NATION

PASSWORD

The Fall Of Brytene [IC, TG FOR ENTRY]

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

Advertisement

Remove ads

User avatar
Brytene
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1444
Founded: Mar 17, 2015
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Brytene » Fri Jan 18, 2019 8:00 pm

Whitebay
Brytene


Hlasyctere Aoife 'Brighteye' Lodbrok


The light was frustratingly bright. Aoife had been medicated and unconscious for hours, but the narcotics had been scaled back and the morning light filtering in through the window was painfully intense. In reality, it was a dull Whitebay morning, the waves lapping gently against the shore beneath a dark grey sky.

Celeste gave a little gasp as she saw Aoife's eyes flutter open. The Jarl coughed and tried to speak, but all that came out was a croak. She tried to sit up and Celeste rose, reaching an arm around her back to help her upright.

"Hey, good morning sunshine! Take it easy, take it easy, you're safe," she said, her tone soothing. She fumbled with the bed for a moment, bringing the head up so Aoife could sit, and handed her a cup of water. Aoife drained it all and then let her head fall back and closed her eyes. There was silence for a moment, and then she spoke, eyes still shut.

"I didn't dream...this..." she began, raising her left arm briefly before letting it drop back onto the pillows piled along that side of the bed.

Celeste glanced at her arm and then away, awkwardly. "...no. I'm so sorry, Aoife."

More silence.

"You had no other serious injuries, the doctors said-" began Celeste, trying to fill the silence. Aoife's eyes opened again and she tried to smile. "It's okay. I'm okay. Thank you for being here..."



Whitebay
Brytene


Sergeant Henry Berrocscirr


It was an interesting morning, filled with hurry-up-and-wait. The two civilian ships, carrying the survivors from Pepper Atoll, had docked the day before, preceded by a flight of military helicopters that had gone straight to St Mary's General Hospital on the ridge overlooking the ocean. Word had it that Aoife Brighteye was injured and being tended to there, and if the state of the battered marines and haggard civilians who had piled onto the docks was anything to go by, things had been rough back there.

Out to sea, a huge storm was growing. It had been building all morning, the clouds revealing themselves as the morning sun woke the city, their banks rolling high into the heavens. The entirety of the 5th Regiment had been mobilised across Susseax, now that the island represented the southern border of Brytene thanks to the collapse of Pepper Atoll. An unknown enemy, highly capable and effective, lurked just out of sight over the horizon, or so it felt. The storm seemed apt, one giant meteorological metaphor for the danger menacing the Confederacy.

He and two of his comrades were stationed at the Whitebay North Tram Terminal. Trams were an odd local feature of Whitebay, and were the backbone of its public transport system, and thousands of passengers went through this terminal alone every single day. Armed with a TAS-HOGG shotgun, currently racked up with LTL rounds for crowd control, he knew that his two colleagues were armed with regular, blood-spraying, life-ending munitions, and the furtive and worried glances the passersby gave them made it clear that they too were feeling on edge this morning. To his left, facing south, the street sloped away down to the sea, the slate-dark and red-brick buildings in neo-classical style framing the grey-blue churn of the Fale Ocean. He watched a surly-looking man lumber past him and then glanced back to the sea, and almost did a double-take. A corvette was steaming out of the harbour, towards the roiling waters of the sea beyond. Overhead, a pair of Walkure attack helicopters hammered through the skies. The Sergeant frowned and then turned his gaze back to the crowd. No doubt the footsloggers would be the last to know what was going on.



Whitebay Harbour
Brytene


CFS Pen-y-ghent

The CFS Pen-y-ghent was a small Verden-class Corvette, primarily used for patrol and coastguard duties, but it was ploughing its way just offshore to deal with the newest threat. Some idiot pirates had taken itself upon themselves to cross the fucking Fale Ocean in pleasure yachts and fishing boats, like some kind of drunken parody of the Dunkirk evacuation. They had managed to time it both excellently and terribly; a huge storm that had been brewing for several days had finally reared its ugly head, offering them visual and audio cover, but the brutal waves and cruel winds had almost certainly thinned the herd, and now the bedraggled survivors were finally arriving several hours too late. They had obviously planned to travel all night and day, and then arrive some time in the early morning of the second night, making maybe 50 knots for 20 hours, but instead the vicious seas had scotched their plans and left them hours late, arriving in the bright light of day where the Brytisc could see them coming and pick them off like ducks on a pond.

The first of the small vessels came into sight just as the Pen-y-ghent passed out of the harbour waters and into the blue. The bridge crew were understandably nervous, what with the fate of the Brytisc vessels 1,000 kilometres south at Pepper Atoll, but the reports had been correct. Ahead of them, scrambling to escape the leading edge of a Brindawon-worthy maelstrom, was a motley straggle of vessels. Apparently there were more up and down the coast, and gods knew how many further back or lost in the storm, but the three small craft ahead of the corvette were due a speaking to.

Moving into their path, 75mm deck gun at the ready, the crew of the Pen-y-ghent readied themselves...



