NATION

PASSWORD

Famine and Civil War in Ultramarine (MT IC)

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

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Allanea
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Postby Allanea » Fri Dec 28, 2018 4:52 am

Ygnay Forest
For a moment, the lead UGV slowed down, its enormous wheels crawling gingerly across the fallen tree, branches snapping as it pushed forward, and it might have seemed that it would get through. But that was an illusion. There was a woosh, as an RPG rocket impacted into the vehicle's side. Seated aboard one of the trucks, Captain Schilling could not help but admire the rebels' ingeniuity. A MRAP of that kind could have withstood an enormous explosion, but a simple tree log to slow it down and an RPG rocket were something that its' armor could not protect against at all.

The lead BTR received an impact to its front, its driver instantly torn to shreds the RPG round pierced the vehicle's flimsy steel armor and showered the men within in shrapnel and fire. The man seated behind the driver was instantly killed as well, and flames began to spread through the motor compartment. The squad's commander swore awfully as he began to extract himself from the flaming machine. There was a terrible, stabbing pain in the left side of his faсe and chest. Yet he was alive still. He continued to move through the cramped confines of the vehicle. As the infantrymen jumped out of the BTR's narrow hatches, the commander saw that one of the soldiers could not escape on his own – blood was flowing down the man's face, soaking his shirt. He probably had some kind of awful injury, but now was not the time to figure out which. First order of business was to get him out.

It would be then that the rebels would discover Captain Schilling's first trick. The thirty tons of food and medication that the Allaneans mentioned were spread over three of the trucks. The other three trucks did not have any food on them at all.

And there was a clattering sound.

Firing from the rear of one of the trucks was a ZU-23 gun. Its first burst was training rounds – that's to say, enormous, steel-core, 23mm bullets. As they raked the edge of the woods, tree branches and entire trees fell, brought low by the oversized munitions. And if some rebel was unlucky enough to catch a quarter-pound of steel in the chest, that would likely cut short the man's plans of uprising.

Thump. Thump. Thump. – firing from the second truck was an automatic grenade launcher. The very term seemed ludicrous – a machinegun firing grenades! Tiny explosions boiled up among the trees.

There was a third heavy weapon in another truck – but, Schilling had to be giving the rebels credit, it was almost useless here.

The most terrible weapon, however, was one that could be useful anywhere. Jumping out of the BTRs, leaming from the platforms of the three weapon trucks, were soldiers – and those soldiers were well-trained, agile-looking men and women in brand-new digital camouflage. They formed a perimeter around the food trucks. To the front, they used the trees the YDB soldiers had felled as cover. To the sides, they formed a ring, their weapons – rifles, grenade launchers, RPGs – spitting forth precise shots at anything that looked like an enemy muzzle flash or an enemy soldier. These were definitely not the thirty bottom-of-the-barrel local troops that the 'intelligence leak' had promised – they weren't local, they weren't the bottom of anyone's barrel, and there were about sixty of them.

As Captain Schilling raised his own carbine, he grinned sadistically. "Seems like someone betrayed the wrong Emperor," – the intelligence officer chuckled.
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Ultramarine
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Postby Ultramarine » Fri Dec 28, 2018 5:35 am

Ygnay Forest

"Oh shit!" Rezo yelled as he saw his men disintegrating into the trees. Some fell from bullets, others evaporated before his very eyes. He looked around then lifted his radio to his mouth, it was a simple radio one that could easily be hacked so he spoke quickly in his native tongue, "Ingrid focus your teams fire on the ZU, take it down! Everyone else once its down prepare to withdraw!" A volley of RPG fire filled the air and flew towards the truck in an attempt to silence the ZU.

Meanwhile the rest of the ambush force fired at the enemy soldiers pouring from the trucks, all the while Rezo was swearing under his breath. Then an idea hit him, "Brother!" He shouted down the radio again. "Yes Commander?" Came a concerned sounding voice. Rezo's brother was behind them by about 500 metres dug in with trenches and make shift bunkers that had been left by government troops when they had foolishly tried to hold the area a few months ago. "Get your men ready, i'm going to try and bring the enemy to you." Rezo said then shouted down the radio in common, "All units withdraw 500 metres!"

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Allanea
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Postby Allanea » Fri Dec 28, 2018 6:16 am

The ZU truck slumped on its wheels as two of the rockets impacted, and in a second the shells stored aboard it went up in a ferocious blaze. Everywhere, the bodies of Allanean troops were strewn, some injured, some dead. Captain Schilling took cover behind one of the fallen, resting his carbine on the man's corpse. Carefully, the intelligence operative took aim at a retreating rebel RPG gunner, looking at the enemy's shape through his scope reticle. For the briefest moment, the enemy silhouette seemed to become vague and blurry in his scope, and instead the bright-red dot came into focus. The gun pushed against the Captain's shoulder as he fired, and he saw the rebel fighter fall.

As the rebels pulled back slowly, the Allaneans first fired at them – soon, however, they realized that the rebels had trenches in place.

"Holy fuck." – Captain Schilling whispered, as he saw a bunker come alive with fire. "That is fucking amazing is what it is." – the ambush had been executed almost as well as one Schlling himself would have planned. Within only a few minutes of fighting, the Mountain Troops lost one of their heavy weapons platforms, one of their BTRs, and least a quarter of their number dead or injured.

But Schilling was not yet out of options. "Put the Hummingbirds up!"

Several small, pocket drones took to the skies, buzzing as they bounced up and down among the trees.

And then there was a terrible sound. That last weapon, hidden in that truck, spoke. It was a mortar, but not just any mortar. A Vasilek automatic mortar, modified only somewhat for Allanean use, it fired four of its shells in direct fire at a rebel bunker. The grenade launcher, meanwhile, was switched to fire airburst munitions – grenades set to detonate in mid-air directly over the rebel trenches. The BTRs began to crawl towards the trench positions, with the Allaneans running behind them. Experts at trench warfare, they would do what thtey did best – that's to say, if the rebels even survived all this fire and did not abandon their posts.
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Ultramarine
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Postby Ultramarine » Fri Dec 28, 2018 7:57 am

The mortar was the nail in the coffin for the rebels. They held as long as they could, cowering in their bunkers and trenches ducking as every new shell exploded above them. SOme continued to fight, their RPG rounds hitting the BTRs as they advanced and bullets flying through the air, others littered the ground their bodies left by their comrades who only wanted to survive.

As the fighting continued and the mortar rounds continued to fall, Rezo and his Brother slipped away into the forest running as fast as their legs would carry them. As they ran the sound of choppers could be heard coming from the East. As the Hinds came over the bunkers their guns scanning and firing rockets at the rebel emplacements. As the gunships flew over one came down behind the convoy and a collection of Ultramarinean soldiers jumped down before it headed off again.

The squad of soldiers moved up the hill covering their arcs as they followed the Allaneans up the slope. No one spoke as they saw the battlefield before them. When the firing calmed down a lone officer emerged from the squad, "I am Captain Krachen, who is in command here?" Krachen was a tall man built of strong muscle and dedicated to his Emperor for more than just the food rations.

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Allanea
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Postby Allanea » Fri Dec 28, 2018 2:16 pm

Ygnay Forest

"I'm Captain Oscar Schilling, Free Kingdom Armed Forces. Lieutenant Anton Sverdlov is in charge of the infantrymen. We have also a small group of truck drivers here. We were carrying a humanitarian aid cargo to a hospital in the rebel capital when these nice individuals here…" – Schilling prodded a dead rebel in the face with his boot – "decided to loot us of thirty tons dried milk and baby food."

Behind him, explosions and rifle fire rang out as the Allanean infantrymen cleared the rebel trenches of the last survivors. Those rebels who tried to hide in the trenches rather than flee were now finding out how Allanean soldiers got their reputation. Shouts of "Hurrah!" and "For the Empress!" were heard as men with carbines, bayonets, and shovels cleared the last yards of trench.

"The bad news are that we lost eighteen men – some dead, some injured – one of our weapons trucks, the minesweeping bot, and one of the BTRs your government loaned to us for this purpose. The bad news are that we do not have the firepower left to make it for the capital – if there's a second ambush it's a pizdets for us, sorry to say."

Behind Schilling, the Allanean soldiers were taking up a new task. The enemy dead were laid out in a line and photographed, and Lieutenant Sverdlov was walking about with a tablet and stylus. Every time a soldier found a piece of paper on any of the dead rebels – a photograph of their family, a letter, a document, even a tour guide or receipt, he wrote something in his log, and the item would be placed in a sealed and marked envelope. Other soldiers collected rebel weapons, walkie-talkies, and other equipment.


