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Orchestrated Defiance (MT, Atlas Only)

A staging-point for declarations of war and other major diplomatic events. [In character]
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Chazicaria
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Orchestrated Defiance (MT, Atlas Only)

Postby Chazicaria » Sun Jan 20, 2019 3:31 pm

IRIS Compound at Joint Forces Base Weiss, Mittlegral, Chazicaria
2315, January 19th, 2019

The IRIS compound on JFB Weiss was a dated facility, having been built in the 50s and updated very infrequently since. As a result, from the exterior, the simple and unassuming building would probably disappoint anyone expecting the Imperial Republican Intelligence Agency to operate in state-of-the-art accommodations. Inside however, the walled compound was a hive of computers and analysts processing and acting on intelligence concerning the local region, and in particular, border states.

One of the many rooms of this facility was the Operations Briefing Room, a moderately sized meeting-space containing projectors, digital white boards, and for now, a very large Tennish flag. The reason for this was that this simple room, for right now, was the capital of the Free Republic of Tenburg.

As it stood, the FRT was made up of Michael Tucker as its President, a handful of disgraced politicians filling useless cabinet positions, as well as Eamon McElroy and Tara Mohan in an advisory role to the President. There were also several hundred fighters currently quartered in temporary barrack on the opposite side of the JFB that had been receiving training and equipment (mostly high end foreign weapons and kit, acquired illegally) from the SpecWar branch and Army.

On this particular day however, a very important meeting was occurring. Tara Mohan and Eamon McElroy were present in the room alongside a half dozen senior IRIS officials and a Group Leader from Section 3 of the IRIS Bureau of Operations. This was less of a meeting though, and much more of an observation of a particular operation across the Tennish-Chazicarian border. As these people sat in heated comfort, two Section 3 teams, callsigns Sword and Dog, and a company sized element of FRT soldiers, callsign Green, were crossing into Tenburg and into the town of Balaclara. Silence was the only constant as updates came in.

Just outside Balaclara, Tenburg
2315, January 19th, 2019

"Sword Actual, this is Sword 2. We're up. Eyes on Objective Alabaster, over."

"Two, Actual. Copy, what have you got?"

"Actual, we have eyes on eight dismounts, plus two trucks, break. Dismounts have rifles and the trucks appear to have MGs, over."

"Roger. Continue observation, Actual Out. Dog Actual, Sword Actual, eight rifles and two mounted MGs on Objective Alabaster. You're free to engage."

25 minutes later

"Dog Actual, Dog 1. We're set on Objective Alabaster, break. Eight dismounts killed, two mounted MGs destroyed, over"

"1, Actual. Copy, Sword is reporting that the garrison is mobilizing. Green is in position, be ready just in case stragglers make it through. Out."

15 minutes later

It had been a long walk from the border- a two day ruck through territory patrolled by Tennish troops with only the Chazicarian spooks as help. Of course, their reconnaissance abilities were unmatched by anyone in the FRT, and the passage had been free of engagements.

Now, though, things were going to change. The Tennish troops were reacting exactly as had been expected when the perimeter outpost just outside Balaclara had been wiped out. A column of light vehicles and troops had loaded up in minutes, impressively, and were now en route to engage whoever had attack their outpost. There was one primary road to that outpost however, and an entire 90-man company of FRT fighters were arrayed on that road equipped with rocket propelled grenades, three recoilless rifles, and a dozen light machine guns. Supporting the ambush was Dog 2 and Sword 1 who'd taken positions on a nearby hilltop with a perfect view of the engagement area- their anti-material rifles, marksmanship, and top-of-the-line night fighting equipment would give them and ability to virtually ignore the Tennnish troop's cover.

5 minutes later

The opening shots were two rounds from recoilless rifles, knocking out the two forward most vehicles in the column. Mere seconds later, a dozen machine guns opened on the rear vehicles, alongside rocket propelled grenades. Riflemen in the FRT unit kept precise fire on anyone that attempted to dismount from the vehicles, and a handful of men equipped with rifle-mounted grenade launchers threw 40mm HE projectiles at the unfortunate men below. From the thermal-optic-tinted perspective of the FRT rebels, their bullets were cascading against the black silhouettes of vehicles and men trying to react to the onslaught.

There was a violence of action that would not let up for anything less than an act of God. While one might expect tracers to be flying through the air like in the movies, there wasn't a single one leaving the barrel of any FRT weapon, for fear that the ambushed convoy would be able to see where the rounds were coming from. This was equally true of the 12.5x100mm rounds being thrown at supersonic speeds by the Section 3 marksman teams firing from the nearby hilltop.

For as long as this engagement was to last, the FRT and IRIS teams would make that road into a living hell for anyone on it.


Image
Last edited by Chazicaria on Sun Jan 20, 2019 9:25 pm, edited 3 times in total.
Currently performing a complete reorganization of my military and nation. RETCONNS galore. Pardon the lack of organization and conflicting info in my factbooks.

Economic Left/Right: 7.25
Social Libertarian/Authoritarian: -3.38

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Tenburg
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Democratic Socialists

Postby Tenburg » Sun Jan 20, 2019 5:58 pm

Just outside Balaclara

"Hail Mary, full of Grace..."

There was an old saying the Tennish had: It doesn't matter what you believe; everyone's praying to God when the bullets fly. Killian MacDonald had no idea how true that statement was until right now. As he mumbled to the Blessed Mother, he could taste the iron of blood, the spilling gasoline and oil from truck engines riddle with bullets. He couldn't hear himself over the roaring machine gun fire, the shouting, the screaming... This was one of those moments where he would go back months and regret every decision he made. He should have stayed at Mont Chagrin. He shouldn't have come home to play for the national team. He shouldn't have voted 'yes' when they decided whether to disband and fight. Now here he was, clinging to his rifle, in a ditch, between a truck spewing gasoline and an old stone wall, with no idea where the gunfire was coming from.

But laying here wasn't going to do him any favors.

"Oi, Superstar!" a voice shouted from the other side of the wall, "Get up here!"

Killian took a deep breath and sat up, crawling to the wall and then pulling himself up over it, with a hail of screaming bullets in his ears for the trouble. His squad-mate, Tommy Connolly, was there. "Where's the rest of 'em?"

"No idea!" Tommy replied

"Where's these bastards firing from?"

"No idea!"

"What good are ye then?!" Killian pulled out his phone, using its glassy reflection to try to find muzzle flashes. They were faint, clearly being helped by flash hiders, but he could generally see them against the dark of the mountain he was looking at. He popped up and fired a pair of .308 rounds--BADANG BADANG--before ducking back down again. "Is there a plan? And DON'T say ye don't know!"

"We need to get back to Balaclara and be ready to defend!"

Killian pointed in the direction of the enemy and the two of the popped up and fired a few rounds. As they ducked back behind the wall, they were rocked by an explosion and thrown back towards the cottage behind them. Killian's ears rang, his vision wobbly, as he looked to see Tommy laying motionless, face-down, blood pooling underneath him. Killian looked toward the cottage and started crawling for it, ignoring the searing pain in his leg. It had one of those old split doors and thankfully it was rickety enough that he could pry open the bottom half without exposing the top half. Hopefully the smoke from the burning truck behind him him concealed his move.

Killian waited for what seemed like hours as the fire died down. Then, when it got quiet save for a few pot-shots, he poked his head up in the small window and looked out at the carnage. FRT soldiers were walking the convoy, flashlights out, shooting anyone they found still alive. Tears began to well up in his eyes. "Jesus..." He ducked down quickly as a beam of light passed over the tiny white cottage. Crawling again, he moved toward the large fireplace and, noticing it had black doors, took a deep breath, crawled into the fireplace and closed them behind him. He basically took up a fetal position, being 6-foot-2, with his rifle propped up against the flue.

A pair of boots burst in the front door, and Killian remained still, holding his breath as best he could, despite the ashes floating about. The flashlight scanned about and as it drew closer to the fireplace, Killian un-wedged his rifle and pointed it outward, his hands shaking. He didn't need it, though, as the soldier was satisfied with his search and left the cottage, door open. Killian coughed on account of the ashes, as quietly as possible, and sat in there for another few minutes before finally coming back out. His eyes burned with a mix of tears and ash. As he poked his head out the door and saw no one--no one living, anyway, he began looking at the convoy trucks to see if any were intact enough to drive. One of the LM002s near the back looked well enough, and he moved low towards the road. He looked down at Tommy again, and his eyes began to burn even more as the tears reemerged. Keeping crouched along the road, he tried to keep his head up to avoid looking at his dead comrades, but he had to stop to wipe his eyes.

The pain in his left leg only grew worse hs he reached the LM002. Climbing in, he found the keys halfway out of the ignition. He pushed the key in and yelped with pain as he used his foot to push in the clutch. The V-12 coughed and turned a few times before finally roaring to life. "I hate five-speeds..." He took another deep breath, wiped his bleary eyes and put the truck in reverse, swinging it around and heading back for Balaclara, with no idea what awaited him.
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Chazicaria
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Postby Chazicaria » Sun Jan 20, 2019 9:15 pm

Balaclara, Tenburg
0030, January 20th, 2019

Minimal casualties, opposing forces decisively defeated, and Balaclara was practically ripe for the taking.

Operation: Trebuchet was a resounding success so far. Next on the list was actual capture of Balaclara- to that effect, Green Company and their Chazicarian tag-a-longs were already moving out towards the town in force. Without the bulk of its garrison, the town would hopefully prove to be an easy target for the battle-hardened force.

Green Company had been recruited from the absolute best of the Tennish fighters who'd escaped into Chazicaria. Many were vets of the Tennish military, and virtually all had seen combat in the insurgency before being forced onto their neighbor's soil by the Tennish/Granzerian troops. Commanding them was Captain Roger McCarthy, a cautious and competent leader chosen by IRIS for his reserved demeanor, fearful that a more aggressive officer would resist cooperation with the Imperial Republic.

