NATION

PASSWORD

Klaus' War {IC|MT|CLOSED}

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

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New Decius
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Postby New Decius » Sat Nov 23, 2019 2:55 am

Rochefort City Hall
Visit of Kaiser Wilhelm Augustus III
Royalist Capile

That was quite the revelation.

As a former sovereign, Wilhelm was still cleared for the classified data which landed on the Kaiser’s desk; not that he was necessarily supposed to see it, but it usually found its way to him somehow. He was aware of the severe food shortage in Capile as well as the still recovering economic situation, however the civil unrest had been unreported. Or perhaps the Abwehr had desired that no one know just how bad things were among Capilean society, the anxiety and worry running rampant among the citizenry. Their agents should know as much.

Wilhelm was privy to the deep-cover program of Abwehr agents in Capile, it had been initiated just before he took the throne after all. There had been several times he had considered revealing or dismantling the network of agents buried across Capile but had always decided against it. The countries long-time instability had seemed a credible reason for keeping a contingency in place to secure German interests in the region, this civil war seemed to vindicate that reasoning.

“I was unaware the civilian unrest was quite so advanced. However I do have a few words of advice for you.”

“To start with every effort must be made to show the public that everyone is committed to winning this war...” he held up a hand before anyone could accuse him of anything. “I do not accuse that you are not already committed to victory rather that right now how much does the public actually witness that commitment. How often do civilian’s get a glimpse inside the Reichskanzler’s office, witnessing him conducting the orderly business of government? Or see their Grand Duke in conference with his officers and official’s discussing important matters of state?” He let that sink in for a moment before continuing on.

“My advice is that a massive propaganda campaign should be launched to inspire the public that not only is victory still possible, it is an assurance. The newspapers, televisions, internet all should be awash with everything from interviews with soldiers at the front to cartoons displaying Nemetz as so ridiculous a character no one could possibly take him seriously. That’s just the basic level. Senior members of government should be seen amongst the public, frequently if possible, this will dispel some of that fear of a return to elitism and absolutism. The Defense Minister should be seen personally pinning medals for bravery on soldiers or inspecting fortifications, the Agricultural Minister should be seen visiting farms and actually hearing the grievances of the farmers, the Health Minister should be seen visiting hospitals.” He turned to look towards Knott. “The Reichskanzler should be making as many public appearances as possible, giving speeches to fire up the populace, tell them that victory will be not just the Grand Duke’s or the monarchy’s but that it will be for every single individual Capilean.”

“Not to sound cretinous but some use could be gained out of Karl and Elizabeth as well. In times of crisis, people pay special attention to the young for their reaction for they have the most to lose or gain from any outcome affecting the future. Karl and Elizabeth can be sent to visit the wounded soldiers in field hospitals, to convey their respects to war widows and orphans, even actively work in a soup kitchen or field hospital. This will show the public that their leadership are not just a bunch of tired grey old men as Nemetz would have them believe, but a diverse set drawn from all ages with dynamic ideas to achieve victory.”

The old emperor took a short break to down a glass of water, else he could not continue talking.

“As to the Reichsrat, it should be reorganized immediately, let the people see that you, Klaus, will not sit idly by while their liberty is threatened. The BSU asserts that the Royalists cause is merely that of an aristocratic elite enslaving the common people, so by God take the wind out of their sails and knock them to the ground. In particular you might make a public address of it, ignoring any political divide by speaking to the matter of the country’s liberty. Don’t even directly allude to monarchists, socialists, conservatives, populists or any of the many ideologies which divide any nation, speak of how every citizen coming together to elect a new Reichsrat can only help the nation. There’s even a chance you could win over the undecided socialists and populists, turning them against Blücher and Nemetz respectively even without a change in ideology. If you can force a divide between the socialists particularly that could cripple the BSU, what with all those civilian militia they have running around if they start to believe that Blücher is butchering the beliefs of Marx while the Royalists respect their socialist citizens without embracing the ideology. Imagine the chaos that would cause in the Red’s camp.”

“Now my final piece of advice is a simple one. With the Stammburg enclave reconquered and Großmarschall Winser’s offensive due to reclaim even more territory soon, you will have a properly sized functioning state again. While it is important to gear the nation to the war, those territories not under active threat such as Rochefort and Stammburg should immediately undergo significant civilian renovation and repair. Not military infrastructure but rather civilian infrastructure and civilian industry, as if the war had already been won. This will have two effects, repairing your economy and boosting public morale. Regardless of Nemetz’s yapping and propaganda, if you can give the public the appearance that you are so confident in victory that what would have been future peace time projects are already being undertaken, it will have a marvelous effect.” Once more the old emperor held up his hand before Knott could object with the simple truth that the Grand Duchy did not have the money for such an undertaking. “As to how this is to be payed for, I have a few thoughts. Even with my connections I could not secure another loan from the Reichstag of the substantial size of the first relief loan, smaller ones targeted at specific projects are possible however. I was speaking with senior government officials in France, Russia, and Britain on my flight here and their sovereign’s are leaning towards following big-brother Germany’s lead and willing to provide you with modest loans at very low interest rates. Russia and Britain both have an interest in seeing a growing Communist movement crushed due to the underground movements there, while France wants to impress Germany so the European Parliament will vote in their favor to be elevated to Imperial Status in the Federation.”
Proud advocate that Europe stands stronger together than divided. The EU may be flawed in some areas but the idea of a united Europa can only bring good fortune to Europe and the world. For more than two thousand years, Europe was home to conflicts inspired by coveting one another's territory and resources, even making the continent the home to some of the world's most destructive and costly conflicts. But the idea was all wrong in their minds. Their idea was to bring this territory or that under their flag and spread influence on the continent. The idea they should all have been thinking was that the goal should be to bring the continent under one unified flag.