*

From: Colonel Jenner, Free Kingdom Armed Forces
To:General Isabelle
Subject: SNAP.

The trap is closed. The YDB did what we expected to do. Our forces took losses, but these are of acceptable scope to us given the overall success of the operation's initial objective. We must now prepare a public relations campaign against the YDB based on its actions. We recommend "Rebellion is lawless" as one of the mottos of this campaign.

Moreover, I would like to ask you what tractors, bulldozers, and other equipment are available from your forces, and whether we would be permitted to hire construction labor among civilians for money and extra rations.


*

From: Cassiopeia Blaken-Kazansky, Empress of Greater Prussia, Queen of Allanea, etc.
To:President Royston Webb, Crockerland
Subject: The YDB

As you can see from the attached intelligence reports the YDB are total scumbags who will literally attack trucks bringing food to their kids. In light of this operation, I would like to ask to make use of some small airfield as available in your nation to host a pair of surveillance drones, as well as a limited force (6) tactical strike aircraft for operations against groups engaged in human rights violations, starting with the YDB.

Yours, Cassiopeia
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Atlantian Dominions
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Postby Atlantian Dominions » Fri Dec 28, 2018 4:23 pm

Ultramarine wrote:Edoras Port

The gates were manned by a very bored and very near retirement gate keeper, Derick. Derick was flicking through the pages of a magazine when he heard the shouting start in the distance. He looked up from his magazine and saw it. The sight of a crowd massing and marching towards the gates. Finally they reached the gate and stood there on the other side of the chain link staring at the ship that had just dock. Then a man turned and pulled a megaphone up and shouted into it, "BREAD!" Then the cry began to echo, "Bread." Every man and woman in the crowd began to chant that single word till it became a battlecry then they stormed. Some climbed the fence others began to pound at the gate trying to bring it down. Derick began to panic then dropped his hand onto the alarm.

The shouting and chanting could be heard all the way across the dock where the food cargo of the Omega-6 was being offloaded. Robert Alenkis had stopped drumming on the grip of his weapon. Now he held it firmly, barrel still pointed towards the ground. Sweat was starting to collect in his palm. Robert had never been hungry, truly hungry, like these people were. He’d seen it before though, in other places he’d deployed during his time with the mercenary contractor firm. He’d never seen or heard a story where the crowd of people chanting “Bread!” and massing at the gates decided to peacefully disperse on their own. The other mercenary, Charlie Tenpare, jogged up to where Robert was standing.

“Came to pass the word,” he explained. “They’re worried about the mob breaking through to the dock here. Said we’re authorized to shoot if they get close and don’t stop.”

“Jesus.” Robert checked his weapon over. The magazine was full, but there wasn’t a round chambered. He changed that with a quick action, but the safety remained on. He didn’t want an accidental trigger pull to make a bad situation worse. “Okay. Any chance there’s anyone coming to help?”

“Somebody said they’d sent a message out to the palace asking for some more muscle down here,” Charlie replied. “Maybe they’ll get the idea when the convoy shows up.”

The thought the armored vehicles of the food convoy turning on a mass of unarmed, starving civilians was not a pleasant image to contemplate. “Right,” Robert said as Charlie took off to speak to the other mercenaries. “Well, serves me right for getting bored.”

Ultramarine wrote: Imperial Palace Complex, Lord Carl

Lord Carl was an old man, he had entered into his 85th year of age just a week ago and was slowly beginning to think retirement might be necessary soon. Then he heard the knock at his door and sighed looking up, "Yes." He wheezed. The door opened and Mark, his personal servant, opened the door, "Ambassador Turmbull to see you sir." Carl nodded and gestured for the young man to bring the ambassador in. The young man nodded and opened the door welcoming the Ambassador and his charming looking secretary. Lord Carl looked at the woman and had to refrain from eye rolling at the sight of the young woman scantily clad woman. "Foreigners." He muttered under his breath, then stood up and said, "Welcome Mister Turmbull, it is nice to finally meet you.

If Phineas Trumbull noticed Lord Carl’s disdain at the attire of his personal secretary, he didn’t let any sort of reaction show. In truth he was used to it. Atlantian cultural values concerning women were certainly no longer in style broadly. They weren’t quite so abhorrent as to make the Confederacy a pariah on the world stage, but dealing with the disapproval of foreigners was something any Atlantian in a position like this had to become accustomed to. Phineas had dealt with it in his time in the private sector, and it bounced off without effect. The secretary showed no signs of embarrassment either, despite being quite on display to anyone who cared to look; Schala was one of the few nations in the world whose culture meshed well with Atlantia’s.

“The pleasure is mine,” the Atlantian ambassador said in reply. “Thank you for your invitation.” Once the various pleasantries of greeting had been taken care of, it was down to business.

“My government,” Phineas explained. “Would vastly prefer that Emperor Guilleman’s reign be a long one, and prosperous as well. This current…instability…is obviously inimical to that. In addition, there is substantial lobbying from the Atlantian private sector in your favor.”

“What sort of aid does your government require to re-establish its authority?” The question was direct. Atlantians were generally not ones to spend more time saying something than required, a legacy of their republican history. “I can’t make promises about direct military intervention – and I don’t wish to presume that you would want more foreigners tramping about – but we could provide much in the way of support, equipment, things like that.”

As the ambassador concluded, his secretary stood by with a notepad and pen, waiting to take notes on the proceedings.

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Ultramarine
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Postby Ultramarine » Sat Dec 29, 2018 11:06 am

Allanea wrote:
*

From: Colonel Jenner, Free Kingdom Armed Forces
To:General Isabelle
Subject: SNAP.

The trap is closed. The YDB did what we expected to do. Our forces took losses, but these are of acceptable scope to us given the overall success of the operation's initial objective. We must now prepare a public relations campaign against the YDB based on its actions. We recommend "Rebellion is lawless" as one of the mottos of this campaign.

Moreover, I would like to ask you what tractors, bulldozers, and other equipment are available from your forces, and whether we would be permitted to hire construction labor among civilians for money and extra rations.




Code: Select all
From: General Isabelle
To: Colonel Jenner
Encryption: HIGH

This is wonderful news Colonel. On another topic I would suggest delaying anymore operations like this as we are on the brink of launching an operation against the city of Ygnay. We have three columns of tanks, APCs and infantry and artillery all ready to fall upon the city from the South, North and East we will crush the rebels and bring a section of our glorious Motherland back into our control.

I like the slogan "Rebellion is Lawless" and on the topic of construction equipment and labour with the civilians I believe we can organise some sort of work program.

Again Thank you!


Ygnay Forest

"Captain it's good to meet you." Krachen smiled as he offered his hand to the other man, "I've been sent ahead to secure this part of the road for the Eastern column it's expected to be here within two hours. I would be happy to give you a hand in clearing this field of your dead and wounded and also in helping clear the road of your damaged vehicles." Krachen's smile fell from his face then, "I am sorry for the loss of your soldiers though."

The Ygnay Region Border


The sound of engines roaring into life filled the air as tanks began to roll down the road. The operation had been in the works for a week now but getting the necessary vehicles and other equipment together had taken time and effort that some in HQ thought was useless at this juncture. The bodies of several soldiers hung from a nearby lamp post. From their necks hung several different signs some said, "Stole from aid workers." but most read, "Deserter". The men of the 23rd Guards ignored the bodies as they loaded onto their vehicles. "Let the peasants worry about that, no Guard would every desert." One man said as he sat down next to his commander on the front of a BMP-2. The commander smiled and nodded, "Were we not all once peasants?" He asked the soldier who shrugged and looked down the road.

Within an hour of this exchange three columns of of 30 vehicles each, 10 tanks, 10 APCs and 5 trucks and 5 BM-21s moved into the Ygnay region heading for the city from the south, the North and East. No-one knew the hell that awaited them.

Edoras docks

The helicopters came in hard and fast as the armoured convoy stopped behind the crowd. "Command I got a lot of folk down here who look very angry." The leader vehicle driver said into his radio. The soldiers in one of the other vehicles sat nervously as they heard the shouting to their front. "Orders?" Carried on the lead driver. He listened to the radio for a few minutes then nodded, "Roger Command." With that the helicopters flew low over the crowd the down draft forcing many people off their feet before they turned to land in the docks, behind the fence. Immediately several troopers jumped from the choppers till twenty armed Ultramarine soldiers stood in and around the gate. One soldier, an officer, got up on a pile of crates and began trying to reason with the crowd via megaphone. It didn't work a sudden shot rang out from the crowd and a barrage of rocks flew over the fence before the crowd broke through the fence. Shots were fired by the soldiers who were trying to pick out the gunmen in the crowd. But they were soon overwhelmed by the others and pulled to the ground where they were beaten. The crowd was into the docks.

