartlander remnants. We estimate coalition forces number several hundred thousand troops, although a certain portion of that is made up of mercenary Skjoldurians. They could, if necessary, perhaps be enticed to abandon any attack, or even switch sides for the right price. We've been unable at the present time to ascertain the exact size of the Hegemonic military, although it is certainly lesser to the Republican militia, being comprised mainly of the marines that accompanied Balthazar out with the fleet. Certainly, any locals they conscript will suffer significant morale problems. Whilst we retain the advantage on a troop for troop comparison, however, we remain significantly outnumbered by coalition forces. Once the balance of Seventh Fleet arrives - and they will do so imminently, within the next few days - our Myraxian troop numbers will more or less triple, taking us to around 100,000 troops of our own, not including local forces. There's also the matter of the Valari."
"Who remain inscrutable as ever, I'm sure."
"Just so, sir. If I may, sir, what prompted this briefing?"
"Just a worrisome thought. If Agrippa is mad enough to try and buy the Republic out from underneath us, he may well be willing to resort to more... direct measures."
"How do you wish to proceed?"
Vyr thought for a moment, before pulling up a map showing the division of Harren. "I want work crews retasked - we've made great progress rebuilding the cities, but I'm sure the Harrenites - especially the Heartlander refugees - will appreciate the need for security. A line of defensive works - break the pre-fabs out of storage, get the Pioneers to install them - starting at the coast north of Galatea and working along. Following that, get me a line to Agrippa. I have no wish to escalate this conflict any further than it already has. Which reminds me, where are the Strategic Weapons people on their set up?"
"Ready to go, General. All major cities, as well as major infrastructure hubs and military targets, are fully covered with missile interception systems and the anti-air cordon is operational. There's no way another nuke will be going off anywhere important within the Republic."
"Excellent. Now, Agrippa. I need to know what the man is thinking. And enquire with the Skjoldurians about their prices."
Citizen of Sovereign Charter.

You can find my personal political opinions on this handy graph:

Current Alert Level: Status 1

Status 5: Standing Defense Forces
Status 4: Partial Mobilization
Status 3: Active Conflict, foreign soil
Status 2: Possible homeland threat
Status 1: Confirmed homeland threat, large scale mobilization.
Status 0: Full mobilization

Myraxia is a hyper-industrialized Military Junta on the Eastern Coast of Rusina, located in the Sovereign Charter.

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Romae in Perpetuum
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Founded: Mar 14, 2016
Iron Fist Consumerists

Postby Romae in Perpetuum » Sat Jan 12, 2019 2:16 pm

Acropolis Hotel, City of Cyma, Harren Island

The atmosphere in the hotel had been almost jubilant. Praetorian Intelligence had reported that the surveillance network was gradually establishing itself in the Heartlands, with camps being identified around Mount Yari and men being dispatched to deal with them.

Then the courier had arrived.

Tribune Paulus cursed himself for not having the man intercepted or even shot the man before he got to the hotel, but his message had passed inspection from Intelligence and military alike. Now the Tribune found himself standing to attention across from Agrippa, trying desperately to avoid eye contact with him and the spots of blood on the old man’s desk and knuckles; where the courier met an unfortunate end. Luckily the Prefectus appeared to be frigidly furious as opposed to burning with white hot anger at the moment.
“The state of the submarines?” He asked quietly, finally acknowledging Paulus was in the room.
“As far as we can tell the rebels have stripped the more obvious surveillance and tracking devises, sir.” The tribune said quickly. “But most of the additional devises you had implanted as well as the odd inbuilt one remain, as well as the tracking devises. The designs remain as flawed as ever though. It will take the rebels a while to correct them, sir.
“I remember when we first got the damn things.” Agrippa muttered. “Their only use was as slave quarters…I recommended the designers be shot.”
“We’re they, sir?”
“No. I had to poison them myself. As it stands, I will have to deal with the rebellion personally as well.” He continued, voice still maddingly even. “I have confirmed it with Intelligence, it turns out the woman sent us genuine information, but Vulpa reports that they have already moved to redeploy their forces. Spread out as they are.”
“Vulpa, sir?”
“Come come Paulus, we must have some secrets from each other.”
The tribune couldn’t help but think that if Agrippa had taken time to discuss his plans with his officers, they wouldn’t have had to cover up the missing submarines, but he wisely bit his tongue.
“As you wish, Prefectus. We also have word that their reinforcements are a few days away, our window for a quick victory appears to be closing. The Myraxians have also requested a parlay with you personally.”
“A simple delaying tactic, nothing more.” Agrippa said contemptuously, the ghost of a smirk dancing on his face. “An attempt to strengthen their hand as it were. We must end this delusion now.”

The Prefectus called up the battle plan on his console:

“It is time to innate attack plan Celeritas.” He announced almost casually. “All allied armour is to advance on my signal into rebel territory, the objective is to break through Myraxian lines and encircle their defensive units before they even know what’s going on. The infantry will follow and attempt to disarm the Myraxian forces. With the relatively small distance to travel, the massive numbers difference and the fact we have proper armour; this operation should have concluded well before any Myraxian reinforcements arrive. Issue instructions to all allied units: do not fire unless fired upon; if fired upon, respond with extreme prejudice.” Agrippa tensed his fingers. “Be sure to transmit that on all frequencies when the attack begins. This can still end relatively peaceably, and Harren Island can once again know peace.”
“Under the benevolent rule of the Hegemony and the guiding hand of Rome, aye sir.” Paulus replied, attempting to placate his commander. “The Myraxian request, Prefectus?”
“I am more than happy to talk to our friends from the North.” Agrippa said smugly. “Once the hopelessness of their situation is fully brought to bear, total war with Myraxia is…beyond my mandate anyway.”
“As you say, sir. When are we to begin?”
In response the old man just nonchalantly pressed a button on his console.
“Why, now. The first attack is already on the way. Another titbit from Vulpa…”

I.R.S. Typhon, Somewhere off the West Coast of Harren Island

It had been a mostly mundane assignment for the crew of the Typhon. Stay submerged, play dice, track Myraxian/Valyrien/whoever’s fleet movements and be prepared at a moment’s notice to obliterate the entire island with the submarine’s arsenal of nuclear weapons.
Ok maybe not that mundane.
Nevertheless, the comms officer was still relatively surprised to see a priority one communication from Cyma come in. After dutifully running it through the decryption software he presented it to his Trierach pretending, as always, not to have read it.

“Well looks like the powers that be have decided to finally let us do something!” The captain exclaimed to the bridge, closing down his game of virtual solitaire. “Prepare to launch all five of the bunker buster missiles. Some weapons facility northwest of Rie, tactical I’m sending the co-ordinates now.”

“All five, sir?” Queried the weapons officer.

“Apparently the Myraxians have set up some point defence across the rebel territories. The target appears to be remote enough, but better safe than sorry eh?”

“Aye, sir. Missiles away, sir.” Came the response from tactical.

“Good. Conn officer better get us out of here sharpish. It won’t take a genius to figure out where those missiles came from. Even rebel scum aren’t blind.”
Quidquid latine dictum sit, altum videtur.

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Iron Fist Consumerists

Postby Skjoldur » Sat Jan 12, 2019 6:31 pm

New Yanni, Harren Island

Torturous rubbed his eyes he was tired. He had been on the phone for the last three hours discussing the problems with Myraxia and Rome’s ruling of the hegemony. There had been several debates and four breaks and two threats of violence whilst they discussed what to do. As the debate rumbled on one thing came clear, that the conflict on harren would escalate. They had come to the decision not to back harren. Skjoldur didn’t think there was much hope there. Sadly, as well they decided not to back the Myraxians. Although a deal would have been prosperous, Skjoldur didn’t think there was to be gained in turning against an enemy considering the people they were helping would already of been kicked off the island by the Asgarthians and Romans although Skjoldur hoped to remain on good terms with them. So the decision was made to back Rome and Asgareth, two close allies who were bound to win. After another hour of arguing and a vodka “break” Skjoldur decided to send another 75,000 men to help Asgareth and Rome fight for the hegemony. In addition to this Skjoldur sent another raiding fleet and forty ships to join the naval force there, this included a few aircraft carriers, submarines and destroyers.

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Compulsory Consumerist State

Postby Auruum » Sat Jan 12, 2019 9:17 pm

Somewhere in the Heartlands of Harren Island

"Shit...Fekkin' Asgari piece o'..." A sixth shot rang out from a nearby bush, the barrel of a rifle retracting inside of it before the leaves rustled and a Goblin stepped out, decked out in the same gear he had on since the Nuke erased Prokopios. Jax had been lucky enough to escape the fallout and the radiation, as well as to survive the ambush that cut him off from the rest of his squad that he presumed dead. For days now he had survived off of scavenging and looting what he could from random patrols and the occasional aftermath of a terror attack. It wasn't pretty or noble but it was all he could do to stay alive and make his way towards the republic.

He'd make his way to the bodies, the Asgarethians stopped to take a drink break when he shot at them, though the last one apparently needed two shots in his head to kill him. The Asgari clearly couldn't make a bullet worth firing. His ears were on a swivel, keeping an ear out for any noises or sounds. "Sorry friend-oh...Would've loved to hear you scream some more but I'm not sure how far away your buddies might...Fuck I gotta stop talkin' to myself..." He'd say as he hastily grabbed extra rations, ammunition, and medical gear. A radio crackled on one of the bodies, He'd quickly read up on the name on the tags of the soldier before he'd clear his throat and call upon his use of mimicry to answer. "Uh sorry about that, Squad Leader Densi Pasquna here, We secured the area, just havin' a drink break."
The radio crackled to life again "Well next time call it in first...You're lucky we can't take away your ale rations for the rest of the day."
"Yes sir...Won't happen again sir." Jax said, holding back a snicker before a stick broke in the distance.