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Solisian Federated Empire
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Postby Solisian Federated Empire » Sat Nov 23, 2019 6:27 am

La Victoria
Solisian Federated Empire


War is everything and anything.
Timothy Hernandez



Time was a very important thing to the Solisian officers now standing behind the railings which separated them from their marching men and their rolling tanks. The trucks followed as did the armored personnel carriers. Coming after them were the infantry fighting vehicles and the self propelled artillery. And so on and on this went. These were Montes, Iki, and Montenegro - the great Legionnaires. With them were the Field Marshals Casales and Holt. And the last, the woman standing behind them all, remaining was Grandes, the head of the Liberty Blue Division.

And today marked the last day their men would ever parade on the streets of the capital. Tomorrow, they would commit themselves to the final preparations of the expeditionary force bound by Her Majesty to assist the Royalists in their war.

The parade was coming to a close as the band and the choir gave their very best shot at the last lyrics of their song. The last formation to leave the streets and return to the square from which they marched out of was the armored battalion of the division Grandes commanded.

Seeing them march last was not a big deal to her nor to them. They were in charge of moving great steel beasts with cannons that served them ever since the recent revolt somewhere in the Empire by a few insignificant villages. With that distraction over, the battalion was cleared for deployment with the expeditionary force.

“General,” an aide said after she came up behind Grandes. “We are ready to go.”

The same aide turned to the other generals observing the last minutes of the parade. They all looked to one another and nodded in agreement. They were going with Grandes.

It was time for the review.




While the generals and the marshals were attending the review, the Empire of the Solisians, the Azens, the Rasurrians, the Sayaritans, the Ashians, the Nannasians, and the Elizarans had been quietly observing the war that was swallowing up the once united country of Nova Capile; the country that she once was was also a formidable nation which the Empire respected. And now it was at war with pieces of herself, reminding the Solisians and their peoples that even a country as good as Nova Capile was vulnerable to civil discontent and its outcome. For the Solisians and their peoples experienced war against one another, and that was many years ago, lingering on the generations that lived and died as a warning for them to heed and a lesson for them to teach their sons and daughters wisely and carefully.

And the Empire was late. For too long, she sat by the sidelines watching as their ally burned and groaned, the Royalists, the ones remaining loyal to the unity of the country under the idealistic Klaus the First. For too long, she remained inactive with regards to the conflict which found the Royalists removed by rebels of various ideologies and motivations from much of the country, driving them towards the west. And when Saxtonburg fell and it became very, very clear that civil war was upon the throats of the Royalists and their families, the Empire finally declared herself on the side of the Royalists. Ultimately, that was the decision which Her Majesty proposed to her people and to her government, and both of them readily and grimly appreciated this, giving her their consent and their support towards a full-scale commitment to the war for the restoration of the old union of Nova Capile.

But wars took time; so did preparations. For days, the Empire mobilized her forces. For days, she focused on creating plans for assisting the Royalists and for fighting on the soil of their once-united country under one banner. For days, she drove herself towards the goal of sending men and women, shells and guns, scopes and bandages, and many more materials and manpower over the seas and in the air towards the Royalist territories. For days, she observed carefully how the enemy fought their struggling ally; they saw how the Siege of Saxtonburg resulted in a dreaded but predictable Fascist victory. They also saw how Communist troops advanced in order to reach the coasts. And they saw how Mühlburg fell. They witnessed the Germans almost fall into a trap, and they too marvelled at the battle for Haakensburg.

And now, after so much time spent on preparations, on careful consideration and hard work from the ordinary Solisian riflewoman up to the proud but burdened generals and marshals trusted by Her Majesty to the success of this expeditionary campaign, the Empire was only waiting for the final review of the initial military and political and logistical operations to begin and to end.




The lonely figure of a woman who carried the crown of the Empire on her flowing dark hair strolled down the corridor as the lights hanging from the ceiling delicately exposed her fair skin and the simple uniform she wore for this occasion. Usually, when at war, the Empress of the Solisians must expose her body as a sign of ultimate dedication to the efforts of armed conflict against the enemies of her realm. But right now, she had to make a good impression for the cameras of the Royal Historical Archives, whose members were driven to preserve this historical conference of military officers and their sovereign.

She was accompanied to her right by a tall Azen general who wore a khaki skirt and a mud colored field shirt with no decorations carried upon it except for the badge that signalled to everyone who could look at her that she was a general officer indeed. And her name was Marinela Rivera, the favorite of the Empress. Together with her sovereign, she carefully and swiftly strolled down the corridor towards the closed double doors of the Operations Room in the palace of La Victoria, safely secured in the sacred spaces of the earth beneath it.

The guards standing by the doors lifted their heads up sharply, assumed attention, and saluted their general and then bowed their heads for their sovereign.

“Open the doors. We must enter speedily,” Her Majesty ordered the men. And they obeyed, releasing themselves from their posts to unlock the mighty doors and open them for the Empress and her escort.

Once the doors were open, they were greeted by the standing generals and marshals who were gathered at the War Table. Technicians, secretaries, and logisticians were present, and they too stood in the name of reverence towards Her Majesty and with respect for the general who was by her side. Everyone else did the same.

The pair stepped through the doors, and they were soon closed gradually behind them. And when they were shut, the Empress spoke to all within the room.

“You may all sit down. We should not waste time; General Rivera, please begin this conference.”

With a nod, the general stepped forward towards the near end of the table as the Empress was escorted to her seat at the far end of the table by a meek lieutenant. As the Empress walked towards her place, the general spoke firmly and clearly, addressing the entire body of officers as the room returned to activity which did not require their immediate attention.

“Generals and marshals, allow me to begin. Her Majesty has given us the order to begin our entry into the war for the Royalists of Nova Capile in their quest to reunite their country under their sovereign, Klaus the First. Allow me, please, to call Marshal Juliana Ortiz to remind you of your missions at this table.”

The General then nodded to the waiting woman seated close to her at her right hand. The woman was older, much fairer in skin compared to the dark Azen, and was dressed with decorations and in complete battle dress; nobody else wore anything that reminded their companions of ceremonies and events at the court of the Empress and at other formalities during peacetime — when war was decided, every man and woman of the armed forces, including their officers, must use their battle dresses.

The woman nodded back, rose from her seat, and replaced the General at the near end of the table. The General herself took the woman’s seat and looked on to pay attention.

