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PostPosted: Tue Jul 30, 2019 5:00 pm
by Chazicaria
North Glendalough, Tenburg
2300, January 27th, 2019

Stepping over another of the Tennish corpses littering the sidewalk, Joachim Talz formed his fireteam up on the door they'd seen the wounded partisan duck into. Being the 2 man on the stack, he knew his 1 man, Erlicher always went left or straight when breaching, meaning Talz would go right or straight depending on the room. Erlicher gave him the ready tap and Talz passed it back to Leon who passed it to Heydrich. Then, to signal readiness, they passed the tap forward; the very second Talz tapped Erlicher, he pushed open the shot-apart door and they all entered the room with deliberate, focused movements. Expecting a fight, they were surprised to see an unarmed old man with a bloody white handkerchief wrapped around his leg drinking a bear with a rifle at his feet.

As the team swept the house, Talz knelt in front of the old man as the two soldiers locked eyes. He respected the old guy- this wasn't a just war, even if Talz knew why it needed to be fought, and he couldn't blame the guy for defending his home. Standing and spotting a photo on the mantle of the fireplace, Joachim recognized the uniforms in the photo as Tennish and Chazicarian 2nd Great War era. Despite the years in between the photo and now, the grizzled appearance of the bleeding man now enjoying his beer was still easily recognizable as one of the men in the photo; the other was a Chazicarian Corporal. Joachim summoned his barely passable Tennish, "You're a hell of a shot, old man. Even with that relic."

South Glendalough, Tenburg
2300, January 27th, 2019

It never pays to rely on indigenous fighters to actually do their jobs.

As the Volgarian attack helicopter rained rocket and cannon fire down on FTLA positions throughout the south of Glendalough, Norbert Mann silently chastised the FTLA weapons platoon they'd assigned to protect the air corridor into the city. Now they were having to call up another Panther Team unit, committing more Chazicarians to the fight than was ideal. The men were approaching from the east on foot, armed with MANPADs and would likely have a shot on the highly exposed helicopter within minutes, but those were minutes where FTLA guerrillas were dying. For now, heavy small arms fire from ground forces are all that would be faced by the heavily armed aircraft.

Despite the gunship, progress was being made in all sectors. The attack had been a well-planned surprise, and by sundown on the 28th FTLA hoped to have the city mostly under control.

PostPosted: Fri Aug 02, 2019 9:25 pm
by Tenburg
North Glendalough, Tenburg

Paddy raised his head and looked down his nose at the soldier, not intentionally, of course - it was hard to see him otherwise.
"That old relic's seen me through a lot. Three years in the TRA, four years infantry in the New Tennish Army... Ye get to know a gun well in that time."

The squad around him all seemed to pause as he spoke.

Erlicher, whose Tennish was decent, asked, "You were TRA?"

"Aye, indeed I was." Paddy took a sip of his stout.

"A long time ago I took an oath to defend my home. That meant shooting at countrymen sometimes back in those days."

He looked back at the photograph of him and his friend, remembering his cool, stereotypically Chazicarian demeanor.

"But old Henny kept my temper in check."

PostPosted: Mon Aug 19, 2019 6:05 pm
by Chazicaria
North Glendalough, Tenburg
2300, January 27th, 2019

Erlicher replied back in his best Tennish, "History is a circle, I think. You're shooting countrymen again." Of course, being professionals, the agents didn't dally around listening only to stories from an old man- Heydrich and Leon were pulling security from the 2nd floor to ensure they weren't caught by surprise by any Tennish troops or police. Of course, at this point that was unlikely as the assault into the town was really picking up.

On the 1st floor, Erlich and Talz continued their conversation as they provided basic first aid to the wounded man, "Can't imagine an old TRA man fighting for the new guys in charge. They're a decrepit bunch. Got any more stout?"

PostPosted: Fri Aug 30, 2019 5:38 pm
by Tenburg
North Glendalough, Tenburg

"Aye, it's in the fridge", Paddy replied, drinking more of his own. "Ye can help yourself to some of the water in the pitcher as well if ye like... Used it for the Misses' flowers, but it would seem one o' ye blew a hole in the garden."

He sat back, his mind rushing to avoid the now-searing pain in his leg. His thoughts went back to the war, to his friends, both Tennish and Chazicarian. McGlinchy, Joyce, Shaw, Heinrich, Otto... They were a crack group, for a bunch of young boys.

PostPosted: Sun Sep 08, 2019 11:36 pm
by Zerinfrium
Abandoned Suburb, Tenburg

Federal Guardsman Private First Class- Thloki Hugsazinglr (Cause of Death Car Wreck)
0232 Tennish Standard Time

It had been a long night. These nights seem to get longer each day while i'm here. We had just gotten word that our position had been compromised. Reports of a group of men heading our way. Unknown nationality. We were rushing to get everything out of here. i had just spread the gasoline all over the papers we had. I finished my last cigarette, and threw it on the papers. It catching fire as it crumpled into burnt remnants and ash. My friend wait.. no.. partner needed help getting the last box into the tunnel. I looked at him with sad eyes, as he looked back after I handed him that box. Eventually we both heard a loud boom and a crash. We should have reinforced that door. His look turned from sadness to absolution and seriousness. He nodes. 'I'll remember you.' he said. After all my training I would've thought that that was a lie, or even a trick. I closed up the entrance behind him as he disappeared. All I heard were the boot steps. quickly approaching. The slight murmurs. I put my hands in my pockets, as that door swung open nearly falling of it's hinges. Flashlights in my face. Yelling, something in the common tongue about me to raise my hands. I decided to comply getting them out of my pockets, and with them a sort of pistol of Tennish design. I raised it to my head.

"The Black Adler rises!!"

All I heard next were two shots. I could tell the first one wasn't mine. All I felt were two pains. One in my hand. The other on my head. I looked at them shocked. I...I fucked this one up for sure. Why was I even brought into the Illusive Men. They grabbed me. I tried to fight them but I was not only in pain, but I was down one fighting arm. Eventually a rag was held to my face. Then blackness. I awoke, I don't even know how much later, to a splash of cold water. I shot awake not knowing where I was, and at first what city I was probably in. I was blindfolded. I knew if they didn't kill me here. That I was dead for sure.