The Goblin whirled around and trained his rifle towards the source of the sound, which turned out to be a rather frightened looking little girl, about his height and covered in grime stained, and tattered clothes. A finger moved to the trigger, All it took was a scream to bring any nearby soldiers right to them. The Goblin cursed and held a finger up to his lips, his ears swiveling this way and that. "Alright..." he whispered "Stay quiet, Nothin' bad happens okay? Nod if you understand." Jax said slowly approaching, keeping the gun trained on her. "Any Bad People put anythin' on you...A vest or a pouch? Collar maybe?" He'd ask taking another step closer as she shook her head no. "Okay...Hands up..." he'd say, quickly patted at her sides and back before he'd finally lower the weapon. "Alright, hands down...Fuckin' tuggin' at the heartstrings here kid..." he'd say before cursing and scratching at his head.

"Alright...Here's the deal. I'm headin' to the Republic...Lot nicer folks there..." He unslung his backpack and plucked a ration pack and his water canteen, nearly throwing them into the little girls hands. "You've got ten seconds to eat and drink, then we are headin' south. It's gonna be long, it's gonna be dangerous. It's important that you stay absolutely quiet. You see something, anything at all, You point it out to me quietly. Okay?" She nodded, opening up the package and taking a few bites from the dried ration. "You got a name, kid?" Jax asked taking a drink from his canteen, the girl swallowed a mouthful of food before she meekly whispered "Rhea." The Goblin nodded in response "Jax, Jax Fizzlefist." He'd say before he'd stash the rations and canteen back in his pack and grabbed his rifle. "Alright...Lets move."

The Skies above Archon

"Alright Boys, I know some of you are slow so lets remind ourselves why we're out here." a voice spoke through the comm channel for the fleet of airships, troop transports and escort fighter craft mostly. "Romans and Asgari used Harren Island as an excuse to kick us in the teeth, and have been using the poor damned souls there to send a message to the world that they are so big and strong for beating down people weaker, and in some cases, smaller than they are. So the kind folks who have signed our checks at Kryon Security felt it was a good choice to show the world that Aurum fights for the little guys...And we like to use really big fuckin' guns. Thankfully the Myraxians gave us an in to get what we're really after...So the official company mission statement is this: Aurum is pissed off and ready for Round Two." A Roar of cheers and possibly sinister laughter answered back.

Around Fifty thousand Goblins, Orcs, and Troll PMC soldiers were feeling pretty good about their chances, Helped along thanks to another fifty thousand newly approved Combat Androids, All outfitted with bleeding edge technology and highly advanced Artificial Intelligence, complete with a unique personality help the bots fit in with their organic allies.

And bringing up the rear was a final Ten thousand Hobgoblins, purposely fed the minimum required to keep them under control. Their Handlers would have a slightly tougher job than those that took place in Red Rain Conflict, but these Hobgoblins would remain completely under control...So long as there was plenty of Roman, Asgari, Caerleggi, and Skjoldurian prey to kill and eat.
Last edited by Auruum on Sat Jan 12, 2019 10:54 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Harren Island
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Founded: Nov 02, 2018
Corrupt Dictatorship

Postby Harren Island » Mon Jan 14, 2019 7:41 pm

Republic of Harren

Five missiles shrieked through the air. Their destination was Element 44 and it was blissfully unaware of the incoming ordinance, however, ever-vigilant Myraxian point defences and anti-missile systems whined in operation before firing off their own shrieking munitions in an attempt at interception. Three of the five missiles were destroyed in time but two successfully breached the defence perimeter and hit their intended target but only one had needed to do so.

Fig. One of the five roman missiles immediately after launch.

In a split second, the stout and immaculate concrete edifice of Element 44 had two holes punched down and into its roof. If that moment had been caught on camera, it would have seemed that the missiles had simply slipped into the building and done no damage apart from a couple neat holes. An instant later, the entire surface cracked open like an eggshell and expanded upwards and outwards like bread rising in an oven. The ground around it burst up almost in sympathy before collapsing back down and subsiding. Concrete chunks rained back to the earth, sending up their own gouts of dirt upon impact.

Slowly, almost apologetically, a fine white and brown powder drifted down, carried gently by the wind. Most of it settled across the estate and the surrounding grounds but some was blown east, downwind, into the woodlands.

“Awesome ‘Dat Power”.

“Nah, don’t be stupid, that’s obviously not it.” Morio mulled it over as he sat astride a wooden crate, feet idly kicking tufts of dead grass, “Area Defence….. Penetrators?”.

Shaking his head, Vadik refuted it whilst sitting on the dirt with his back resting against the wheel of their artillery piece, “Penetrators are used against tanks. Those shells are labelled Anti-personnel.”

“Could be a secrecy thing.” Morio said as he laid back, gently resting his head on the splintered wood and clasping his hands together on his belly as his legs still swung at the sides, “Make a new Anti-Tank round but tell everyone it's good against troops?”.

Vadik grunted vaguely at Morio’s theory before a grin crossed his face, “Airbursting Dart Projector!”. He clapped his hands together laughing, “You know, I actually think that’s it.”.

Then an alarm rang out shrilly across the fortified encampment. It’s keening wail rising and falling in an ululating rhythm. Morio jerked in shock, falling sideways off the crate and spilling it with him. He frantically scooped the charge bags back into the crate as Vadik leapt to his feet, planted his helmet on his head and then passed the other one over to him. Men were spilling out of their tents and dugouts, racing to their positions by the guns, some hadn’t put on shirts or shoes, one guy had shaving foam under his chin. Wings of jets screamed overhead, from North to South, it wasn’t possible to notice colours or flags but they hadn’t come from friendly territory. Then the siren cut out. It was followed by static and then a piercing voice, “The Republic is under attack. Load, Frag-HE. Batteries one, two and three, sustained volley fire at sighted zone Charlie, grid square H7. Battery one, fire when ready!”.

In less than a minute the guns were lowered and rotated on target, then the first thirteen guns bellowed, followed by battery two four seconds later and then the third battery four seconds after that. In moments the crushing bombardment started to land in their target zone, thirteen shells screaming in every four seconds.

The spotters, two teams in armoured cars nestled up in the rocky mountain terrain along the south-western edge of Mount Kyllini, stood awestruck as they watched the rippling explosions creating almost visible shockwaves in the lowlands to their North-west, just south of the previous border. Looking through their binoculars, they tried to gauge the efficacy of the bombardment but couldn’t see their targets through the smoke, airborne dirt and bright flashes.

Fig. the 130mm artillery park opening fire on the advancing enemies.

The first lines of the Roman tanks burst forth from the smoke, engines roaring, gouging lines behind them in the grass and dirt with their tracks. From what the observers could see they seemed to have taken only light damage, losing ancillary equipment and paintwork. The subsequent waves of the armoured assault were swinging around the bombardment zone to the north and south to avoid it. +++Battery one, walk fire north, Battery three, walk fire south+++. The bombardment thinned and spread out but it was still nowhere near enough to prevent the armoured assault along so large a frontage.

The observers were now able to make out the shapes of two Roman tanks, having lost tracks, still within the bombardment zone. As they watched, one took a direct hit and the top machine gun was blasted away as it lost bits of reactive armour but apart from the fact that it was pushed down deeper into the dirt, it still seemed entirely operational. “Our one-thirties aren’t enough to put ‘em down.”.

They called off the bombardment to conserve ammunition and then scanned the horizon for other targets. Spotting subsequent waves of lighter vehicles crossing the border they retargeted the batteries and prepared. When the vehicles reached the position of the two tracked tanks, the crews of which had gotten out and were desperately trying to repair them, the spotters gave the signal and the bombardment started up again. Walking the bombardment, they followed the largest group of vehicles for two minutes.

+++ Hold Fire. Hold Fire. +++

The whistling of shells abated and the observers were able to tally up the butcher’s bill, sixteen armoured personnel carriers destroyed with a further thirty-two disabled. They marked down the three greatest concentrations of vehicles and then transmitted them to the individual batteries.

+++ Load ADP, batteries fire on your designated targets when ready. +++

Within moments, rumbling was heard in the distance and seconds later white bursts puffed into existence above the APCs and a white-brown powder floated down to settle on vehicle and man alike. No immediate effect from the dust was observed but a chill went down the observers’ spines as they noticed that many men had evacuated their APCs to effect repairs or to prepare for potential ground attack and were now covered in a coating of powder; they knew what the dust would do.

Harrenian Hegemony
Dio hadn’t expected to be going to war with Myraxia and the Republic so soon. Rampant rebel issues and the fact that infrastructure was still damaged across the country from the rebellion, then Balthazar’s attacks and the Heartlands’ stand, prevented the Hegemony from performing at peak effectiveness.

He had however, still made plans with the expectation that it would eventually happen. He rapidly greenlit them, including one to send his amphibious forces across Ritsa’s Bight and another to swarm fleet ‘Screech’, led by H.H. Vispanius Agrippa.

Fleet ‘Screech’ is to make way at once.
Base out of Kos and establish an interdiction zone between Kos and Friendly Island.
Intercept and sink any Myraxian vessels passing into the interdiction zone.

Two hours later one hundred and twenty one vessels left Cyma’s harbour, the H.H. Vispanius Agrippa itself in loose formation with its thirty dedicated escorts and the other ninety fast attack craft arrayed in nine separate squadrons. Looking out the harbourside window and watching them depart, Dio almost wished Gautima was here to see his swarm fleet doctrine in operation.

Despite all the Chaos, Rome’s Praetorian Intelligence detected a faint civilian broadcast to the Iryllian fleet. It went on long enough for them to triangulate its position, originating from the shipyards in Nara.

The Iryllian Consulate was destroyed by Balthazar about eight months ago. One of your consulate members survived and was hosted by Balthazar at the Naval Academy in Cyma. Her whereabouts are currently unknown, she has not been seen since Balthazar’s execution.

Rome, Asgareth, Skjoldur, Caerlegion operate in the north in the Hegemony, combined, over a half a million strong. Myraxia operates in the south in the Republic of Harren, estimated one hundred thousand. Valyrien has established a protected zone in the midlands, unknown strength. Aurum was operating on Harren but was pushed off.

We offer a base next to Archon, bulk quantities of fish and a grateful vassal nation if you can free the Hegemony from its status as a Roman puppet.