St Joseph Airport
St Joseph


Hrystic Monastic Mission


Blasting at the crowd of Militia and confused Hrystic peacekeepers, the coaxial fire caused devastation. Even with time to prepare as the drop made groundfall, the unruly militia had done little except blaze small-arms fire into the sky, and now they were being cut down like hay. The survivors had a little more sense, and abandoning their attempts at liberating the supplies, they dove behind cover and began spraying bullets at anything that moved. The scene was chaos, the Militia practically routed before they even had the chance to retaliate, but they were not alone...[/b]

The figure in black, still perhaps a hundred yards out, stopped and stared at the scene, hands on hips. After a few moments, they unslung what looked like an oversize grenade launcher from their back. Casually making some adjustments, they hefted the bulky weapon and fired a single round at the nearest IFV. A HEAT round screamed at impossibly high speed directly into the flank of the vehicle, even as the attacker dropped the weapon and simply stood to watch its effect, leaning casually against a maintenance shed.



CN Erméa
23 kilometres north of Pepper Atoll


Commander Botin


Hours later, the Carlosian recovery and investigation effort had yielded some results. The black boxes of both vessels were intact, but naturally indecipherable without Brytisc help, at least not in any kind of useful timeframe. They had also recovered fragments of ship hull and plenty of imagery of the sunken vessels.

Both vessels had been torn apart, quite literally - the vastly uneven and rocky seafloor in the area meaning that some parts of the ships had ended up quite a way away from one another as they sank. There was no torpedo casing to be found, at least not easily, although the many crevices and formations on the seabed could have concealed an entire cache of weapons with ease. What they did find, however, was damage consistent with explosives placed near to or even on the hull itself, either mines or limpet charges potentially. Though many of the crew were missing or too badly injured to be recognisable, the rover had also managed to get a few grainy images of Brytisc personnel with what were clearly bullet wounds and even lacerations, suggesting some kind of boarding action and close-quarters combat.

Above them, the bombers approached the Atoll completely unmolested...


Brytene is: centrist, pagan, democratic, free-market
Imperalizt Russia wrote:Being on fire will affect shot placement

Socialist Mercanda wrote:Incumbent Blessed Brytene, who is rumoured to be one of the many lovechildren made by Amin and his 69,420,666 wives has retired and we thank him for his glorious service to this region! Glory!

Imperial Nalydya wrote:Spent too much damn time with the nations of Laptev. The old professionals...
Proud MoD of Atlas and NationStates' official Bishop of Bants
My IIwiki is no longer 100% canon
pls contain your salt



User avatar
Kryztov
Secretary
 
Posts: 37
Founded: Oct 25, 2017
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

First Engagement, St. Joseph's Airport

Postby Kryztov » Wed Jan 23, 2019 8:43 pm

The figure in black, still perhaps a hundred yards out, stopped and stared at the scene, hands on hips. After a few moments, they unslung what looked like an oversize grenade launcher from their back. Casually making some adjustments, they hefted the bulky weapon and fired a single round at the nearest IFV. A HEAT round screamed at impossibly high speed directly into the flank of the vehicle, even as the attacker dropped the weapon and simply stood to watch its effect, leaning casually against a maintenance shed.



Sargent Gordeev, 3rd Squad, 2nd Platoon
Saint Joseph's Airport.

"Davai-davai-davai," Sargent Vysheslavtsev, yelled as the ramp dropped. He could see the tarmac and the cargo flat the IFV used to be attached to just out the back. "Two Teams, Yefréytor Stasov, take your team on to the left side of the T-15M2!" He barked as he grabbed the Machinegunner and a rifle man right, to the side of the IFV. The 4 IFV's fired into the militia slaughtering them wholesale as they stopped harassing the civilian's and legged it for the nearest cover.

"Greshnev set you PKP here," He ordered pushing the soldier ahead of him while he shouldered his rifle aiming at a Militant member that dropped his rifle and was fleeing. A half breath later he pulled the trigger and the man fell. He then advanced and layed down beside Greshnev who had began to pick off targets as they fled using his Machine gun. Looking left he could see PFC Stasov set up with his two men; a rifle man and a man with an RPG slung over his shoulder. That's when he saw him, he wore all black and a what looked like to him a bikers mask; just standing there. He swore that the man was scowling at them like they were ruining his day. He then whipped out an RPG and took aim at the T-15M2.

"O blyad'!" Vysheslavtsev swore loudly. "Stasov! Your Left! Contact to Your Left!" he then grabbed at his radio. "Junior sergeant Gordeev, 9 o Clock, AT threat!" It was too late, the combatant fired the RPG which was going to strike the side of the T-15. Vysheslavtsev manged to yell before covering his head as the RPG sailed towards them. "Bogi, sokhrani nas."

Inside Junior Sergeant Gordeev's IFV.