PostPosted: Mon Sep 09, 2019 1:00 am
by Stasnov
Republic of Tenburg, TBD
Countryside, near FTLA Compound AB-13
0230 hours

These guys were a pain in the arse. Aidan was an experienced First Chief Directorate operative for over 15 years, with now almost 6 years as a deep undercover agent in this civil war-infested hellhole of a country. He was a qualified expert in fields such as assassination, sabotage, psychological operations, weapons handing, close quarters combat and even money laundering. In his 15 years of service he had to use most of these skills. But these five fuckers still got to his nerves. He didn't even know who they were, other than that they were on the same team. He had first assumed them to be Spetsgruppa Vega, one of the KGB's several Tier One units. Or they could be from the GRU Spetsnaz Regiments. They didn't tell him themselves, and he sure as hell wouldn't ask the. He just expected some more comradership and respect for someone who had been living a false life, someone who hadn't seen home for six years. He missed his country. He missed his friends.

Aidan's thoughts were interrupted by the team leader's hushed order over the radio to remain low as a searchlight scanned the treeline near their position. They were in a forest near TBD, away from the immediate front line, but the faint sound of small arms bursts and artillery or tank fire was still omnipresent and unending. Ahead of them, in the edge of the forest, was a fortified Free Tennish Liberation Army compound. This was an assassination mission, and as such, pretty simple: infiltrate, eliminate, exfiltrate. The target was a high-ranking FTLA official - code name "Target Red" - with, rather stupidly, outspoken pro-Chazicarian leanings. The HVT's codename implied that there was another target in Tenburg that would be taken care off tonight, but Aidan wasn't certain.

Aidan had been ordered by his handler, the venerable Nicholas Fisher, to attach to the special forces team for this mission as a local guide and translator, though all of the operatives apparently spoke the local language. Maybe that's why the operatives weren't that talkative or friendly towards Aidan; they thought that he was there to babysit and oversee them. The good old stereotype of the KGB spook ruining the fun for the "cool" tier one operatives. The thought was both amusing and infuriating to Aidan, but he would soldier through this mission and get it over with. The order came to move.

The six men left the cover of the foliage and steadily advanced towards the barbwire fence. The beam of the searchlight was now scanning the other side of the compound, and the next foot patrol shouldn't be here for about two minutes. Plenty of time. Two men of the squad - the Mario and John - crossed the open area between the treeline and the fence, with Mario pulling a barb wire cutter from his backpack. The rest of the squad provided overwatch as the two men started working on the fence. All six men wore a mix of civilian clothing and military gear, with NVGs and balaclavas covering their faces and they also carried exclusively non-VP weaponry. They all communicated in English.

"Movement right" the radio suddenly cracked with the voice of Niko, the team sniper "Three foot mobiles and a dog. A rather cute German shepherd."

The team leader, Paul, turned to one of the squad members called Anton "What the fuck?" he whispered to him.

"IMINT suggested five minute patrol rotations" Anton shrugged.

There was no choice. Even if the guards would just walk by without seeing them, the dog would surely sniff them. Paul gave some sharp orders over comms, and the squad took position, with the cutter team staying put by low. Aidan aimed his silenced M4A1 at the closest guard's chest. They all held their breaths as the patrol approached. The dog suddenly became restless, and the first silenced shot from Niko's M110 DMR put it down. Three other silenced shots took out the the guards. The squad broke cover as the cutter team finally opened a hole in the fence.

"Control" Paul ordered "And hide the bodies"

Aidan and Anton complied, walking up to the bodies of the guards and their patrol dog and putting a silenced round to each one's head. They then quickly dragged them to the treeline and hastily hit them under the foliage. The squad entered the compound courtyard and kept to the shadows.

Some minutes later


*pop pop pop*

The three dead guards near the entrance of the compound HQ room were made sure to remain dead. Niko provided overwatch as the rest of the team hid the bodies in a bathroom, alongside the bodies of four other guards. The team then stacked up on the door of the room where Target Red was supposed to be. However, there was a problem. The small windows on the double dour were boarded up, and the operators couldn't see inside. Aidan looked at Paul and pointed at a flashbang hanging from his plate carrier. The team leader shook his head rather disapprovingly, signing "too loud". Paul turned towards John, making a couple of hand signals. "Camera" Aidan understood. These guys really came prepared he thought.

John unzipped his thigh pouch and pulled out a flexible cable camera and a PDA. The crouched down and slipped the camera under the door, turning on the PDA. A live feed of the room appeared on the screen. Paul knelt down next to John to inspect the room. After some moments, the TL explained the situation. Seven armed men were inside. Four officers hunched over a map on a table in the room's centre, as well as three guards, two of them guarding the door and one in the back of the room. Paul assigned targets to each team member, and Aidan had the guard on the other side of the room. The men stacked up and Mario swapped his G36C with a suppressed Mossberg 590, sticking the end of the larg silencer on the door's lock. Paul raised three fingers. *Three, two, one*

It was over in seconds. The point-blank shotgun blast blasted the lock and Mario kicked the door. Paul and John entered the room, shooting the door guards on the back of their heads at point blank. Aidan followed, firing three shots at the guard on the far side of the room, who instantly went down. Mario blasted one of the officers with his shotgun and John took out another. Aidan killed an officer, a captain by his insignia, who tried to reach for an FN FAL on a chair. Paul fired two shots from SCAR-H at Target Red, the top of his head disappearing in a red mist.

"Clear" said John

"Room clear" declared Paul "Let's get this done. Take photos, grab any documents. Five minutes and we're out of here"

PostPosted: Mon Sep 09, 2019 5:22 pm
by Chazicaria
Just Outside FTLA Compound AB-13, Tenburg
2355, January 28th, 2019

Yet another checkup.

It'd been a routine with these FTLA Compounds- Sword Team would move to each, one by one, and physically gather intelligence deemed too sensitive to transmit. Then, they'd personally hand the info off to a collection team which would bring it back to Chazicaria for the Bureau guys to peruse. Nothing too incriminating or valuable was every at the compounds, but valuable battlefield intelligence or political machinations being performed by FTLA independent of IRIS or the Chazicarian government were obviously present.