The marines and their armour had spent the night moving up to Tsuru, hoping that and the ensuing chaos at the border would keep the Myraxian satellites from spotting them. They’d also been ordered to maintain radio silence to keep their assault from being detected as long as possible. Unbeknownst to them, they were detected the moment they slipped out of Tsuru, rolling down the stony beach and into the frigid, black water of Ritsa’s Bight.

The task force was entirely mechanised and amphibious. Leading the way were twenty-five light tanks, followed by fifty APCs carrying a Marine regiment and two hundred trucks, one hundred carrying militiamen and the other carrying supplies, fuel, ammunition and fulmen AA missiles to be set up when they arrived on the other side of Ritsa’s Bight, north-east of Taygetus’ heights.

Fig. One of the Hegemonic amphibious light tanks shortly after slipping into the water at Tsuru.

As they chugged through the water, leaving foaming trails with their water jets, the clouds began to darken and the waves became choppier, hindering progress and reducing visibility. Soon after that, rain began to fall, plinking on their hulls and rippling across the surface of the sea.

Seeing no enemy ships and receiving no alert from his spotters along Ritsa’s Ridge, Brigadier Titan began to relax and think about the next stage of the plan, swinging south and rushing past Rie towards Kalitea and his final objective, Saya. They might just do it yet. Then they heard them, the scream of dozens of jet engines echoing across the water. Putting his binoculars to his eyes, he tried to look for the source in the overcast gloom as water droplets ran down his lenses. He spotted them as they circled around the Northern tip of Peak Tate.

Oh dear god. They were twin-engine, anti-armour ground attackers and they were screeching towards his vehicles which were slow, exposed and vulnerable as they chugged along the surface. His heart began to race as he attempted to count them but they split apart into flights before he could get an accurate count, he would have estimated at least fifty.

+++ HQ, this is Brigadier Titan, I need Anti-Air Support ASAP. Myraxian strike craft inbound! +++

Receiving no response, he signalled to his task force to prepare for the incoming strike.

Hatches on the top of the APCs opened and men frantically brought out their MANPADS and set them up, each marine squad was equipped with one but the militiamen weren’t so lucky, having to resort to setting up machine guns on the truck cabin roofs. The tanks themselves also elevated their guns but only the autocannon ones would even have a chance in hell of hitting anything. Then the Myraxian flights converged on his task force from multiple sides and angles.

Fig. A small section of Ritsa's Bight.

Salvos of missiles lit up the sky, screaming up from handheld launchers and down in clusters from the strike craft. Men cheered when their handheld launchers scored hits, bursting behind the attack craft and spraying shrapnel into their tails, however more often than not the resilient jets merely shuddered in response and continued on attacking. Tanks rocked under multiple hits, rolling belly up with spinning tracks, others slipping under the surface in seconds or detonating spectacularly. One tank had luckily aimed its turret in the direction of an incoming flight and when it opened up with its 57mm autocannon in sharp, crashing thuds, its burst of shells found its target. In a blinding flash that sprayed burning aviation fuel across the sea, the plane was cored and its pieces splashed down in an arc. Then the planes were among them, darting around and firing blaring bursts of gatling cannon fire into unarmoured trucks filled with men and material. Streams of tracers leapt up and waved across each other as they tried to track the blisteringly fast aircraft, some hits were scored causing some planes to trail smoke or lose bits but none were brought down.

Brigadier Titan winced and covered his eyes with a hand to protect them from debris when one of the strike craft cartwheeled out of the sky, missing a wing, and slammed down on top of one of his APCs. He was sure he’d heard screams the second before impact. His APC rocked under him from the wave. Looking around, he tried to assess the damage from the first pass while the jets were screaming around and coming in for another run. None of the tanks were afloat, some APCs had also taken missiles and sunk and it looked like a quarter of the trucks were gone as well. Men floating in the water, some missing limbs, held onto wreckage and screamed for help. If trucks or APCs passed any, they were dragged aboard to rest on top, those that were behind were left behind. They wouldn’t last long in the cold water and considering the coastline in this area was mostly cliffside, they were as good as dead.

The jets came in again, converging on the APCs that were now at the front of the task force after the loss of the tanks. The water was turned into froth by the rain of 30mm shells and the sound of rending metal and rapid detonations echoed from the cliffs. The Brigadier watched as one of his marines, standing in the hatch of an adjacent APC, fired his shoulder-mounted launcher before being blown into red giblets. The APC had also been ripped open and was rapidly flooding, men tried to clamber out but the torn, sharp metal and rushing influx of water kept them trapped. The hull slipped under the water and was lost to sight. An explosion lit up the sky above and fragments spat down.

It seemed to be over. Then a broadcast crackled in from HQ.

+++ Unable to provide anti-air support. We’re at the edge of effective range and engagement radar can’t get a lock anyway. We believe that’s because they’re below the level of the cliffs. Good luck. +++

The next few hours passed without further attack, however one of the heavily damaged APCs had to be abandoned and its men were evacuated to other vehicles. Finally, the task force had crossed the Bight and were surging up and out of the water onto dry land. Brigadier Titan gave the order to establish a base, setting up the Fulmens first in case of further aerial attacks and then a field hospital for the wounded. The delay cost him a further three hours.

+++ HQ, this is Brigadier Titan, we have one thousand and seventy-two KIA or MIA presumed dead, with a further three hundred and twelve wounded. I have set up Base Apollo and am leaving a detachment with the damaged vehicles to man the AA and guard the wounded. Proceeding on mission. +++

With that, six APCs and just under seventy trucks rolled out, heading south.

Relevant Factbooks:
Description of Harren ... id=1117970
Republic's Artillery ... id=1153192
Republic's Bioweapon Program ... id=1151739
Hegemony's Armaments Purchases ... id=1142719

Lost Vehicles:
Myraxian Strike Craft Destroyed (14),
Hegemony Tanks Destroyed (25),
Hegemony APCs Destroyed (42),
Hegemony Trucks Destroyed (53)
Last edited by Harren Island on Mon Jan 14, 2019 7:44 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Journey Collective
Civil Servant
Posts: 8
Founded: Jan 02, 2019
Democratic Socialists

We come in peace; visiting the neighbors

Postby Journey Collective » Wed Jan 16, 2019 6:48 pm

Military Installations, Kos

0023 hrs
The night sky is warm and sticky with a humid mist that clings to the buildings, people, guns. . . It almost feels like it should rain, but that's not in the forecast. The ground is a bit slippery, but the Roman boots worn by the Hegemony find firm grip and no one is tripping. The shifts are supposed to change in a little over half an hour, and it's been a quiet day, again, so many of the soldiers are at ease even if they shouldn't be. They say the fleet is supposed to arrive at 0500, but the new shift is gonna be on by then.

0024 hrs
There's a strange crackle on the radios, at least the radios that have been working since the last outage after the terrorist attack. Static whooshes into the frequencies, filling them with a fuzzy sound that blocks out everything else. Some people who hold portable radios look down at them. A few moments after the disruptions begin a black cloud looms over the island. . .At least that's what it feels like to many of the soldiers.

All at once, thousands upon thousands of people. . . no. . . monsters appear all across the island. They stand over every individual. They crowd around every vehicle, machine, and door. Within seconds, an instant, the nightmares have filled the island and seem to be physically preventing the Hegemonians from moving about. The few that do manage to fire off a spray of shot from their Haglgveaers. As they do the crowd of beastly men gets thinned. . .while the blood and spores which reside in the individuals get spread into the air. It's no use though, the monsters quickly overrun everything and literally pin everyone to the ground, there's a distinct lack of violence though.
The radio waves go silent for several hours, though it might be expected for the underfunded island to have such issues.

0420 hrs
The radio from Kos reconnects with the fleet. The voice from the other end sounds jittery and static occasionally fills the channel.
"This is -krrsshhhht- reporting from Kos. Everything is fine. There are no problems here."

There is a familiar sound of a clicking static that fuzzes through Ladon's radio. It sounds as if it's cycling through channels, and a voice begins to come into focus as the static fades away. Once again, many speak as one.
"Ladon of Harren, are you able to hear us?"

Ladon, who was busy distributing a cache of weaponry didn't look over but responded, "Yeah, what do you want?"

"This is not a secure channel. We must speak of an important matter. Are you able to access a secure channel?"

"Fine. Gimme a second." she gave some orders to her men and picked up one of the SMGs for herself, checking the bolt and chamber before picking up a drum mag and then walking into her rear room and closed the door. She flicked on her radio in the room, "This is the best I've got.".

This will suffice. We are pleased to see the injuries inflicted to the Romans and Asgaris from your behalf. We are pleased we were able to assist in bringing the proper order back to Harren. We notice you have yet to join the network, we are disappointed, but we are not surprised."
There's another whoosh of static, and a moment's pause

In the pause, Ladon clicks the drum into the gun and then racks the slide with a metallic rattle.

"We would like to inform you we have reclaimed the Harrens who were brainwashed by the Romans, and stationed on Kos. To this end we have also claimed Kos, with the infrastructure intact."

"Define reclaimed.".

"You surely know what we mean by this. The threat we pose to all sentient life."
There are no screen alight, but it surely feels as if Journey is smirking.

She nodded. "Yeah, that's what I thought.". She should have kept to her initial instincts, they're correct more often than not and now she felt dirty for working with them. After all, they were also foreign invaders like Rome and Asgareth even though Nathaniel had approached them in peace despite of that.

"We're done.". She reached over and clicked the radio off.

"What a shame." The radio doesn't inform her. "We wished to turn that installation over to you."
Last edited by Journey Collective on Thu Jan 17, 2019 5:15 pm, edited 2 times in total.

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Greater Slavacia
Posts: 12
Founded: Dec 20, 2018
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Greater Slavacia » Wed Jan 16, 2019 11:36 pm

Krasnogvardeyskoye Airfield, North Slavacia, Early morning
Rows upon rows of heavy transport aircraft lined the airfield. Some were already taxing to take off, while others were still being loaded onto the aircraft. Major-General Vasiliy Spitsyn was sitting inside the command staff vehicle, a specially designed paradroppable APC. Of course him and his staff were not expected to see actual combat and were not going to participate in the landing, instead remaining behind with a single company. He felt the taildoor of the aircraft shut and moments later, he felt the heavy cargo plane begin to taxi.