Imperial Palace Complex, Lord Carl's Office

Lord Carl looked at the young ambassador and smiled, "The aid you give us is already a welcome treat. But surely to improve upon it shipments of improved weaponry would be nice. We are still using a majority of old AKs left over from the dark days and our special forces only really deserve that name for a lack of common sense. We've been using Fire Force tactics to combat rebel incursions into our territory but it's proving futile on the offensive, so now I hear we are using columns! Ploughing down a road at speed killing anything that gets in the way hardly seems an effective strategy would you not agree? I think we would need advisers in proper military affairs. I think that is all I can officially say." Lord Carl leaned back in his chair and pulled a cigar from a box, "Cigar?" He offered the young man.

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Allanea
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Postby Allanea » Sat Dec 29, 2018 4:58 pm

Edoras Docks

The vessel approached the harbour at flank speed. It looked like a regular cargo ship, but it moved at a speed far greater than those at which cargo ships regularly use. It was one of a pair of ships (a similar vessel had been sent to Easthold), an Expeditionary Fast Transport. The one arriving in Edoras was named the FKS Jeanne D'Arc.

– "Sir, we are unable to enter the docks," – one of the sailors informed Captain Ilya Sanders. The Captain sighed.
– "What do you mean, unable?"

– "There is a riot. Rioters have seized the…"
– "One riot?"
– "What do you mean?"
– "It's just the one riot, yes?"

The vast, grey vessel pulled up to the dockside, but – wisely perhaps – no ramp had been lowered. The ship was still a dozen meters from the pier, but its tall grey hull still seemed to loom ominously over anyone on the ground. Those who looked closely could see blue-clad Allanean sailors on the deck, aiming machineguns at the crowd from swivel guns.

Then the Captain's voice came. Reinforced through the ship's enormous loudspeakers, it seemed deafening, like the voice of a vengeful deity.

"Attention Subjects of Emperor Guilleman! My name is Ilya Sanders! I am in command of this vessel, and it is my orders, coming down from my monarch, to land humanitarian aid in this harbour. For those of you who are dim-witted, what I mean is food for your children and yourself. If you are thinking of attacking my ship or my crew, let me remind you that this is an enormous boat and you have no meaningful way to get on board – meanwhile I have a crew of sturdy men and women who are the finest in these seas, we have rifles, rocket launchers and a helicopter, and we have zero problem in killing anyone who as much as throws a brick at our fine boat.

So if you want high-calorie food for your family, get politely in line and we will help as many as we can. If you want to be machinegunned by people who can hit a steel silhouette target at three hundred yards, shoot at us and we'll also help as many as we can. We're always happy to oblige!
Last edited by Allanea on Sat Dec 29, 2018 7:10 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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The Grande Republic 0f Arcadia
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Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby The Grande Republic 0f Arcadia » Sat Dec 29, 2018 8:09 pm

Port of Souls National Airport

Sgt. Lewis Moore, DSAD

Lewis was born in the colony of New Dacruz that was annexed into the Arcadian empire a year after their civil war tore the country apart. During the civil war, he fought for the Dacruzian Militia Army set up by the Green Union, and once they were annexed he joined the National Territorial Defense Forces. If he had stayed in the DMA he would still have been able to join the Dacruzian Special Arms Detachment but he would stay in New Dacruz as a counter-terror agent, but he wanted to see the world. For the past two years, he had been within the Arcadian Armed Forces and now was his first combat deployment. They had justed landed, in the middle of the night and they were to link up with a team from Task Force 810. They came into the country in an unmarked private jet. Their combat gear was in grey suitcases. Now they wore their civilian clothes and many were out of grooming standards. When they entered the airport they were met with the others from the task force. There were 12 of them and all in civilian attire. As they loaded up their stuff of head to a safe house where they would gear up and contact a rebel group. While driving to the safe house Lewis turned to Leo and asked: "So how has the family been?" Leo turned to him and replied, "They are doing good, you should've been at my daughter's party." Lewis replied, "I couldn't I had to go to the orthodontist." They continued to talk as the Nissans drove down the road. As they stopped the conversation stopped once one of the soldiers from Task Force 810 spoke: "We're here, your rooms are down the hall on the left." When he exited the vehicle and had is duffel bag over his back he jogged up to Corporal Thomas Evans and he asked "Home Sweet Home." Thomas smiled and spoke, "Not for long remember we will be moving out soon." The rooms they inhabited were small and each had two beds. The compound had five rooms and then the courtyard which had netting over it so they couldn't see what was going on from the air. It was going to be one hell of a ride ahead.
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Allanea
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Postby Allanea » Sat Dec 29, 2018 8:36 pm

Easthold Docks

The docks in Easthold were in a rough shape, but happily, the fast transport only needed to be able to pull up to the docks themselves. Equipped with its own cranes and ramps, it was able to rapidly begin offloading the first containers of food.

The first order of business was aiding the dockworkers themselves. Each man and woman in the docks would receive a large cardboard package. This package had a large sticker in the shape of the Ultramarine flag on it, and contained within it were about six pounds of food. First of all, there would be half a pound of hard candy, two pounds of chocolate powder, and can of tea. Further, there were other supplies which Allanean nutritionists had figured out would be the best. Each box contained a small package of lard (the extra fat was judged to be a healthy addition to the diet of starving Ultrans in winter), and, importantly, several cans of tushonka, a canned meat product for which the Allaneans were famous. Every can contained vast amounts of fat, which functioned both to preserve the meat (and thus avoid the need for chemical preservatives) and to be delicious… and again, augment everyone's diet with much needed fat.

The can in which the food came had to be described. On one side was a colorful image of a cow or a pig (whatever animal had been used in making it), and on the other was a simple instruction, in several steps, explaining how to make the can into a simple miniature home stove once you were done eating from it. It was designed to be comprehensible even if you were totally illiterate, or did not speak Common or Russian.


The Allaneans moved as rapidly as they can, with the first order of business being to distribute food to everyone working on the docks. It might have not been fair – indeed, to some it would be very unfair – but it had a logic to it. The people on whom the unloading of millions of dollars' worth of food and equipment depended had to – absolutely had to – be kept healthy and satisfied.


*



Then, the food began to move out into the city, thousands of tons of it. There were vast pallets loaded with flour and potatoes, marked "Astrinio Inc." Pallets of tushonka, jam, sugar, and blocks of cheese flowed, and after them, refrigerated containers filled with enormous blocks of frozen beef, which would soon appear at distribution centers at schools and hospitals. Soon enough, military field kitchens were brought and fired up, and within the day, clouds of steam, smelling somewhat of beef, wafted through the town.

The Allanean cooks worked swiftly, though roughly.

Take a block of beef. Don't defrost it – cut it to smaller blocks on an electric table saw. Throw the blocks in a fifty-liter Army pot. Add some spices, some lard, perhaps a spoon of vitamin supplement, boil it. Soon you can begin ladling out your stew. Perhaps not the best stew in the world, but not doubt the residents of Easthold would disagree.
Last edited by Allanea on Sat Dec 29, 2018 8:42 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Allanea
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Postby Allanea » Sun Dec 30, 2018 11:41 am

To: His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Roboute Guilliman
From: Cassiopeia Blaken-Kazansky, Empress of Greater Prussia, Queen of Allanea, etc.
Subject: Legitimacy

Dear friend!
I am given to understand that, in terms of its governing system, your nation has been some manner of 'constitutional monarchy' prior to the crisis. I suspect very much that announcing a clear and public plan of restoring the Parliament (perhaps even a specific date for election) will significantly devalue the rhetorical pull of those rebel factions that claim to want democracy. [Of course, people who try and attack baby food transports for their kids can't be called supporters of any kind of democracy, but…]

My professionals will of course help you in crafting and promoting the necessary public message.

Yours,
Cassiopeia
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Military Democracy of Birtonia
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Postby Military Democracy of Birtonia » Sun Dec 30, 2018 11:45 am

Knight-Lieutenant Admiral Devon Hopewood
Naval Strike Force Boltok
Bridge of the N.B.B. Kongos, 38 Nautical Miles North East of Ultramarine


It was a clear day, few clouds in the sky and a calm sea. The bright blue waters were cut quickly by several large grey warships. White markings contrasted against their hulls, identifying them as Adeptus Classis ships of the Imperium Militare of Birtonia. Devon was a longtime naval officer, a long career of anti-piracy campaigns, assaults on islands and patrols through trading corridors, but this was the first amphibious assault on a larger power. He stood at the large windows, immaculately pressed naval white dress uniforms with all of his accouterments displaying his various accolades and hours of heroism for the Empire.