After firing the opening shots of the war, it was a little degrading for Sword Team to now be glorified babysitters and mailmen for the FTLA. Of course, it wasn't every day that IRIS Ops guys got to actual do their jobs, so a brisk walk through the Tennish countryside in full kit was nothing to really complain about. There was always the chance of reassignment to more engaging work, especially considering the sheer scale of IRIS operations in Tenburg. Sword itself was a perfectly normal IRIS Bureau of Operations Team, specifically from Section 1 which handled Western Chazicaria, Tenburg, Volgaria, and the Allied Castarcian States. The team was made up of two fireteams of four men each (breacher, automatic rifleman, grenadier, team leader), and a sniper team of three men (marksman, spotter, security man)- 11 men in total, with the Security Man on the Sniper Element serving as the actual Sword Team Leader- Sword Actual. All other members of the team had number designations from Sword 1 to Sword 10.

There was a process to checking in on the Compounds, and each specific one had its own process for security purposes. For Compound AB-13 in particular, that process was a 6-click radio transmission that would to any normal radio operator be confused for static- this would alert the radioman to put the perimeter guards on high alert and to click back twice, signaling his acknowledgement. The IRIS team would then approach the perimeter, stealthily, and give a challenge phrase that changed based on the day of the week. Today's phrase was to be, "Pan," followed by the reply from the guards which would be, "Cake." Sword has run through this process with the Compound's Commanding Officer, Major McGinnis, a dozen times in practice.

Obviously, this phrase wasn't going to be used, considering that the 6-click radio transmission was never replied to by the usual two clicks. Worse yet, no perimeter guards could be spotted by the Team's Sniper element, which was as usual posted on a shallow ridge (it was, after all, mountain country) overlooking the southern side of the Compound- today's approach for Sword.

Sword 1, Alpha Team Leader and currently the lead element in their bounding overwatch movement clicked over on his commo to Sword 5, Bravo Team Leader, "Nothing. Charlie hasn't got anything either. Assume compromise and move to secure- as per ROE, all not FTLA will be dispatched, out."

Moving ahead with his team, and all with their NVGs deployed, Sword 1 slowly crept across the short yard on approach to the building's entrance, Sword 5 providing cover. On the shallow ridge almost 800 meters away, Sword Actual took updates from his Marksman and Spotter, currently viewing the compound from the thermal optics attached to their rifle and spotting scope, respectively.

Not another checkup, it seems.

PostPosted: Tue Sep 10, 2019 9:18 pm
by Stasnov
Republic of Tenburg, Location classified
KGB Blacksite
0300 hours

The, long, dark room was devoid of any furniture other than a chair in its centre and and two turned off floodlights aiming directly at it. The walls were unpainted and were just cement gray, and the three windows were boarded up. There was only a single door, on the side the chair faced. One of the two lamps hanging from the ceiling was broken, the other was turned off. Two barrels with a bucket and some rags were on one of the corners, while two long wires were hanging from the ceiling behind the chair. Target Black-P1 was sat in the chair with his hands tied behind his back and a dirty, black cloth bag over his head. The chair - that was tied to the floor with heavy chains - was metallic and rusty, its back almost broken. Anything to make Target Black-P1 uncomfortable. But, to the surprise of his captors, the he was still asleep. Two figures dressed in civilian clothing walked up to the chair.

"So that's Target Black-P1? Why's his hand and head bandaged? I thought you said he was intact, Doc." said the man on the right. He spoke in perfectly accented Tennish. He was skinny but tall, and wore a black turtleneck and jeans.

"He tried to shoot himself." replied Doc, the other man, also in Tennish, though his accent was slightly off but still believable. He was of a more muscular but significantly shorter build than the other man. He wore a green jacket and tan pants, as well as combat boots "But the idiot wanted to go full spy movie and screamed some bullshit motto first. So Mouse had to shoot him in his pistol hand and his own bullet grazed him. Funnily enough, Athlete bashed him with his rifle stock in the exact spot of the head wound." the man chucked.

"Well maybe he bashed him too hard" the other man said, remaining stone-faced "He still hasn't woken up. Let's help him."

The other man nodded "Sailor, Sultan!" he shouted and two other men appeared from the door. They were both armed with M4 carbines. Sultan, a darker skinned man, opened one of the barrels and filled the bucket with the water that was inside. He walked up to Target Black-P1, splashed him in the face and removed the hood from his head, while Sailor, a bald, lean man, turned on both flood lights. Black-P1 cringed at the coldness of the water and the intensity of the flood lights on his face. The man in the turtleneck walked up to him slowly, cracking his fingers. He started at him for a while and then leaned down, speaking in Tennish.

"If you refuse to answer to my questions, i hurt you. If you lie to me, i hurt you. If you play mute, i hurt you. Only you can stop me from hurting you. Understood?" he said.

Black-P1 didn't reply. Sultan's punch broke his nose. He shook violently in place, trying to fight the shackles. The next punch bruised his right eye, the next made a tooth go loose, and the other two were directly aimed at his head wound. He grunted, breathing heavily, blood dripping from his broken nose.

The interrogator moved closer to his face, almost whispering "See what happens?"

He grimaced and glared right into the interrogator's eyes "What do you want?" he also replied in Tennish, with the accent of either a local or a professional linguist. But the interrogator wasn't fazed.

"How long have you been an IM agent in Tenburg" he asked him.

"What the fuck is IM?! I'm just an arms dealer!" Black-P1 replied and spat out blood and saliva. Sailor, who had walked up behind the chair, kicked him in his arm would with his steel-tipped boot, while another punch by Sultan landed on his head wound.

"If you lie to me, i hurt you" the interrogator said again.

Black-P1 screamed, and started violently coughing. Doc slightly turned his gaze to the interrogator, who in turn met it with his eyes. Now he was the one worried about the prisoner's health. Maybe they were taking it a bit too far for the first session. The last thing they wanted right now was for Black-P1 to suffer a concussion. But the calm, cold look gave a very clear message. I know what i'm doing, don't show weakness.

As he regained his breath, the prisoner slightly raised his head "I'm not lying" he growled "I'm just an arms dealer."

The interrogator sighed "Get the water" he said to Doc and made a hand gesture to Sailor and Sultan. The two men grabbed the prisoner by the arms and wrestled him to the ground. He started violently trashing, trying to soldier on through a situation he probably knew he couldn't get out off. He started thrashing even more violently when he saw Doc get to the two barrels, lift the rags off one, and starting to fill the metal bucket. The Interrogator knelt next to the prisoner and stared him straight in the eye. Doc walked up to them with the rag and the water-filled bucket, putting the former on the prisoner's face.