Both Dog and Sword had their own reason for being there- plausible deniability. If caught, the IRIS teams wouldn't be able to be connected to the Chazicarian government in any way. They all spoke fluent foreign languages with almost undetectable accents, mostly Stasnovan and Zerispeak, and they had elaborate, rehearsed stories concerning their cover as "paid private military contractors." Of course, their kit and weaponry was virtually all non-standard issue. At the early stage of this insurgency, IRIS had deemed SpecWar too overt for their tastes and instead relied on their own organically integrated wetwork force, the Bureau of Operations.

And so, Balaclara would face the wrath of the veteran force in a highly coordinated, rehearsed attack. No survivors had been found after the ambush, so it wasn't known if anyone would know that the force was coming. Of course, even if they did, without their garrison, it'd be unlikely they could resist much, if they even wanted to. Balaclara had been chosen partially due to its political makeup- the town had been sympathetic towards the rebels very early on, and the Communists had a relatively large support base there before the retreats. Hopefully, that support base would still be partially intact.

Keeping to the schedule and plan, Green Company had broken down by platoon and squad and been assigned specific objectives in town. The Police Station had been assigned to 1st and 2nd Platoons, while 3rd Platoon was to seize the Town Hall and 4th Platoon would assist Sword and Dog with capturing the Garrison.

Everything was set and in place when a lone truck was spotted speeding up the road towards town- the same road that they'd just cleared. It was barreling towards town, and only when it came much closer did Dog come over the radio with identification.

"Dog Actual, this is Dog 3, we have a vehicles moving towards town. It looks like one of the garriosn trucks we eliminated on the road. Advise?"

"3, Actual. Wait one."

Seconds pass. Seconds turn to a minute. The truck is pulling into town now- likely to warn what's left of the garrison and the Police Force what's coming.

"Dog 3, this is Dog Actual. Proceed."

A flare went up, shots rang out at the truck, likely misses.

From numerous directions, both the 90-man FRT Company and the two teams of BoO operators, combined almost numbering 140, stormed the town, moving rapidly towards their objectives. Their orders were to absolutely minimize civilian casualties as this would be a war of hearts and minds, and there were likely still sympathizers in town. They would not, however, minimize military casualties. Police forces were to be treated as enemy combatants if they resisted.

This was absolutely a shock and awe operation, with the fighters and operators moving with a high rate of speed towards the objectives with the full intent to seize the town by morning.

Map added to OP
Last edited by Chazicaria on Sun Jan 20, 2019 9:26 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Currently performing a complete reorganization of my military and nation. RETCONNS galore. Pardon the lack of organization and conflicting info in my factbooks.

Economic Left/Right: 7.25
Social Libertarian/Authoritarian: -3.38

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Tenburg
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Democratic Socialists

Postby Tenburg » Sun Jan 20, 2019 10:58 pm

Balaclara, Tenburg
0029, 20 Jan, 2019

Captain Mahoney shouted after his troops as they rushed to their positions: "He said they're in the heights, keep your eyes up, men!"

It was then that the sky came alight with flares, and Killian realized he should get out of the bloody truck. More bullets screamed by him as he opened the door and more-or-less fell to the ground, then ran as fast as he could to the nearest doorway, bashing the door of an old woman and using it as concealment.

"God in heaven, son, what are you doing?!" the cotton-haired woman shrieked.

"Ma'am i suggest you find a place to hide for a minute!" He looked for movement by the light of the flares as she huffed and grumbled into her kitchen, as any old Tennish woman would.

Captain Mahoney rushed over and got behind him. "Private can ye tell me what happened out there?"

"Bit inconvenient now, I think, sir!" He popped his head out and fired three shots, maybe hitting a guy behind a bush. They were advancing slowly. "They ambushed us near the wee cottage about ten k's outside here!"

"Are you the only survivor?"

"Think so!"

An explosion rocked them both as a launched grenade landed nearby. "You're injured, son!" Mahoney said, noticing Killian's leg.

"Aye, we'll figure it out later--"

Bits of door frame came flying off at Killian's face as he noticed a small group of guys shooting at him from the other side; they must have come in from the intersecting road. They were making quick work of the Tennish cops. Their shots were quick and efficient. Killian went back out the door and took concealment behind a small car as the Captain stayed in the vestibule of the blue townhouse. Suddenly they were the only two keeping the garrison further up the street from getting pinched into oblivion.

"Not good!" Killian said to himself as he crouched down and scrambled to reload his rifle, dropping the empty mag and jamming the new one in with a shaking hand. He popped up and shot the same man four times, shocked to find that he stumbled back a little, but then came forward again. Killian put two more in him and that seemed to to the trick.

Who the fuck were these guys?

Another one of them shouted a foreign word and they began to fall back. One of them moved toward his fallen comrade, but Killian and Cap. Mahoney fired on him and he gave up, moving back with the other four or five as they disappeared around the corner. The fallen one crawled back and propped himself up against a fence opposite them and as they moved toward him, Killian heard him mumble something in Gaelic, with a slight accent.

Mahoney aimed his pistol down. "Where are you from?" he demanded. "Where did you get that armor?"

The fellow responded by spitting at him. That earned him two shots to the head.

"...Jesus!..." Killian looked back down the street towards the other Tennish soldiers, who didn't seem to be doing to well. One of them turned around.

"Captain! We're taking heavy casualties!"

"Fall back!" Mahoney shouted. The order echoed through the lot of them as they ditched their MGs and retreated. "Come with us, Killian. The Granzerians are in Dungiven. They'll want to hear about this." He removed his cap and wiped the sweat of his forehead. "I can't imagine what the headlines are going to be like tomorrow."

Killian nodded, heading back toward his truck.

"Where are you going Private?"

"Ye think I'm just gonna give them a free Lamborghini?" He hopped back in the truck, took on a few passengers and rolled forward.

Mahoney flagged him down. "I need to get word to Command as well as the garrison at Bushmills; Hopefully they're more prepared. Follow the rest of these trucks back to Dungiven, and get your leg looked at. I know you don't really have a unit anymore, we'll figure it out there. Go."

"Yes sir," Killian replied, rolling up his window and following a large transport truck out of town to the northwest
I offer only slanderous mockeries!

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Chazicaria
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Postby Chazicaria » Mon Jan 21, 2019 3:02 pm

Balaclara, Tenburg
0600, January 20th, 2019

The entire operation had been a stellar success from start to finish.

Without detection, a company-sized element managed to sneak across the Tennish border, ambush half the garrison of Balaclara, then storm the town and seize it in hours, all with minimal casualties or loss of equipment. Six men had been killed, along with nine wounded. The enemy dead were still being counted and a few had escaped in a truck, but overall the casualty ratio was at quite an imbalance, in favor of the attackers. Immediately after the capture, security over the town was established, with interchanging teams of FRT soldiers reconnoitering the outskirts of town for any potential counterattack, and the man portable drones provided by the Chazicarians were invaluable in this effort.

As for civilian resistance, it had been minimal. No one had outright resisted or fought against the FRT troops, but a few individuals had to be detained and kept in the police station for questioning.

Moving quick to try and establish contact with any local sympathizers, Captain McCarthy had most of the town brought out to the streets to inform them that the FRT was now in control of Balaclara and looking for volunteers to organize into a militia. A few dozen hands went up, men and women alike, and the volunteers were escorted to the former garrison building to be processed and eventually trained and equipped using the Tennish Army's own stocks.

Quietly as they'd arrived, the Chazicarians had disappeared. Their work here was done, and they were to cross back over the border for refit and reassignment. They'd be traded out for two different BoO teams, Moose and Lark, who'd already begin infiltrating across the border with their FRT detachment: Blue Company. Their objective, before moving to Balaclara, was to wipe out any and all border patrols in a 10-kilometer stretch to allow for the rest of the readily available FRT troops to cross over. With the roads to the southeastern border cut off with the capture of Balaclara, any border patrol units out their would be extremely vulnerable.

IRIS Compound at Joint Forces Base Weiss, Mittlegral, Chazicaria
0400, January 20th, 2019

"Well, I think that's about all we need to see," Lieutenant General Spee stood up and turned to the room of obviously tired Tennish conspirators and IRIS agents, "Captain McCarthy was an excellent choice. No doubt, Balaclara will serve as a shock to the Tennish government, so it's imperative that the schedule be kept. Both Scarlet and Orange Companies are prepping at their staging grounds, and Violet Company has infiltrated alongside their IRIS counterparts. Ms. Mohan, anything you'd like to add?"

"I think I can speak for our President when I say that we're, once more, grateful for your assistance, sir, " Tara turned in her chair from the screen to better address the rest of the table, "It's not going to be enough just take a few towns. We have to motivate the populace to fight alongside us. We're not going to defeat the entire Tennish Army with a battalion of soldiers, no matter how well our friends equip them." Mohan paused for a moment to rub her eyes- it had been a long day, and the call of the bed was all that she heard echoing in her head, "Danny, I know you've got the propaganda campaign all planned out, but I'd like to see if you could accelerate the timeline on that a bit- the sooner we have people seeing those fascists for who they really are, the better."

Danny, another Tennish conspirator and a former marketing specialist, spoke up with a quickness, "Yes, ma'am. I'll have it running as soon as possible."
Last edited by Chazicaria on Mon Jan 21, 2019 3:03 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Currently performing a complete reorganization of my military and nation. RETCONNS galore. Pardon the lack of organization and conflicting info in my factbooks.

Economic Left/Right: 7.25
Social Libertarian/Authoritarian: -3.38

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Tenburg
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Democratic Socialists

Postby Tenburg » Mon Jan 28, 2019 9:39 pm

Map Room, Palais de Villenueve, Port Pierce, Tenburg

"DEFIANCE!" One paper read.

"A NEW HOPE," read another.

"Their propaganda is circulating like wildfire," Mara Byrne said, tossing it aside, green eyes flickering at the map before her. Admittedly, being from the western side of the country, Crosskeys and its surrounding areas, including the Connemara region, were not fully familiar to her. "Wherever their support is coming from, it's significant and it needs to be stopped." She looked to her Air Marshal, John Graves. "I need your best in the air. The last thing I need is an airborne invasion from Chazicaria."