"Junior sergeant Gordeev, 9 o Clock, AT threat!" crakled over the headsets in the tank. The gunner reacted first swiviling the gun around to meet the threat. However Gordeev knew that he didn't have enough engage. In a split second he had activated the smoke canisters and jammed the primer for the "Афганит" active protection system. A small IR camera on the left side of the IFV picked up the muzzle flashes from a half dozen rifles being fired at the front of the vehicle and the large one of the RPG. The shell exiting the barrel was almost white hot which flipped the switch of the vehicles anti tank countermeasures. In a matter of seconds the "Афганит" active protection system went through a few scenarios until one matched the situation. Using one of the plates. Small plates of ceramic tile sit behind each camera with enough explosive to hurl the plate to deflect all sorts of antitank options but mostly ATGM's. The plate was readied in seconds and as soon as it was in position, it fired it sending the plate hurtling almost 40 seconds before impact. The plate smashed into the incoming projectile exploding it in the process and it in return showered the left with bits of shrapnel. The gunner swiveled the gun around and brought the full arsenal of the T-15m3 upon on the man now smugly leaning aganst the man now \
Kryztov is bestov

User avatar
Kryztov
Secretary
 
Posts: 37
Founded: Oct 25, 2017
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

First Engagement, St. Joseph's Airport

Postby Kryztov » Wed Jan 23, 2019 8:47 pm

The figure in black, still perhaps a hundred yards out, stopped and stared at the scene, hands on hips. After a few moments, they unslung what looked like an oversize grenade launcher from their back. Casually making some adjustments, they hefted the bulky weapon and fired a single round at the nearest IFV. A HEAT round screamed at impossibly high speed directly into the flank of the vehicle, even as the attacker dropped the weapon and simply stood to watch its effect, leaning casually against a maintenance shed.



Sargent Gordeev, 3rd Squad, 2nd Platoon
Saint Joseph's Airport.

"Davai-davai-davai," Sargent Vysheslavtsev, yelled as the ramp dropped. He could see the tarmac and the cargo flat the IFV used to be attached to just out the back. "Two Teams, Yefréytor Stasov, take your team on to the left side of the T-15M2!" He barked as he grabbed the Machinegunner and a rifle man right, to the side of the IFV. The 4 IFV's fired into the militia slaughtering them wholesale as they stopped harassing the civilian's and legged it for the nearest cover.

"Greshnev set you PKP here," He ordered pushing the soldier ahead of him while he shouldered his rifle aiming at a Militant member that dropped his rifle and was fleeing. A half breath later he pulled the trigger and the man fell. He then advanced and layed down beside Greshnev who had began to pick off targets as they fled using his Machine gun. Looking left he could see PFC Stasov set up with his two men; a rifle man and a man with an RPG slung over his shoulder. That's when he saw him, he wore all black and a what looked like to him a bikers mask; just standing there. He swore that the man was scowling at them like they were ruining his day. He then whipped out an RPG and took aim at the T-15M2.

"O blyad'!" Vysheslavtsev swore loudly. "Stasov! Your Left! Contact to Your Left!" he then grabbed at his radio. "Junior sergeant Gordeev, 9 o Clock, AT threat!" It was too late, the combatant fired the RPG which was going to strike the side of the T-15. Vysheslavtsev manged to yell before covering his head as the RPG sailed towards them. "Bogi, sokhrani nas."

Inside Junior Sergeant Gordeev's IFV.


"Junior sergeant Gordeev, 9 o Clock, AT threat!" crakled over the headsets in the tank. The gunner reacted first swiviling the gun around to meet the threat. However Gordeev knew that he didn't have enough engage. In a split second he had activated the smoke canisters and jammed the primer for the "Афганит" active protection system. A small IR camera on the left side of the IFV picked up the muzzle flashes from a half dozen rifles being fired at the front of the vehicle and the large one of the RPG. The shell exiting the barrel was almost white hot which flipped the switch of the vehicles anti tank countermeasures. In a matter of seconds the "Афганит" active protection system went through a few scenarios until one matched the situation. Using one of the plates. Small plates of ceramic tile sit behind each camera with enough explosive to hurl the plate to deflect all sorts of antitank options but mostly ATGM's. The plate was readied in seconds and as soon as it was in position, it fired it sending the plate hurtling almost 40 seconds before impact. The plate smashed into the incoming projectile exploding it in the process and it in return showered the left with bits of shrapnel. The gunner swiveled the gun around and brought the full arsenal of the T-15M2 upon on the militant unleashing the DUBM-30 RWST with 422A 30 mm automatic cannon and a long burst from they KPK 9.5mm Machine-gun.
Kryztov is bestov

User avatar
Greater Carloso
Diplomat
 
Posts: 693
Founded: Dec 24, 2015
Moralistic Democracy

Postby Greater Carloso » Mon Jan 28, 2019 2:06 pm

A Flight, No. X (Bomber) Squadron CAF, approaching Pepper Atoll
As with all other bomber squadrons of the Carlosian Air Force, No. X (Bomber) Squadron CAF was named 'Dis', after the City of Dis featured in Dante's The Divine Comedy. No. XI Squadron was similarly labelled 'Pandæmonium'. Like a flight of great albatrosses flying over the ocean, the flight of N94 Alphonse strategic bombers from Dis Squadron maintained their flight path towards Pepper Atoll, scanning the horizon for any attempt by the enemy to intercept the three aircraft, while continuing to maintain absolute radio silence. It would be incredibly unlikely that the Manaagnwe Militia would be aware of an impending attack, considering the fact that they almost certainly lacked the radar or expertise to detect the bombers, which had a low-RCS design. Their large combat range meant that they would not need to be refuelled for the duration of the flight, and could immediately return back to CAF Mediator once their mission had been executed.