Two more cargo planes taxied onto the runway, and began their run, in approximately 30 minutes, the whole division was expected to be en route to Harren Island, they were not going to insert straight away, but rather land at one of the republics airfields and then plan their offensive from their.

"This is flight number 256, requesting clearance for take off."
"Flight 256 you are cleared to take off, wind is 2m/s bearing 032, good luck out there 256."

The general was pushed back into his seat by the growing acceleration. He looked down at the tablet in front of him and began to think. To get all of the men and equipment from Slavacia to Harren, they would require over 510 flights. The entire Slavacian transport fleet could only deploy one regiment at a time. This also caused problems in the aerial assault operations - only one regiment could be deployed at one time to one location. To deploy all three, as well as the artillery and the tanks would require significant logistical prowess. Without noticing it, the constant whine of the engines and the slow methodical rocking of the aircraft put the general to sleep. 12 hours were left until the first Slavacian troops were to reach the island.

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Posts: 127
Founded: Sep 26, 2013
Mother Knows Best State

Postby Valyrien » Thu Jan 17, 2019 2:31 pm

Elias, Southern Harren

The a meeting was planned to take place in Elias, where Valarisk soldiers had escorted the Asgarthi out of the city and later aided the inhabitants who’d survived the bloody slaughter. It had been a perfect representation of what Harren had been before the war with its modernization and traditional heritage. With the massive construction efforts taking place, even those of a slower mind could guess Valyrien intended to rebuild it in their own image and use it as a symbolic example for what the rest of Harren was supposed to be.

The main road through the city had only recently been cleared of rubble, allowing the convoy of armoured jeeps to smoothly make its way towards the city hall... at least, that would have been the case if an armoured battalion hadn’t suddenly appeared and decided to make its way across the very same street without the slightest care or interest for the Harrenese, one uncomfortably close Sfvartsabel even breaking the right front light of the leading jeep. Thankfully the rest of the drive continued without any incident.


(The jeeps in question)

There wasn’t much of a reception outside of the city hall only a small delegation waiting on the steps of what remained of the building after the bombing raid. Stepping out of the jeep, Maria made her way towards the small crowd, her keen eye noticing that heavy curtains covered all the windows on the upper floor. She greeted them with a simple:
“Maria Otome, at your service, I appreciate Valyrien’s invitation.” Reaching out for a hand shake.
“You are most welcome, we’ve been looking forward to your arrival! Please let me escort you to Her Excellency Ambassador Ulfstadt.” The man placed a hand across his chest and gave her a short bow in response, ignoring the outstretched hand and gesturing with the other arm for her to enter.

The thick fabric did an amazing job of blocking the sun and left the comparably dim lamps as the only source of light on the entire floor, forcing her eyes to adjust slightly from the brighter lower floor. The room Maria had been directed towards was oblong, the windows blocked like the rest of the floor, yet a small ray of light pierced through a tear in the fabric and landed on the heavy oak desk placed at the far end opposite the double door. Only when she passed the threshold could the silhouette of a woman be made out through the thick cigar smoke. One of the guards closed the doors behind her without a word, leaving the two strangers alone.

Maria approached whilst trying to breathe in as little as possible, but was not met with any handshake or word of greeting as the Ambassador remained standing, facing the northern wall decorated by a large portrait. The motif was a uniformed and heavily decorated officer most likely the High Marshal, but she couldn’t be sure.

“The way I understand it, the Valarisk don’t like to mince words, so I’ll get straight to it. What’ll take for Valyrien to join the Republic against the aggression of Rome?” She was the first to break the rather awkward silence.
“Feel free to take something to drink, I’d recommend you try the wine.” Came as a short reply, the woman moved to drink from the glass she’d been grasping behind her back.
“The inland region of the Blue Bay is supposed to have excellent grapes, I’m sure your countrymen studying there is enjoying themselves.” Ulfstadt turned and walked a few steps to the right, only facing the President with her right side as she sipped the purple-ish wine.
“I preferred the Heartland vintages myself,” Maria tried to gauge the individual before her, “that was until they were nuked.”
“Terrible shame that, the forces from the Aurummite territories took some horrific damage in the assault.” The Ambassador turned for the first time to face Maria, trying the gauge the individual before her. She had nice features, on the right side of her face at least, scarring on the lower left made her look like she'd been sculpted and abandoned by the artist halfway through their work. The medically inclined could see hints of the jaw having been reconstructed and the one gifted with any form of sight could see the left arm missing entirely in the empty sleeve.
“You are correct that we Valari don’t like to mince our words, though that only applies to when there’s work to be done.” She gave Maria a thorough inspection as if confirming something, making no effort to hide it.
”You can rest easy President Otome, I've already ordered my forces in Harren to strike the Coalition along our territory.” She emptied the glass, and continued after a short paus "The Imperium has already created an Entente with Myraxia and Slavacia to combat the Romans, though the matter of turning over the administration of the Valarisk cities is another question."

Navy Task Force: Vice Admiral Gudmund von Rhenstadt

Task Unit 1 - Commodore Thora Jârnstadt

Destroyer - “Sfvarthammar”
Destroyer – “Nordhammar"
Destroyer - “Ishammar”
Destroyer - “Valhammar”
Destroyer - “Stjârnhammar”

Task Unit 2 - Commodore Drak Sfvartvik

Destroyer - “Rôdhammar”
Destroyer - “Solhammar”
Destroyer – “Morgonhammar"
Destroyer - “Snôhammar”
Destroyer - “Mânhammar”

Arméôfverkommando - General Sigrid von Ulfstadt

22nd Kâren af Landkrigsmakten – Lieutenant General - Brandt Grâholmen

5th Heavy Division – Major General Thormond von Krighastha

- Armoured Regiment – Ôfverste Alfhilde Jârnstadt
- Armoured Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Alfvred Jârnstadt
- Armoured Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Sigurd Jârnstadt
- Armoured Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Erling Jârnstadt
- Armoured Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Asta Jârnstadt
- Armoured Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Ivar Jârnstadt
- Armoued Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Hilda Jârnstadt

- Armoured Regiment - Ôfverste Ylva Jârnstadt
- Armoured Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Astrid Knektheim
- Armoured Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Erik Knektheim
- Armoured Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Loke Knektheim
- Armoured Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Alfred Knektheim
- Armoured Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Borghilda Knektheim
- Armoued Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Frey Knektheim

- Armoured Regiment - Ôfverste Fell Sôdergaarde
- Armoured Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Folke Sôdergaarde
- Armoured Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Eirik Sôdergaarde
- Armoured Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Alva Sôdergaarde
- Armoured Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Asger Sôdergaarde
- Armoured Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Dagmar Sôdergaarde
- Armoued Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Erica Sôdergaarde

- Artillery Regiment - Ôfverste Loki Sôdergaarde
- Artillery Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Ask Sôdergaarde
- Artillery Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Arvid Sôdergaarde
- Artillery Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Cassandhra Sôdergaarde
- Artillery Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Sonja Sôdergaarde
- Armoured Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Nathasja Sôdergaarde
- Armoued Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Mira Sôdergaarde

- Mechanized Regiment - Ôfverste Ragnhilda Sôdergaarde
- Armoured Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Katharhina Sôdergaarde
- Armoured Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Vanja Sôdergaarde
- Armoured Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Drak Sôdergaarde
- Armoured Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Victor Sôdergaarde
- Armoured Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Sten Sôdergaarde
- Armoued Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Lejon Sôdergaarde

- Mechanized Regiment - Ôfverste Torbjôrn Sôdergaarde
- Mechanized Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Bellatrix Sôdergaarde
- Mechanized Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Faust Sôdergaarde
- Mechanized Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Eindride Sôdergaarde
- Mechanized Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Vera Sôdergaarde
- Motorised Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Tanja Sôdergaarde
- Motorised Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Yuliana Sôdergaarde

11th Heavy Division - Major General Erwin Grâvik

Regiment - Ôfverste Astrid Ôsterborg
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Vlad Stahlhamn
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Nathalia Stahlhamn
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Beatrix Stahlhamn
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Bengt Stahlhamn
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Victoria Stahlhamn
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Alexandhra Stahlhamn

Regiment - Ôfverste Havardr Ôsterborg
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Alek Ôsterborg
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Nathasja Ôsterborg
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Astrid Ôsterborg
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Viktor Ôsterborg
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Tyra Ôsterborg
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Frehja Ôsterborg

Regiment - Ôfverste Asmund Ôsterborg
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Alekshandra Ôsterborg
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Asta Ôsterborg
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Asger Ôsterborg
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Frida Ôsterborg
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Orvar Ôsterborg
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Victoria Ôsterborg

Regiment - Ôfverste Vernon Stahlhamn
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Elisa Ôsterborg
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Birgitt Ôsterborg
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Saga Ôsterborg
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Ôsterborg
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Anya Ôsterborg
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Lovisa Ôsterborg

Regiment - Ôfverste Tyr Stahlhamn
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Evelina Stahlhamn
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Signe Stahlhamn
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Elvira Stahlhamn
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Ronja Stahlhamn
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Elise Stahlhamn
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Birgitta Stahlhamn

Regiment - Ôfverste Stigr Slaktarhamn
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Elisabeth Slaktarhamn
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Alek Slaktarhamn
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Love Slaktarhamn
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Hedvig Slaktarhamn
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Eindride Slaktarhamn
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Sigfrid Slaktarhamn

33rd Mechanized Division - Major General Sif Jârnhamn

Regiment - Ôfverste Sten Grâvik
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Ragnvaldr Vâsterborg
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Ingrid Vâsterborg
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Ragnhilda Vâsterborg
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Kasshandrha Vâsterborg
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Sonja Vâsterborg
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Sige Vâsterborg

Regiment - Ôfverste Alexandr Grâvik
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Olaf Vâsterborg
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Hilda Vâsterborg
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Mathilda Vâsterborg
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Sonja Vâsterborg
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Inger Vâsterborg
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Hjalmar Vâsterborg