“Comrades, I will be discussing the army missions during this review. Our comrades in the navy and the air force will be holding separate reviews together with the personal representatives of Her Majesty at the same time as we are having ours. After reviewing the missions of our army, Her Majesty will receive the review and the reports of our civilian counterparts in charge of gathering and assessing intelligence as well as political concerns and logistical concerns not of immediate attention to us.”

She paused, giving the ones listening to her a chance to ask questions or make comments. Nobody did.

“At exactly 0100 tomorrow, our army will immediately begin moving out of the ports together with the navy. On board transports, we will be escorted by the navy towards the Royalist ports. We will not be conducting any landings against the enemy on their territories until we have achieved this part of the opening phase of the campaign. Once the arrival of the Liberty Blue Division has been confirmed, we will move to the second phase of our campaign.

When the Division has landed, Grandes shall bring her forces out of the ports and towards the northern front facing the Reich.

We have divided the entire country into sectors of operations considered appropriate in the previous reviews and conferences. We have the entire northern front to us for now. We will not be engaging any other factions in this war until otherwise ordered by Her Majesty. Any deviations from this shall be met with strict corrections.

Now, the present enemy is the Reich. The Shock Army and the First Army under Holt and Casales shall be deployed, after they have landed at the Royalist ports and after they have finally concluded their joint coordinations on the field with the Royalists and our allies, on the flanks. The Shock Army shall be given a frontage from the western city of Rheilord to the outskirts of Quassdorf. The Liberty Blue Division shall be reinforced by exactly three Legions of Solisians; their combined frontage shall begin from the eastern outskirts of Quassdorf to the point facing the enemy-controlled city of Landrath. And finally, the First Army shall be stationed along the eastern boundary of the Royalist territories with the Reich.

We are given two weeks to complete this phase of the campaign. The air force will ensure that this phase shall be made safe by their goal of securing Solisian air superiority in addition to allied and Royalist air superiority to prevent Reich air attacks from disrupting this. Also, the navy shall be focused on contributing escorts to our transports in order to keep this phase well supplied and maintained.

Once this is over, we immediately shift into the third phase; this calls for action on the defensive footing and on learning about our enemy and about the front we are going to fight on personally. The Division, the Shock Army, and the First Army are tasked to assist and to defend Royalist territories from offensive actions by the Reich and by other factions present in the northern parts of the country. Maintain focus always on the Reich and prioritize all critical efforts towards the Reich.”

She then concluded the review of the missions of the army with the nod of Her Majesty. A sign of permission to speak freely.

“Comrades, this is going to be a war that will test our armed forces on a scale which we have never committed ourselves to before. From now on, you must be careful to learn from this and to profit from this so that your men will be saved and so that our allies will be assured. Our enemies will be studying us and so will we study them. Remember that this war is important to our comrades loyal to Klaus the First. Remember that this war is for their lives. And remember that this war is essential to the standing of the reputation and the power of our Empire. We are a large army and our Empire depends on it for security; let us not disappoint nor displease our Empire and our Empress. Prepare yourselves for the last time. Tomorrow, we will be leaving our homes and our families for the war. That is all.”

Suddenly, the Empress raised her head and then nodded to Ortiz and then to Rivera. The General then stood up again, facing the generals and marshals who have heard Ortiz speak.

“Her Majesty speaks.”

And all stood, as the Empress stood too.

She said, “Ladies and gentlemen, you are trusted to this campaign. I will not hold you all for too long. You are needed by your men and by your staff. Do your duties sincerely. Do not stain our Empire and my name with any crimes against our allies. Shed blood. You are now dismissed. Attend to your men.”
Last edited by Solisian Federated Empire on Sat Nov 23, 2019 6:38 am, edited 1 time in total.

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Postby The Grand Duchy Of Nova Capile » Sat Nov 23, 2019 10:04 pm



GEMBERG
SOCIALIST CAPILE


Go! Go! Go!”

Ernst Maier charged across the landscape, running low to the ground with a rifle in his hands. Shells flew around him, crashing to the ground and sending up terrific showers of earth. Maier and tens of thousands of his comrades surged across the rolling foothills beneath the Kongs Mountains, toward the little mining town of Gemberg.

They were opposed at every step of the way by a well-entrenched Communist army, which winnowed the attacking force with artillery, machine guns, and mortar strikes. The battle raged across open fields, where the bodies began to stack two-high; rocky crags, where a single machine gun position could resist assault for hours; gurgling streams, which soon ran red with blood; and steep hillocks, like the one atop which Private Ernst Maier now find himself fighting.

The Reds were tenacious, he’d give them that. An endless flow of reinforcements kept darting up to defend this damned hill, throwing themselves into a whirlwind of bullets. Positioned behind makeshift fieldworks, his enemies kept up a roaring crossfire with the Royalist attackers, hidden behind boulders and logs.

Luckily for Ernst and his comrades, the majority of the heavy firepower was on their side, and now pounded down like hail on the Communist positions. Mortars, artillery, grenades, heavy machine guns, and withering airstrikes drove the Reds from their holes and into the open.

A low rumble in the midst of the echoing din caught Maier’s attention, and he glanced to his right flank. A brown tank, marked with a hammer and sickle in glimmering red paint, was lumbering up the base of the hill, its turret swiveling to face him…

The private flung himself behind a nearby rock. A flurry of bullets from the tank’s machine gun scorched the ground where he had been but a moment before. Crawling as fast as he could away from the encroaching metal predator, he shouted out to the other Royalists.

“Armor! Armor on our right flank!”

Turning to face the new threat, the beleaguered monarchist troops swung into action. Many were felled by the machine gun’s sweeping leaden blade, but, within seconds, one veteran trooper, kneeling, raised a rocket to his shoulder, carefully aimed, and fired. The projectile fell true, colliding narrowingly with the side of the tank rather than its heavily-armored front.

Victorious yells erupted from the Royalist line, Ernst’s among them. Like a man who had just suffered a gut punch, the Communist tank groaned and began to roll back down the hill. It quickly threw down smoke canisters before a second projectile could knock it out.