"Aye, ma'am," he replied. Air superiority was not only a necessity to the Tennish battle-plan... it was an obsession. It had been as much since the Second Great War, almost to the point of depleting Tenburg's other branches.

Mara looked to her Admiral, the only other woman in the room in a sea of men, Aisling Connolly. "Ais, after this, things will change. It's clear to me that we cannot rely on one branch to protect us all the time. Graves has agreed with me in private. I need you to move a task force to Lough Ree."

"Of course. TNV Iron Gael and TNV Coolrain can handle it."

Finally, Mara looked to the most beleaguered of her colleagues, General Tom McGuinness. "I won't leave you out to dry again... just do what you can."

"I won't let you down again," McGuinness replied, his eyes not willing to meet hers in his embarrassment.

Mara reached over and put her hand on his shoulder. A soft smile rolled across her face. "I know you won't." She looked to the room full of officers. "Obviously nothing leaves this room. Can't give these bastards even more than they have. It looks like we're alone on this one. We need to work together from here forward. You're all dismissed." There was a pause, and then, "God Bless."
I offer only slanderous mockeries!

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Chazicaria
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Postby Chazicaria » Wed Jan 30, 2019 3:59 pm

Balaclara, Tenburg
1630, January 25th, 2019

It had been a quite couple days since the initial assault- the locals had called it the Battle of Balaclara. As a rallying symbol of hope for any who opposed the government, dozens and dozens of disenfranchised and dissident Tennish workers and famers from the surrounding countryside had joined their friends in town by volunteering for the FRT. With an established foothold within the country now firmly under FRT control, leadership had decided to formally declare the Republic and announce a state of hostilities between itself and the current de fact Tennish government.

Announcing that the armed branch of the FRT would be known as the Free Tennish Liberation Army, or FTLA (commonly pronounced "fitla"), the rebels sought to portray their struggle as one against a fascist Tennish state that had illegally usurped the previous one. Their propaganda was being circulated all over Tenburg in the form of both fliers and pamphlets, as well as over the internet, all with extremely secretive assistance from the Chazicarian government.

Arriving only a few days after Green Company had seized the small town, Blue Company was now in the process of seeking our border patrol units to engage them alongside the IRIS teams. More and more rebels were being smuggled across the border at the same time, mostly bringing supplies to the two companies or bolstering their ranks. Captain McCarthy had handed off command of the town to Lieutenant Colonel Michael O'Neill, the chosen CO for what would hopefully become a battalion-sized unit.

O'Neill's first order of business had been preparing the town for the inevitable counterattack. While patrols had already been organized all around Balaclara, their range was extended further, and hidden observation posts were planted along likely avenues of approach for the Tennish force, as well as a number of not-so-likely vectors that were still navigable. Knowing that his position was meant to draw the Tennish and potentially Granzerians into a fight (likely to allow for new attacks in other locations, but compartmentalization prevented his assurance there), Michael ensured that he'd know well in advance of their approach. The CO's Chazicarian Attache, Major Gormann, also doubled as the go-between for the IRIS teams that were assigned to O'Neill's area.

Crosskeys, Tenburg
1845, January 26th, 2019

What more could he lose?

They'd killed his brother, the only family he had left. "Resisting arrest," they'd claimed- as if they had a reason to be arresting him in the first place. Since when was waving a sign and yelling at some corrupt fascists a crime?

The electronic repair business he'd built with blood, sweat, and tears over a decade? It had been deemed an acceptable loss when it was shot to pieces and blown up during a counterinsurgency raid on his block, mere months ago.

His home was gone. The Molotov cocktail that came through his window while he was chatting with his old friend from Brytene had turned his living room into a funeral pyre for his life.

Homeless, without family, alienated for holding opinions contrary to the state, and hitting the bottle more than he ever had before- Joe Turner was done. Nothing left but to at least take something from the bastards that had taken everything from him.

Acquiring the necessary electronic equipment had been easy enough- his garage had been full of it, and a good bit had survived the fire. His car trunk and back seat were all loaded to the brim when he left his home, hoping he could sell a bit as scrap so he could eat.

Stealing the necessary components for the explosives hadn't been too hard, either. Holding blue collar nobodies at gun point for fertilizer wasn't something he'd have thought he'd ever have to do in life, but he'd done it without hesitation, surprising even himself. A trip to the public library and a few searches on the public internet there had given him all the info he'd need to set up the device.

And lastly, the target. He had originally considered the local government building, but too many regular people frequented it, and Joe really had no desire to kill too many innocent bystanders. Next, he'd thought of perhaps hitting the local garrison, but it was too secure- he'd get shot to pieces before getting close enough. Finally, the perfect location had sprung to mind.

So that's why he was here, standing across the road from the local police station, pistol in one hand, makeshift remote control in the other.

With an audible gulp and heavy exhale, Joe looked over to his car, innocently parked across from the station in a restaurant parking lot. He'd waited hours to get that spot- it had a straight shot from the lot to the front entrance of the station.

"I'm sorry, mom," were Joe's last words as he click the button on his remote and the car accelerated right at the station. As soon as it impacted the front door, burrowing a few meters into the lobby, he pressed the other button, setting off the explosive that was practically bulging out of the trunk. The deafening boom and shockwave nearly threw Joe to the ground. With one more exhale, he gripped his handgun tighter and nervously approached the site of the explosion- he'd make sure there were more than just explosive fatalities, today.
Currently performing a complete reorganization of my military and nation. RETCONNS galore. Pardon the lack of organization and conflicting info in my factbooks.

Economic Left/Right: 7.25
Social Libertarian/Authoritarian: -3.38

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Tenburg
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Democratic Socialists

Postby Tenburg » Fri Feb 01, 2019 9:31 pm

Crosskeys, Tenburg

Less than 72 hours after almost dying twice, Tennish star net-minder Killian MacDonald was jumping out of yet another truck, this time in the middle of Crosskeys. A special task force had been assembled to discover the source of the guerilla uprising, and since he was one of the few with first hand experience against them, he had been chosen to take part. Cpt. Mahoney jumped out ahead of him, along with three others, and they stared up at the smoldering ruins of the police station. Their fellows had remained at Dungiven, in case this was a ruse to get them to move. The last thing they needed was another captured town. This bombing would be left to the task force-- The Banshees.

A gunshot and a scream snapped them all out of it. The objective was seemingly impossible; apprehend this fucker and get him to sing. It would be up to them, as the police were too scared to enter the station they had once occupied. Riot forces in black lined the streets around them, warding off protestors and radicals who threw bottles and insults and rocks. Into the smoke, the five ghosts disappeared...

Somewhere Off The Tennish Coast

"Most nations adopt an air force... the Tennish Air Force has adopted a nation."
~unkown Stasnovan spy, 1978


"Alpha-Bravo, Cujo 2-1, scanners clear."

"Cujo, Alpha-Bravo, copy that, scanners clear."

A pair of Oha.33 fighters glided effortlessly through the clouds, their pilots keeping heads, eyes and ears up, both on display screens and the skies around them. To this point, these patrols had become routine: take off from Joint Base Hawbouline, fly up the coast, back down, and land, finding nothing of not along the way. As tensions continued to rise in the southwest, however, the Zerinite naval fleet off the coast, just outside of Tennish waters, continued to loom larger and larger. The Tennish Navy could not handle them in a fight if it came to that, but the air was under the firm grip of the TAF. Any ship that crossed into Tennish waters in anger would answer to the combined might of the 177th Maritime Patrollers and 13th fighter squadron.

The pilots had began to grow restless. Routine patrols are hardly such when you are deprived of sleep, itching to see something happen only for nothing to appear. It was twenty years or more since the TAF last flexed its muscles. Perhaps the time had come again.
Last edited by Tenburg on Fri Feb 01, 2019 9:47 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Zerinfrium
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Zerinfrium » Fri Feb 01, 2019 9:52 pm

The Zerinite task forces deployed to the Tennish coast had made a point to stay as close as possible without entering territorial waters. Usually carving a path through their EEZ making a point. At one point STF Jouteinheim broke off to do a pass by of Tennish oil rigs in the area. The size of a Jouteinheim CAG bound to cause workers and news agencies to fire up. However they were under strict orders to not engage. Especially since a turn over was scheduled for a AOR to replenish the ships now entering their third week deployed to the area. Suddenly aircraft were scurrying close. To close. Close enough in fact to have entered the ZDV Zerinfrium's NFZ. The one star in charge Sub Admiral Frizzby would need to make a call.

ZDV Zerinfrium, Bridge

"Sir we got two bogeys in our No fly zone. I repeat two bogeys in our NFZ"

"Two? Must be the patrols they warned about every day in the brief Admiral." stated the captain of the Zerinfrium

The admiral immediately barked to scramble fighters. To get whatever they had that can shoot off his flight deck and into the air. He heard the ear piercing sounds as fighters were launched. He was two ZER-19s followed by a ZER-15 of all things. He knew that it was best to expect any of his fighters to be flown into the air when he gave the scramble order. within 2 minutes four aircraft were in the air. Heading on intercept courses to the bogeys

Frizzby placed his hand on his chin. Holding it. Deep in thought. "I want you to pipe up at them. Tell them to get the hell out of my NFZ immediately or it will be considered an act of aggression and we will take prescribed measures." barked Frizzby. He didn't want to be the root cause of a war. Only to act in self defense.

The radiomen acknowledged and begun to attempt to make contact with the Oha.33s overhead.

"Unidentified aircraft. Be advised you are in CTF Zerinfrium's NFZ. We are conducting operations allowable by international law. Be advised if you refuse to exit our airspace we will be compelled to take force in acts of defense. Aircraft have been dispatched to intercept and escort you out of our airspace. Do you comply? Over" the whole bridge was silent. waiting on the radioman to respond with what the Oha.33s pilots would respond with.