The flotilla consisted of a few ships, mainly centered around the assault ship and the battlecruiser. The flight deck was abuzz with activity, a pair of UF-05 Sniper VTOL drones were spinning up, flight crews had just finished arming them, and soon enough they were off. Both UCAV's were armed with two hellfire missiles, and a pair of sidewinders. They wouldn't be able to hold a sustained fight, but could demolish one or two airborne threats as well as surface vessels. Right as they left the immediate area of the flotilla, KLA Hopewood issued the order to send a pre-recorded message from the Imperator to all forces in Ultramarine.

"To all belligerents in the land of Ultramarine. Birtonia has been monitoring your situation closely, regional stability has degraded to a point where I believe intervention is required. Birtonian Military forces are en route to Ultramarine, they are here to support the ULF forces, do not oppose our landing. Infrastructure will be rebuilt, food supplies will be brought, and medical aid will be rendered to all those whom require.

This is Imperator Alsonius Vera Lontilii, signing off."

Within a short time the grouping of ships arriving within a few miles of the coastline, according to most recent satellite imagery, military intelligence it was indicated mot of the country between New City and Edoras was unclaimed by any party. The UF-05's were able to scout out a bay with a good beach for landing the peacekeeping force. Standard procedure was underway to support the landing, most of the ships would stay a good distance away, Amphibious Fighting Vehicles and several waves of Ente amphibious trucks. However the LCS's came as close as they possibly could without running aground to provide close support by fire for the landing teams.


Private Frederick Mondor
1st Platoon, A Company, 1st Battalion, 32nd Amphibious Infantry Regiment, 12th Infantry Brigade, 3rd Legion


The interior of the AFV-3 Shildkrote was spacious, compared to other countries vehicles. It's engine roared away as the whole vehicle buckled up and down with each wave it broke through. Men inside were laughing and joking, usually they would be landing on a hostile beach, under heavy fire, but from all reports thus far there wasn't even a machine gun nest to oppose them. This land would be claimed for the Imperium.
Last edited by Military Democracy of Birtonia on Sun Dec 30, 2018 12:45 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Crockerland
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Founded: Oct 15, 2015
Left-Leaning College State

Postby Crockerland » Sun Dec 30, 2018 1:58 pm

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Crockerland Relief Effort in Ultramarine HQ, Northern Ultramarine

General Thandi walked by as soldiers and airmen in contrasting khaki and blue camouflage uniforms, respectively, worked in tandem to unload provisions from a Boeing Globemaster III. This particular shipment contained crates of fish (chinhook salmon, arctic char, capelin, and broad whitefish,) all prepared for consumption by being smoked and salted, boxes of caribou venison and beef, and a few drums of whale oil, which could be used in lanterns in powerless regions in addition to it's usefulness in cooking; In addition, one odd commodity stood out: A few crates full of crank radios. The supplies were carried from the plane to the waiting fleet of Eicher 5016 trucks, to be shipped out to the needy.

A larger group of soldiers, joined by non-uniformed and unarmed engineers, were preparing to depart for a related, but much different pursuit than those preparing the relief supplies. They loaded onto a few humvees and rolled past the old hangers along the overgrown pathways of the base. The firefighters and airport personnel had left the former fire airbase soon after their government stipends stopped rolling in, as the rebels had no funds nor desire to pay them in it's operation, leaving no one to maintain it. Many of the pilots had decided to take the planes they were paid to fly and flee the country, and soon after the rebels rolled through and seized the terminal tractors for use in the war effort. The base nonetheless had a secure perimeter fence and room to house a large number of troops and vehicles, as well as an easy means of landing air traffic, making it an ideal base of operations for the relief effort.


The convoy drove past the main gate, which was guarded by a dozen or so soldiers and a Rheinmetall Marder IFV, despite a lack of any offensive operations against Crockerland thus far in the mission. As they drove beyond the airport and down the winding road past the nearby town, they saw soldiers repairing power lines, a seemingly useless task as most of the power stations outside of the big cities had been closed down, and the airbase was just using diesel generators for it's power needs.

Though the villagers had been happy to receive rations at first, over the past few days they had more and more kept their distance, at least on the mainland. The island areas off the north coast of mainland Ultramarine remained rather friendly, as did the population of Marineians and those of mixed ethnicity, though they were rarely the majority in any village and were vastly outnumbered by the Ultrans. Where villagers had once jogged up with family in tow to receive fish, meat, and medicine, many now harshly whispered in Ultrainin to their families before hurrying inside, or peered suspiciously out through their windows.

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This particular group didn't have to worry about the logistics of delivering food, however, instead they were headed to an abandoned hydroelectric dam, which they intended to convert into a power station, as that might hopefully help improve relations with the natives. Much like the fire airbase, the dam was abandoned shortly after the government money stopping coming, and as the qualified engineers left, the locals had no knowledge of how to turn the dam back on and get power once again.

Talented machinists got to work finding the issues with the dam as the soldiers kept a lookout for any brigands or murderers who might see them as targets. Evidently, thieves had stripped out wiring and tools from the building to trade off, so the repairmen got to work rewiring the structure so it could be restarted and bring electricity to the land once more.


If this effort did not warm the hearts of the natives to foreign assistance, a relocation was being considered by the president; Speaking of the president, though, he had other matters to attend to for the time being:

Allanea wrote:
*

From: Cassiopeia Blaken-Kazansky, Empress of Greater Prussia, Queen of Allanea, etc.
To:President Royston Webb, Crockerland
Subject: The YDB

As you can see from the attached intelligence reports the YDB are total scumbags who will literally attack trucks bringing food to their kids. In light of this operation, I would like to ask to make use of some small airfield as available in your nation to host a pair of surveillance drones, as well as a limited force (6) tactical strike aircraft for operations against groups engaged in human rights violations, starting with the YDB.

Yours, Cassiopeia


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Official State Communique of the Republic of Crockerland

From the office of president Royston Webb,
Directed to Cassiopeia Blaken-Kazansky, Empress of Greater Prussia, Queen of Allanea, etc.

While we are by no means unacquainted with the hostility of some of the militant groups of Ultramarine (though the presence of the YDB in the regions we are operating within is minimal), it would be ideal for our relief efforts if we were able to negotiate with these groups to find a ceasefire arrangement or peace treaty, rather than the costly and timely affair of obliterating them, which might also put civilians in danger. Aligning ourselves so closely with Allanean forces and allowing their use of our facilities would make any peace talks significantly less likely to succeed as we would be both responsible for Allanean actions and yet unable to negotiate any end to Allanean hostilities.

Furthermore, our internal political situation is tenuous, and not all in Crockerland feel that we should intervene in foreign conflicts which do not threaten or involve us. Cooperating militarily with a nation which desires the destruction of these rebel elements would call into question the humanitarian nature of our operation. This is all on top of the complication that would come with coordinating efforts to avoid friendly fire in the region.


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President of Crockerland


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Crockerland

As public knowledge of the horrible situation in Ultramarine grows, so too does public support for intervention, despite objections from the Conservative and Libertarian parties. Rallies were held in several cities to support the relief effort and save the lives of the starving and deprived citizens of Ultramarine, in spite of the danger. Some rallygoers held signs praising other nations giving aid, while others held signs blasting isolationist politicians.

Some rallies took a more radical stance, however, with one demonstration near the capital blaming the government of Ultramarine for the famine and cheering on rebel groups. Some politicians within the ruling National Liberal Party have expressed similar views, placing blame for the situation on the government and suggesting that sanctions be placed against them. In any case, president Webb has stood his ground on neutrality and only using military force against criminal gangs and attackers.
Last edited by Crockerland on Sun Dec 30, 2018 2:01 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Republic of Altos and Stratis
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Posts: 163
Founded: Apr 02, 2015
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Republic of Altos and Stratis » Sun Dec 30, 2018 5:13 pm

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To: Minister of Foreign Affairs, Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Astoria
From: Henricus Maro, Minister of Foreign Affairs, Ministry of Foreign Affairs, The Republic of Altos and Stratis
Subject: World Assembly Force in Ultramarine


To: Whom it may concern.

We have sent a convoy of ships filled with aid, along with two hospital ships as our commitment to the World Assembly Force in Ultramarine (WAFU). We hope that these additional resources will help alleviate the humanitarian situation.

Sincerely,

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Henricus Maro
Minister of Foreign Affairs
The Republic of Altos and Stratis
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A [14] civilization, according to this index.