Regiment - Ôfverste Magnhilda Grâvik
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Nathasja Stahlhamn
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Erika Stahlhamn
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Dag Stahlhamn
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Gunnhilda Stahlhamn
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Astra Stahlhamn
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Hildr Stahlhamn

Regiment - Ôfverste Ragna Grâvik
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Lif Slaktarhamn
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Kharin Slaktarhamn
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Largertha Slaktarhamn
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Horik Slaktarhamn
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Erlendur Slaktarhamn
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Torstein Slaktarhamn

Regiment - Ôfverste Jorunn Grâvik
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Gunn Slaktarhamn
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Thorunn Slaktarhamn
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Torvi Slaktarhamn
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Runa Slaktarhamn
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Yula Slaktarhamn
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Stein Slaktarhamn

Regiment - Ôfverste Hjalmar Grâvik
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Astri Vâsterborg
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Helga Vâsterborg
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Stein Vâsterborg
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Vanja Vâsterborg
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Holrek Vâsterborg
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Ana Vâsterborg

44th Mechanized Division - Major General Hel von Sfvarthovf

Regiment - Ôfverste Ragnar Grâholme
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Vladmira Skeppheim
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Asger Skeppheim
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Grim Skeppheim
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Grimhilda Skeppheim
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Dahlia Skeppheim
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Sindra Skeppheim

Regiment - Ôfverste Haskell Grâholme
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Gunnar Skeppheim
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Leif Skeppheim
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Floki Skeppheim
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Asmund Skeppheim
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Hel Skeppheim
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Arne Skeppheim

Regiment - Ôfverste Ulf Grâholme
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Valdrmar Grâvik
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Yngve Grâvik
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Eirik Grâvik
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Steinar Grâvik
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Solveig Grâvik
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Arn Grâvik

Regiment - Ôfverste Casshandrhia Grâholme
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Henriett Grâvik
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Henrik Grâvik
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Baldir Grâvik
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Torunn Grâvik
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Erwin Grâvik
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Henrietta Grâvik

Regiment - Ôfverste Sigurd Grâholme
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Grim Grâholme
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Gunnhild Grâholme
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Svanhild Grâholme
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Torhild Grâholme
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Mathilda Grâholme
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Runa Grâholme

Regiment - Ôfverste Anasthasia Grâholme
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Thurmond Grâholme
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Sif Grâholme
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Thelma Grâholme
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Idunn Grâholme
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Kathrina Grâholme
Battalion – Lt. Colonel/Ôvferstelôjtnant Alfvred Grâholme

Harren, The Entente Headquarters, a Day Earlier

There was low murmuring, soft gesturing and quite a lot of coffee being poured. The mood was cordial and calm as representatives from three different nations exchanged opinions and offered up their expertise, sometimes even with a small joke or an appreciated anecdote. The Valarisk general had the ornate coat hanging off her shoulders, making the missing left arm less noticeable and heat less sufficating. “Are we agreed, gentlemen?” von Ulfstadt eyeing the Major-General Vasiliy Spitsyn with the one good eye, turning to shoot a glance at General Hyrkan Vyr with the bad one.

Telegram to Coalition Forces
"Till alla styrkor af koalitionen, Valyrien kommer endast acceptera eran underkastelse pâ skriven Valarisk Standard."

A telegram was wired to the forces in northern Harren, though what was probably intended to be a declaration of war couldn't even be read before the Valarisk divisions had started advancing into northern Harren, the self-propelled howitzers and the Sfvartsabel MBT firing upon all patrols and aiming to overrun the hopefully caught off-guard forces. The 11th Heavy Division was tasked with disrupting the Coalition assault on the Myraxians by punching through their side, whilst the 33rd was kept in reserve near Elias to repell the Coalition forces should the Myraxian line break. 44th and 5th Divisions were ordered to attack and encircle Momoe and Kanae

Figure 1. Eldrôrsartilleri T5 during exercise in Archon
Last edited by Valyrien on Mon Jan 21, 2019 7:22 am, edited 16 times in total.
A proud member of the Sovereign Charter.
The stratocratic governed Valarisk empire is an authoritarian meritocracy with elements of communism and facism.

The Heartland is located in the north of Rusina, but as of recently the Empire's territory and influence stretches over most corners of the world.

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Chargé d'Affaires
Posts: 351
Founded: Mar 26, 2014
Corporate Police State

Postby Iryllia » Thu Jan 17, 2019 10:19 pm

The Diplomat.

The air was hot and heavy, wind sending the gentlest ripples through loose fabric. Dozens of ships ambled gracefully through the harbour as the sun shone great golden bars of light down onto the city of Cyma. Picaresque certainly, if not for the piles of rubble still about the place. Beautiful even. The few ragged Harrenite flags hung limp along side the Roman, Asgari, Caerlegion, and Skjolduran. Occasionally gracefully brushed by a gust of wind. No one was looking up on this beautiful day however. Gotta keep your head down or you might find a bullet in it.

Kathrin was as ever, in a cafe. A beachfront one this time and since she seemed to be one of the few actually looking up on this fine day, she found her spirits somewhat lifted. It really was quite beautiful here sometimes. Almost like it was before this whole mess kicked off but then again before she didn't have downtime like this. Also a few weeks of constant fear and paranoia put some of the more petty things to the back of her mind like why she was here in the first place! If all that had just gone over as it should she wouldn't be here, wouldn't have to deal with any of this crap. The coffee was good though. At least there was that.

Something was definitely up though. From the apartment she'd been crashing in she'd seen a lot of people marching down that street. A lot more boats in the harbour. Word was from a Harrenite sailor she'd been drinking with a couple days ago the carrier was going to set sail, didn't know where just that they were preparing. Though another thing she'd heard was that the Asgari had set up a working nightclub on the northern edge of town so not all of it was important.

That night though, that's when she was going to make her move. Civilian traffic was heavily restricted and a lot of grumpy fishermen had been complaining about being stuck in port. From the soldiers something was brewing on the border. A lot of familiar faces of Harrenite militias and some Roman soldiers had vanished. More and more people were flowing through rather than staying. It wasn't just the heat making the air heavy. It was tension.

Not a cloud obscured the sea of stars that washed across the nights sky. The stars hung without a moon, and more lights shone in the harbour than they did in the city. While it was cooler the complete lack of any wind made the air feel heavy and stale. Like moving through soup. The fishing docks were as she hoped, almost completely abandoned. The old man was asleep and the angry dog was happily chewing on a bone. A rumble echoed over the harbour from somewhere distant and she looked up from the shadows on the docks. Half of the lights in the harbour went out and the quiet ambience of the night began to buzz with something.

This boat here, old looking with a forest of antennae. Probably wasn't alarmed and had been rocked up here in port for a few days now. She'd kept an eye on it. Another rumble, distant again as she smashed a rusted old lock with a pipe wrench. The dog didn't start barking. Even less lights were on in the harbour now but she could see ships moving. Black moving on black. She felt her way inside the boat, trying to quell the tremors in her hands. Click went the little red light torch as she felt her way over the panels. Another click, a mechanical clank and a rattling hum filled the cab and the emergency lights came on. The radio set began to whine and now she was in business. Right, fish out the paper, set the frequency... encryption? Cypher? Damn this set looked a hundred years old. Signal boost, check. Power boost, check. Static whispered into her ear as she held her hand over the transmit button. She was about to kick the hornets nest.

Wired: ID: KATHRIN NAUMANN k271634823n

Requesting immediate extraction. Unsafe to transmit, unable to receive response. Location: CYMA, CHARLIE, YANKEE, MIKE, ALPHA. Hostiles present. Roman, Asgari, Caerlegion, Skjolduran. Others present on island.

Sensitive information enclosed on person.

- Kathrin Naumann, Iryllian Diplomatic Corps.

The Smuggler, one week ago.

The hot days reminding her of home, the cold nights of places she'd rather forget. The work gangs were keeping her busy in the days, and idle conversation with those friendly goblins late into the nights. The plan was, so far at least, to simply wait until this all died down a bit and hop on the first freighter out of here, legally or not. But she had this niggling feeling in the back of her head, different from the constant nerves brought on by the Myraxian presence. No this was a different feeling. An older one, a warning signal. Things weren't going to calm down here, not in the slightest.

The next day she was standing off by one of the piers she'd helped build. The water was blue and swirling, frothing white around the water breaks and rocks. Ships and subs passed through here on the regular, objects floating across the deep blue ocean. She'd swindled a packet of cigarettes in a rigged game of poker last night, not that she'd slept since then, she hadn't been the one to rig the game but she'd certainly played the sucker. A long, welcome drag followed. She blinked

The pier was a lot colder, a lot greyer. The water was the colour of iron and sleet was not far off. Breath came in an icy fog in between the cigarette smoke. Her ears rang, the silence after the constant noise of months was deafening. A ruined city bellowed smoke behind her back as she stared out into the icy waves. The barest warmth caressed her grime covered face as the stick glowed. She weighed the dog tags in her hand and the others round her neck. Home, they were going home apparently. Well, she didn't think she would ever go home again. So, she pulled the tags from around her neck and cast them into the icy waves. "Hey!"

The water was blue and the sky clear and warm. She blinked again as she turned, a Myraxian stood there, "Hey," he said, again or for the first time? "You know you just threw your pack of cigs in the ocean right?" She looked down at her empty hand slightly dusty and with distant scars. "Yeah, well, I've been meaning to quit." She chuckled entirely emptily. "You're still smoking the one in your mouth." She shrugged, "Meaning to quit, haven't actually. What do you want? Come to take away my alone time?"
"Yeah, something like that. Come this way, it's your lucky day."

It wasn't her lucky day.

No was the next, as she found herself out in the beating sun, on parade line. In front of fucking Myraxians. She'd been fucking shanghai'd into the god damn militias. Called it, fucking called it that bad feeling had. They were obviously gearing up for something. Last she heard her work gang was being shipped north to dig fortifications along the border. Suppose that meant she got lucky. Hell she'd probably be digging trenches by the end of this anyway. The Myraxian was posturing, swaggering around and giving a speech, why were you here? Why should you fight? I'm here to whip you into shape and whatever. He was going around each asking them why, some he took close and whispered in their ears.