Frizzby sweated. He was advised about the possibility of this every day, but this close? He listened closely. What they reply with. If there is a reply at all. Would dictate his next response.
Last edited by Zerinfrium on Fri Feb 01, 2019 10:00 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Tenburg
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Democratic Socialists

Postby Tenburg » Fri Feb 01, 2019 10:35 pm

Cujo 2, Somewhere Off The Tennish Coast

The pilots listened carefully to the message being relayed into their ears. Upon its conclusion, command was in the other.

"Cujo 2, steady on, you're in Tennish airspace. 2-1, just like you practiced."

The pilot took a deep, loud gulp of breath, a lump forming in his throat as he keyed his headset. "CTF Zerinfrium, be advised, we are conducting routine patrol in Tennish airspace, over Tennish waters. Remain well clear, remain well clear."

"Good job, Cujo," chimed in the long range AEW plane, codename Glass, several hundred miles away. "Got a set of bogeys heading one-two-zero, speed, four-zero-zero."

"Cujo, Alpha-Bravo, Diamond Five and Six are joining on your wing. Break. Diamond Five, Diamond Six, advised-- Warning Yellow, weapons hold. Warning Yellow, weapons hold, Alpha-Bravo out."

Cujo 2-1 looked to his 8 o'clock to find a sextet of shiny black j-20s joining off 2-2's wing. The eight fighters continued on their westward trajectory, watching their screens as they waited for a response from the Zerinite Navy.
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Granzery
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Corrupt Dictatorship

Postby Granzery » Sat Feb 02, 2019 12:17 am



Forward Operating Base, Bróker-19, Connemara, Tenburg
5. Bukikezred, Bukik-Karabélyos Hadtest


"Situation Report," Dandártábornok Fábián Gergő said. He was the Commander of the 5.BKE, and by extension all Granzerian assets in the Connemara region, he was within the main building of Bróker-19, a quickly-erected, but sizeable, building made up of wooden floorboards, sandbag and wooden walls, and a canvas top. With him were the commanders of the 3 paratrooper battalions, the Group Commander directing Granzerian air assets in Tenburg, a representative for the KG-KM SpecOps group, and multiple representatives from both the KG-I and diplomatic advisors.

"Balaclara was hit, hard," KG-I Operative Dominik Szilágyi said, Szilágyi was the chief representative for the KG-I (Royal Guard Intelligence), he had a direct line to the Tennish Armed Forces, as well as, ostensibly low level contacts within the Chazicarian Military.

"I have been made aware of that, we all have, I want to know how and why," Brigadier-General Gergő said.

Szilágyi shrugged, "The Chazicarians got there before we did," he said simply.

"I was under the impression that the KG-I was thorough and precise. Is there any proof of Chazicarian involvement?" Gergő said.

Szilágyi leaned forwards in his chair, "No, not apart from the fact that a group of Free Republic guerillas managed to receive tier One training and top of the line military equipment, before crossing the Chazicarian border, infiltrating and exterminating the entire Tennish garrison of the town," he said. "Look, there's no hard evidence but it's patently obvious, no foreign state or private military contractor on the planet would be able to so rapidly arm and deploy forces like this from within Chazicarian borders, besides, it's not like Chazicaria has made any secret of their support for the FRT."

"How is the KG-I reacting?"

"That's a complicated question, and also beyond the security clearance for this discussion," Szilágyi responded. "However SIGINT reports from our Eavesdropper indicate that the FRT have deployed ground-based unmanned drones to patrol the perimeter of the town, so there'll be no surprising them with anything short of an airstrike."

"I doubt the Tennish government is going to authorise any airstrikes on Balaclara, even if it is a town of communists and degenerates," Gergő mused. "Securing the town is out of the picture for the near future, but we can ensure they won't be receiving any more arms or ammunition without a fight. If they expect us to roll over and die like emaciated Tennish conscripts they are in for a surprise."

Gergő turned to face the Lieutenant Colonel of the 17th Battalion, "Jónás, take your Battalion and secure the run between Chazicaria and Balaclara, if so much as a rabbit crosses that border I want it shot dead, understood?"

"Aye, sir," he said.

"Commander, I want constant surveillance over that town, if any Guerilla steps foot outside that town without a civilian hostage I want you to rain hell down on them," the Brigadier-General said to the Group Commander. "One other thing, I don't know what anti-air capabilities they have but if these truly are Chazicarian commandos I would be amazed if they crossed the border with no protection from the air, so exercise extreme caution." He quickly read the official reports of the battle provided to him by the Tennish Armed Forces, and sighed. "We are going to have to hope that the Tennish security can hold off the insurgents while we deal with this Balaclara situation."

"You're all dismissed,"



Aboard an F-96 Titan, Balaclara Region
1.PLT, E Coy, 17.BKB, 5.BKE, G-BKH


The Titan was a fairly roomy aircraft, holding 120 soldiers fairly comfortably. Elvtárs Company were the first of the 17th Battalion to paradrop by cover of night into the stretch of more-or-less empty countryside between the town of Balaclara and the Chazicarian border. After rendezvous on the ground they would fan out and secure the rendezvous point for the rest of the 17th Battalion, who were to infiltrate via foot into the area and meet up with them within a few days.

Each man sat on low spartan seating, clutching their rifles between their legs, some joked quietly between each other to relieve the tension, some drank heavily from water canteens or prayed. Most of these men knew that in all likelihood the hostiles they were facing were just as well trained as they were, some saw it as a chance for glory, to prove the strength of the Granzerian Paratroopers against a foe slightly more impressive than simple untrained guerillas.

Major Balázs Samsa in command of the Company sat at the front of the plane, peering out the window and keeping in constant contact with both command and the pilots. "Drop Zone in sixty seconds, sir!" one of the pilots said over his short range radio.

He nodded to the pilot and raised his voice. "ELVTARS COMPANY!" he shouted, "DROP ZONE IN ONE MINUTE, PREPARE TO DISEMBARK, REMEMBER YOUR RENDEZVOUS POINTS, MAINTAIN RADIO CONTACT ON THE GROUND AND STICK TO YOUR TRAINING, FIRST PLATOON, PREPARE TO DISEMBARK," he said as the thirty Paratroopers of 1st platoon stood from their seats, attached their ripcords to the cable above them and began to line up by the exit of the aircraft.

"SECOND PLATOON," he shouted, and thirty more men leapt to their feet. "THIRD PLATOON! FOURTH PLATOON!" came the later calls as the other two platoons lined up along the opposite end of the fuselage. Checking his watch he counted down the remaining seconds.

"10 seconds before drop zone!" came the call from the cockpit, and the rear doors on either flank of the aircraft were pulled open, and the roar of the turboprop engines becoming almost deafening, and the wind ripping through the aircraft violently.

"5, 4, 3, 2, 1!" he counted down, the light switched to green, and he shouted, "DROP!"

The Bukik-Karabelyok began to leap out of the aircraft one after the other, once the last had mad his way out, Samsa followed his troops, leaping out of the open doorway into the air. The chutes all opened immediately, he could see the military chutes in the dimly moonlight night, as they drifted towards the ground. The ground stared up at the descending Granzerians like an ancient and wild force of nature. The foreboding Tennish countryside in the far east of the country was very different to back home at Granzery and took alot of getting used to. Here the hills rose wild and deep, thick forests spread like a dark blanket over the countryside. Twisted and sloped trees on dark, lonely glens had likely never seen a lumberjacks axe. Of course there were signs of civilization, on some gentle slopes of the Tara Mount were hamlets and ancient farms, and of course there were the vague lights of Balaclara far off in the distance, but most of the area was dominated by wild weeds and brambles flanking the old and mostly dilapidated roads, whether the poor upkeep of the many roads and moss-covered crumbling cottages was due to the ongoing civil war or economic woes of the area wasn't really an issue worth considering for the Granzerians.

Thankfully, however, within the dense forestry of the Tennish countryside there was a clearing large enough to be used as a drop zone without needing to engage in any dangerous treejumping. Preparing to make landfall he assumed the correct position, his legs bent slightly. As he hit the ground he tumbled to the side, landing ultimately on his back. He leapt to his feet, cut his chute and unslung his rifle. He lowered his night vision goggles and took a quick glance around, remembering his location in relation to their rendezvous point he packed his used parachute back into his backpack in case any Chazicarian or FRT troops would find it and made aware of their presence. He saw the rest of the men preparing around a large moss-covered monolith atop a small hillock. Whether the monolith was a natural formation or a result of ancient Tennish tribesmen was of no concern, it made an excellent point of reference.

"Drop complete, returning to Crosskeys AFB, over," the pilot of the Titan said over radio.

"Roger that," Samsa said.
Last edited by Granzery on Sat Feb 02, 2019 12:25 am, edited 3 times in total.
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Chazicaria
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Left-Leaning College State

Postby Chazicaria » Sun Feb 03, 2019 10:18 pm

Crosskeys, Tenburg
1900, January 26th, 2019

Bang.

Bang.

Each shot sounded like background noise through the smokey, dust-filled halls of the station- drowned out by the sounds of emergency sirens, smoke alarms, screams, and a burning building slowly crumbling.

Bang.

That was the fourth wounded cop that Turner had put a bullet into as both a mercy, and revenge. The first had been a female cop performing CPR on another older looking guy in uniform, and she'd seemed particularly distressed while doing so, but Joe didn't care. Not anymore. Why should he?

Bang.

Five, nine rounds left. The whole experience was surreal- the smell of burning bodies and building, the sounds of the wounded and dying, the scenes of blood-painted corpses barely clinging to life. Joe had never imagined anything like it. His nervous system seemed like it had been so overwhelmed that it'd just shut down, because having thought about it, the hopeless vengeance-seeker felt nothing.

That changed when he saw the men clad in tactical gear moving through the hallway towards him, and his heart dropped through the floor. He'd only had a chance to watch before instinct took over and he raised his handgun and fired three rounds at the group, then dove behind a desk. Peeping up after a second, the men had obviously gone for cover, so he raised his weapon once more and waited for one to pop his head, then he fired again, again, and again.

Click.