Roaring to the rescue, a tank bearing the proud Crown of the Duchy sped toward them, directly toward the enemy vehicle’s undamaged flank. The Red turret swiveled hastily to meet this new threat, but not hastily enough. A long-prepared shell erupted mightily from the friendly tank, impacting directly against the Communist machine.

The Red beast died where it stood, boiling in fire and black, tarry smoke. The Reds needed some more time to master armored warfare, it seemed.

With another hurrah, Ernst returned to the battle, rifle blazing against the disheartened enemy. Beyond the hill, he could see friendly troops carrying the field. Gemberg would be reclaimed within hours, and with it, the road to Kongsburg would lie open.


LUDISLAU
SAATLAND


The Bamburger House was peaceful, for once. Even at this early hour of the morning, when it should have been bustling with generals, war hawks, foreign diplomats, businessmen, and various other friends of the Republic, the President was left to enjoy his breakfast alone.

Perhaps under other conditions, Johannes von Bamburg would have been suspicious; but he had been so exhausted by the hours upon hours of reviewing military plans with his officers, haggling fruitlessly with penny-pinching foreigner arms-exporters, imploring the National Congress to accept his proposals, enduring lengthy press conferences, and delivering daily addresses to his people, that he was quite eager for a respite.

Although the war had been taxing on him, it went well: Saatlander troops had advanced without much bloodshed all the way to the banks of the River Saat, and, in many cases, past it. The Duke’s reluctance to reinstate the Reichsrat had disturbed many of the freedom-loving Capileans in this part of the country, and so the transition from nearly autocratic Ducal rule to the transparent democracy of Saatland had been an easy one for them. Such was the Republic’s zeal for liberty that elections had already been scheduled for January of 2020; Johannes had no desire to use the war as an excuse to seize power, as other leaders had.

As of yet no one had declared his candidacy against the sitting President in the upcoming election; the spirit of unity and patriotism in the face of war had checked such seemingly selfish sentiment. But Bamburg could very easily envision several possible rivals who were simply biding their time until opposing the President would not be seen as unpatriotic. Already he was being met in the National Congress– its name a slap in the face of the Royalists who refused to recognize Saatland’s existence outside Capile– with heated opposition.
Some argued that he should increase the power of the government, an act they believed necessary if the war was to be won. Conscription laws, the import of foreign war materiel, the admission of refugees from the rest of the country, the power of the government over its constituents, the place of women in their new society– all were topics of frequent debate.

Johannes had been looking through the window of his office as he contemplated all of this, but a loud ringing now distracted him. He followed the noise toward his unfinished breakfast, where a fork was clattering quietly but steadily against a plate. Raising an eyebrow, the President picked it up; the noise ceased.

Suddenly, the plate rattled uproariously against his desk, and coffee surged furiously from side to side in a mug. Pens and stamps rolled to the ground, the glass in the window moaned, and the shining flagpole behind his desk fell and slammed against the floorboards. Bamburg shot to his feet, but had to grab onto the desk for support as the ground beneath him rolled.

Striding as fast as he could out of his office, the man groped along the outside corridor and toward its end, a sinking feeling in his stomach all the while. A small window, now threatening to shatter, lay at the end of the hallway, and from it one had a clear view of Ludislau’s harbor. Reaching the casement, the President looked down at the executioners of his condemned Republic.

Huge battleships, flying the German flag, flung shells down upon the coastal fortifications of his capital. Their work was nearly complete, as already they were giving birth to dozens of troop transports, which darted out and toward Ludislau’s rocky beaches.

Bamburg stood at the window with a lump in his throat. He heard fast footsteps behind him; a bearded officer appeared.

“Mr. President,” he panted, “I came as fast as I could. The Royalists jammed our communications, and in the chaos we were unable to send you a message to evacuate; but you must do so now. The German fleet is bombarding the city, and enemy troops will soon land. We expect this building to be one of their first targets.”

There was a moment of heavy silence. Johannes did not turn from the window; his blue eyes rested mournfully on those battleships. “Evacuate the building,” he said at last.

“Sir, you are the only civilian still inside, to my knowledge.”

“Not the people,” the President said, his voice low and terse. “The history.” He pointed at the portraits lining the wall, at the busts of great men of the past. “The enemy is particularly resentful that we have developed our own culture. He will try to destroy it, at all costs. We must defend it,” Johannes commanded, turning at last to face the officer, “to even greater lengths.”

The bearded man’s eyes locked with his President’s, and at last, through that unspoken dialogue, he comprehended the gravity of the situation.

“I will tell General Grün to organize an evacuation of all historical and cultural sites in the city.”

Bamburg nodded gravely.

“It isn’t safe here, Mr. President,” the officer reminded after his commander-in-chief failed to follow him.

“I will be with you presently, Captain,” Johannes said, now facing the window once more. He folded his hands behind his back. “Allow me but a moment to pay my respects.”


ZHYTLO
CAPILEAN REICH


Colonel Korver’s icy eyes flickered from the outstretched cigarette to the man offering it, and he smiled coldly.

Being a prisoner-of-war camp inspector was taxing enough on Paul’s health; he would do well not to acquire another pestilent habit.

“No, thank you, Commandant,” he said after a brief pause. He turned to his clipboard, upon which he had been writing throughout Ruslan’s tour. Korver had seen the Akordanian bristle just a little whenever he laid his pen upon paper.

“Mmm, yes, these issues you spoke of– housing, bathing, uniforms, latrines”– he looked up knowingly at the other, communicating that his nose had told him what his eyes could not– “– must be taken care of, and quickly.

“The Reich has no need for unproductive prisoners. If they are not aiding us, there is no reason for us to keep them alive,” Korver revealed. “And since the standards of modern society prevent us from simply disposing of our prisoners, we must put them to work.

“You will use these prisoners, first to construct the rudiments of a real prison-of-war camp– one which could pass a foreign inspection– and after that has been done, you will put them to other uses. Recruit them for us, make them split logs, make them dig holes in the ground and then fill them back in again for all I care. Distract them from thoughts of revolt.”