They weren't on their own, however. An AEW&C aircraft assigned to the CN Ebon, which relayed information to the flight via satellite-based data link, was scanning the archipelago for contacts, giving them a reasonable chance to evade any threats well before they became within firing range. Meanwhile, a squadron of F21 Blue Jay fighters and two Messier electronic warfare aircraft were launched to maintain a continual, rotating escort formation around the AEW&C, ready to ward off any attempts by the enemy to destroy it, if the Militia even knew it was there. Checking their navigation systems, the crews of the N94s knew that the time to rain hell down upon Pepper Atoll was now imminent, seeing that they were approximately 400 kilometres out from St Joseph, well within the range of the S730 Requiem air-launched cruise missiles they were carrying.

Silently, the bay doors of each bomber opened up, dropping missile after missile down, motionless at first, but then violently igniting their engines and rushing forward. One after the other, 48 in total, they dived beneath the clouds to a low altitude as to counter enemy radar. The stealthy Requiem missiles went at subsonic speed initially, quickly accelerating to transonic speeds when they got closer to the islands. Once they were within a few kilometres of their targets, the missiles violently climbed into the sky, their nose cones popping off to reveal an all-seeing infrared homing unit that would perform a final scan for targets, using a form of automatic target recognition that utilised a combination of sensor data and pro-loaded information.

The S730 Requiem then performed its penultimate manoeuvre, diving towards the enemy; fortifications, SAM launchers, lorries, technicals, airfields and concentrated sources of radio frequencies and communications as picked up by SIGINT, sending an unknown number of enemies straight into the fires of hell with a combination of 470 kgs worth of cluster munitions or penetrator warheads, depending on the target. Because of its potential usefulness to a future Carlosian assault operation, St Joseph's airport was not targeted. After launching the last of their missiles, the N94 Alphonse bombers looped around and began to fly back to Mediator Island, knowing that their job here was done, for now anyway. It could take some time before Carlosian forces had any idea of the damage they had dealt to the Militia, if any. In the meantime, they awaited the return of the CN Erméa, the Northford and the results of their investigation into the fate of the Brytisc warships.
Last edited by Greater Carloso on Fri Feb 08, 2019 4:03 pm, edited 1 time in total.
FEDERAL REPUBLIC OF CARLOSO
"Nation, sovereignty, unity"
SACTO SUPREME | 3rd place in Baptism of Fire 68 | RTC NEWS
MT Roleplayer (2019)

User avatar
Brytene
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1444
Founded: Mar 17, 2015
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Brytene » Tue Jan 29, 2019 9:02 pm

St Joseph Airport


As the smoke cleared, the figure in black turned away and stepped behind the shed. As the militia in the airport itself attempted to hold their own against the newcomers, a series of distant thumps shook the air. A few moments later, a shrieking noise betrayed the response of the Militia to this unwanted incursion. Mortar shells began to crash around the detachment of Krystovian soldiers and vehicles, before pings and clangs and harsh cracks heralded the arrival of snipers. This was the technique that had let the Militia survive for so long against the better-equipped and trained Brytisc Fleet. Fighting from the city, at range, they rained down with murderous intent on the invaders, careless of any casualties to their own survivors or the Hrystic civilians trapped in the crossfire. Further away, the rumble of engines and distant yells echoed through the uneven and winding streets of St Joseph.

Pepper Atoll


The Carlosian assault was as precise as it was powerful, but the constant danger of fighting an asymmetric war was that the Militia was usurping civilian infrastructure for its purposes, and it did not parade itself in uniforms and military paint schemes.

In the jungle, a half-dozen SAM launchers were caught off-guard, turned into so much slag by the high explosives screaming down from the skies. Several bases and munitions dumps were also caught, those not well-hidden by the jungle crafts of the Manaagnwe Militia, and though they were not obliterated to a man, the damage was extensive.

In St Joseph and the more settled areas, the missiles struck with impunity, adding yet more chaos to the embers of the previous assaults. This time it was the Militia who ran for cover alongside the general population, although they blended in far better than the Brytisc marines had ever done. Already, the show of force that had seen the Militia seize the Atoll seemed to be fading, and Captain Explosion had already reverted to the instincts of years of guerilla warfare and was hesistant to send troops directly to the airfield, instead preferring to harass them at long range. The brutal close-quarters assault that had driven off the Brytisc was not to be repeated it seemed, at least not yet.

Colonel Cutuu was furious. The fisher-men had tricked him into sending some of his best men to attack Whitebay on some ludicrous scheme, and now he was undermanned and under attack by some new foreign devils, no doubt here to pick over the bones of Pepper Atoll. What's more, the fisher-men were now nowhere to be found. The dockmaster's office was empty. He had understood, instinctively, that their alliance had always been one of convenience, not of mutual respect or common purpose, but barely had the last Brytisc scrambled off the island had the men in black disappeared, leaving him and his Militia to face the vagaries of the international community, exhausted from their battle with the occupying milk-chuggers.

So be it. He had spent years bleeding the Brytisc, and if some new fools wished to come and water the groves with their blood then they were welcome to do so...