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Republic of Altos and Stratis
Spokesperson
 
Posts: 163
Founded: Apr 02, 2015
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Republic of Altos and Stratis » Sun Dec 30, 2018 5:19 pm

RASS Lynx, Pyrgos Docks

Seaman First Class Scott Hawkins watched through his binoculars as cargo ships were being loaded by containers lowered into place by huge automated cranes. they were laden with foodstuffs, destined for the starving people of Ultramarine.
“Wonder what forsaken land we are going to save this time.” Hawkins mused to himself, he and the other one hundred and forty-nine sailors were waiting intently for the mission briefing in a few hours. But the ship was awash in rumor, and the prevailing theory was a humanitarian mission or some sort. He heard the thump of helicopters and looked to see several helicopters coming in to land onboard RASS Nightingale. He smiled, for months her and her sister ship Seacole had been considered the white elephants of the fleet. That had all changed and now they had a mission.

A few hours later

There was a honk of the ships horn as the Lynx passed by the harbor entrance, the tune of the engines changed as Lynx moved to take up a position at the head of the convoy. As they proceeded past the convoy Hawkins marveled at the massive container ships. “That’s a drone.” Hawkins contemplated as they passed. A new thought entered his head. “it’ll be a month before we reach Ultramarine.”
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The Grande Republic 0f Arcadia
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Posts: 1969
Founded: Oct 23, 2016
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby The Grande Republic 0f Arcadia » Sun Dec 30, 2018 6:52 pm

Somewhere in Ultramarine

Sgt. Lewis Moore, DSAD

They moved down a trail with Leo on the radio trying to make contact with a rebel encampment. They wore their uniforms and combat gear and kept off the main trail. The soldiers from Task Force 810 lead the way. They were concealed by the tree line and they moved quick. There was a creek to their left, and he looked around. When they stopped for a break Leo was still fast at work attempting to make contact. At the moment they were in the county without knowledge of both governments so the Arcadian government can formulate a solid plan while still making moves to aid the rebels.

He wondered how long will it take to come into contact with these rebels and how it would play out. With no one knowing they are there it could end very badly or very well depending on how they play their cards. Honestly, his team would have to rely on the guys from 810 since the DSAD has not been deployed outside of the colony.
Last edited by The Grande Republic 0f Arcadia on Sun Dec 30, 2018 7:00 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Ultramarine
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Posts: 217
Founded: Jun 10, 2018
Iron Fist Consumerists

Postby Ultramarine » Mon Dec 31, 2018 7:33 am

Imperial Palace Complex, Press Room 1

Emperor Roboute Guilleman walked across the room. He wore a startling suit a mixture of deep and lighter blue mixed together throughout the cloth. He smiled as the room stood to attention before him, he never grew old of the presses love of him. "Be seated." he said as he climbed the three steps to the stage in front of the press officials. The scraping sound of chairs moving filled the room momentarily whilst Guilleman made his way across the stage till he stood in the middle of it. "We're live in one minute my liege." A small camera man said from below him. The Emperor nodded and looked around the room he knew what he was about to say may very well change the course of the war. "Three...two....one." The cameraman counted him down and Guilleman began to speak:

"My Children, sons and daughters of Ultramarine. I come to you in this time of need to express my deepest concerns for the state of our nation. I have done everything in my power to bring peace, stability and the power of the modern era to our glorious nation. But there are those who would argue that I am a dictator, an enemy of the people to be deposed or worse! To these rebels, these separatists and others who would threaten our nation I say enough! As of today I am calling for a two day ceasefire. For those who want it we shall have a temporary peace, the killing will stop and I offer the chance to talk and reconcile. For the Glory of our Empire I will also be reinstating Parliament and begin to share the reigns of power with those you choose to serve. I promise to hold elections within two months to choose new ministers for the government who will be chosen by you the people. Now remember home is behind you, we are the mighty Empire of Ultramarine, together we are strong so stand together my people!"

The room was filled with applause as the camera switched off and the radio broadcasters took over talking to their audiences again after the live feed was cut from the press room. Roboute smiled, bowed and left the room. As he walked down the corridor back towards his offices he was greeted by a breathless young aide, "My Liege, Field Marshall Kassius wants to see you in the Command Centre." Guilleman looked at the young woman for a moment then nodded, "Lead on." he said.

Imperial Palace Complex, Command Centre Bunker

Guilleman hated the Command Centre the descent into the artificial light of the bunker made his eyes sting and the sound of air in the vents above him was worse for his head. But he came here when needed and now was a time when it was needed. The Command Room stood to attention as he entered, "At ease." he said and everyone returned to their business, which seemed to be rather frantic at the moment. Fieldmarshall Kassius walked over to his Emperor, "My Lord, we have a problem." Guilleman raised an eyebrow at his favourite commander and followed him to a nearby table, "We picked them up about an hour ago, we thought it was just another relief convoy before they sent this." Kassius flicked a switch and the message began to play:

"To all belligerents in the land of Ultramarine. Birtonia has been monitoring your situation closely, regional stability has degraded to a point where I believe intervention is required. Birtonian Military forces are en route to Ultramarine, they are here to support the ULF forces, do not oppose our landing. Infrastructure will be rebuilt, food supplies will be brought, and medical aid will be rendered to all those whom require.

This is Imperator Alsonius Vera Lontilii, signing off."


The Emperor swore, "Have they landed yet?" He asked. Kassius nodded and gestured for his liege lord to follow him into his office. Inside the office was a large table with a map of Ultramarine on it. He pointed at the location where the new forces had landed. "It's a neutral zone sire, we have no forces there and the Rebels are not active there either, but I fear they will be soon. I can scramble the tenth Guards to meet them here and we have some irregular loyalists who have made contact about the landing and are ready to engage as soon as they get the go ahead." Kassius reported gesturing on the map at the location of the 'enemy' landing. Guilleman rubbed his temples before looking at his Field Marshall," Dispatch the Tenth and order the loyalist militia into action. Also dispatch the 12th Imperial Guard, I want my most advanced units to meet this enemy."
"But sir the 12th? Do we dare risk the Warriors and Challengers?"
"RISK THEM ALL! I WILL NOT BE DEPOSED!" Guilleman shouted making Kassius shake slightly.
"At once sire."
"Also dispatch the 1st Assault Air Wing, I want these interlopers blown to kingdom come!" With that said Guilleman turned and left the office before Kassius could speak again.

Somewhere in Ultramarine

The three men stood up from the bush their clothes were dark and covered in foliage and their faces wore the tell tale camo cream of old soldiers. They smiled at the foreigners who were trying to find them and greeted them, "Hello there!" One said surprising the marching soldiers and he then looked them up and down, "I take it you are the ones radioing our camp?"

Northern Ultramarine

The ULF was ready, it knew it was time to declare their intentions to these foreigners. The roar of engines filled the air as the BM-21s moved along the hidden trail through the trees to the clearing before stopping and the few skilled artillery men (deserters from the Ultramarine Army) moved to angle the rockets to aim at the village over the hill, "Comrade Joseph is this right?" One man asked his political officer who was watching the proceedings with interest. "Is what right comrade?" He asked the young man looking up at him. He knew what the man was asking but he wanted to hear it from his own lips, "Rocketing a village? I mean do we know they are there?" Joseph placed an arm around the shoulder of the young man, "They are there everyday at this time dropping off supplies for the filthy Marineians. Even if they aren't there we purge our Motherland of the interlopers." This made the young man smile. "Good, now I would cover my ears if I was you!" With that there was a sudden whoosh of air and the screaming of the BM-21s filled the air as they fired their rockets at the nearby village hoping to catch the enemy in the rocket barrage.

Elsewhere in another village a curtain twitched as a column of vehicles began to enter the village then as the men jumped from them there was a sharp crack of a sniper rifle followed by the rapid snaps and cracks of a machine gun opening up on the column from one of the other houses. War had been declared.

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Allanea
Postmaster of the Fleet
 
Posts: 22915
Founded: Antiquity
Capitalist Paradise

Postby Allanea » Mon Dec 31, 2018 1:38 pm

OFFICIAL TRANSCRIPT OF A SPEECH BY CASSIOPEIA BLAKEN-KAZANSKY, EMPRESS OF GREATER PRUSSIA, QUEEN OF ALLANEA, ETC.


To all Freemen soldiers and aid workers working in Ultramarine, this is your Queen speaking. Earlier today, I received a message from Emperor Guilleman of Ultramarine confirming that he will organize an election in his country in as little as two months. I will not hide from you that I have concerns regarding an election held in such a short timeframe. However, the Free Kingdom will assist Ultramarine, and Emperor Guilleman, in restoring a system of regular, lawful, democratic election.