"How long have you been an IM agent in Tenburg" he asked once again, in calm, almost peaceful tone.

"I am a arms dealer. Nothing more." the prisoner replied, suddenly appearing calm, as if trying to match the Interrogator's tone "I was here for a business venture"

The Interrogator nodded to Doc, who started emptying the bucket.

7 minutes later...

"What? I can't year you?" the Interrogator leaned in closer to try make out the muffled words coming from the drowning prisoner.

"-OKH..OKH-AY" the voice came from under the drenched rag, more like the scream of animal rather than a human voice. Doc removed the rag. The swollen, almost purple face of Black-P1, appeared from underneath, gasping from earth and spitting out water.

"I..I don't know what the IM is" he struggled to get the words out, continuing to spit out water after every word "I'm an arms dealer sponsored by the Chazicarian sell arms to the Tennish dogs"

The Interrogator stood up "Get him up" he ordered.

Sultan and Sailor grabbed Black-P1 by the arms and stood him up, then getting him sitting on the chair again. A a smile started forming on the Interrogator's face, who walked up in front of the prisoner, pulled a pack of rolling tobacco from his pocket and started rolling a cigarette. His looked at Black-P1, smiling, obviously content.

"It wasn't that hard, was it?" he asked as he put the cigarette in his mouth and lit it.

Black-P1 seemed relieved. A faint trace of a smile even appeared on his swollen face ""You fuckers are crazy, but to crazy to be simply some Elesarian or Tennish agency." he appeared thoughtful "Hell... you're most likely Zerinite Federal Guard. So I have to tell you guys what i'm doing to maintain Chazicarian and Zerinite relations, as long as you get me patched up, right friends?"

The Interrogator exhaled the smoke and nodded, the big smile still on his face "Pull his nails out. Begin with this fingers."" he said to the others, still smiling. His smile then disappeared abruptly and glared at the prisoner "When you lie to me, i hurt you!" he repeated his professional mantra, almost growling.

The light disappeared from Black-P1s face. He watched in horror as Doc dissipated into the shadows in one of the room's many dark corner's, only to return a couple of moments later with a black briefcase. Sailor and Sultan untied the prisoner's struggling hands and tied them again to the chair's armrests. Doc laid the briefcase in front of the prisoner and started putting in the combination on the lock.

"OKAY OKAY OKAY!" the prisoner shouted out "I'll...i'll talk" he almost whispered the words, a look of shock and misery on his face. Doc locked the briefcase. From what he understood, the man knew that he had just signed his own death warrant. The prisoner took a deep breath "IM has been here before the beginning, trying to destabilize Tenburg. We didnt start it, we mainly fanned some of the flames, but we are here to make sure the side we want to win does."

The Interrogator smiled, for real this time "Good, good. If you help me, i help you" he paused, taking a long drag from his cigarette and allowing Doc to feed the prisoner some clean water from his canteen "But" he said again, exhaling the smoke "I need details. Arms and supplies shipments to the FTLA, contacts with their high ranking officers, their political leanings, large-scale troop movements. Can you give me this information?"

"I'm not much of a note taker, and I burned all our documents before you busted down that door." the prisoner replied, looking somewhat resigned "So you see, we both are fucked. I'm not even the head of operations here."

The Interrogator threw away the butt of his cigarette and too some fast steps towards the prisoner, his tall frame shadowing the almost crouched form on the chair "Do you want my friend here to get his briefcase again? The only one who's fucked here is you if you don't tell me what i need to hear. If you think i'm stupid enough to believe that a Zerinite spy can't memorize basic intel, you're gravely mistaken. So get talking."

Black-P1 sighed and then nodded positively. The Interrogator turned to Doc "Make copy of the recordings so far and send them to Vastava." he whispered "Now, let's get the info we need."

PostPosted: Tue Sep 10, 2019 10:27 pm
by Brytene
Brytisc Embassy, Port Pierce, Tenburg
Ambassador Julia Wulff

Ambassador Wulff had not been having a fun few months. The fact that the Tennish government was essentially fascist was not something that thrilled her, especially since she herself had misgivings about the rise of Socialist-Nationalism in her own country. A brutal war between the FTLA and the Tennish government meant that every day she spent in this place was another day of nervous glances and weary resignation from the locals she had to deal with, not to mention the chance that the conflict would boil over and catch her small patch of Brytisc soil in the crossfire.

Wulff was a brunette in her early middle age, with a generous figure that could still catch the eye if dressed strategically and placed under the right lighting. Her face was not so much pretty as handsome, with an arch smile that would either draw you in or annoy the everliving fuck out of you. She was a relatively competent politician, but her failure to get on board with the rising star of Socialist-Nationalism meant she had been denied a choice posting in some luxurious Entente nation closer to home, and was instead negotiating the quagmire that was the political landscape of Tenburg.

It was no secret that Chazicaria were aiding the FTLA rebels (or loyalists, depending on your point of view), and she had long suspected that other nations were also delving their grubby fingers into the pie, but this was the first action they had seen anyone pull off. Together with Major Mendenhall, her chief of security at the embassy, and Felix Luna, officially a trade analyst, she was reviewing a report from an informant out in the countryside.

Felix, whose family had emigrated from Musgorocia several years after he was born, was in fact an R-DARK agent, and in fact the section chief for Tenburg. His was a small department, but Felix was a dedicated and competent intelligence officer and he had managed to establish a network of informants who, thanks to Brytene's supposed neutrality, were able to operate mostly without suspicion. The informant was reporting that local rumour had it that earlier in the night, an FTLA outpost housing a high-ranking official had been completely wiped out, and a cautious probe to the Tennish military suggested they didn't even know the outpost had been attacked.

Potentially pro-government vigilantes or militia, then, except that the official who had died was stridently pro-Chazicarian in his outlook. Felix knew that the Stasnovans had been trying to win over the FTLA as a fifth column for some time now, and Brytisc policy was such that communists were viewed as a preferable outcome to the unholy abomination that was the K-Pact, and so they were on somewhat friendly terms. He had not expected the Stasnovans to simply start assassinating anyone who became an obstacle, at least not already.

"You're sure it was Stasnovans?" asked the ambassador, incredulously.
"No ma'am," Felix replied, "but if I had to bet five shillings..."