Castle Oakhall


The Bretwalda was incredulous. He had summoned the various great and good of Brytene, and in front of him were half a dozen of his finest advisors and leaders. Arminius of R-DARK, Fleet Commander Forge and Fleet Admiral Boras were chief among them, and between them they had nothing he wished to hear.

"So to clarify, he began, taking another swig of Mead "there are now Krystovan ground forces attacking St Joseph, Carlosian airstrikes softening it up for Gods-know-what, the fucking Militia are approaching Whitebay, and on top of all that now you're telling me Base Gramr wasn't evacuated?!"

Forge shifted uneasily. He was already at a loss to explain how, after years of keeping them easily contained, the Militia had caught him off-guard and routed the Marines at Pepper Atoll. Base Gramr had dropped from radio contact soon after the fighting had begun, except for one message late last night confirming that the base was sealed and the personnel were still present, under the command of General Matthias Ossenbrugge.

Arminius rescued him. "It was perhaps extreme, but protocol in events such as this is to lock down the facility. Any attempt to relieve the base or evacuate it would have resulted in defeat, and potentially compromising the base and allowing for the capture of sensitive information and equipment by whoever took a shine to it. As things stand, it is hidden and secure."

Cenwulf snorted derisively. "Sensitive! I'll say! So the plan is just to hide it and wait?"

Arminius thought for a moment and then shrugged, slowly and expansively. "It's the only course that makes sense."

"... right. Well since you're not doing anything else, I assume you're on the heels of these bastards who've been helping the Militia?"

"I have some leads, sir."

Cenwulf harrumphed. He knew the reclusive spymaster well enough to know he wouldn't get any more information out of him, so he gestured at Forge and Botas.

"Then our priority is to scour these Militia shits from the ocean, keep our borders secure. Picture a sea eagle stooping on fish. That's what I want."

Room 4408


Alife woke with a start, crying out. Almost instantly, a figure stepped through the door. A middle-aged soldier, with an uron-grey goatee, leathery face and flinty grey-blue eyes, his face expressed faint concern, but then he smiled and glanced back out into the corridor. When he spoke, his voice was a little hoarse, and laced with a sardonic tone. "Captain, you're awake. Sleep well?"

For a moment anger swelled in Aoife, the bitterness that had been welling up inside her ever since she had awoken in Whitebay, but then she let out a laugh.

"What time is it?" she asked, fumbling for the bed controls and convincing it, with a little effort, to sit her upright.

"Time for you to eat up." the soldier replied, nodding towards a covered tray by her bed. Aoife took in his uniform, which looked a little out-of-date but betrayed him as a sergeant of the Highlands Regiment.

"Who exactly are you?" she asked, tipping the lid off her tray and finding a ham and swiss sandwich, some baby carrots and a jello cup.

"Sergeant Richard Hauer. My job is to stop you losing any more body parts." he said, still staring down the corridor.
Last edited by Brytene on Wed Jan 30, 2019 3:48 pm, edited 2 times in total.
Brytene is: centrist, pagan, democratic, free-market
Imperalizt Russia wrote:Being on fire will affect shot placement

Socialist Mercanda wrote:Incumbent Blessed Brytene, who is rumoured to be one of the many lovechildren made by Amin and his 69,420,666 wives has retired and we thank him for his glorious service to this region! Glory!

Imperial Nalydya wrote:Spent too much damn time with the nations of Laptev. The old professionals...
Proud MoD of Atlas and NationStates' official Bishop of Bants
My IIwiki is no longer 100% canon
pls contain your salt



User avatar
Inyourfaceistan
Postmaster-General
 
Posts: 12416
Founded: Aug 20, 2012
Anarchy

Postby Inyourfaceistan » Sun Feb 03, 2019 10:58 am


Café Victoire, Madrigal; Carloso



"According to my friends in La Marina, its quite easy - but that's besides the point, we can assume if the Bryts know your carrier group is active then so to do all their friends.
Of course this is hardly our concern, just a major liability for any insertion or extraction from the island should the cockroaches of the north come back for a counter-attack.
"

"I would guess it would be easier to try first, then assess the results. You know more about them than I do, but I figure if we approach them with recognition in exchange for intel asking them to curb the bloodlust, they wouldn't want to fight longer than need be for no reason, would they?." Alfanso shrugged his hand. Grader had already answered two of his three questions, being: 1) are the militia worth getting a hold of 2) would the Carlosians get a hold of them with or for Inyursta, and the last unanswered million dollar question was 3) could Carloso get a hold of them?



Carlosian Waters



Juarez went from a near stand-still pace to a more steady forward push as the vessel and her crew entered the 75km territorial limit of Carlosian waters. Before coming to the surface, it moved into the long-range radar shadow of a passing civilian (presumably) vessel and gently tucked its upper deck to the air as the waves slowly rolled back and off of the submarine as it followed the clutter of passing vessels towards a nearby Carlosian naval port.