He got to her, looked her up and down. She didn't blink, he was much taller than her of a much larger build. He leaned forwards, "Your arm, trainee. Your left one, what happened there?" She brought her arm up as ordered, a mess of scar tissue covered her forearm, a by now unidentifiable tattoo was present in the mess. "Dog attack."
"Hmm, and why are you here?"
"Because if I'm not who will?" She locked the hard eyes of the Myraxian with her own stare, a stare with no description just feeling. The mans gaze narrowed as he moved on without saying anything. Her heart pounded in her chest.

"This rifle, will become your family. You will respect this rifle, you will love this rifle. You wil-" She tuned out the drill instructor at this point, they'd spent the previous days doing basic marching concluding with a short route march with bags of rocks to their billets. The Harrenites had mostly collapsed where they stood. She'd stayed awake, pondering how to get out of here. She focused on the rifle, familiar like a half remembered dream though changed slightly. The instructors took the thing apart, showed each of the parts, showed the cleaning kit. Demonstrated.

She sat cross legged with the disassembled piece in front of her, a bemused private checking his watch. "Hey sarge? What's the company record again?"
"Nine and a half seconds private, why?"
"Sarge this cadet just did it in eight!" The Marine sergeant stepped over another cadet struggling with theirs, peering down suspiciously. "Cadet Hall, What the hell is this?"
"It's a rifle Sergeant."
"No cadet it's your rifle, how the hell do you know it so well?"
"Just lucky I suppose. Sergeant."
"Lucky huh..." His gaze lingered for just too long, "Carry on cadet." He said as we walked off. For the rest of the day he was watching her, she could see it out the corner of her eye."

"Hot damn Cadet hall you've done it again!" The Private hollered over the cracking rifles on the improvised range. "That's the tightest grouping I've seen all week!" He took a knee, patting her on the shoulder, her face twitched beneath the goggles. "Hey sarge, come look at this!" He grinned, handing over the binoculars to the sergeant. "Well, well. They don't even make these rifles to be accurate!" He laughed a fake laugh. "You got a gift Cadet, had you been born in Myraxia you could have been a Marine!"

"Today we will be doing knife drills. Tomorrow you will be paraded and sent to your units." The sun beat down heavier than before, the cicadas screaming their song into the air. A single bead of sweat dripped down Valentina's brow. Jungles, just like home. Too much like home. "But before we get onto that, those Romans like to fight dirty, you know that. Some of you have witnessed it first hand! They will use everything they have when they come across that border. They will bomb you, they will rain fire down from the sky like hell it self opened up to take a shit right on top of you personally but most importantly they will use gas. So I am introducing you to your new best friend, your rifle is your family, you will die for you family but this baby, the Gas Respirator Mk. IV is your best friend. They kind of friend who always gets you home at the end of a messy night. The kind of friend who's always there in the middle of the night when you need to talk. That friend who is by your side no matter what because this friend will save your life. Your rifle will keep you alive but this thing will save it." The Sergeants assistant handed him a canvas pouch, from within he pulled an industrial looking device of black and clear plastics, round filters and fibre straps. "If you smell gas, if you see gas, if you think there is gas you will yell out gas. Three times, as loud as you can, as quickly as you can. Next person to hear it will also shout it. You will only shout it once before putting your mask on as quickly as possible because if you don't you will die a very painful death." The Sergeant stared grimly, some of the cadets wore very painful expressions on their faces, he then demonstrated how to put on the mask, slowly, he went over it a couple times. Everyone grabbed their own and began to practise. The sergeant stalked the group, Valentina eyed the man, watched as he drew in his breath and shouted at the top of his lungs "GAS, GAS-"

"GAS!" The shout echoed down the dark and dusty tunnel, deep below a ruined city. The almost complete darkness broken at intervals by small spots of lights coming from glow sticks. The air was thick with the smell of smoke and gunpowder and below it a metallic smell. Out, on, strap, strap then clasp. Pull up the collar. She peaked over the barricade as a huge wall of smoke blasted through the tunnel towards and then over here. She sucked in painful breaths through the filter, barely breathable but better than not. She couldn't see a foot in front of her face but could hear the twisted sucking, choking and gurgling behind her. A distant shout, not an Iryllian shout star-

"Very well done Cadet Hall." She was on her knees breathing hard, she looked up to see the Sergeant, and the other cadets still struggling. "You really are a natural." He squatted down in front of her, the inquisitorial glare of earlier covered somewhat by concern. "You must tell me how you do it."
"It's just," she paused to catch her breath, pushing the mask up out of her face, "I'v seen what gas does to people, don't really want it to happen to me." The Sergeant nodded, "Fear is a powerful motivator Cadet." He held her gaze for a little longer, a curious expression on his face

"Now, knife drills. We're not gonna stay long on this since your average roman is going to come at you with a sword, not a knife but you might face Hegemony troops. So knowing this will come in useful anyway." The Sergeant as ever brought up his wonderful assistant. "So, an attacker comes at you with a knife? If you have your own? Stab the other fucker before they stab you. If you don't? Well, watch. You let them lunge." The private lunched with a fake plastic knife, "you grab the wrist, using your opponents momentum to..." he demonstrated flipping the private over his shoulder, the private in question obediently assuming the position on the floor. "Now you're got the advantage, disable your opponent, a punch to the throat, snap their wrist. Whatever, use whatever you have. A spade, a rifle. Doesn't matter as long as the bastard dies and you don't. Now, any volunteers? Cadet Hall?"
She hadn't put up her hand, in fact she'd been deliberately avoiding the mans gaze. Great, she stepped up anyway. Trying to clear her head of the nagging sensation that had clouded it since the gas drills. Maybe the work gangs would have been better, probably wouldn't be dredging up so many bad memories. "I assume you know what to do cadet?" The Sergeant asked with the barest hint of a smile. "I'm a fast learner." She shot back, the man nodded and lunged-

-Could barely breath, could barely see in the smoke and the dark. Her breath rattled loud in her head, was the mask leaking? Was the pain from lack of oxygen or was she done for? No breath. Just breath. The yelling was getting closer, boots were thundering and echoing down the tunnel. The gurgling had subsided, the poor man out of his misery at last. Step back, wait. A soldier came barrelling through the smoke and the dust trusting with a blade. She grabbed the man at the wrist and flung him with a strained yell over her shoulder. Bullets loud and heavy whizzed through the smoke either side of her, people screamed. Grenades banged. The man impacted the rubble with a sickening crack she could hear over the din, the knife slipped from his grip and she grabbed it. Pushing high over her head the blade plunged towards the mans chest and-

-And the plastic blade snapped off the Sergeants plate carrier. The man actually looked surprised, the rest of the group stared in silence. She stood, sweat flicking from her face, offering her hand to the stunned sergeant. "Sorry, I uh, took self defence classes. Been mugged one too many times..." She chuckled a weak laugh, hauling the much bigger man to his feet. "Yup... Very good cadet," He turned to the rest of the group, "Well, practise just like that." His hand was firm on her shoulder as he turned his face back to her. She couldn't untense, wouldn't either. "Come with me."

"Listen Cadet. I don't know who you are or where you're from. I don't want to know. All I know if you've done this before. Whoever it is you were then, and whatever it is you are now. I just need to know one thing." His gaze was firm and inscrutable. His side arm was right there, it'd be your death but you could take a couple with yo- "Are you willing to keep these people safe?"
"I'm making you corporal. There's something big coming soon and hell if at least one of these sorry Millitias can make it through that'll put by conscience at ease."
"I- What? Me? No, no no."
"Listen. If you don't do it, who will?"

The next day she stood in front of the mixed bag of Harrenites as the Sergeant have another speech. She didn't listen to this one, she didn't really want too. She was tired, the last few days had felt like months and she'd barely slept. Yadda yadda so proud, protecting the republic something something not one step back. "Corporal Hall, if you'd like to say a few words?"
She blinked for a moment before coughing to clear her throat. "Errh, well..." she paused again for a moment, caught off guard. "I think that, well... For all of us here, no matter what we did, or have done or maybe even will do. I think we've reached our line in the sand and well..." trailing off again. "We'll end up on the other side of this, maybe not as we were or even what we might have been but we're here. When no one else is, doing what needs to be done and I think, I think that's important." She nodded to round off her sheepish speech. Gesturing to a set of waiting trucks. "Well, uh, come on then." She smiled, a weird feeling behind the smile she couldn't quite shake. Something she hadn't felt in a very long time and she really wasn't certain if it was good or not.

The Myraxian Sergeant stared her down as the trucks drove off. She never did remember his name in the end.

The Admiral

The fleet had moved east through the shimmering waves, partly to avoid a squall heading in partly to keep the shadows on their toes. The Admiral was now in possession of a pretty clear picture of the area. Huge numbers of men and material were gathered here, dozens of ships in the harbours and yet more arriving. Worryingly and part of the reason why he'd moved his fleet was the rest of the Myraxian 7th fleet was racing down towards this island, no doubt in response to their presence. He now had half of his subs out on permanent tasking. There was a bloody Roman made carrier docked up in Cyma he had to keep an eye on, half a dozen Myraxian attack subs trailing his fleet trailing his subs and being trailed by his own. They were desperately dancing around each other down there but not firing because no one fucking knew whether the other could see them.

And now there were more radio transmissions!

The Iryllian Consulate was destroyed by Balthazar about eight months ago. One of your consulate members survived and was hosted by Balthazar at the Naval Academy in Cyma. Her whereabouts are currently unknown, she has not been seen since Balthazar’s execution.

Rome, Asgareth, Skjoldur, Caerlegion operate in the north in the Hegemony, combined, over a half a million strong. Myraxia operates in the south in the Republic of Harren, estimated one hundred thousand. Valyrien has established a protected zone in the midlands, unknown strength. Aurum was operating on Harren but was pushed off.

We offer a base next to Archon, bulk quantities of fish and a grateful vassal nation if you can free the Hegemony from its status as a Roman puppet.