But the day is young, and the real problems that affect the Ultrans are still there. Millions of people are still short of food. Starvation, vitamin deficiency, kwashiorkor, hypothermia, cholera, typhoid are now rearing their heads. I respect your heroic efforts – those of the Emergency Relief Battalions, the Field Hospitals, and the Navy crews that are now delivering aid, assisting the ill, building roads and saving lives. Every ten-ton container of food that arrives on time is a glorious victory for all of us. Every surgery is a victory.

But there are those who – as children starve – prefer to bring to Ultramarine not sixty tons of food, but a sixty-ton battle tank. In Ultramarine itself, there are those who – as their children weep, with bellies distended from hunger – prefer to fire on aid convoys that would feed and rescue those kids. There are those who prefer to fight, not salmonella typhi or vibrio cholerae, but against their own neighbors and friends.

These so-called 'rebels' have murdered hundreds, perhaps thousands, in class-based and ethnic-based purges. Even now, their atrocities continue.

Let me be clear: there is now an opportunity for the true friends of Ultramarine to make themselves seen and heard. Those of you who are genuinely for democracy in Ultramarine, those of you who want the Ultramarine to receive chocolates and not grave-flowers, need to speak up now.

I ask that those nations that have sided with the 'rebel' factions to speak to those 'rebels' they assist, to discuss the transition of these groups to peaceful existence as legitimate political parties. If they agree, they will receive humanitarian and financial aid. Should they fail to transition in this way, they need to be seen and treated as murderous gangs that prey on the innocent.

From the 'rebel' groups themselves I request, also, a response. There are two cups which Allanea brings forth into the world. One is the cup of our generosity, and in it there are forgiveness and charity, warm water and fresh meals, safety, prosperity, and freedom. The other is the cup of our anger. And in it there are fire, and steel, and death, and horrors that would make even the most seasoned of your fighters weep in terror.

Which is the cup that you choose to drink from?
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Military Democracy of Birtonia
Minister
 
Posts: 2554
Founded: Nov 20, 2013
Iron Fist Consumerists

Postby Military Democracy of Birtonia » Tue Jan 01, 2019 4:05 pm

Knight-Commander James Vankaraan
1st Battalion, 32nd Amphibious Infantry Regiment, 12th Infantry Brigade, 3rd Legion
FOB Donahugh, Neutral Territory, Ultramarine


It had been barely two hours since James landed with the first wave of Amphibious Infantry. His battalion was unloaded and the framework for a Forward Operating Base had been set. The landing area was relatively flat, a beach that met a grassy field, a few small hills to the north and south a few miles apart from the beach with some wooded areas pocketing the plains. He had spread his battalion out providing security for the rest of the landings, two companies had sped up to the hills and created temporary command centers, from which to observe and entrench. His men were equipped with AFV-3 Shildkrotes from Wolf Arms, each of them had either twin HMG's in .50 caliber ammunition or 40mm automatic grenade launchers.

About now his men would have completed basic fighting positions and machine gun nests would be dug into the hills and the wooded areas. Next step would be digging firing positions for their vehicles, allowing them to stay in the hull down position, offering only their turrets to be seen, and therefore provide covering fire. James had his command vehicles posted halfway between the hills and the beach, this position would be roughly the center of the FOB. Soft wind blew the sounds of battle far off in the distance, James could make out the distinct chatter of machine guns coupled with the deep rumble of explosions, likely artillery or cannons. His attention soon shifted towards a closer, more familiar noise. Waves crashing paired with clattering of mechanical parts, the first wave of the second battalion was coming in their Shildkrotes, once they were landed they would begin more of the mundane construction tasks.

James could see the twin Littoral Combat Ships cruising at low speeds just off the coast, each of them had all weapons systems armed and on the lookout for incoming missiles, aircraft, surface vessels, anything really. The Strike Force received no communication save for from the Allaneans, they would be dealt with in due time. For now, the focus was on establishing communications with the ULF, getting the FOB up, and allowing for further reinforcements.




Knight-Commander Phillip Knadera
2nd Battalion, 32nd Amphibious Infantry Regiment, 12th Infantry Brigade, 3rd Legion
N.B.B. Kongos, Flight Deck


It was about mid-day when Phillip and his command team loaded into one of two VH-24F Swift Fox tilt-rotors that sat upon the flight deck. This mission was about making contact with ULF forces, but didn't detract from the danger. Both craft were fully loaded with armaments, missiles, .50 cal chain guns, 25mm cannon, and if this wasn't enough, they would be escorted by a flight of four UF-05 UCAV's would be escorting them across the unknown lands.

A light rain picked up as the door to the cargo bay closed, droplets pelting against the glass. The craft shuddered and Phillip tightened his grip on the seat as the engines started. Shortly after, he felt the initial lurch of flight, a turn and tilt forwards, the pair of aircraft were leaving the ship. Off in the distance he could see the beach head, the first wave of his battalion was landing now, their tracked vehicles leaving ruts in the sand, followed by seawater with each swell. In a matter of minutes the UCAV's took up position on the flanks of the aircraft. For this mission, all weapons systems would be switched to off and missiles stored internally, IFF would be projecting a friendly signal and they carried a pre-recorded message for ULF troops should they be hailed by radio.

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Crockerland
Senator
 
Posts: 4396
Founded: Oct 15, 2015
Left-Leaning College State

Postby Crockerland » Tue Jan 01, 2019 5:28 pm

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Marineian village, Northern Ultramarine

"So, what do you think those Ultrans problem is?" one soldier, standing in the bed of a Hino ranger semi truck, asked his comrade standing on the ground, while passing him a crate full of fish. "I mean, we're givin' 'em free food, free medicine, not really askin' anything in return." His friend passed the crate to another soldier, who would unload the crate for the hungry villagers, then thought for a moment before replying. "Well, I guess they don't-" the second soldier barely started his sentence before a loud cacophony broke out, interrupting him. "What the hell is that?" the first soldier asked, and his friend just managed to get out "I think it's coming from over that hill" before they both looked up as the bright rocket exhaust gave them mere seconds to realize what was happening before a calamitous "BOOM" rang out, blasting one of the trucks' cabs in half and quickly igniting an inferno which rapidly spread across the vehicle's entirety, devouring the provisions within.

Another detonation sent dirt and pieces of the road flying as it hit in the center of the pathway, and a third obliterated someone's roof, and a fourth, and a fifth, all in rapid succession as villagers and soldiers ducked for cover with no way to fight back. "HQ, this is corporal Welch," a radio operator desperately called in "we need air support, we believe we are being fired on from behind a hill a few hundred meters southeast of our current position in the village we were distributing supplies in! Enemy is attacking with rockets of some sort, we can't see them or shoot back."

Within a matter of seconds, analysts were examining satellite imagery and approximating the location of the enemy based on the report, while pilots on stand-by sprung into action. Distinguished from the soldiers surrounding them by their tan flight suits and brown aviator jackets, the pilots bounded out towards their twin Lockheed F-117 Seahawks as fast as possible and climbed in, soon rocketing off the taxiway, down the runway, and into the air, before circling back to head inland. Not knowing what to expect from the terrorists, the pilots flew low to the ground, below radar range, so as to avoid any surface-to-air missiles intended to stop their intervention.

A few soldiers had piled on whatever villagers were with them onto their 4x4s and drove down the road praying they wouldn't be blasted off the highway, while others were pinned down with their vehicles blocked in, damaged, or tipped over in the chaos, and could only shield themselves from flying rubble while hoping a missile wouldn't fall directly on top of them. Those who tried to run, mostly villagers, usually fell a few meters from where they started thanks to flying shrapnel. A few dragged their injured comrades to safety and into the arms of the barely-equipped field medics, but all most could do was slowly make their way from cover to cover and wait for salvation.


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Ultran village, Northern Ultramarine

Sergeant Akoak, the young officer of Inuit descent who had lead the raid against the slavers hiding in the lumber mill and terrorizing the area before Crockerland's intervention, was sitting in the passenger's seat of a Mahindra Thar jeep. Akoak and the driver were swapping stories on the topic of their lives before joining the military. The driver, a corporal by the name of Randy Firmin, enlightened the sergeant with further information on his life:

"So anyways, after we moved to Myrwall, I needed a job; And I figured, what better job to get than working with the search and rescue folks driving for them, since I had my license. I got to workin' for them, eventually into the position of driving into impassable roads and diggin' people out of the snow to drag 'em back to civilization, and then one day, we helped this army guy and his buddies off the side of the road, where they'd slid off thanks to some ice. So this guy says to me, "You've gotta be a damn good driver to make it through that," and one thing leads to another, they get me driving for the army."