The slide locked open.

Balaclara,Tenburg
0120, January 27th, 2019

"Lark Actual, Operator, over."

"Operator this is Lark Actual, over."

"Lark Actual, Balthazar confirms report. Lone aircraft entered Objective Longshot's airspace. Assume deployment of airborne counter-insurgents and proceed with mission as per the relevant contingency. Do you copy?"

"Operator, Lark Actual, we copy."

---

A simple encrypted radio transmission was all it took to confirm the suspicions of Lark and Moose teams. Chazicarian radar assets had picked up a lone aircraft flying through the air space of the route between Balaclara and the Chazicarian border.

It was widely known that the Granzerians had deployed airborne troops to Tenburg, and their response so far had been conservative to say the least. It could only be assumed that these were either Tennish or Granzerian airborne units being deployed to try and sever the supply lines to Balaclara and the rest of the FTLA forces surrounding it. While Green Company was busy maintaining their hold on the town and integrating local dissidents and rebels into their ranks, Blue Company had been tasked with securing a corridor from the border, along with both Lark and Moose teams.

Of course, more men and material were coming across the border every day, making use of the rough, hilly terrain to conceal their movements. The plan had been to move man-portable AA missiles, ATGMs, and mortars across within the first week, and things were on track so far. Most of the weaponry being moved was surplus acquired from the various poorer nations across Atlas. This supply line would be critical to Operation Trebuchet, as would the numerous others that FTLA planned to open in the coming week.

While not quite on the level of training or experience that Green Company was, Blue weren't slouches, and most of them were from Eastern Tenburg. This made them familiar with the type of terrain they were operating in, and with the assistance of the IRIS teams, they planned to move against the unknown enemy force as fast as possible. It was only a matter of time before either side's patrols found one another.

IRIS Compound at Joint Forces Base Weiss, Mittlegral, Chazicaria
0400, January 27th, 2019

Another long night in the Operations Briefing Room, now the makeshift brain of the Free Republic of Tenburg and their Free Tennish Liberation Army.

Of course, this night would be very much so like the previous one just a week ago, hopefully. Just as had been put out in the brief that night, Scarlet, Orange, and Violet Companies had all been in position waiting for their opportunity to make their assigned moves. While none of these companies shared the capabilities of their kin in Balaclara, they still had been equipped with the same top notch gear and supported by IRIS teams.

These three companies were the last of the fully prepared units that had been organized by the Chazicarians, which meant that their mission here was critical. Seizing this town and a second route to the border would allow for the last couple hundred dissidents still in Chazicaria to cross over and join the fight, as well as all the necessary supplies to fight a sustained conflict against Tenburg and her GESA allies.

Aiming for a surprise attack, all three companies had staked themselves out on the farthest outskirts of the town, keeping to the forests until the word came down to follow through with the attack. Like last time, primary objectives were any military facilities present in the town, the police station, and government buildings.

At exactly 0400 word came from the operation's CO, Lieutenant Colonel Oscar McClintock, to begin the assault.
Currently performing a complete reorganization of my military and nation. RETCONNS galore. Pardon the lack of organization and conflicting info in my factbooks.

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Granzery
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Founded: Feb 05, 2018
Corrupt Dictatorship

Postby Granzery » Mon Feb 04, 2019 2:37 am



Chazicarian Border, Balaclara region, Tenburg
Jackal Squad, 1.PLT, E Coy, 17.BKB, 5.BKE, G-BKH


"Jackal 1-2 reporting, the Rabbits are approaching interdiction point, over, approximately 500m from me now, rabbits have three paws repeat, three paws, two teeth, one in the rear and one in front, over" the recon trooper for Jackal 1 fire team said. He was situated about 200 metres up the road, practically hugging the Chazicarian border, he was hidden under foliage and peering through the thermal scope of a suppressed S98 bolt action rifle. The road here was old and probably had seen very little use in years, of course that was most likely why it was the perfect place for the Chazicarians to ferry supplies over the border, there were no houses or signs of civilization anywhere apart from occasional abandoned, crumbling cottages and the moss-strangled low stone walls gripping close to the sides of the road. Besides the lack of civilization the area was in a deep jagged rut, brooks and small streams ran through from further up the many wild hills dominating the landscape. However, Granzerian trackers with the company noticed far too many tire tracks and evidence of vehicle usage than the road had any excuse of having.

"Jackal 0-1, confirmed, over," the Squad Leader said over the radio.

"Jackal 2-1, confirmed, fire team in position, over," the Team Leader for Jackal 2 said. The 2nd squad marksman was located at a vantage point some 150 metres behind the interdiction point. The three remaining soldiers of Jackal 1 were located at a bend in the road, which would allow them to engage the convoy from behind the relative safety of the stone wall flanking the road, while the three of Jackal 2 would advance some 100 metres up the road, waiting for the convoy to pass before catching them in a crossfire. They'd take prisoners if possible, but any armed members of the convoy would need to be dealt with first.

Alex Gáspár, the Robbanásveszélyes Szakember, or Explosives Specialist, of Jackal 1, checked his watch. It was 3am in the morning after their drop which had taken place about what, 4 hours ago? He carried a standard issue Granzerian SZ K78K3, with underbarrel grenade launcher. The night-vision goggles resting on his head bathed the already-green forest in a green tint.

"Jackal 1-2, Rabbits will pass my position in approximately 5 seconds, they'll be at the Interdiction point in 15 seconds, over," the recon reported.

"Jackal 0-1, confirm, all teams, prepare to engage, over,"

Alex felt like he swallowed his tongue as he clicked the safety off his rifle.

A few seconds later came the fateful moment, "Jackal 2-2, Rabbits are in the interdiction point, engaging, over,"

Immediately a round tore through the air, Alex pushed his head over the wall, resting his rifle between two stones, the convoy, as the report indicated, had two technicals mounting .50 calibre HMGs, and three box trucks, unarmed. He saw the driver of the lead technical slumped over the steering wheel, clearly taken out by the first sniper round. The paratroopers began firing and the gunner of the .50cal began to fire wildly in their general direction for a moment before taking some hits to his chest, falling to the bed of the technical. An insurgent armed with an old Chazicarian assault rifle leapt out of the passenger side of the technical and attempted to vault the stone wall, but a quick, well placed burst from Alex left a spray of blood on the foliage behind him as the insurgent crumpled lifelessly behind the wall.

After a few moments the slaughter was over.

"Jackal 2-2 reporting, Six hostiles have been pacified, the truck drivers are cowering in their cabs, over,"

"Jackal 0-1, confirmed, Jackal 1 move in to secure the rabbits, keep an eye out for any runners, Jackal 2, remain in place and provide fire support if needed, over,"

"Jackal 2-1, confirmed, holding fast, over,"

The troopers of Jackal 2 leapt the wall and began advancing down the unsealed road, peering through the scopes of their rifles as they did. There was currently no movement from the convoy trucks, but Alex wasn't convinced they weren't armed. "You speak Tennish don't you, Gáspár?" the Squad leader said.

"Yes sir," Alex said.

"Tell them to exit the trucks, hands in the air,"

"GET OUT OF YOUR TRUCK AND KEEP HANDS IN AIR, YOU WILL NOT BE HURT," Alex shouted as loud as he could, his Tennish wasn't exactly flawless but he could get his point across.

Two men stepped out of their trucks, with their hands behind their heads.

"Jackal 2-2, we've still got one in his truck, I think he's armed," a voice came over the radio.

"YE FUCKIN' COWARDS!" a voice yelled out and a pistol shot rang out, with a pair of swift sniper shots from their support the aggressor fell out of his open truck doors with a meaty thud. However the truck driver closest to Alex fell to his knees afterwards.

"He's been shot," Alex said and the fire team rushed forwards, Alex shouldering his rifle as he got closer. He dropped to one knee and checked the mans injuries. He'd be shot through the neck, and was already virtually dead. He quickly tried to staunch the bleeding with some gauze and a pressure bandage but within seconds the man was dead. "It's too late, he's dead, sir," he said.

"Damnit, secure the other driver, Gáspár, the rest of you split up and search one of the trucks each," the team leader said.

"Aye, sir," Alex said, letting the dead Tennish man slump to the ground. He walked over to the other terrified driver, still with his hands behind his head. Alex shouldered his rifle patted down the shaking driver. He saw a pistol on the ground beside the man, a six-cylinder revolver. He picked up the revolver and emptied the chamber of bullets, tossing the now empty firearm onto the seat of the truck.

"Hi, what is your name," Alex said, "You can put your arms down now," he added and the man returned his arms to his sides.

"My name is Colin O'Shanassy, I'm not with FTLA please I just drive for them, they pay well, that's all," he said.

"For all I care you could be premier of Chazicaria, my orders don't change, you're coming with us and answering some questions," Alex said. "Once my friends here check your inventory we'll get going."

Jackal 2 made their way over, while the two recon marksman continued to watch their backs, scanning the surrounding countryside in case the gunfire had garnered any unwanted attention. After a few minutes of sitting on the stone wall with Colin in silence, the Squad Leader emerged from the rear of one of the trucks. "This Colin of yours has been very naughty," he said in Granzerian. "eight MANPADS, three mortars, and a APIR-76 missile. And that is on top of all the rifles they're carrying."

"APIR missiles? Why the hell are they carrying our weapons," Alex asked.

"Crate was marked with Oskorevan, seems someone has been buying our weapons from our customers. Bring him back to base camp, we'll ask him some questions there," the Squad leader said. "I'll take him, you need to dispose of this equipment so the insurgents can't pick it up after we are gone."

Alex nodded and unslung his backpack, producing three blocks of C4, one for each truck. As the rest of the squad began moving off he attached the C4 to the fuel tanks of each truck, before moving off to join on with his squad. "Fire in the hole," he said, activating the C4 and watching the fireballs extend into the air.