The Major shrugged. "I doubt anyone on either side will even notice. It's not like the Tennish government and the FTLA are going to work together to figure out who did it."
"Well then what if it's some other third party?" demanded Wulff, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms.

Felix stood, gave a knowing look at the ambassador, and pulled out a cigarette as he headed for the door. He had been to the school of hard-boiled intelligence agencies and had passed Smug Fuckery 101 with flying colours. "I'll just ask the Stasnovans." he said as he paused to light up his smoke, before disappearing into the night.

Soon, a simple SMS was winging its way through the night from burner phone to burner phone. With no identifying code words that could trigger an automatic search, and the phone having been purchased elsewhere in Tenburg and then delivered to the embassy by sealed diplomatic packet, there was effectively no way it could be targeted for interception, but even so Felix spoke in the casual innuendo that would arouse little suspicion.

Code: Select all
to my dear friend boris

i heard that our mutual acquaintance hancock had a rough night last night. was he was partying with you and the boys? i guess it's hard to handle your vodka after you've been drinking chazi shit for too long!

your patsan, felix

PostPosted: Wed Sep 11, 2019 9:24 pm
by Stasnov
Republic of Tenburg
Countryside, near FTLA Compound AB-13
0252 hours

Egress was always supposed to be the easiest part of an infiltration mission, and so far, it looked as if that would be the case for tonight. Well, that was apart from another four dead guards, and one more guard dog, in one of the main building's bathrooms, with a grenade tripwire awaiting to be triggered by whoever was unlucky enough to go for a quick piss in middle of the night. A good deal of the base's wheeled vehicles had also been sabotaged by punctures in their fuel tanks and slashed tires. Whoever tried to come after them, definitely couldn't.

The team also took several "souvenirs" with them as well. Photographs of the dead officers and their operations room, and whatever documents they could find from maps showing troop movements to logistics files detailing weapon shipments from the Kruppstahl Pact. For a total of 13 guards, 4 officers and 2 guard dogs killed, the night had been relatively uneventful and largely successful. But it was still not over.

Five out of six men were moving slow and carefully through the forest in a line abreast formation, with a spacing of five metres between them. Niko, the sixth man and the squad sniper, was roughly 15 metres ahead of them, acting as pointman. They were now about three kilometres away from Compound AB-13, and they had another eight to go until they reached the exfiltration point where another team with three pickup trucks was waiting to extract them.

Niko raised his fist. The others froze. They all crouched low in the shrubbery, scanning the area with their weapons. Paul slowly moved up behind Niko, who was standing perfectly still, looking through the thermal imaging scope of his M110 DMR. Possible movement, 100 metres, front Niko signed with one hand, the other holding his weapon up. Paul turned around to give out orders.

The distinct "crack" sound of a bullet breaking the sound barrier echoed through the woods and Niko's jaw violently recoiled back.

"Contact front! 100 metres!" screamed Paul, still in Tennish, as he dove for cover.

All hell broke loose as the KGB team opened up at the yet unseen enemy, with silenced rounds flying left and right. John laid down suppressive fire with his M249 SAW, while the others fired on semi-auto with their rifles. Aidan, who had been on the center of the team, felt a round graze his calf. He grunted, and checked the wound. Thankfully, it was just superficial.

Suddenly, a faint, distant explosion sounded behind them. After some moments, an alarm started blazing. The remaining guards at AB-13 finally figured out what was happening.

He jumped up and raced towards a fallen tree trunk, where Mario was taking cover. Aidan slid into cover and reloaded his M4A1, and turned to glance at Mario. He noticed that the man wasn't breathing. After a quick checkup, he found two bullet wounds that had managed to get through the operator's plate.

"Mario is 200! Mario is 200!" he declared into the radio and took the dead man's backpack, which contained some of the intel they had gathered.

"Fuck" he heard John exclaim on comms "And where the hell is Anton?"

Aidan was ready to call out for the missing operator when Anton's voice came through the comms "I'm at your 2'. I'm 70 metres next to two of them, clear line of site. I can also see movement further south, at your 10. I'll turn on the IR laser at the targets on your 10 for a sec, and then hit the other two. Be ready."

"Copy that, prepping GL" Aidan heard Paul say on comms "We'll hit them and bug out. The entire compound garrison will be on our asses in a few minutes."

Aidan himself found a broken part of the tree trunk where he could take aim without making himself too obvious a target. He took a deep breath. A couple of seconds later, he saw the IR laser going on and off from where Anton was hiding, for just a moment. *Pop* The location where the laser had pointed exploded as the grenade from Paul's M203 underbarrel GL hit it. A second after, he saw Anton taking shots at a rock formation and repeating the laser procedure. He saw a form go down, while another made itself visible for a few seconds, apparently to fire at Anton. A few seconds was all Aidan needed. Two quick swots and the figure went down.

"Anton, move!" Paul ordered

"Movi-" Anton's voice on the radio was interrupted by a grunt, and then resurfaced "Bastards hit my knee cap" they heard him grunting.

"Coming" said Paul, and dashed towards Anton's location, only to be forced into cover by heavy fire. Anton was in a relatively open area among the trees, with little cover "I can't reach you!"

"Fuck it, i'm throwing you my bag"

Anton managed to get on his good knee, pulled his backpack from his shoulders, and put his whole body's strength into the throw. The backpack, containing part of the sensitive intel the team had retrieved, landed close to Paul, who was able to reach it.

"Retrieved!" Paul declared.

"Good" sounded Anton "Now, get the fu-" a grenade exploded next to him.

"Shit" Paul exclaimed "Let's get out of here. Covering fire!"

Republic of Tenburg, Port Pierce
Embassy of the Union of Socialist Republics of Stasnov, Cultural Relations Office (undercover KGB Rezidentura)
0602 hours

The KGB Rezident in Tenburg, officially the Head of the Cultural Relations Office of the Stasnovan Embassy in the Tennish capital, sat at his oak desk, smoking a cigarette. His name was Boris Yaroslavovich Kolontayev, and at 65 years of age, he had began to thing he was getting too old for this job. One would assume that 40 years of service in the Committee for State Security would get you a better posting, in a place calmer than this war blasted excuse of a nation. But apparently, Centre considered him too "valuable" and "experienced" to retire him now, especially from a target nation.