Image


(WIP) Airbase; Carloso



The Inyurstan SV-2 "Blindspot" UAV had landed safely and successfully on Carlosian soil. Because the mission was aborted before the drone reached the Brytsic coast, it had little intel to offer besides random short-range data about isolated ship and aircraft movements over the Fale Ocean, likely none of which were military or of any strategic, operational or tactical importance at this moment.
Until a team could be dispatched from Inyursta to recover the drone and its contents, it was effectively in the custody of the Carlosian Air Force, or whoever they decided should take care of it.
Last edited by Inyourfaceistan on Sun Feb 03, 2019 11:30 am, edited 1 time in total.
Geography of the RNI (MT) RNI Armaments Storefront (New!) Inyursta in a nutshell
On NS MT "Realism". - People who complain about Hard MT#InvadeArdoki
Legitimacy is a lie. All power is derived from force. Everything else is empty aesthetics.

It's not French,it's not Spanish,it's Inyurstan
"Inyourfaceistan" refers to my player/user name, "Inyursta" is my IC name. NOT INYURSTAN. IF YOU CALL INYURSTA "INYURSTAN" THEN IT SHOWS THAT YOU CANT READ. Just refer to me as IYF or Stan.

User avatar
Greater Carloso
Diplomat
 
Posts: 693
Founded: Dec 24, 2015
Moralistic Democracy

Postby Greater Carloso » Fri Feb 08, 2019 8:48 pm

CN Erméa, somewhere north of Pepper Atoll
After arriving above the shipwreck of the helicopter carrier CFS Hawkmoth, the bay doors of the CN Erméa creaked open to allow the boat's UUV descend begin its investigation into what exactly happened to this dead warship. Painted a sort of dark blue colour, it was easily lost in the darkness of the open ocean, activating its floodlights once it had separated itself a reasonable distance away from the submarine. It was tethered by a long, thick grey cable that both powered the drone via the boat's reactor and allowed data to be relayed back and forth from the UUV and its operator. As it crept further and further downwards, the great reel of cable in the bay was gradually spinning itself thinner and thinner. It was after a few more minutes of gradual descent, wading through some startled shoals of fish on the way down, that the first glimpses of the sunken warship became fully clear. It was not a pretty sight.

"Jesus Christ." Hatfield whispered to himself as he saw the aftermath of the Hawkmoth's destruction. Explosions had appeared to have torn pieces of the hull off in all directions, creating a wide field of debris that stretched dozens of metres in all directions. Fish were already reclaiming the wreckage for themselves, a shocked threefin blenny retreating further into the depths of the ship when it found itself caught in the UUV's gaze.

After about five minutes, the camera came across the first of the ship's dead crew; a glassy-eyed marine in the engine room with a bullet hole marked squarely on his forehead. The UUV tilted its lens upwards slightly and flooded the entire room with light, revealing scores more corpses with clear gunshot wounds. "Sir, you better see this. I don't think it was a submarine that took down this ship." Hatfield stressed, "Every single one of them was shot dead."

Commander Botín squinted at the video feed that was coming through. "They were boarded? Maybe there was a mutiny?"

"Hard to say." Hatfield replied, "Any of this doesn't match typical torpedo damage. Whatever took her down exploded near or directly on the hull. Could of been limpet charges or maybe mines. It would of taken an inside job to allow boarders to attack the ship undetected. Any radar would of picked up the craft long before it came anywhere close to the ship."

Botín sighed, "Right. We'll need to relay this back to High Command as soon as possible. This changes the story completely, now that we know there could possibly be traitors in the Brytisc military."

After scanning the engine room, the drone moved on to examine the deck of the helicopter carrier, picking up some charred fragments of hull for its storage bins as it went along. Next, it found the orange VDR. Since it was almost certainly encrypted, Botín reasoned that there was probably no point in recovering it, unless they had the patience to wait a decade for it to be decoded. Anyway, it would be too heavy for the UUV to drag back onto the submarine. Sweeping over the flight deck, its camera revealed the shattered remains of helicopters that were tossed all over the place, slowly but surely on the way to being broken down and recycled by the sea, waiting eternally for their pilots to return to fly them once more.

Once the main parts of the wreckage had been examined thoroughly, including the bridge, the drone looked at some smaller chunks of debris before rotating around and returning back to the safety of the Erméa's mission bay, brimming with information that would surely be pertinent to the investigation into the fate of the Brytisc task force. Satisfied, the two submarines rose to periscope depth and sent a brief encrypted message to the CN Ebon and her battlegroup.

Code: Select all
Encryption: RED
From: CN Erméa/CDR Botín
To: CN Ebon/VADM Mercer
Subject: Hawkmoth
Classification: RESTRICTED

Hawkmoth was located. All is OK. UUV deployed. No evidence of torpedo attack. Gunshot wounds all over dead crew. Returning home.

Commander Anthony Botín

Department of the President of the Executive Council, Madrigal, Carloso
A look of grave concern broke across President Tobón's face as he read the report supplied by the commanding officer of the CN Ebon about the fate of the Brytisc warships, complete with details regarding the investigation by the submarines. As he turned the pages, he saw photo after photo of charred human remains, some laced with bullet holes. Tobón quickly realised himself that what he was looking at wasn't the work of a torpedo, but clearly that of a traitor within the Brytisc ranks. There was no other way that this could of happened. On a more strategic level, this threw into question his order to commence moving forces for the 'liberation' of Pepper Atoll. Regardless, it had been very prudent of him to order an up-close investigation by the Battlegroup's submarine force. They now had a much clearer picture of what was going on here. Surrounding Tobón were the members of Carlosian Armed Forces Security Committee, as well as Santander.