Korver rose to his feet. “I congratulate your speed and efficiency in setting up this camp ad hoc, Commandant. But, at present, the Stoßwehr could do a better job– and it will, unless you do what I have told you.”

The Colonel turned to go. “I shall return in about seven weeks time, after I have inspected the rebuilt Seeburg facilities. I want the prisoners working– and smelling like roses, rather than shit. Good day, Commandant.”


ROCHEFURT
NOVA CAPILE


As always, old friend, your advice is sound,” Klaus thanked Wilhelm after allowing the elder’s words to sink into his mind.

“Henceforth,” the Grand Duke continued, “my family and I shall make every effort to be seen in the eyes of the people as friends and servants, not tyrants. I confess that I have strayed from the public spotlight ever since I returned from the Sommerpalast, out of cowardice. No longer.” Klaus’ words grew stronger.

“I have been of mind to reinstate the legislature, too, though my Chancellor has thus far held me off,” Klaus broached, throwing a strange look toward Wilhelm Knott. “I shall prepare a speech and deliver it soon, calling for an emergency election.”

There was another lull in conversation, and only the crackling of a fire in the hearth was audible.

“Do you have any further concerns, Wilhelm? For I would be most glad to address them. Otherwise, I must inquire as to the purposes of your visit, which remain somewhat hidden to me, although there has been rampant speculation. I understand that one of them was to bless the union of Karl and Elizabeth– but is there other business to which you need attend?”


The harbormaster of Rochefurt was hard-pressed today. Informed that the Atkemrian fleet was requesting docking, he hastily approved the action, eager to clear the docks as quickly as possible. There was a high probability that the first ships from the Solisian Empire might be arriving within hours, and the good harbormaster shuddered and the logistical nightmare of two fleets flooding Rockefurt’s modest dockyards at once.

The Atkemrian ships found their way into the harbor, bustling with civilian activity, and, after brief inspections, began to offload their crews and cargoes. It had taken long months for the declared Royalist ally to follow through, but at last Atkemri had boots on the ground in Capile.


ROAPPE
FRENCH FREE STATE


What have we here?” Drach cackled, towering over the lithe French recruit before him and brandishing a sheaf of papers.

“I believe we have found our first conspirator,” the spy said to Colonel Chenevix, commander of the encampment which he had infiltrated.

Chenevix, a round, ruddy-faced man, rifled through the papers which Drach handed him. Orders in neatly written German and a Reich passport, amongst other incriminating documents, seemed to condemn the young French private standing against the barracks wall.

“I suspected him from the moment I set foot in this barracks,” Drach boasted. A circle of French soldiers watched on in shock as Colonel Chenevix continued to sift through the documents, clearly trying to find a shred of evidence indicating that they were fabricated, that the boy before him was innocent. He found nothing.

“I don’t understand,” the portly officer spoke at last. “I remember when we recruited Fontane. He was just a farm boy– and that was months ago!”

“I have fought the Stoßwehr all my life,” Drach said, looking at the colonel concernedly. “Their agents are masters of deception. Take a look at this boy.”

Private Fontane stood out from the rest of the Frenchmen in the barracks because of his snowy complexion, flaxen hair, and bright blue eyes. His back was against the wall, but he looked his accusers in the eyes defiantly. He had yet to speak.

“He is quite evidently of German extraction. Fueled by the Reich’s racial supremacy propaganda, this young hothead betrayed his country in order to obtain some papers granting him Reich citizenship and ‘Aryan’ status,” Oswald Drach spat.

“But… But he is a mere private! What could the Reich want with him?” Chevenix blustered.

Drach looked at the accused appraisingly. After a moment, he conjectured, “The boy probably has some hidden skill which would attract the Reich to him. Perhaps some affinity with explosives–”

“That’s right,” a French soldier burst out. Drach and Chevenix whirled around to face the interrupter, a young man with a mustache and deep brown eyes. “Fontane knew how to take apart any explosive and put it back together again. He used to bring handmade grenades to battle, before the Bavarian equipment came. And now I know why!”

Fontane’s eyes locked with his former comrades, and shone sorrowfully. A betrayal from this newcomer was hardly a betrayal at all; but a stab in the back from a man he had slept, eaten, and fought beside– his brother?

“You have your proof, Colonel!” Drach declared triumphantly. “Men, take this traitor away! We must interrogate him posthaste. Doubtless he was not the only one of his ilk within this brigade– mark my words!”
The guilty was removed from the makeshift courtroom, never given a chance to plead his case. The soldiers around Drach congratulated him on rooting out the spy. Now that he had their confidence, the Colonel had their lives.


POLDORF
NOVA CAPILE


The reports streamed in, one by one, like ballots falling into a box for the election of the Großmarschall.

The amphibious assault on Ludislau had been a great success; the beaches had been secured, and fighting was now raging in the streets of the city itself. Steighof was bloodier affair owing to its extensive shipyards and coastal defenses, but overall, Operation Greaves looked promising.

The invasion of the so-called Dutch Republic went well, judging by the last report he had received from General Wittendorfer. With the support of German armor, the Dutch were unable to meet the Royalists on the field of battle without being driven back into a rout within minutes. Guerilla warfare was sufficing them instead; they had plenty of ground to give before their strongholds on the coast fell under threat.

Field Marshal Hornberg seemed to have taken the Communists in Pritzen by suprise, rolling their line back by dozens of kilometers before they were able to mount an effective defense.

Least successful was Field Marshal Doppler’s counter-offensive against the Reich; but Winser had foreseen that. Doppler, ever cautious, had probed the flanks of Quassdorf and had been driven back almost immediately. Although he possessed a battlegroup nearly as large as the enemy’s, he had failed to commit it quickly enough; by the time he brought the full weight of his armies to bear, the Reich had fortified its lines. Operation Lance had been bogged down from the very start, and now looked to be reaching a stalemate. Winser sent a message to Doppler: either break the stalemate, or prepare for a new line of work.