Well, fuck their considerations. If they indeed valued him so much, maybe he wouldn't need Central's approval on whether or not to respond to the message. But no, when the courier arrived with the burner phone two hours ago, he had to spend through more than an hour of going through the appropriate channels to reach central and ask for permission. Then, he had to wait another half hour for the response to come in. Then....he sighed. Maybe he was getting old and bitter. OPSEC was OPSEC, and it wasn't his place to question procedure.

The burner phone was on his desk, right in front of the ash tray, in which a small mountain had formed. This was getting him nervous. The message came from the Brytisc R-DARK station chief in the nation, whom he had the displeasure to meet a couple of times in diplomatic events. He was a smug little piece of work, and probably not that easy to work with.

But this was the least of his worries. The R-DARK doesn't simply message you some hours after one of your teams kills two dozen people, to simply ask you if you truthfully did it. They were interested in this. Which probably meant the Entente was interested in this. They would possibly want to co-operate with the USRS and the VP in general in Tenburg, possibly to counter KP expansion. Normally that would be a good thing, but to Kolontayev, this meant possible escalation. Escalation no one wanted.

The Rezident sighed and picked up the phone. Maybe he would find out if that Felix was as much of an asshole as he seemed to be.

Code: Select all
to my dear friend felix

Haha, he did indeed. The boys are totally hammered, but most of them made it through the partying just fine, though some lost their way home from all the drinking. And yeah we decided to get rid of that chazi piss they call alcohol. We should grab a coffee some time, catch up a little, eh?

your friend, boris

PostPosted: Fri Sep 13, 2019 4:08 am
by Granzery
Granzery, Palatial Senate Building
1900 Hours

"Drastic action is needed. A Granzerian ally is having her territorial integrity and political sovereignty blatantly violated, not once, but repeatedly, by a belligerent nation. The Tennish Government has failed. Volgarian peacekeepers have failed. Granzerian action is not only needed, it is righteous. Should the Chazicarians threaten war over interference, war there will be, for if the VSO are to disrespect their associate nations by looking idly by as foreign powers orchestrate hostile takeovers of their homelands, the VSO will be worthy of neither respect, nor loyalty."

"To this end, the Granzerian Royal Defence Force will very shortly begin operatons within the Tennish theatre, with the aim of securing major population centres from Chazicarian puppet terror cells, and purging the countryside of any terror cells fleeing to ground. The Terrorist organization known as the "Free Tennish Liberation Army" shall know their doom is upon them, every Tennish citizen will sleep in safety and security when this war is ended, and stability is, for the first time in decades, restored to Tenburg."

The haunting speech by Vezér István Árpád left the Senate stunned, televised live not just to Granzery but across the world, this address left the looming feeling of imminent war and destruction for all that heard it. However the Senators couldn't help but agree that Chazicaria's brazen actions needed to be addressed, lest their warmongering and destabilization reach to other Granzerian allies in the region, primarily Volgaria. Whether it was worth risking war? Nobody could say for certain, or perhaps they just dared not oppose the Vezér. Besides, the deployment was already set in motion and could now not be reversed, whatever path they were on would be the path they remained on.

Forward Operating Base, Bróker-20, Port Pierce, Tenburg
0500 Hours

For days, Hundreds of troops had been pouring into Bróker-20 via helicopter, truck and aeroplane. As opposed to the grizzled Paratroopers which had been deployed in a mostly advisory role thus far, these troops were different. They were Royal Guard, Királyi Őrség Osztály. Zealous ideologues and shock troops, Royal Guardsmen would show no mercy nor remorse, not to Tennish traitors, not to Kruppstadt agents, not to anybody. They had a sordid history, most of the Royal Ground Forces didn't like them overmuch, but had no option but to respect them.

A full Mechanized Regiment were to arrive eventually, those of the 3.KGE Tigers, 1.KŐO, known colloquially as the KŐO Tigers, numbering some 2,500 men. In other parts of the country rumours claimed that more of the Royal Guard Division were arriving in secret, best guess was half the Division was to be deployed, somewhere north of 7,500 men, which would be the largest active deployment of Granzerian troops since the Transkarpatian War. Alongside them were some fifty-eight V-10 and V-12 fighters, to provide air support, and even a complement of three Elesarian BM-54 Zasukha thermobaric rocket artillery batteries, alongside their regimental mortars and howitzers.

Crosskeys would be the site of possibly the most important engagement of this war so far, Granzery and her children wanted to ensure that it was an engagement that progressed their interests alone.

PostPosted: Fri Sep 13, 2019 1:31 pm
by Gorbatov
Glen Forge International Airport
Port Pierce, Tenburg

“Which gate are they coming from again?” muttered Aleksandr, as he walked across the airports terminals hurriedly. Aleksandr checks his phone, with a message from his contact, that they were waiting by gate 13. As Aleksandr walked towards gate 13, he spotted two men waiting by the wall in front of the gate.

“Just two? I thought their would be more?” Aleksandr thought to himself. The two men caught a glance at Aleksandr, they began to approach him. The taller of the two, came to hug Aleksandr.

“Albrecht! Brother, how long has it been!”

“Ah yes Bernd! It’s been too long, how was your flight from Vielau? Was it good?” exclaimed Aleksandr, though was slightly startled by the sudden act.

“Yes, yes, but we’ll talk about that later.” said Bernd, as he gestured Aleksandr’s attention towards a person who was slightly shorter than Aleksandr, standing beside them.

“Oh? It’s cousin Niklas! It been far too long since we’ve seen each other. How’s uncle?”

“He’s well. I’ll be frank, we are kinda famished from the flight, let’s find someplace to eat.”

Aleksandr as he gestured toward the departures exit, “Yes, let’s go then, I know just the place.

One Hour Later

The group arrived in front a large apartment complex. “Here we are,” said their taxi driver.

Once the group exited their taxi, they walked into a secluded alley beside the building complex, until they reached a steel door near the end of the alley way. “This must be the safe house then?” inquired Bernd.

Aleksandr nodded at Bernd, and pressed a button on the door’s intercom. “We’re here,” muttered Aleksandr.

After a moment of silence, the intercom replied, “Copy, opening the door.”

The door’s locks and can easily heard from the outside, and as the door opened, a man wearing a slightly taller than both Aleksandr and Niklas, gestured them to come in. “Come in hurry, we have a lot of work to do.”