Around this time, the jeep was pulling into the outskirts of another village, followed closely by a convoy of a few trucks and a humvee. The 4x4 slowed to allow some of the trucks to pass so as to put the leader of the operation in a vantage point.

"Heh," Firmin thought of something funny as he saw the first truck stop and the back doors open to begin unloading supplies, "I'll tell ya, this one time-" BANG
A gunshot rang out as corporal Firmin's skull was punctured by a bullet, splattering the interior of the jeep with his blood. The corporal's body fell forward and the 4x4 accelerated while swerving to the left and letting out a loud honk, which paled in comparison to the sudden outburst of gunfire. The Mahindra slammed into the side of a building and the sergeant ducked down as the truck was further riddled with bullets.

The soldiers unloading the first truck were lit up from several directions, and gunmen in various buildings fired down on the convoy they flanked from several directions. A sniper in the rafters of a barn set his targets on one soldier after the other, picking them off, but his muzzle flash gave away his location. As soldiers layed down suppressing fire to cover him, a grenadier hopped out of his car and sidled over to it's corner, before whirling out of cover and firing his grenade launcher towards the barn, forcing the sniper to take cover as part of the barn's front wall erupted into a storm of sawdust and splintered, broken wood. The humvee's turret rotated to the right, as sparks and audible ricochets highlighted it's armor. The turret's machinegun whirred to life as sprayed the houses on it's right while slowly turning left again, providing very effective covering fire and an opportunity for the pinned-down soldiers to jump back in their vehicles.


Sergeant Akoak grabbed the dogtags off of his fallen comrade and leaped off the jeep, he fired a few shots from his .357 revolver into the contents of his truck, a few barrels of flammable whale oil intended to be used in lanterns and cooking, then fired again through an open window through which an assault rifle was hanging out attempting to take shots at the soldiers. The sergeant made it to the door of one of the trucks, which had started moving, and was helped in by the driver.

Akoak rolled down the window slightly, took out a flare gun, and fired into the leaking barrels on the back of his truck, igniting them in a fiery blast, who's roaring flames soon spread onto the house next to the jeep as well. The sergeant stuck his hand out of the truck and flipped off the cowards who had attacked his men unprovoked before rolling the ballistic window back up only a second or so before it was cracked with the impact of a bullet. The convoy made an attempt to escape the town with the supplies, soldiers, and vehicles they had left while calling in to inform HQ of the sneak attack.

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Marieneian village, North Ultramarine

A soldier was knocked down from the shockwave of another rocket blast, one of his comrades ran out and drug him back to behind the cover of an overturned Toyota as the rocketeers were forced to reload. The soldiers flinched as the whooshing of air seemed to signal another volley, but when the radio chirped to life with "Air support has arrived, stand by," the soldiers couldn't help but cheer in relief, realizing the sound was from the engines of the attack craft sent to save them.

The pilots carefully worked their way around the hillsides, flying a bit too close for comfort to avoid any anti-air defenses. Examination of the satellite imagery and further reports by analysts had given the two an approximate location for the terrorists' position. The two planes wound around the mountainside and with a yell of "bombs away" began shelling the clearing (though they were too close to the ground and moving too fast to be sure of their targets). A trail of bomb blasts followed the two planes reducing boulders to shards of rock and trees to splinters, and within only a matter of seconds (the planes traveled at nearly 300 meters per second) they had exited the clearing and banked right to circle the village again, waiting to see if they'd stopped the murderous missile barrage.

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Atlantian Dominions
Attaché
 
Posts: 82
Founded: Sep 04, 2012
Corporate Police State

Postby Atlantian Dominions » Wed Jan 02, 2019 5:20 pm

Ultramarine wrote:Imperial Palace Complex, Lord Carl's Office

Lord Carl looked at the young ambassador and smiled, "The aid you give us is already a welcome treat. But surely to improve upon it shipments of improved weaponry would be nice. We are still using a majority of old AKs left over from the dark days and our special forces only really deserve that name for a lack of common sense. We've been using Fire Force tactics to combat rebel incursions into our territory but it's proving futile on the offensive, so now I hear we are using columns! Ploughing down a road at speed killing anything that gets in the way hardly seems an effective strategy would you not agree? I think we would need advisers in proper military affairs. I think that is all I can officially say." Lord Carl leaned back in his chair and pulled a cigar from a box, "Cigar?" He offered the young man.

The fruits of the meeting between Lord Carl and the Atlantian ambassador would ripen with the next cargo ship from Atlantia to arrive at the docks of Edoras. In addition to the usual cargo of food for the imperial household, some of the crates were packed full with modern infantry weapons. Atlantian arms manufacturers were well-accustomed to dealing with the sort of military infrastructure that existed in Ultramarine. To make the transition as seamless as possible, the guns inside the cargo containers were modern versions of the same Kalishnikovs that the Ultramarine military was currently using, chambered for the same caliber rounds. Modern light machine guns and rocket launchers were offloaded from the ships as well. The influx of arms would start from the ground up, improving the firepower carried by the frontline soldier first and then moving up to crew-served weapons and eventually, if necessary, armored vehicles.

Ultramarine wrote:Imperial Palace Complex, Press Room 1

Emperor Roboute Guilleman walked across the room. He wore a startling suit a mixture of deep and lighter blue mixed together throughout the cloth. He smiled as the room stood to attention before him, he never grew old of the presses love of him. "Be seated." he said as he climbed the three steps to the stage in front of the press officials. The scraping sound of chairs moving filled the room momentarily whilst Guilleman made his way across the stage till he stood in the middle of it. "We're live in one minute my liege." A small camera man said from below him. The Emperor nodded and looked around the room he knew what he was about to say may very well change the course of the war. "Three...two....one." The cameraman counted him down and Guilleman began to speak:

"My Children, sons and daughters of Ultramarine. I come to you in this time of need to express my deepest concerns for the state of our nation. I have done everything in my power to bring peace, stability and the power of the modern era to our glorious nation. But there are those who would argue that I am a dictator, an enemy of the people to be deposed or worse! To these rebels, these separatists and others who would threaten our nation I say enough! As of today I am calling for a two day ceasefire. For those who want it we shall have a temporary peace, the killing will stop and I offer the chance to talk and reconcile. For the Glory of our Empire I will also be reinstating Parliament and begin to share the reigns of power with those you choose to serve. I promise to hold elections within two months to choose new ministers for the government who will be chosen by you the people. Now remember home is behind you, we are the mighty Empire of Ultramarine, together we are strong so stand together my people!"

“I don’t know about this,” President Jim Gilmore announced from his seat behind the big desk that dominated the office. “I don’t want to wake up in a few weeks and find out they’re voting for nationalizers or isolationists.”

The other men in the room sat on the couches, or leaned against decorative bookshelves. Two of the President’s personal staff, attractive women in revealing uniforms, were moving amongst the crowd handing out the drinks they had requested when the meeting had begun. They left, giggling in response to the pats on the butt that the cabinet doled out in spades, as the Secretary of State was replying to the President’s concerns.

“Hopefully this is just a little concession to the Allaneans,” Pierce Olsen said. “Our analysts expect that Emperor Guilleman will keep a pretty firm hand on who exactly ends up being admitted into the Parliament. Especially with the rebels being active, there probably won’t be too many wannabe politicians who are willing to buck the party line, so to speak.”

“Where are we with that rebel problem?” The President asked.

“The weapons shipments have begun,” the Secretary of Defense answered. “And we’re assembling the advisory team that will go teach them how to use the stuff we’re sending. Between that, the Allaneans, Cockerland, and the World Assembly bleeding-hearts, I don’t see the rebels posing a serious threat to the government.”

“And as long as they are operating,” Pierce Olsen chimed in. “That’s opportunities for us to keep wedging our foot in the door, economically. I’ve heard from a few guys who are very excited about the potential contracts for reconstruction that might be up for grabs.”

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Ultramarine
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Postby Ultramarine » Thu Jan 03, 2019 8:23 am

Northern Ultramarine

Ultran Village

The burning houses door soon was kicked open and three bodies came pouring out burning and on fire. They rolled on the ground in agony and their screams attempted to drown out the noise of the gunfire. As the vehicles pulled out the ambush a volley of RPG fire followed them as angry ULF fighters came out from their fighting positions and fired whatever they could at the retreating vehicles. Once the vehicles were gone the fighters began to withdraw from the village. One man went to the barn the sniper had been in to see if he had made it. The remains of him was buried later but his rifle was passed on to the next best shot in the ULF cell that had instigated the ambush.