This was fantastic, the admiral had fumed. They could obviously fucking hear this, whoever this was, was putting their own life and a lot of others at risk for what? A useful scrap of intel. Right, consulate survivor. Okay, not quite confirmed if it was his little cousin. But solid, solid. The sun was beginning to set, one of his subs was reporting unusual activity in Cyma harbour. An hour later a different one positioned to the north west of the Island reported in that large amounts of Asgari shipping were moving about. Another hour passed, another sub said similar in the south. Two of his Roman shadows had slipped their tails and disappeared in the direction of the Island.

The Fleet started to move south, planning to loop back around north. The sun swept down below the horizon and a moonless night faded in across the sky. The stars made their presence known, reflecting in the calm waters of northern Harren. A vague plan was beginning to form in Alexander Naumanns mind. A raid, perhaps. Like those Skjoldurans liked to do. Hmm. Reports broke his reverie, Harrenite ships leaving harbour, heading east by north east. Large numbers of small vessels spotted, Roman shipping moving to the south. Lots of radio traffic, working on decoding...

Another radio message, civilian again. That's right he hadn't replied to those government dogs. There wasn't much he could do with that... Right, this new message.

Wired: ID: KATHRIN NAUMANN k271634823n

Requesting immediate extraction. Unsafe to transmit, unable to receive response. Location: CYMA, CHARLIE, YANKEE, MIKE, ALPHA. Hostiles present. Roman, Asgari, Caerlegion, Skjolduran. Others present on island.

Sensitive information enclosed on person.

- Kathrin Naumann, Iryllian Diplomatic Corps.

Well. Shit.

The Admiral stared out across his red light bridge. The stars swam overhead, eerily beautiful. "All ships, condition red. Battlestations. Battle orders to be relayed shortly, fighters into the air I want the strike craft prepped and ready to go. Marines saddle up we're going on an old fashioned raid. Helm! Set course for Cyma! Fire upon any and all Roman and Harrenite shipping you find in your way!" The great hulk of steel and gun that was the cruiser Both Here and There turned gracefully, cutting it's wave through the calm ocean as her sister ships turned with here, Two more cruisers, backed by four carriers and a dozen destroyers. Lights dimmed, radar blazed as dozens of aircraft thundered from the decks of the carriers to join those already in the sky. The frigates on the fringes of the fleet pulled up their speed. The fleet making their own waves in the black water.

Below the fleets subs sharply turned, their sonars immediately going active as they pursued what targets they knew. Torpedoes loosed and dived into the deep dark depths.

Just outside the port of Cyma, an Iryllian Nuclear powered attack Submarine Misused Gravitas crept along. It's silent crew bathed in a red light. The passive array sonar showed a very large surface target. The Harrenite Carrier H.H. Vispanius Agrippa. The boats captain nodded to give the order. Two tubes hissed open unleashing two torpedoes into the water shooting for the surface. For the carrier, as the sub pulled a hard turn, accelerating to immediate flank speed and diving as deep as she could. Listening for counter launches.

The metal fish and their deadly payloads swam towards their target. Soon to split the night in twain.
Feel free to ask me anything and everything
Notorious Procrastinator

Sovereign Charter

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Journey Collective
Civil Servant
Posts: 8
Founded: Jan 02, 2019
Democratic Socialists

Postby Journey Collective » Fri Jan 18, 2019 7:42 am

Kos Island
Tsuru Island

The Hegemony was no longer on this island, the Collectivists had fully taken control of the military installations, people, and indeed the entire island. The soldiers who had been trained under Rome were now part of the Collective, being enlightened as to what the matter of the world truly is. There was much discussion regarding what to do with the island now that the rebellion didn’t want it. Some wanted to smash everything on the island and return it to a pristine natural state, some wanted to contact the Republic and hand the island over, but a growing sentiment was that the island could be converted into the new “True” Harren.
With great speed and skill many Collectivists went to Kos and began to build it into a place that seemed strangely reminiscent of Tsuru. There were open fields, small shanty-like homes, even a place that could be considered a town center with shops and vender stalls. The amount of manpower and determination the Collective was able to produce meant the construction efforts proceeded quickly and smoothly. Everyone knew this was the easy part, what came next would be the hardest thing Friendly Island or Journey Collective had ever faced.
The Harrenese which were part of the Collective were too deeply ingrained to safely remove the spores and fungal paths from their bodies. If things were stopped or pulled out now it would surely mean the death of everyone affected. Early on, before the spores create a deep link between the mind and body of an individual, the spores are in a fragile state and can be removed with relative ease, and with minimal consequences for those involved. The state everyone who was in the Collective meant removal was not an option.
A small amount of Harrenese deeply yearned to go back to their traditional roots, before Journey, before the war, before the pirates. . . Back to the time when Harren as a truly free place, and people could live as they choose. Those who yearned for this spoke up and pushed for this plan, the rest of the Collective agreed, they had wanted to give the island back to Harren anyway, so who better than the Harrenese that were already there.
The Tsuruians, as they decided to call themselves, began to settle into the island, making a go of things and adapting to being now separated from the network. The separation was fairly easy, it was very much like the Collectivists were fully ignoring the Tsuruians, and the Tsuruians were fully ignoring the Collective. The spores which had filled the island still drifted around, but were quickly settling to the ground and trees, and were soon no longer airborne. Even the spores on Tsuru were being ignored by the rest of the collective, with no connection these were becoming inert.
Once the island was built up in a way which seemed strangely familiar, with and the Tsuruians were situated, the Collective left. The Harrenese, the Tsuruians were left alone, in silence, for the first time since the war began they were living in peace.

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Iron Fist Consumerists

The Saviours of Harren

Postby Asgareth » Fri Jan 18, 2019 1:36 pm

Odele, Harren Island

Two Weeks Ago
Odele had been a failed city before the conflict. For centuries it had stood forgotten about in the north of the island. Its civilians were poorly treated, poorly paid and susceptible to disease. Slavery rings were prominent in the city, and it was not uncommon for organ harvesting to take place. Children starved on the streets; Balthazar had never cared for their welfare. Police brutality was prevalent, with people being killed for little things such as theft, speeding and murder. Alcohol was prohibited, and the locals frequently used for Balthazar's illegal experimentation. Newborn babies had been snatched from their mothers, and forced to join Balthazar's army.

The Asgarthian liberation of the city had improved the lives of the citizens tenfold. Slavers were shot on sight, the police swiftly removed from power. They had plenty to eat and drink; the alcohol flowed freely. The city enjoyed healthcare, education and transport. Unemployment became a thing of the past, with locals working in the war machine. The civilians were well-paid, and given plenty of leisure time. The children played merrily in the city, their stomachs full for the first time in their lives. Their parents knew that they would be safe under Asgarthian protection. Swiftly, the Odellians came to love their liberators. Asgarthian troops were regularly invited in for cups of coffee, or dinner, or given bottles of ale and whiskey. The city of Odele flourished, its citizens prospered. And all seemed right at last.

That all changed, one fateful day. Terrorists had contaminated the water supply with irradiated soil. The supply was cut off as soon as the Asgarthians had realised; though it would indeed be too late for many Odellians. Children died in sheer pain, crying out for their mothers. Old women collapsed where they stood. Newborn babes died in the arms of their mothers who sobbed as their hearts broke. The fit and healthy fared little better. Death lined the streets of the city.

But the survivng Odellians refused to be beaten. The community rallied together, searching for heartlander sympathisers. The traitors were given summary trials, and promptly shot along. Their families met similar fates, or were taken away to be sold as slaves, their homes were set on fire, their belongings stolen.

The terrorists had hoped to scare the civilians into submission. Instead, they had unleashed an army worse than any Asgarthian or Roman.

Upon being stopped, Basil had been taken to an Asgarthian detention centre. There he was placed in a cell, and forced to wait for several hours. He was laid down on a table, naked, cuffed at the hands and feet. The guard on duty refused to give him any drink; though some would say this was a blessing, and only provided him a block of Vorka cheese for food. He’d been forced to piss where he sat, and was in desperate need of another bodily function, by the time two men unlocked the cell and walked in.

“My name is Captain Tackos. This, is Lieutenant Packnia. We do not come in peace. Now, we’re not going to bother interrogating you. You’re simply not worth the time. Nor are we prepared to deal with you. We do not deal with scum.” Tackos smirked. “But we do need to send a message. A message to all who dare attack us.”
Tackos slowly withdrew a large knife from his belt. He made eye contact with Basil and pointed his finger towards Packnia, who was stood behind a camera.
“Smile!” Packnia stated.
Tackos moved the knife towards Basil.

Within seconds, he began to finely lightly cut away at Basil’s chest. He started on the right nipple, and slowly made his way down. Within seconds, Basil began to scream in pain. Tackos held him in place as he slowly made his way back up with the knife. Blood poured oozed out of the torso, and a bloodied sword symbol could be seen, pointing towards the left shoulder. Tackos set to work on the other side, and swiftly copied the symbol. The swords of Asgareth were now displayed on Basil’s chest. Packnia pointed the camera down, and zoomed in on the swords. He paused there for a few seconds, before turning the camera back on Basil’s face. Tackos moved his knife towards Basil's right ear and slowly began to cut through the cartilage. The ear soon fell away, to the merciless screams of Basil. Tackos smirked, as he handed the knife to Packnia. Packnia held the knife above Basil's left eye, and stabbed it. He slowly withdrew the knife, and with it an eyeball. Picking it off the knife, he placed it in Basil's mouth. "Eat." He decreed. "Or you'll find yourself short of a ball or two as well!"
Basil slowly began to chew on the eyeball, as the camera watched on. Packnia and Tackos smirked.

“Now that pleasantries are out of the way, you’ve been warmly invited to live out the remainder of your days in Vorkatrov." Packnia stated, as Basil continued to eat. "I suspect a hillbilly, such as yourself, probably hasn’t heard of Vorkatrov before? Well, you’ll know all about it soon enough.”
The two men laughed, as they walked towards the exit. They locked the door firmly behind them, leaving Basil alone again, bleeding out from the ear and eye. His torment had only just begun.

Asgar House, Asgar, Asgareth

General Edmund de’Lance was preparing to go live across the world. With the Imperiali officially busy with members of the war council, de’Lance had been chosen to deliver the message. ACNC cameramen were ready to livestream the message across the world.