"Time to go, if the gunshots didn't garner any attention that sure as hell will get their attention."
Come to Grozyar where you will have a vodka for every hand
and a tank for every house - Zeribru
THE GROZYAR REPUBLIC
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Stasnov
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Founded: Mar 16, 2014
Democratic Socialists

Postby Stasnov » Tue Feb 05, 2019 3:50 am

Republic of Tenburg, Port Pierce
Sackville Street 42, Apartment 3B
2134 hours




The apartment was small but cozy. At 35 square metres, it had an kitchen and living room area, a separated bathroom and bedroom, and a small storage room. The walls where a light beige, and most of the furniture was wooden and old. Two men were sitting around the table in the kitchen, one young, one old. The old man was tall and lean, but with his years weighing heavily on his back, while most of his white hair had long fallen off. Nicholas Fisher, a pensioneer for 7 years now, had just celebrated his 68th birthday with his friend and "colleague" Aidan Hayes, the man sitting across him at the table, a bottle of Jameson whiskey and two glasses between them. The 28 year-old accountant was shorter, but a well built and strong young man with short black hair enough blue eyes behind his prescription glasses. Nicholas poured some more whiskey for both of them, and raised his glass in toast, Aidan doing the same shortly after.

"You want to get me drunk, old man?" the young man asked with a smile "I need to be sober when i meet your friend. Don't want him to have a bad first impression of me."

"Oh he won't mind, believe me. Besides, it's not like we get to celebrate my birthday every year. Cheers" Nicholas replied and downed the contents of his glass, cringing at the strong taste of the locally-made alcohol.

"Well" Aidan paused and emptied his own glass "you're the one who keeps me and Shea busy all the time."

Nicholas snorted "Oh if it were up to me i'd have you and your lovely wife over for dinner every second evening. It's really unfortunate Shea couldn't be here tonight."

"Yeah, she's been busy with the kids lately." Aidan said and lit a cigarette "Plus she has that Madrigal job to short out."

The door bell rang before Nicholas could continue the conversation. The old pensioneer got up from the table and Aidan followed after him, and they both walked to the living room where the door was. Aidan put one hand inside his jacket, gripping the Glock 17 in his inner pocket while Nicholas opened the door, just in case while he still casually sipped whiskey from his glass with the other. The door opened, revealing a tall man in his 30s, wearing a grey long coat, holding a plastic cup of coffee. He had ginger hair, with an equally red beard which was trimmed short.

"Ah, welcome Oscar. Please come in." Nicholas said and Aidan quickly took his hand out of his inner pocket "Aidan, this is Oscar, one of our colleagues from the Third."

The two men shook hands and all three returned to the kitchen table and took their seats.

"Nicholas, can you bring me an empty glass and a couple of paper towels please." Oscar said and pulled the lid of the cup he was holding, the creamy cappuccino inside still hot and steaming.

Nicholas brought the glass, and after thanking him with a nod, Oscar poured the coffee slowly into it until it was almost empty. He then reached into the plastic cup and produced a small, rectangular piece of plastic. He wiped his hands with the paper towels, and then started rotating either end of it the plastic rectangle into the opposite direction. It and it almost seemed ready to break in half. Instead it snapped in two parts and he started unscrewing them. One part he threw away, while he pulled something small out of the other. It was a USB stick, which he handed to Aidan.

"There" he said "Now, can i have some of that poison?" he said, pointing at the bottle of whiskey in the table in front of them. Nicholas brought him a clean glass and poured for all of them.

"So what's in it?" Aidan asked the ginger.

"Reports on FRT and government forces by a GRU team that has been on the ground here for about three months, including electro-optical MASINT and SIGINT" he paused to take a sip of whiskey "As well as movements and troop strengths of Granzerian forces in the country, which apparently have been reinforced in early January and have reached regiment-level strength. Seems like they have engaged in active combat recently. But most important of all" he paused and drank again, as if for dramatic effect. The new arrival was getting on Aidan's nerves "It contains everything we know about Chazicaria's involvement in all this. Center is concerned about the influence they have on the FRT. Our direct intervention is being considered."

"Ah well" Aidan relaxed in his seat "That sounds like a job for you boys in the Third and our esteemed comrades in the GRU."

"Don't be so quick to assume your role in this is over" Oscar said and looked at Aidan "We need all the manpower we can get. But for now, what you need to do is to get this safely to the rezidentura tomorrow. I was told to instruct both you and your partner to continue your tasks but remain alert for further orders in this operation. If orders do indeed arrive, Nicholas here will brief you."

The news were more than unpleasant for Aidan. He and his wife and partner, KGB "illegals" in Tenburg for seven years now, had too much on their plate already. First Directorate agents like them never liked to get mixed up with military-related operations. They were trained for everything enemy counter-intelligence could throw at them, but military operations involving militias with shifting loyalties - and with a hostile country backing them no less - where somewhat out of their comfort zone. Regardless, Aidan put on a smile.

"I'm sure the rezident will be awarded a medal for his success in gathering all this info when he gets back home" he said.

Nicholas raised his glass "Let's drink to that" he said and raised his glass in toast. The two others followed his example.

"To the rezident's health, may he ever get rewarded for our hard work" Oscar said and they all laughed.

"Za yego zdorovye!" they all toasted in their native language for the first time in a while now.
Last edited by Stasnov on Tue Feb 05, 2019 3:58 am, edited 3 times in total.
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Zerinfrium
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Founded: May 12, 2018
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Zerinfrium » Tue Feb 05, 2019 5:15 am

Zerinite Federation, Kiananopolis
Primir Executive Palace, 0700


"No absolutely not!" yelled the very feminine voice in the room

"Madam Primir I must again state that as one of the two members of the Kruppstadt Pact we must continue to support our chief ally Chazicaria in this matter with Tenburg. We must help back their freedom fighter."

"Chazicaria? oooh Chazicaria? I'd have all of Chazicaria's councils kiss my Nordic ARSE before I support rebels. We already have the umpteenth fucking political demonstration in Kinlund, where I might have to send in troops to stop a rebellion within our own borders, but then you want me to go and support some 'freedom' fighters from a group that was just invented practically yesterday? We have stood by, loyally mind you, right next to our ever faithful. for decades now, I sent in those ships into hostile waters to prevent it from spilling over. Had to face the backlash as sabers rattled and our own waters are being molested like a Brytish friar surrounded by Valkyrie during the Vikingr era. I will deal with that and have sons and daughters threatened by a early grave to David Johnathan's locker, but you tell me to support practical terrorists when I hold nuclear fire within my fists. I draw the line sir Praetor! It is MY decision and MY ruling as it is within MY jurisdiction on how supportive we are within this two way alliance, that is a hole cut in the sheets of a Orthodox Stasnovan Rabbi, with our mighty friend. They can support their own god damn rebels with their own god damn resources. Now get the HEL out of my Fenrir damned office!" yelled the she wolf with vigor and near menstrual levels of spite only afforded to a angry Zerinite woman.

The lowly Praetor from District Kilo nods his head stating his official statement of leaving the room to the Primir as he exits likely to report the Primir's decision to whomever thought it was a good idea to second guess the alpha female of Zerinfrium. Valentingr gains her composure. Resetting the her desk as several documents moved and pens and stamps got out of place on her tidily arrangement from her abusing of the expensive dark Oak desk. She calmly moves a lock of her hair that got in the way of her eyes, the lock that she always leaves out of her Military style bun she usually wears when in her "War time dress".

"Madam Primir there is also the matter of labor strikes in the Jouteinheim." stated the senator who was patiently waiting for his turn

The she wolf sighs as she looks up to him as calmly as she can. Clearing her throat. "Proceed Noble Senator" she said, gritting her teeth, officially starting this set of numerous recordings of her conversations during her appointments.

Outside Tenburg EEZ, Classified coordinates
ZDV Zerinfrium Bridge, 0710


"Judas priests there goes another one." stated Admiral Frizzby as he saw yet another fighter launch from the catapults on his flagship. He had just woken up 30 minutes ago and had his morning cup of joe in his hand.

Zerinfrium has been constantly launching aircraft in order to have them gain their flight training hours that they were expected to still gain despite the cancelling of the exercise.He turned and looked out the starboard mirror as he smiled. The new AOR had jsut relieved the other and had begun refueling of the Pontifex destroyer part of his CTF. His old face gave a bit of a smirk seeing the black dots in the distance running about as cables were shot and the ships conjoined in a temporary but well needed union. He recalled that destroyer reporting not 10 hours ago of its desperate need for fuel, as it had already nearly depleted the fuel from the last drops of expendable black gold that was given to it by the previous replenishment vessel. The admiral then shifted his gaze again. A ZER-20 roars it's engines before soon being thrown into the air with great force. It soars into the sky. The old man chuckled. If he dies out here due to some dumb teenager with a rocket launcher or a bomb hundreds of kilos away he is going to be a very unhappy man when he steps before the all father.

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Tenburg
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Founded: Feb 01, 2017
Democratic Socialists

Postby Tenburg » Thu Feb 07, 2019 8:52 pm

Crosskeys, Tenburg

Killian kept his rifle lifted, the flashlight underneath doing little to break through the dust and smoke and crumbling bits falling down around them. They had found only a few stilll alive... many had bullets in their heads.

Killian, the point man, was the first to see the shadowy figure of a man with something in his hand. "Freeze!" he barked as his four teammates gathered on different sides of the man in question. "Don't move, you."

Somewhere deep inside, Killian was sort-of glad that there weren't many witnesses to this. It's not often a high-profile national athlete is seen with a rifle in his hands and a plate rig on his chest, beading down on some guy. He rather selfishly pulled his shirt collar up over his mouth, hoping no one recognized him. Keeping his eyes locked on the man, he barked another command:
"Put the gun down."

Somewhere off the Tennish coast

The grave mistake had been realized, and the course of the flight corrected. Two OHas and six J-20s scream across the sky in a southwest direction, back towards land, watching their six on their screens as they were not being left alone by the Zerinite fighters back some ways behind them.

"Cujo 2-1, Alpha Bravo, if they continue to pursue you once you're in Tennish airspace, you are clear to engage."