Several minutes after setting down, they all met in the briefing room. “We haven’t been properly introduced, Captain Aleksandr Kovalyuk of the KDB.” said Aleksandr to his ‘supposed’ brother.

“Pleased to meet you Captain, I’m Lieutenant Colonel Borislav Petrovsky of the Vympel GSO, feel free to call me Boris.” replies Boris, as he shook Aleksandr’s hand.

“This is Captain Maksim Rykovich, he’s in the GSO, he was the top sniper of his class back in Valozhyn.”, said Boris, as he gestured toward Maksim.

“I’m Major Ilya Paznyak, KDB; Lt. Colonel where are the other two? Valozhyn said their would be four GSO operatives coming?”, said Major Paznyak as he gathered the documents on the briefing table.

“Well Major, as we arrived in the airport, they went to out early to secure our equipment from the weapons smugglers we hired couple days prior leaving Gorbatov. They should be able to join us momentarily.”

“Very well, I assume you’d want to be debrief to what’s our mission will be.”

Major Paznyak gestured towards the projector screen. The projector showed the full map of Tenburg, with overlays detailing the latest reports with the ongoing unrest in the country. “As you can see here comrades, though a footnote in terms of threats to Gorbatov, Valozhyn has taken an interest in this state, as GESA continue their campaign against FTLA, though communist, have malign intentions.”

“Malign intentions?” interjected Maksim.

Major Paznyak hands a report to everyone in the briefing room. “We’ve received reports from Stasnov, that they’re currently being influenced heavily KP, most specifically Chazicaria, and if the FTLA were to win, they’ll likely align Tenburg towards Nox Mynus.”

“I assume Valozhyn wants us to stop that?” said Aleksandr, and he skimmed through the report.

“Yes, we’ll be sent to Eastern Tenburg, where most of the fighting is happening, and meet up with our Stasnovan comrades, who have already begun their operations.”

“Very well, I will relay a message for the other two GSO operatives to meet up here, then we’ll go to Eastern Tenburg.”

Just as they were about to prepare to pack for their mission, Major Paznyak approaches them holding a box of cigarettes, and began handing them a single cigarette each. “As we are in hostile territory, we need to ensure that we are not to be captured, as we will be likely tortured and interrogated for our state’s secrets, thus Valozhyn provided us with these.”

“Cigarettes?” inquired Maksim.

“Yes, in case you’re at risk of enemy capture, bite the filters, as they’ve put cynanide pills into the filters.”

“Huh....anyway, let’s get packing for this mission, we don’t want to keep our Stasnovan comrades waiting.”, ordered Lt. Corporal Petrovsky, as he put into his jacket’s internal pocket.

PostPosted: Fri Sep 13, 2019 2:54 pm
by Chazicaria
Just Outside FTLA Compound AB-13, Tenburg
0035, January 29th, 2019

"3, drop him."

A single shot tore through the cool night air, originating from the suppressed STG-95, one of the several used by this team to mimic Volgarian agents. There was no muzzle flash, just a 5.5mm projectile impacting directly into the head of the pointman about 150 meters to Alpha's front. Within a second of the first shot, both Bravo and Alpha opened fire in full, cascading rounds through the darkness into the spaced out enemy formation.

It didn't take a genius to track the team as they'd begun their exfil- they'd likely not expected professional special operations to arrive on the scene of their killing spree. As a result, they'd left tracks. A quick sprint after them and some use of their thermals later, and now Sword was going to go to work.

With the opening volley, the opposing team had been rather well suppressed and 6 had managed to put a burst of rounds dead center on another operator, indubitably shredding his plate in the process. Seconds later, AB-13 was awoken from their slumber and alarms were sounded, though they'd be of no assistance here. The enemy here were professionals just as much so as IRIS, however, and their quick reaction and mostly unflinching reaction to the overwhelming fire demonstrated that fact more than sufficiently. When they opened up with a noticeable IR laser, 8, who was currently situated about 125 meters behind Alpha and Bravo with his sniper section, began to line up a shot. Just as he did so, one of the operators managed to get off a shot with his grenade launcher.

It was that impact that almost immediately killed 1 and 2- they lasted a minute or less as they suffered multiple arterial bleeds and collapsed lungs. In an attempt to drop the grenade launcher, 6 had risen above his cover for a better shot and suffered for it with consecutive shots to his plate carrier. One of those shots managed to just barely weave through his side plate and put a shallow, light wound on the right side of his chest while the second hid dead center and completely knocked the wind out of him, causing him to drop back down behind cover to recover.

With the pressure on, 8 doubled down on his focus and took a deep breath in and exhaled, lined up his shot, and took it. He knew he'd gone a little low, but when he saw the target's leg literally fold the opposite direction it was supposed to, even he cringed.

15 minutes later...

Even with his lower leg hanging by just a few strands of shredded tendons and skin, this guy put up a fight. It took three men on Bravo to restrain him long enough for the fourth to bust his teeth out with a rock and gag him just in case he decided to scream, or had one of those cyanide caps. It was not a good day for this man.

Of course, it wouldn't be any better when he got drugged up, stuck in a "long-term transport" coffin and thrown into the cargo hold of a passenger plan to Verico, either.

None of that mattered right now however, as this was the time where Sword was patiently awaiting their evac, with all three sections set up in a security posture around their chosen HLZ. Breakfast would be decent, then.

PostPosted: Sun Sep 15, 2019 1:54 pm
by Brytene
Bar Celona, Port Pierce, Tenburg
Félix Luna

The generic style bar was perfect for this kind of meeting. Felix had selected a booth near enough to a window to allow for a quick escape, but not readily visible from the street. Contrary to popular opinion, spies did not often sit out on the street in smart suits drinking coffees and making quips at each other. He had a light lager and a slowly cooling bowl of lattice chips in front of him, which he would from time to time dip into ranch sauce and munch on.

He was waiting for the KGB resident, or possibly one of his underlings - the KGB had, he assumed, dedicated far more assets to Tenburg than had R-DARK. Brytene was not a fan of the KP and was sympathetic to the Stasnovan cause here, but realistically the country was far less important to them, with much of R-DARK being tied up hunting down the Frontiersmen terrorists and trying to blunt the surge of criminality that had overtaken Pepper Atoll since the withdrawal of Brytisc troops. That said, Felix had no intention of handing over Tenburg to the Kruppstadt Pact, and so was here to offer his stations limited assistance to the Slavic socialists next door.