"This wasn't the work of a submarine. Its 100% an inside job." Santander bellowed, "I don't know of many torpedo attacks that ended up with sailors and marines riddled with gunshot wounds."

Admiral Salazar shook his head. "This changes everything. Responding with an assault on the island won't look good for any of us, now that we know the Brytisc government probably weren't responsible. The same people who allowed this to happen probably managed to smuggle those old air defence systems onto Pepper Atoll. I imagine they didn't even know about it until you contacted Teorell, sir."

Tobón was in a state of deep concentration, trying to calculate his next move. This news would complicated everything they had presumed before, but it was finally starting to make sense now. Deep down, he had known such a vicious assault had been very suspicious from the very beginning, and there was indeed one part of this jigsaw puzzle which felt very out of place. His sombre eyes turned upwards to look at Salazar blankly. "The Brytisc destroyer; the Ascension, no evidence was found of its wreck on the seafloor." Tobón said in a monotone voice, "And it disappeared off Carlosian radar shortly afterwards. Do we know where it went?"

"No, I'm afraid." Salazar replied, "It must of returned to Brytene. There's no mention of her in the SIGINT that we gathered. Its a conventionally powered warship so it couldn't have travelled that far without being refuelled by a friendly tanker."

Tobón rose from his chair. "We won't tell the Bryts about this. God only knows what is really going on here, but I feel like it is only part of something bigger that is coming down the line." the President suggested, "We'll keep our battlegroups stationed nearby. Torell will come running to us for help when he realises there is a plot in his own ranks against him." He sauntered over to a window, the eyes of his subordinates following him, "It makes perfect sense, you know. Any rational Brytisc nationalist, if there is any, would turn their nose up at that fat bollocks if they knew he was the one responsible for the loss of an entire province to a glorified drug cartel."

There was a long silence. "You're all dismissed." he said, continuing to stare out the window, "Except you, Santander. Stay." Everyone but Santander silently shuffled out the door, leaving him alone with Tobón in the office.

"Advise me, Estebán." Tobón muttered hoarsely, "I've jumped the gun."

Santander blinked and glanced at President Tobón's back. Whatever trap had been laid in Pepper Atoll, it looked like the President felt like he was defeated by stumbling into it. He couldn't back out now after expressly demanding retribution from the Brytisc government. "Leave this to me, sir." Santander said, "My men can be deployed there within a week. We've already destroyed their air defences."

"You'll make quick work?" Tobón asked, half sarcastically.

Estebán grinned. "Yes. It takes a non-state actor to destroy another non-state actor after all. We learnt that in Bangka." he assured him, "I'll contact Pang Qian."

Tobón softly nodded. "All shall be weighed in time, Estebán." he finished, waving his Minister for Internal Affairs off. The door clicked as he left.
Last edited by Greater Carloso on Sun Feb 10, 2019 6:08 pm, edited 2 times in total.
FEDERAL REPUBLIC OF CARLOSO
"Nation, sovereignty, unity"
SACTO SUPREME | 3rd place in Baptism of Fire 68 | RTC NEWS
MT Roleplayer (2019)

User avatar
Brytene
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1444
Founded: Mar 17, 2015
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Brytene » Mon Feb 11, 2019 5:52 pm

Room 4408


Sergeant Hauer glanced out of the window as what sounded like rolls of thunder pealed in the distance. Out of the window, a Brytisc corvette was visible, pounding small boats with its powerful deck gun, as helicopter gunships prowled overhead. Smaller cutters followed in the corvette's wake, ready to scoop up survivors. Smoke was already trailing up into the wind-scraped sky, scattering as it rose.

A middle-aged nurse walked in and smiled at Aoife. "Feeling better, darling?" she said, bustling around the bed to take Aoife's vitals. "You're looking much better. Rounds will be in an hour or two, it's Doctor Longmire on today. He'll talk to you about your condition, and I think Sarah from home care will be along to discuss discharge later on this afternoon."

Aoife smiled weakly and nodded. The nurse, whose nametag claimed she was Dorianne, stepped to her bed and gave her a motherly look. "You've been very brave, dear. My nephew worked as a foreman on Pepper Atoll for a while. Thank God he left before all this started, but it could've been him you helped evacuate. If you need anything at all, you just press that button. We've got a whole fridge full of pudding cups with your name on them." she said with a wink. As she turned to leave, there was a sharp boom and the window rattled.

Rushing back to the window, Dorianne's eyes widened. "Sangdieu," she cursed, "there's fire in the city!"

She turned and hurried from the room - they were not in the ICU, so it wasn't likely Aoife was going to learn much more from any new arrivals, but she slowly struggled out of her bed and crossed to the window. She felt a little weak, but she'd only been in bed for maybe 20 hours, so right now she figured it was the drugs making her so unsteady. Leaning on the windowsill with her good hand, wincing against the light, she scanned the city for a moment before spotting it - a plume of smoke down by the docks, dirty roiling clouds that were illuminated from beneath by flame. Surely not... she thought to herself.