A voice came on to a dark screen. "This is an urgent appeal to the civilised world. Please stop what you are doing, and listen. Just listen."

The camera's went live, and de'Lance could be seen standing by a podium. He blinked, and then began to speak:
"My fellow Asgarthians, Honourable delegates of the world, my fellow humans,

Tonight it is my solemn duty to confirm that the missile attacks on Flight AS4029 as well as the attacks on the Roman flight MCDXLVI and the Noctish flight NC233 were carried out by the same people that have already committed atrocities against civilian populations in Larka and Odele. We now have confirmed proof that these attacks were carried out on the orders of and funded by the Auruumite state.

The goblins, realising that they cannot win on the battlefield, decided they would carry out heinous crimes against civilian populations. They have acted in the most cowardly way possible, have proven themselves to be incapable of socialising with the civilised world. When they emerged from their hellhole, just over a decade ago, Asgareth was the first nation to reach out in an attempt to form a strong friendship. Instead, we swiftly realised they do not value the sanctity of human life. They would happily set in motion the extermination of all humans in their conquest for gold.

Further questions must now be asked. The Valarisk Empress claims herself to be Overlord of Aurum. If this is true, it is clear the Valarisk have lost control over their servant, and we urgently request the Valarisk retake the reins, and stop this menace. We call upon the international community to stand against the vermin leading the Aurmite state.To this extent, Asgareth is prepared to lead the cause for all that is right in the world. Due to these atrocities, carried out on helpless civilians, Asgareth has no choice but to declare war on Aurum.”

The feed cut off almost instantly. The general turned to Oscar Larkin and Rupert Merritt, who waited in the wings.
“Edmund!” Oscar exclaimed. “The Romans have launched an attack against Myraxia.”
The general nodded. "Pertika has already informed me. Do not worry, Oscar. We are already planning contingencies."
"We?" Oscar enquired.
"The Imperiali allowed Rome to gain too much a foothold over Gautima. But the foothold only lasts as long as the Hegemony maintains superior numbers. A sudden change of heart will end the hegemony."
"What of the Caerleggi? The Skjoldurians? Would they not be useful in our fight?" Rupert asked
"King Louis, and the Caerleggi forces are too closly tied with Caesar. They'll do as they are told. As for the Skjoldurians, they are mercenaries. You can't trust them to stay on side, once someone else offers more."
"General, our list of enemies grows exhaustive." Oscar stated. "You might want to start making friends again."
De'Lance tutted. "Do not worry, Oscar. The list will grow shorter, soon enough."
"Speaking of enemies, general, the Valarisk have declared war on the Hegemony. Well, I think they declared war. Either that or they asked for the blood of an orphan."
"Why not both?" The general smirked. "That will not be too troublesome soon enough. They have declared war on the Hegemony. Not on Asgareth." He nodded at the pair, before heading off.

Archoni Islands

New orders had been issued across the Archoni forces. The Romans, and the rest of the Hegemony had been declared enemies of the state. The troops on Harren were to dig deep, into defensive fortifications. Half the 19th ground force would be shipped out from the Isle of Gespe, to provide further cover in north west Harren. Once there, they would prepare for an offensive war in north Harren. The 12th fleet, already in position in Harren, was to maintain its position, north-west of the island. Meanwhile, a message was relayed to the 14th and 15th fleets, stationed on the Isles of Vil and Quenti. The orders were were clear. The Skjoldurians would not be granted access to Asgarthian waters. Their ships were to be fired upon on sight. Raiders blown to hell. The Skjoldurian ships would now face a choice. Go around the entire coast of Archon, head further west towards the dreaded friendly island, or face Asgareth on their home turf.

Meanwhile, in North West Harren, the Asgarthian forces had been busy establishing its foothold. Whilst the army stationed between Odele and Tsuru were busy preparing defensive fortifications, the Asgarthian Propaganda machine found itself hard at work. Posters decrying Auruumite attacks, with slogans saying "Remember Odele... Fight the Green Menace" and "Larka Suffered, So You Didn't Have To" were swiftly displayed alongisde Heartlander propaganda against the Romans and Skjoldurians. Frequent regional broadcasts from the ACNC denounced both heartlander and hegemony attacks, and called for the withdrawal of all international troops. In contrast to this, Asgarthian troops frequented households, seeking recruits to join the Harrense People's Army. Those that did join were paid handsomely, and provided free ale at their local bars. They were provided a few days training, before being sent up to the border to help with the defences. Those that refused to join were deemed traitors, and promptly shot.

Kalitea, Harren Island

Rufus T. Perkins had flown directly from Asgareth. He was tasked with meeting the Myraxians on the island to discuss the possibility of a collaborative offensive against the hegemony, and to discuss their aims for Harren Island. The Asgarthian view was clear. A Harrenese state, free of outside control and led by a Harrenite, was best for the world. A Myraxian controlled island would provide them a base in west Archon, something Asgareth was firmly set against. A Roman controlled island... well, the thought was unbearable. The Harrenese had suffered enough. The Iryllians... another unbearable thought. And a Valarisk island would mean having an ally of the goblins right on the doorstep. Harren had to be free of all outside control. And it was up to Asgareth to make sure it was.

His taxi pulled up outside the embassy, as Perkins reached for his wallet. He tipped generously before he bade his driver farewell. He stepped out of the taxi and took in his surroundings. He took in the embassy before walking towards the main gate.He approached one of the armed guards, and spoke
"Good afternoon. I am Rufus T. Perkins, Minister of Defence for Asgareth. I have an appointment with General Vyr."

The guard studied Rufus for a moment, before reaching for his identification and diplomatic papers. He grunted as he read the information, before motioning for Rufus to follow him. The gate was opened, and he was swiftly led inside and up several flights of stairs. Eventually, he was told to wait outside an office, whilst the guard knocked.
"General?" He asked. "The Asgarthian ambassador is here to see you."
Proud (No, really!) Member of the Sovereign Charter.
Drekhi: Asgareth is not a place, it is a vintage

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Greater Slavacia
Posts: 12
Founded: Dec 20, 2018
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Greater Slavacia » Fri Jan 18, 2019 11:15 pm

Above Harren Island,
"Sosna, this is 401 we are beginning the suppression of air defenses, not safe to launch the assault, many bogeys in the air"
"This is Sosna, we copy you 501, begin immediately"
"501 to flight, activate jamming, standby anti-radar missiles, report when ready"
"502, ECM on, missiles ready"
"503, same here"
"504, done"
"Alright, I am enabling the targeting system, do the same... Bloody hell, There are at least 7 active contacts in the lower targeting range, one appears to be ship borne, launch immediately, missile spread according to targeting computer"
"Captain, confirmed missile lock"
"Stay calm 502, don't break formation"
The tone that until now was beeping, indicating that a radar was operating in search mode had changed to a higher pitched monotonous one - the radar had locked on.
"This is 501, Fire missiles, and prepare for defensive maneuvers"
"Shit, shit, shit, they've launched!!"
"Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name..."
"504 here,fired off and beginning evasive maneuvers. "
"601 here, begining attack run"
The Slavacian supersonic missiles reached the Hegemony's radars before the radar operators had any idea what was going on, each radar disappeared in a violent explosion, one by one. Soon, none were left. The Hegemony's flagship, was also targeted, the missile exploded above the deck of the battleship destroying to only the missile guidance radar, but also the fire control and navigation radars. To make matters worse, the explosion cleared most of the communication antennas from the ship. The vessel was now effectively left blind and mute, fires had started on deck from the high explosive filler and shrapnel caused damage to other parts of the ship. But the brave Slavacian pilots were not given time to savor their victory, one by one, each plane was found by a missile and destroyed. However, not only were Hegemony's radars destroyed, the 8 active roman missile guidance radars that were detected were dispatched as well, their missiles much more accurate, devastated the second squadron, and although the air was clear for a paratrooper landing, this was a Pyrrhic victory, as none of the Fighters performing SEAD returned home.

Official Losses: 8 Aircraft lost, 5 pilots confirmed KIA, 2 pilots MIA, 1 pilot rescued

Approach to Momoe, same day
Hundreds of transport aircraft approached the sleeping city, in front of them, akin to a barrier flew all of the fighter aircraft Slavacia managed to redirect to the island - 4 flights with 32 fighters spread between them. Elsewhere, directly above Kanae, a group of attack aircraft as well as countless decoy drones simulating another cargo fleet were performing a mock paratrooper operation. This, coupled with the damaged and destroyed radars of the hegemony, meaning that even if fighters could be scrambled in time, they had to be split into two groups, as the drones used various countermeasures to increase their radar cross section.

One by one IFV's, tanks and infantry were launched from the aircraft onto the town bellow their job was to secure the city, cut the roads for the retreating Hegemony armies and hold the position until the arrival of Valyrien troops.

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Founded: Oct 01, 2018
Iron Fist Consumerists

Postby Skjoldur » Sat Jan 19, 2019 7:10 pm

Ribe, Skjoldur

A fleet had been scrambled together after hearing the Slavics betrayal. Luckily the 5th fleet had been resupplying and was ready to block the slavs from reaching harren. As the fleet set off a message was sent from high command. A carelegion fleet had been dispatched to help with Skjoldurs peace efforts. As the fleet approached the Slavic fleet a message was broadcast

Emergency broadcast calling all Slavic ships. Do not advance, repeat do not advance, we offer you this one chance for peace. Do not start a war over a pointless island

Cyma, Harren Island

Commander Asgan tore the flag down, the roman flag was been folded up and handed back to the troops. The mission had been quick and without bloodshed. Without any warning the 75,000 skjoldurian reinforcements had easily overpowered the skeleton roman crew. The Skjoldurians troops already on harren had withdrawn and were reinforcing the border. Skjoldur had established the Democratic Republic of Harren and invited the people of harren to create their own government.
A message was sent to all forces on harren
Skjoldur regrets the actions of the hegemony and wishes to make amends. The free nation of Harren has been established for the people of Harren. We invite all nations to come to a peaceful conclusion and anyone people from Harren who want to live in a free democracy are invited and welcome.



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