With his Hispanic features and trim pencil goatee, the slender Luna was clearly not a native of Tenburg, but not was he obviously Brytisc, or Stasnovan for that matter. Wearing a loose linen shirt with the top few buttons undone, and with pale slacks over sharp brown shoes, he looked every bit a stereotypical latino, an effect enhanced by the attentions he paid to the one television showing football in the place. Sipping his lager and grazing his chips, he waited patiently for the Stasnovan to arrive.

PostPosted: Fri Sep 20, 2019 11:08 am
by Stasnov
Republic of Tenburg, Port Pierce
Bar Celona
2200 hours

After six years undercover in this country Aidan still couldn't get used to how abrupt rain came and went in Tenburg. Being from the north of the USRS he was quite used to adverse weather conditions but this was more of an annoyance than a proper storm. A light rain that started and finished often between minutes, while other times it lasted for hours. Not proper rain, but a drizzle. An infuriating, unbearable drizzle that made his sleep deprived, still on edge from last night self even more irritated. He sighed. Maybe a good drink where he was heading to would sooth his nerves.

He splashed through the puddles that had formed on the sidewalk as he headed to the meeting point. This wasn't a bad part of town, but it traffic was scarce. Even though Port Pierce was away from the frontlines, the atmosphere of the capital was still extremely tense. Young men like himself were far and few in-between, most off to fight the FTLA, or indeed, join it. Aidan himself had managed to avoid any drafts by paying off a doctor to file a medical report stating that his nearsightedness was to severe for him to serve.

He used a group of women coming towards him on the sidewalk as cover to slip into a side-street. He hadn't gotten the feeling that anyone was following him, but after the events of last night he could never be too careful. He changed streets often, something that would increase his walk to the meeting point by some time. But he had considered his and left home early. His Glock 17 sidearm was still in a concealed holster beneath his clothes, as were two extra mags and a combat knife. If police stopped him he could always say he feared FTLA or looter attacks. Or he could just kill them and dump their bodies in a trash bin.

He turned one last corner and saw the meeting point, the Celona, a largely mid-tier bar. It was a good place for a meeting. He scanned the street, careful not to make any sudden movements, and crossed to the other side. A couple of drunk guys burst out of the front door as he approached, slightly startling him. It was really early to be this drunk, but this was Tenburg. He entered the building.

It was cozy, and the atmosphere was relaxed. There weren't that many people in there, and the music wasn't loud enough to provide much noise for a safe conversation among a crowd. But he would make do. He saw this acquaintance sitting at the bar, drinking from a pint. He smiled and approached.

"Mark! It's been a while" he exclaimed and shook his "friend's" hand.

"Steve! Good to see you finally," replied Felix with a smile.

"We got a lot to catch up to, mate. Mind if we change tables?" Aidan nodded towards a table to the edge of the room, as away from the bar as possible "The air conditioning here makes a frozen Zerinite forest seem like a Meralan beach resort."

"Sure," said Felix, finishing his last chip and scooping up his pint. "So what's new with you?"

"Oh you know-" he pauses and turns to the bartender "Get me whatever he's having." he turns to Felix again "Just the normal stuff. Fam is driving me crazy these days, and with a second kid on the way..." he trails off as they reach the table and sit down "Good to see Brytisc intelligence is still willing to work with us.'" he said in a more hushed tone, smiling.

"Better you than the Kruppstadt Pact," replied Felix, taking a sip of beer. "They're using the FTLA like puppets, they don't actually give a shit about these people."

"Klaudia can't decide on a name for the baby!" Aidan switched the conversation as the barman arrived with his drink "You believe that? If i knew Kossarian women were this difficult - thanks" he thanked the man, who was soon on his way. He switched back to the topic "I'm surprised. Didn't expect to see such sense of humanitarianism from the vaunted R-DARK" he replied, making an effort to appear sarcastic, at least in part.

Félix laughed, and for the benefit of the room said "then pick for her!" and then, in the same tone, replied with a wry smile "We like to do what we can for those in need. A communist like you should understand state charity."

Aidan giggled, and raised his glass in toast "To state charity! And to naming babies!" they clinked.
"But to the matter at hand" Aidan put his glass on the table "You requested this meeting, so you obviously know of our activities. What can the Union do to help Brytene? Or maybe it is the other way around?"

Felix shrugged "We have nothing on the table right now, but I have permission to offer our limited assistance to your operations here. We only have three agents, one of whom is a desk jockey if honest, but we also have a modest network of informants and some useful tactical equipment."

"I have received authorization to begin the establishment of a network with you." he took a pre-rolled cigarette from one of his jacket's interior pockets and lit it "An initial exchange of information would be much appreciated, especially on KP activity within the FTLA. What we're mostly after is additional info on Chazicarian boots on the ground-" he paused, realizing what he was doing "I hope you don't mind?" he nodded at the cigarette in his hand "Last night was pretty tough, and i still haven't slept properly. I tend to smoke a lot when that happens."

Félix waved a hand. "Who doesn't, in this line of work?" he replied, taking another swig. "Information exchange should be no problem, although of course we will not be sharing the identities of informants. Operationally, we will invent some bullshit reason for Stasnovan staff to visit our embassy and vice versa - some agricultural project, perhaps. And if you need extra firepower or a fresh set of eyes we are ready to assist too"

Aidan smiled "Of course, naturally. Though i believe you'll need to schedule a second visit, and not from the Stasnovan embassy. Our third accomplice, who i believe just entered the bar, will explain further." he nodded to a man who had just walked through the door "Bernd! Over here!" he waved at the man before turning to Felix again "No need to be alarmed. Gorbatovic KDB, our third partner in this operation. It was a last minute thing, so you'll forgive me for not informing you earlier."

Felix was not thrilled at the ambush, but he had expected that Stasnov would be sharing their Intel with Gorbatov one way or another. "Why not? The more the merrier."

Aidan grinned "I like your enthusiasm" he said. He turned towards the KDB agent "Bernd, welcome to Tenburg!" he said, and shook the man's hand "This is Μark, an old friend of mine..."

A lots of pints would be ordered before the night was out and the group caught up to things.