Near Marineian village

As the bombs landed the BM-21s burst into flame the shrapnel and flame flew out across the clearing engulfing those who had not dug in and killing everywhere it touched. Some fighters picked themselves up and began to run away. The clearing was soon empty of everything except corpses and wrecks of vehicles.

Further afield though the real offensive began. The roar of engines filled the air as BMPs roared into life and began to push out down the road towards the village their camoflague ripped clear. Elsewhere stinger carrying ULF fighters began to scan the sky looking for the enemy jets that had caused so much damage. Rifleman sat on top of the BMPs as they began to come near the village they jumped off and began to fire their rifles at anyone who was not wearing an Ultran flag on their sleeve.

Central Ultramarine, Neutral zone border

The 12th Imperial Guard began to move across the border towards the enemy landing zone. The Warrior APCs and Challenger tanks roared to life churning up the dirt road under their tracks as they moved forward. They scanned the horizon as they made the move north. Men sat on top and inside the vehicles as the Tenth Guard came up behind them their BMPs and T-80's and 72's looking old and decrepit against the modern armour of their Imperial comrades.

In the sky above the enemy Landing the roar of jets filled the air. The jets held close to the ground and the water coming in hard and fast from the ocean aiming at the ships holding position near the entrance to the bay. Anti-ship missiles launched from the jets as they came in hard and fast before strafing the beach and other areas that could be seen to be mobilising troops, the 1st Assault Air Wing followed in quickly from inland the helicopter borne troops landing hard and fast before moving to push against the enemy positions.

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Allanea
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Postby Allanea » Thu Jan 03, 2019 10:38 am

Edoras

There are some realities that are difficult to contemplate, no matter how well one understands the numbers involved, or the medical truths that make these numbers work. One of these realities is that malnutrition kills – sometimes, even after you've brought the patient food. Sometimes you have inserted a feed tube into their throat, and fed them the most scientific, nutritious high-calorie, milk compound – but the damage hunger has done to their body is far too much, and even as you struggle to keep them alive they fade in front of you.

Even with Colonel Jenner's finest efforts, with the hundreds of tons of advanced formula, high-calorie baby food, thousands of tons of equipment pouring into the borders of Ultramarine day and night, it just isn't enough for some people.

It's not enough for Patient #5567.

– "I'm sorry, Colonel, I just… we did everything…" – the soldier-nurse chokes back tears, suddenly. He has not gotten the experience Catherine Jenner has. He's only been here for several days. He's just not strong enough for this yet.

They say that pediatric oncology is the hardest place in the world for a doctor.

Those who say this have never seen famine relief.

– "It's not a question of sorry, Sergeant Isenkoff." – Jenner says. – "It isn't your fault. You did your best, and you did your best for every patient in this ward. Sometimes nobody is good enough, Sergeant. Now cycle the patient to Mortuary Affairs. We need the bed space."


* * *


Easthold-Edoras Highway

The Emergency Assistance troops are working here already, as best as they can – two Crews on way North, and two battalions on the way South. Their task is to build a two-lane dirt road, for trucks with food to be able to move between the two government strongholds. They have done this before, or at least they have done this before in training.

Men with chainsaws cut away any brush that has obscured the old roads in the famine year, and grader bulldozers push through, crushing and grading away any potholes or bumps. The road they form will not be a perfect one, and will have to be refit in peacetime. That, however, doesn't matter. What matters is that within a day, one will be able to move food, patients, and troops rapidly along the new road.

The Railroad Battalion is at work too, laying a single line of steel between the two strongholds. These, however, cannot possibly work as past. Rail is a complex matter, it cannot simply be laid in. Serious work has be done – clear a right-of-way, grade it, assemble the road sections and lay them in. All in all, at the best the Allaneans can advance at a painful, excruciating, six miles a day. In about a month, however, the Battalion plans to give Ultramarine its second rail line.


* * *

Now that food and medicine are arriving by sea, the Allaneans dedicate some of the air transport to bringing in other forms of emergency supplies. Namely, more men.

They stand now near the tarmac – several hundred men, in neat rows of twenty. They are not dressed in parade uniforms – rather, what they wear is mossy camouflage, and as they shoulder their rifles one can see that the bayonets on their rifles are not the chromed parade bayonets one sees with embassy guards or cadets. The blades are of a dull metal, its surface matte black, made to reduce light reflections

Lieutenant Colonel Vasily Ivanovich Kryukov looks out at his men as he begins to speak.

Men and women of Battalion Tactical Group Cestus!

The people we are about to confront style themselves as rebels.

They imagine themselves as warriors for justice, for democracy, or even for freedom.

They claim to be protecting their people from poverty and from starvation.

Yet I tell you here, by their deeds shall you know them.

In their quest for justice, they have murdered hundreds of innocent people, some for being wealthier than them, others for having a different ethnicity than them, or simply for being farmers and not agreeing to give them their last loaf of bread.

In their quest for democracy, they ventured forth on a campaign of murder against anyone who disagreed with them.

In their quest for freedom, they decided to kill people who bring food for their children.

They have refused any offer of reconciliation, of charity, or of peace.

In this, there is no difference between the Ultran separatist, the YDB terrorist, or the common robber.

Any bread in their stomach is stolen bread. Slice their stomach open with your bayonet.

The beds they sleep on are stolen from farmers and landowners. Let them sleep in graves.

Remember the motto of this operation.

REBELLION IS LAWLESS!"


"Rebellion is lawless!" – hundreds of throats replied.
#HyperEarthBestEarth

Sometimes, there really is money on the sidewalk.

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Allanea
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Postby Allanea » Thu Jan 03, 2019 10:57 am

To: Chancellor Jule Beaulne, Empire of Arcadia
From: Maverick Monningham, Minister of Foreign Affairs of the Free Kingdom of Allanea
Subject Pelican VI

The situation in Ultramarine is growing in urgency. We have applied for cooperation with Crockerland, but they have rejected our offer. We are now requesting that you cooperate with us. The following must be supplied to Ultramarine urgently:

1. Large supplies of food. Our study group has recommended a need for high-calorie food, especially intensified by the oncoming winter. High-fat foods are especially going to be in demand.
2. Fuel and energy supplies, and particularly all manner of portable power plants, and repair crews to deal with the power shortages and damage to the nation's infrastructure.
3. Medical crews. Bear in mind that the famine will lead to the intensification of disease, and particularly cholera, typhoid, hypothermia, and other disorders. It would be also ideal if you allocated at least some hospital space in your own nation to deal with those that cannot receive the assistance they need in field hospitals.
4. Security assistance, particularly in dealing with attempts by hostile parties to resupply the rebels.

In addition for all the above, we request that your nation allow us to use your airbases for flights of tactical strike aviation (at least 6 aircraft) and surveillance drones (at least 4 aircraft).

Yours, Maverick.
#HyperEarthBestEarth

Sometimes, there really is money on the sidewalk.

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The Grande Republic 0f Arcadia
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Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby The Grande Republic 0f Arcadia » Thu Jan 03, 2019 1:34 pm

Casatolo, Arcadia

Chancellor Jule Beaulne

She heard a knock at her door and soon opened, and in the door walked in her assistant Käthe Neumark and she spoke "Madame Chancellor we have a telegram from the Kingdom of Allanea, it's urgent. She looked up and spoke, "Why is it not in the hands of Minister Goodman?" Kather responded, "Its addressed specifically to you ma'am." She then reached for the letter and spoke to her assistant "Thank you." When the door closed as Kathe left, she opened the letter and read the contents, and when she was finished she called Kathe in once more. When Kathe entered once more Jule looked up and spoke: "Get high parliament on the line, notify them of this situation for an executive order to be written up."

Two hours had passed and the executive order had passed through high parliament, but for extended efforts, parliament would have to vote on it. With that, the Aid Corps and several volunteer organizations will be sent into Ultramarine. When the order had passed they had also sent a message to Allanea on the arrival and the aid they will be sending in. They were due in the country in a week and would land at a location designated by Allanea.

However, the access to an airbase will have to go through parliament. The same goes for long-term deployment of Arcadian troops. For now they could send in two brigades of soldiers from the Arcadian Raj who are on rotation for deployment, and a battalion of Marines.

Somewhere in Ultramarine

Sgt. Lewis Moore, DSAD

He raised his rifle as he heard movement in the brush and soon armed men walking out had introduced themselves as the rebels and he lowered his rifle as did most men. One of the soldiers from 810 spoke to the rebels about aid to train and fund the rebels. Another part of thier mission would be indoctrinating them with a pro-democratic sentiment. Now hopefully it was time to head to thier camp
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