A ray of jubilant hope interrupted these grim tidings: Royalist troops had captured Gemberg, a mining town unremarkable except for its position as the gateway to Kongsburg. Communist resistance was stiffening the closer his men came to the metropolis– was still a long way off– but the Crown’s forces were building momentum, too. They were still pressing onward at a good rate; Winser intended to maintain the initiative, moving too fast for enemy reinforcements to make a difference. Capturing the socialist hive never crossed his mind– it was improbable at this point– but even putting it in danger would be a crucial victory.

Winser relaxed in his chair, taking a moment to rest his eyes. By no means had all votes been cast; but at the current rate, it looked as if he would be keeping his job.
Capilean News (Updated 16 November)
Where is the horse gone? Where the warrior?
Where is the treasure-giver? Where are the seats at the feast?
Where are the revels in the hall?
Alas for the bright cup! Alas for the mailed warrior!
Alas for the splendour of the prince!
How that time has passed away, dark under the cover of night, as if it never were.

The Wanderer

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Ontorisa
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Founded: Feb 13, 2013
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Ontorisa » Sun Nov 24, 2019 2:32 pm

OOC: I'm just gonna speed up my government process to get involved more quickly, hopefully y'all don't mind.

Calvisburg
Ventas Province, Ontorisa
August 2018

"Kle, I don't like this." Were the first words that came out of the ORSV Representative, Lieutenant General Mahor Kilipuskio, said to Head Minister Xeja Hallirius as the leader spoke to a selected number of advisors, ministers, and representatives. "We're still reorganizing the military after the complete equipment overall we have just implemented. I don't know how comfortable we, the ORSV, are in deploying peacekeepers who haven't had at least more familiarity with the new MX Rifle."

The room was fairly crowded, with representatives from all Houses, as well as all immediately affected ministries being, present. It was a well-lit, modern-looking room, spacious with a large, oval, glossy dark wood table in the middle. All around it, the more important members of the room sat, whilst the "lesser" members stood around.

"Lieutenant General," One of the standing representatives, Mikael Vakuriz, spoke up. "Our military is large, and more than capable enough to learn on the fly, no? It is not like we have completely scrapped our old training programs and implemented a new one. We have just implying given them new weapons to use in the field as well as replace a few vehicles. Our field tests with units already deployed with the new weapons and equipment have shown that they're superior to the old NATO weapons we had used."

"I'm just saying, the military command is just unsure about utilizing units already being re-trained." Kilipuskio spoke quickly and promptly. "I suggest Representative Vakuriz should stick to politics instead of trying to meddle with the military, as we are more than capable of handling and thinking for ourselves, instead of listening to a narhakk*."

"Well, truthfully, veicanjos**, I think you should take your fancy words and stick them up you-" Vakuriz began angrily before Hallirius held his hand up to silence the two.

"Friends, we are all friends here, no?" Hallirius began, as he turned to Vakuriz. "Representative, I suggest you find a seat. I am here for your input on funds, not strategic planning."

A little bit shocked, and still bitter about the open insult by the ORSV Lieutenant General, Vakuriz turned around and left the room. He made no hesitation in letting the door slam, Hallirius wincing at the anger left by the representative. It was typical of the man however, he was temperamental, and much like any Ontorisan, a proud individual. However, Hallirius had faith he would understand.

"Lieutenant General, as much as I would like to listen to the military's concerns, our soldiers have shown immense progress in all fields in adopting the new equipment." Hallirius began as the room seemingly leaned in to listen. "We have the capacity to undertake something monumental in New Capile. I'm currently proposing a peacekeeping operation in the nation in order to deliver aid to those affected by the conflict."

A stunned silence greeted Hallirius, then followed by an uproar by the various government and military officials alike. No one wanted to see an Ontorisan die in foreign lands, especially one that held little to no strategic value to the gigantic nation. Anger was the emotion Hallirius was expecting as he cleared his throat, and produced a manila folder. Inside, the photo of Heja Topinaand, one of his deceased children, and numerous other photos of Ontorisan nationals caught in the crossfire could be found.

"Take a look." Hallirius muttered, gesturing to the folder as the room once again fell silent. "You all complain that we should not send our children to die in this country, yet they already have."

Murmuring to themselves, the officials passed the folder along to one another, taking a close look at each photo, noting the biographies of each deceased individual that were in public records. It was a tough read, and Hallirius was patient to wait so he could make his statement. As soon as the last few officials had the folder in their hands, the Head Minister cleared his throat and raised his voice.

"I propose this peacekeeping operation will compose of two regiments in total, with a small air detachment, and a constant naval convoy to deliver aid and medical supplies to those in need. A free fire zone will be created, as well as diplomatic contact with all factions involved within the conflict. As much as I do not wish to see our people's blood spilled on foreign soil, I would much rather for our troops to be able to protect the defenceless and to die for that, than to be caught in another Askosa and to be forced to take a much more aggressive role." Hallirius began, making eye contact with as many of the officials as he could. "Lieutenant General, your responsibility is to organize a peacekeeping force to be deployed as soon as we have approval from the New Capilean government. Everything must move smoothly, and we must limit the amount of civilian lives lost in the conflict, understood?"

"Jah, understood Head Minister." Vakuriz stood up and saluted, before putting his officer's hat on and leaving the room promptly.

"As for the rest of you, I need this to be approved." Hallirius ran his hand through his greying dark brown hair. "I won't allow another orphan to be created in such a bloody conflict."
*Narhakk (Noun; /Na'aRC-aCKk/) - A demeaning term to rudely address someone as an uneducated, economically poor, or otherwise misinformed individual. Synonymous with the English terms "Stupid", "Idiot", and "Child".

**Veicanjos (Noun; /VaIL-CJAN-ho-ZE/) - A deeply insulting and derogatory term to address a superior in a mocking way, often challenging said superior's authority, knowledge, and/or ability to lead properly. Can also be used to insulting accuse someone of being corrupted or acting in selfishness.[/i]

Image
AN OFFICIAL MESSAGE FROM THE UNIFIED PROVINCES OF ONTORISA
"Uhke, Puutumata, Vigastamata, Tasuta."