The sweaty pilot was really hoping they would turn around before that, but they all had their doubts. "Cujo 2-1 copies."

"Alpha Bravo, Diamond 5-1, all attempts to communicate with bogey pilots have gone unanswered."

"5-1, once again, advised Warning Yellow-Weapons Hold. Warning Yellow, Weapons Hold. Alpha Bravo out."
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Zerinfrium
Secretary
 
Posts: 33
Founded: May 12, 2018
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Zerinfrium » Thu Feb 07, 2019 9:36 pm

Outside Tenburg EEZ, Unknown Coordinates

"We are catching up on these sister jumpers." said Happy 3 on the comms laughing. "Yea they probs are freaking out right now. With us ignoring their comms." Replied his wing man "Quit you two. They can hear us if you idiots aren't using the open channel. They are approximately our of our NFZ anyways, Happy 5 go wave them good by. Meet you down by the railroad track." said Squad leader

Happy 5 smiled. He went from cruise to intercept speeds. Catching quickly up to closest scampering OHa getting nice and close right beside him. He turned to look and waved at the pilot. Who showed the international sign of disgust to a person. He chuckled and returned the gesture in good faith. getting closer and closer holding it until he was inches away. He then waved goodbye before he killed himself on this stunt and peeled off. Heading back to the carrier. He then noticed something. The bastard was following him. He smirked. This guy doesn't realize he is messing with one of the best. At least in Happy 5's head anyways.

He slowly maneuvered side to side. seeing if the OHa would follow his every move. Of course he did. He then skippered down low. To close to the water. The bastard is still following him? He did a short 180. The OHa followed on a wider turn. Happy 5 laughed. 'Punk ass can't even do a hard 180.' He engaged his afterburners. Quickly making some distance from him and the OHa. He then had some breathing room. Performing another sharp 180. He aimed his aircraft right on course with this punk ass pilot. "You want to play games? I'll show you a game." he said not on comms. They were heading right for each other. Of course he is gonna peel off before impact, but not before this son of a bitch. At least that what he thought in his head. He was a young pilot after all. Miscalculations are often. They got closer and closer. His heart pounding. A bit dizzy still from the Gs he subjected to himself doing these stunts. He prayed to Thor that the Tennish pilot would move. They got closer and closer. He closed his eyes, preparing to peel off. He counted. 1... 2... he opened his eyes, but say the OHa had peeled off just as he opened them. Unbelievably close. His heart raced but slowed down. Good thing he was back on track to the Zerinfrium.

Suddenly his alarm went off. The beeping. That beeping. He knew what it meant. He turned to look. How is that OHa right on his tale so fast? He scrambled. Good god did he forget where the chaff release was? He found it he was gonna press it, but it's to late. The enemy can launch right now. He closed his eyes. Then it was gone. He opened them eyes wide. Breathing heavily. "Happy 5 you okay? You're breathing heavy?" He heard on comms. It was Happy 1 his squadron leader. He raised his aircraft slowly up to follow his squadron. "Ye...yes Happy 1.. i'm fine.. on your tail. Meet you down by the railroad track." he replied. He looked behind him to see that OHa soaring up to perhaps gain up with his wing man. 'Who was he? Was he a fucking ace?' He remembered a flash image of it. It had a pilot credit. At least thats what they are called in Zerinfrium. A red eagle with bloody prey in it's claw. Thats all he could remember. Other than that the beeping. Oh god the beeping. It still rang in his ears. Why didn't he shoot? Why didn't he fire a missile? What stopped him? Or... what prevented him?

Eventually he landed on the carrier. Perfect landing as usual. He thought of how interesting this report is going to be. Wait until the top dogs hear about this. Then theres the beeping. Good lord the beeping. He finished his report, and turned it in. He was given 4 hours of down time before he'd have to get back to work and eventually give a oral report with his wing mates on their intercept. He could't sleep. He was dissy, his head rung from his heart rate during that near torture. There is still that beeping. It's still there. haunting. He can't sleep. He wanted to but he couldn't. He stared at bunk above his as he laid there. "Why the hell didn't he kill me?" he said to himself quietly.

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Tenburg
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Posts: 256
Founded: Feb 01, 2017
Democratic Socialists

Postby Tenburg » Thu Feb 07, 2019 10:41 pm

Outside Tennish EEZ, Location Unknown

Cujo 2-1 lost breath as he noticed a blip on his radar moving faster than the others. Moving.

"Alpha Bravo, Bogey increasing speed." His voice rose sharply as he tried to remain calm.

The AEW confirmed his report. "Bogey increasing speed from four-zero-zero to four-six-two and climbing."

Withing moments, the flight had a visual on the ZER-20 behind them. Cujo kept his finger on the flare button as he flew up close. Beside him, in fact. "What the fuck...?"

"Steady boys," Diamond 5-1 said, "what's he gonna do, there's eight of us."

The cheeky bastard waved at Cujo 2-1, and then pulled off.

"You just gonna take that, Captain?" Diamond 6-3 asked.

God, would it ever be an embarrassment to the TAF if this story got out without some retaliation. No. 2-1 was not gonna take that.

"2-2, Diamond 5, cover me." He gripped his controls and pulled off after the Zer-20. About a mile-and-a-half separated the two as the Zerinite pilot began to take maneuvers, which Cujo 2-1 copied. the OHa.33 may not have been as new or shiny or advanced as the J-20, or the j-31 in development, but she was a good, solid plane that could do anything one would want it to do. He followed the ZER-20 down to the water level, droplets lapping up onto his canopy for a few moments. 2-1 checked his altitude to make sure he wasn't about to become a submariner. The Zerinite made a sharp turn, and 2-1 responded with a much more gentle corner in the same direction. No need to overwork the poor girl.

Reversing his heading, he looked down briefly at hi screen to see the two were on a collision course. His eyes moved back up to the horizon, fixating on the shiny dot that grew bigger and bigger. 2-1 pushed the throttle forward, a single bead of sweat making its way down his forehead and onto his nose, making it itch. The Zerinite jet drew closer and closer, the pilot's heart beating faster and faster, waiting as long as he could stand, until finally jerking hard on the flight control and jinking abruptly to the right, the jet wash from the Zer-20 shaking the port side of his aircraft. 2-1 pushed the throttle even further, pulling up and into a fast Immelmann turn, coming back down towards his opponent from above and behind, out of the sun. He flipped down the small HUD screen over his right eye which actuated the R-27 guidance system. it quickly gained a bead and he armed it as soon as he could as he gently pulled down directly behind the ZER-20, about a mile behind.

2-1 let the gentle hum of the lock-on linger in his ear, which in turn meant the lock alarm would be ringing in the ears of his opponent. He let it baste for a few moments. Tennish pilots not only were trained to be masters of aerial combat, but also psychological combat. Sometimes you need to beat your enemy without firing a missile. This would do. 2-1 un-locked the R-27 and peeled off. "They're heading home... we've made our point. Alpha-Bravo, Cujo 2 and Diamond 5 and 6 making egress on a two-two-zero heading, speed 410."

"Alpha-Bravo copies all. Come on home, boys."
I offer only slanderous mockeries!

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Chazicaria
Minister
 
Posts: 2442
Founded: Jul 03, 2009
Left-Leaning College State

Postby Chazicaria » Wed Feb 27, 2019 11:24 pm

Blue Company FOB, Eastern Tenburg
0930, January 29th, 2019

Confirmation had come from drones flying low over usual convoy routes- one of the supply convoys had been hit hard.

It had never been expected that these trucks would be able to continue running supplies to Balaclara unmolested forever. Eventually, someone would notice, be it the Tennish or their Granzerian friends.

Of course, this force was certainly a light infantry unit, and this lined up with the recent report that a long aircraft had entered the air space east of Balaclara- the Granzerians had likely deployed an element of the airborne troops they had in Tenburg. Such a force would be hard to track in the mountainous terrain of the East, but they couldn't move exceptionally fast, either. With the drones and reconnaissance techniques employed by the IRIS teams being adopted by Blue Company however, there was a good chance that this unit could be located and decisively engaged.

OPs had already been established along virtually all likely avenues of movement in the mountainous terrain, though such routes were unlikely to be taken by well-trained professional airborne troops. This left the opposing force with the less comfortable routes, like "goat trails," densely forested areas, and exceptionally rough mountain terrain, all of which would seriously impede their movement speed.

With numerous drones employing thermal imagine and trail-sensing technology to search for the dismounted force, it would only be a matter of time before the men were spotted. A search zone was established around the ambush site, with the immediate site and a few square kilometers around it being the lowest priority. Higher priority zones were established approximately 12 kilometers away from the site, and extended up to 50 kilometers away. Beyond that, the search shifted to a low priority. Of course, this would change daily as the force likely maintained movement, so as to not be caught.

As soon as the force was found, they'd meet their reckoning.

Crosskeys, Tenburg
1915, January 26th, 2019

Drop the gun? As if that was going to work.

Turner, his pistol locked open, assumed a throwing stance and threw the weapon with all his might at the nearest man to him, hitting him squarely in the face before pulling his knife and charging forward. In the back of his mind, he knew he'd be shot, but that was the point of all this, wasn't it? It's rather moronic to bomb a police station and then charging in pistol blazing and expect to live, obviously. So why not go out as a man? As a proper, Tennish man.

Aye, that'd be ideal.
Currently performing a complete reorganization of my military and nation. RETCONNS galore. Pardon the lack of organization and conflicting info in my factbooks.

Economic Left/Right: 7.25
Social Libertarian/Authoritarian: -3.38

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Tenburg
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Founded: Feb 01, 2017
Democratic Socialists

Postby Tenburg » Tue Mar 05, 2019 11:27 pm

Crosskeys, Tenburg

Killlian, seeing the situation as the thug charged a hurting Sgt. O'Donavan, took quick action, raising his rifle and taking a pair of shots at the lower section--BANGBANG--seeming to take out his right leg from under him. As he fell to the ground, Mahoney jumped on him, and O'Donovan gave him a swift kick in the ribs for justice.

"Fucker!" he yelled.