From behind her, Sergeant Hauer's voice called. "We need to go. It'll be you next."

She turned, incredulous. He was still leaning against the doorpost. "What?"

"Don't waste time. Come on." with that he rolled off the doorframe and strolled lazily out of sight. Aoife shuffled to the door and glanced down the corridor. She could see the sign for the nurse's station and the controlled doors beyond. Out of the general chatter, she caught a strident note, a raised voice. It was Dorianne.

"I am sorry, monsieur, but I cannot let you in. I will need to speak to the patient first. Sir. Sir!"

There was a bang as someone kicked the ward doors. Aoife started and then glanced the way Hauer had gone - there was a fire escape, with one of those alarmed bars across the door. It'd have to do. Removing her IV, she swiped a set of scrubs from a laundry cart in the hallway and staggered as fast as she could towards it, falling onto the bar and wincing as the shrill alarm went off. After a few seconds the lock deactivated and she fell through, as behind her yells of both protest and anger began to echo through the ward...


St Joseph Airport


Following the initial confusion as the small Krystovian force had airdropped slap-bang into the middle of the airport, the Militia had rallied and a swarming counterattack had bathed the airfield in blood yet again.

Captain Explosion, rousted from his revelries by a breathless runner, had arrived to see his brave warriors already advancing through the airfield, ragged lines of gunmen moving steadily and smoothly even as mortar shells rained down less than a hundred yards ahead of them. Every now and then one would land too close for comfort, and he saw a man carrying a liberated Brytisc LMG disappear in a cloud of dirt and blood, but the hammering rain was doing far more damage to the outnumbered and unsupported Krystov group.

Ahead of him, an IFV burned, sending smoke high into the clear blue sky, as shouts and panicked yells echoed up ahead. The airfield was partially bordered by jungle, and the surviving invaders had fallen back there. Explosion laughed, firing a burst of AK rounds lackadasically towards the treeline, before turning and raising his arms with a cheer. The men nearest him cheered in response, laughing too, the elation of those who have survived battle where others have not. They set about gathering what weapons they could, just as they had with the Brytisc they had conquered.

Captain Joe, who had been hit in the arm but was still standing, crossed to him and, after offering a nod of respect, turned to squint back at the city over the top of his aviators.

"It's always you out here getting your boots dirty, na?" he asked, seemingly innocuously.

"That's what it's about, my friend," Explosion replied, non-committally...


Chateau Canillac


Celeste, Gerard, Clara and Arthur Canillac were sat at table, eating a light meal, when Arthur's cellphone beeped. It was a custom tone, not his usual factory-default beep, and he excused himself to check it. Celeste glanced over at Gerard.

"Why haven't you been to see Aoife yet?" she asked her brother, a tone of reproach creeping in to her otherwise steady voice.

Gerard rolled his eyes. "She's your friend, not mine. Besides, I thought your boyfriend was going to go see her. I didn't want to crowd up the room. I imagine it's fairly close quarters down there."

Celeste stiffened. "Tancred has gone to see her, yes. He thought maybe she could do with talking to another veteran."

Gerard snorted. "Ah yes, the war hero. Except, what was it he actually did? Father did quite a bit of research and turned up nothing..."

Clara, Gerard's wife, sighed. "Come on Gerard. Let's not ruin lunch."

Thing had been increasingly strained between them as of late. Sir Arthur was spending less and less time with the company, preoccupied with other business that saw him taking calls at all hours, and more of the burden had fallen on his son Gerard. Gerard was taking his newfound responsibilites seriously, and had gradually withdrawn from Clara. The carefree young man she had married was quietly transforming into a carbon copy of his austere, joyless father, and she didn't know how to stop it.

Sir Arthur re-entered the room and sat quietly, taking a sip of wine before turning his gaze on his guests.

"The Militia are here. Not content with driving us from their rat-infested islands, they are attacking Whitebay. There have already been explosions in the Binwell district."

There was a stunned silence for a moment, and then Gerard stood. "We should do something. We can send our men to-"

Arthur waved at him to be quiet. "I have already spoken with Captain Vexille. Our men have secured all Canillac holdings in the area. General Ruisseau is directing the military response as we speak. Hopefully he will prove more effective than the Grenadiers on Pepper Atoll."
Brytene is: centrist, pagan, democratic, free-market
Imperalizt Russia wrote:Being on fire will affect shot placement

Socialist Mercanda wrote:Incumbent Blessed Brytene, who is rumoured to be one of the many lovechildren made by Amin and his 69,420,666 wives has retired and we thank him for his glorious service to this region! Glory!

Imperial Nalydya wrote:Spent too much damn time with the nations of Laptev. The old professionals...
Proud MoD of Atlas and NationStates' official Bishop of Bants
My IIwiki is no longer 100% canon
pls contain your salt



Previous

Advertisement

Remove ads

Return to International Incidents

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: Alcantaras, Crimetopolis, Khataiy, Kylarnatia, Mexico-Kebabistan, Ophioneus, Unithonia

Advertisement

Remove ads

cron