To:
The Leaders of All Parties Involved in the Nova Capilean Civil War
From:
The Office of Head Minister Xeja Hallirius, Current Democratically Elected Leader of Ontorisa
Subject:
Operation KAITSE: Ontorisan Humanitarian Efforts in Nova Capile
Encryption:
E0 - No Encryption.

To whoever may concern,


The recent violence in the Grand Duchy of Nova Capile has come to the attention of the Peoples of the Unified Provinces of Ontorisa. While Ontorisa officially has no interests in the conflict, a number of Ontorisan nationals have reported to have been caught in the crossfire and some have even been killed. Due to the ever-growing concerns of the safety of any present Ontorisan nationals in the Grand Duchy of Nova Capile, and to a greater extent the affected non-combatants, the Ontorisan House of Councillors and the House of High Honours have both unanimously voted to establish diplomatic ties between Ontorisa, all present combatants, and to propose a neutral humanitarian mission (Operation KAITSE).

Operation KAITSE (English: Safeguard) proposes for the following:

  • Creation and subsequent deployment of Ontorisa Nova Capilean Command (henceforth known as ONTNOVCOM) which consists of:
    • The Ontorisan 186th Motorized Infantry Regiment.
    • The Ontorisan 5th Infantry Regiment.
    • A complementary air wing detachment (henceforth known as Operational Wing NOV-1) consisting of unarmed SDD-43 "CLOVER" Helicopters, CH-47 "CHINOOK" Helicopters, C-130 "HERCULES" Military Transport Aircraft, three unarmed CYCLOPS-757 Aerial Drones, and limited numbers of SDD-46 "FAITHFUL" Attack Helicopters for defence purposes.
    • A small naval task force consisting of an Artemis-Class Landing Helicopter Dock, an Athena-Class Cruiser, three Ares-Class Frigates, and eight Apollo-Class Light Destroyers, as well as an unarmed Helios-Class Heavy Destroyer for communications purposes.
  • Various medical and aid to be given to affected civilians caught in the conflict.
  • The establishment of a "No Fire Zone" for humanitarian purposes near the city of "Rochefurt" for citizens to seek refuge, receive aid, and to be evacuated from Nova Capile (if necessary).
  • The use of ground and/or air elements from ONTNOVCOM as peacekeepers near conflict areas in order to minimize non-combatant casualties.
  • The immediate evacuation of any remaining Ontorisan nationals who are in Nova Capile.

If the purpose of Operation KAITSE is satisfactory to all parties involved, the Unified Provinces of Ontorisa can begin its operations in the following weeks. It is paramount, and of the utmost importance to Ontorisa, that any non-combatant and civilians are to remain unharmed during the continuation of the conflict.

Alternative translations of this message in French, German, and Dutch can be found attached to this message.


Regards,



Makkar Enjilssen

Office of the Head Minister
Diplomat of the Unified Provinces of Ontorisa

Last edited by Ontorisa on Sun Nov 24, 2019 2:33 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Karevka
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Founded: Jan 16, 2019
Ex-Nation

Postby Karevka » Sun Nov 24, 2019 8:23 pm

Kongsburg
Socialist Capile


The uniforms were simply made and simply designed. Olive green, made of cotton, two or four external pockets. Likely made in a workshop or one of the BSU's growing factories. It reminded Corporal Viktor Nelikev of what Fidel Castro wore in old photographs at his school. Personally he preferred his raindrop camo service jacket but Sergeant Gazna told him it was what all the BSU could offer them, and that they should be grateful for the generosity of "our fellow socialist allies." It was understandable since the BSU still had a growing industrial base, and focused on equipping its troops with more professional gear.

He was under a tarp outside Kongsburg, helping crews paint BSU logos and camouflage on their vehicles. It reminded him when, as a child, he helped repaint the barn in the summer sun at his parent's farm. The manual labor he thought as pointless as a kid gave him stronger muscles as an adult, which he appreciated later then he wanted to. Nelikev had an almond-shaped, freckled face. He had emerald green eyes and curly black hair. He was conscripted at age 19 during the Felkiz Crisis, a major counterrevolutionary uprising, and at first, didn't intend to stay in the armed forces past the first four-year contract. However, the sense of brotherhood his unit gave him convinced the 23-year-old to stay.

The tank commander climbed down the hull of his VkD main battle tank, wiping some sweat from his forehead as he turned to Nelikev. "Thanks for helping us paint Misha corporal." Neilkev always found the practice of naming their tanks odd but never mentioned it to them. "Your welcome, anytime," he replied. To him, the deployment in Capile was a noble fight to liberate the oppressed workers and peasants. Like many, he was a firm believer in communism, ready to give his life the Revolution. But he did not know the doubts of regimental command.

Stepanov was pacing in his office provided by the BSU. It was a cozy place, nice wood panel walls, a window overlooking a market, a portrait of Terry Blucher and an office phone. Five minutes ago he used that phone to called Marshal Georg Novack, the BSU's overall military commander, to discuss tactics and what would happen next. He was only just settling in and had a basic knowledge of the terrain. He had already sent an encrypted message to Korodvinsk, confirming his arrival as he waited for Georg to (or his orderly) to reply. He had a list of topics to bring up namely: how to effectively combat the German airpower, how to maintain and protect supply lines and finally the position of the Capilean Reich. He had much to discuss with his Capilean counterpart. He hoped that the Marshal would quickly return his call before his men got too rowdy. Or before they were obliterated from above.

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New Decius
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Ex-Nation

Postby New Decius » Tue Nov 26, 2019 7:38 pm

Rochefort
Visit of Kaiser Wilhelm Augustus III
Royalist Capile

“I see it is time for full honesty isn’t it, my old friend?”

The nod from his friend and former counterpart all but confirmed that Wilhelm would have to reveal the complete and utter truth. Truly it would be a relief to actually get the weight off his shoulders.

“What I am about to tell you cannot leave this room my old friend. Only seven people in the entire world including myself are privy to what I am about to reveal.”