He went to kick him again but Killian pulled him back. It's alright, lad. That's enough." Killian didn't much like the idea of taking this baw-bag alive as it was, but they had their job to do.

This didn't seem the like the work of FTLA guerilla fighters to him, at least by his little bit of experience. But there could be plenty of ways to connect them.

"Secure the area, go!" Mahoney shouted as he secured the assailant.

Killian and O'Donovan moved back towards the front of the station, coming out of the fire and dust to blinding sunlight as the low winter sun did its work.
I offer only slanderous mockeries!

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Tenburg
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Founded: Feb 01, 2017
Democratic Socialists

Postby Tenburg » Sat Apr 06, 2019 10:34 pm

Glendalough, Tenburg

Paddy Mullen took a long drag off his pipe, the billows of smoke floating upward towards the ceiling of the humble cottage. The fireplace roared nearby as he looked himself up and down in the mirror. He was actually surprised he could still fit in his old uniform, as old at this point as he was, but it fit. Just. He put down his rifle and adjusted his helmet straight. Picking the rifle back up, he looked down at the pictures in front of the mirror. His eyes darted to one in particular, showing him as a young soldier, arm in arm with a Chazicarian, both smoking cigarettes, helmets cocked to the sides of their head. Heinrich Sandhorst, whom he called Henny. His best friend.

"It's a good job ye didn't live t'see dis, sir," Paddy said. He had been ignoring the gunfire outside to this point, but now was the time. He fought enough wars for his home and wasn't gonna let any old arthritis stop him. Or his weak lungs. He had always told Henrietta he was going to die on his terms--he hoped she was watching from Heaven as he would.

He headed towards the red door, cocking the bolt of the rifle he had always kept lubed and shiny. as he opened the door his ears were pierced with the sound of guns roaring, something he had nearly forgotten outside of his dreams. The bastards were attacking from the left--the east--and the Tennish soldiers were just in front of him.

One soldier noticed him as he raised his rifle to the distance. "GET BACK INSIDE, OLD MAN!"

"wheesht, boy! And keep shootin'!" Paddy replied, finding a target and taking a shot.

BANG!

The recoil felt like a bomb on his right arm. Worse yet, he missed. He licked a finger and raised it to catch the wind. Getting a quick read he reloaded--cha-chack.....cha-chack, it was a chore--and fired again,

BANG!

A chill ran down the old man's spine as the man he was aiming at let out a red puff and fell over. "No goin' back now, Henny. I'll be seein' ye soon."
I offer only slanderous mockeries!

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Chazicaria
Minister
 
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Founded: Jul 03, 2009
Left-Leaning College State

Postby Chazicaria » Mon Apr 08, 2019 2:07 pm

Crosskeys, Tenburg
1915, January 26th, 2019

A searing pain in Turner's leg shot all the way up to his sides, buckling his knees and bringing the man straight onto the ground.

So this is how he'd go out? As the soldiers charged him, he drew his knife and managed to get at least a couple half decent cuts in before his arm was broken by the weight of a kitted out man dropping on him and the weapon was kicked away. The follow-up kick to the ribs had the defeated terrorist cringing in pain as he felt at least 2 or 3 ribs snap like toothpicks.

"You fucking cunts!" Was the only phrase Turner was able to say, practically on repeat, as he was taken into custody. "Damned bunch of fascist cunts!"

Glendalough, Tenburg
2230, January 27th, 2019

Fighting had erupted rather quick, as the town garrison was on a slightly higher alert than Balaclara's had been, but that likely wouldn't stop the attack from succeeding.

The first stages of the attack had been skirmishes on the outskirts of the town wit security forces, followed by a handful of carefully aimed mortar attacks on the police station and Army garrison. Next, the IRIS teams had moved in with their sniper rifles to provide support by fire for the advancing infantry platoons of the FTLA. Each company was supported by a weapons platoon equipped with GPMGs and the like, giving the attackers a serious amount of firepower for suppression.

Things quickly turned into brutal street by street fighting, though. As the IRIS teams moved in to assist in door-kicking, one team in particular met heavy resistance.

Panther Team had been working alongside 2nd Platoon from Violet Company on the southern end of Glendalough when they came into contact with at least a squad-sized element of Tennish troops, a handful of police officers, and even minor civilian resistance. Joachim Talz, one of the weapons sergeants on the team, was pulling security on the north end of a dirt road for the platoon when the Tennish opened fire. Returning fire with his squad automatic weapon, he managed to get some heads down and allowed for an advance to the middle of the street behind some abandoned vehicles. Out of the corner of his eye, though, he spotted what looked like an old man shooting at the FTLA troops. Before Talz could get his weapon on target, the crack of the old rifle threw a bullet right through the clavicle of a FTLA guerrilla.

"Damnit." Now on target, Joachim let loose with a burst towards the old man and the Tennish men taking cover around him. The flash of his muzzle prevented him from seeing whether or not he'd hit his target, but he continued firing across the street to support the attack anyway, making sure the IR laser emanating from his weapon was always visible through is NVGs.
Currently performing a complete reorganization of my military and nation. RETCONNS galore. Pardon the lack of organization and conflicting info in my factbooks.

Economic Left/Right: 7.25
Social Libertarian/Authoritarian: -3.38

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Tenburg
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Founded: Feb 01, 2017
Democratic Socialists

Postby Tenburg » Tue May 28, 2019 7:41 pm

Glendalough, Tenburg

Paddy felt a searing pain go through his right leg, forcing him to fall back on his butt. This hurt even more. "FECK!" He ignored it as much as he could and reloaded his chamber. Taking aim again, he fired another round and hit another man. "And stay down with ye, sir!"

He decided to take cover inside and crawled back into the cottage. The pain reemerges in the lull in his shooting and pulsated intensely as he got up to his knees and sat back on his couch, taking a break. He pondered if it was worth trying to get a beer...
I offer only slanderous mockeries!

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Volgaria
Bureaucrat
 
Posts: 48
Founded: Apr 11, 2017
Iron Fist Consumerists

Postby Volgaria » Tue Jun 04, 2019 7:36 pm

Glendalough, Tenburg
Tennish Detachment - Volgarian Expeditionary Forces

The sound of radio static filled Reiner's ears.

"Reiner!, what in the fuck is taking you so long? get the fuck over to the allied sector of the city ASAP, Tennish government forces need a ton of those rocket pods to light up some fuckin' communists."

"We got held up by some risks of ground-based anti-air a few klicks back, we're on the outskirts of Glendalough right now."

"About goddamn time, the Tenn's been needing your help for a while now."

"Well they're about to get it, Reiner out."

Even with his headset on and the sounds of his KPF-3's rotors spinning in full succession, the sounds of artillery and warfare in the city below him could still be heard. Reiner navigated his KPF-3 to the sector of the city where Tennish government forces had been in a heated engagement with rebels. Reiner signaled to his gunner to be ready as he neared the area.

"Get those rocket pods on the ready Fürst, We're a kilometer away from the point."

"Already on it Reiner, Just give me the word and I'll send 'em to hell."

Reiner approached the position, he turned the KPF-3 when he caught sight of rebel positions in a targeted zone of the city.

"Light em up!"

The sound of the dozens of rockets firing in succession put a smile on the crew's faces, as Fürst continued to fire upon the hostile positions without a second thought.
Last edited by Volgaria on Tue Jun 04, 2019 7:36 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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New Elesar
Spokesperson
 
Posts: 181
Founded: Dec 20, 2015
Iron Fist Consumerists

Postby New Elesar » Thu Jun 06, 2019 1:02 am

Port Pierce, Tenburg

In a small, soundproofed conference room on the third floor of the Imperial Embassy to Tenburg, Intelligence Officer Gennady Zelenko watched in slight shock as slides of the conflict in the Tennish-Chazicarian border region slowly moved, one by one, across the wall. He'd heard, of course, that there was some minor revolt in the area, something deemed "nothing to be immediately concerned about" by his superior officers. But the images playing across the wall painted a different picture. The streets of Crosskeys were an outright warzone. Bullet holes in every wall, countless buildings burning, and an unknown number of lives lost. All of this played to the thought in Gennady's mind for the week he had been in-country; "Why haven't we intervened yet?"

When he'd asked his superior officer Colonel Savaryn, he'd gotten no more than a shrug and a disinterested "because High Command hasn't said to."

Now, sitting in a room with both the Imperial Ambassador to Tenburg and Colonel Savaryn, the looks on their faces said it all; High Command's orders had changed. Still, Gennady was entranced by the photographs of the fighting and its aftermath, attempting to take in whatever details he could before the next slide played. Every time he gleaned a little more, and things were beginning to become clearer.

"ZELENKO!" Colonel Savaryn's voice rang in his ears. "Were you even listening? Did you hear a single goddamn word of what I said?"

"No sir," Gennady apologized, "What was it you were telling me about?"

"High Command has decided that it's time to intervene. They're looking at sending the 15th Mechanized Brigade and a detachment of CAS and interceptor aircraft. You're likely being attached to the 15th once the government gets approval from the Tennish to send them. Until then, we need you to make contact with two agents from MIR here in Port Pierce. Ambassador?"

The Ambassador slid forth a manila folder. "This folder contains your own identity for this operation, along with all the required documentation. Along with the other contents, it should be enough for you to get in touch with MIR operatives."

Gennady had to admit, he was impressed. The ambassador had seemed to be such an unassuming, quaint, type of man, and here he was speaking like an intelligence handler. It wasn't unheard of for former intelligence agents to get roles within the government after they had retired from the service, so that seemed likely in the old man's case.

He took the file and opened it. Just like the ambassador said, inside was a Tennish passport and driver's license, all branded with the name "Kerry Dugan."
"Caedite eos. Novit enim Dominus qui sunt eius."
Right-wing Populist, Texan/Canadian, Trump Supporter. Fan of GoT, Firefly, and games by Paradox Interactive.

Back and better than ever!
The Royal Couple of Bhutan might just be the most photogenic I've ever seen.
TRUMP 2016!

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