Wilhelm took a deep breath, though as he did one could hear the strain of his lungs to accomplish such a feat. That alone gave a subtle clue as to the topic at hand.

“Three months ago I noticed that I was having some slight trouble with my lungs, nothing too serious but enough that I saw fit to see my old Court Physician, whom has since retired. I assumed that it was merely the effects of my age and perhaps I needed to slow down my pace somewhat...” he had to struggle not to choke on his own words. “...however, it turned out to be something far more serious. After extensive tests and consultation with trusted colleagues, he diagnosed that I have lung cancer, stage 2, still in the treatable realm but with my age its highly unlikely even the best hospitals in the world could keep me alive longer than a year at most. So I have resigned myself to my fate and decided not to be a meandering bed-ridden old man for my remaining months. By God I will do something with what time I have left to me.”

“Before you ask, no my grandson Kaiser Josef Franz does not know. The last thing a country needs is an inexperienced sovereign still learning how to govern dropping everything to fuss over his grandfather who has lived quite long enough as it is. I already have wheels in motion to cover up my passing as being of old age alone, what with my son Kaiser Erwin being claimed by the same wretched disease I don’t know that Josef could emotionally stand another such loss.”

“I intend to spend as much time abroad in what time I have left to me as I can, getting away from Berlin, for the benefit of the Kaiser. One of Josef’s biggest problems since he took the throne has been the nervousness of living in my shadow, my reign being considered the most prosperous Germany has seen since Kaiser Wilhelm I, and the fear that he will not be able to live up to the image people have built in their minds of how he should rule. While I have always sought to advise and aid my grandson in ruling the nation, he must learn to break out on his own or he will never accomplish anything as a ruler nor as a human being. He must learn on his own now to deal with the vicious body politic of the Reichstag and the Court without my overhanging influence keeping all parties in line; how to properly console his subjects in time of tragedy, lead them in times of crisis, and guide them through times of prosperity.” A sad smile spread on the old emperor’s face, an erstwhile look in his eyes. “You see in order to most help my grandson, I must abandon him to fight his own battles.”

A single solitary tear slid down the former monarchs cheek as the setting silence allowed the small group to hear for themselves the labored breathing they had not noticed before.

“Its always a shame when an era comes to an end, for all we can but do is seize destiny with both hands and pray our choices lead to a brighter future.”
Proud advocate that Europe stands stronger together than divided. The EU may be flawed in some areas but the idea of a united Europa can only bring good fortune to Europe and the world. For more than two thousand years, Europe was home to conflicts inspired by coveting one another's territory and resources, even making the continent the home to some of the world's most destructive and costly conflicts. But the idea was all wrong in their minds. Their idea was to bring this territory or that under their flag and spread influence on the continent. The idea they should all have been thinking was that the goal should be to bring the continent under one unified flag.

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The Grand Duchy Of Nova Capile
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Founded: Jul 12, 2015
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Postby The Grand Duchy Of Nova Capile » Tue Nov 26, 2019 8:28 pm



KONGSBURG
SOCIALIST CAPILE


The city of Kongsburg was large enough to house a dozen more cities inside of itself. One of these hidden metropolises was the military quarter. The encampment was situated adjacent to a huge complex of factories, which provided the Communist soldiers with an endless supply of freshly-made arms and equipment. Rows of apartment buildings, already Spartan, had been repurposed as barracks for the BSU's huge host. Drill squares were hard to come by due to the limited space, and so what empty areas existed were filled around-the-clock with drilling soldiers. Every street and alleyway was packed with marching troops, hulking vehicles and their greasy crews, and crates of materiel.

Today the environment was, somehow, even more chaotic than usual. News of the surprise Royalist attack had reached the city. The BSU's high command had fortified the frontiers against such an attack, but evidently it had not been enough, as the border town of Gemberg had fallen to the Crown. Like colossal nest of hornets that had been whacked with a stick, Kongsburg buzzed maddeningly. Whole corps of soldiers were mobilized and marched to the front, alongside hundreds of tanks and armored vehicles. What civilians had not already rushed to enlist in the People's Defense Corps, a volunteer militia whose members pledged to defend the city until the last drop of blood had left their bodies. Intersections were fortified, sniper and machine gun nests were piled atop every building, and huge artillery guns were entrenched in the streets.

Amidst this fevered preparation, Stepanov's message went unnoticed by Marshal Novack for a few hours before he had time to address it. When he finally remembered the Karevkans, he had only enough time to jot their commander a quick note before his other responsibilities called.


To: MG N. Stepanov
From: FM Georg Novack

Apologies,

Comrade, that I was unable to deliver this note to you sooner. There is but little time for me to issue you your orders. A major Royalist offensive is striking NE of this city, possibly with the intention of besieging it. This must not be allowed to happen.

If your men are combat-ready, report to Gen. Schäffer at Gansheim (small village approx. 15 km. NE of the city). Otherwise, get them combat ready. We will need them.

Gen. Schäffer will answer all your questions.

Long live the Revolution!
G.N.
Georg Novack, FM



Image

To: The Office of Head Minister Hallirius of Ontorisa
From: Reichskanzler Wilhelm Knott
Esteemed friend,

The Grand Duchy has made its first and foremost objective in this abominable conflict the protection of civilians.

As such, we see your proposed Operation KAITSE as a necessary and, furthermore, imperative step toward achieving that most critical of objectives.

The Office of the Reichskanzler, acting with authority from and the approval of His Grace the Grand Duke of Nova Capile, therefore approves the aid plan known as Operation KAITSE and proposed in your missive. It will also take every measure to ensure that the objectives of KAITSE are met without threat or impediment.

The protection of our populace is, and always has been, our primary goal. Any advancement made in favor of that goal will not be rejected by this government.

Sincerely,
Image
Wilhelm Knott
Reichskanzler



ROCHFURT
NOVA CAPILE


Klaus looked at his old friend, Wilhelm, with a pained expression.

Wilhelm, who had always shown extraordinary vigor for his age, was now slowly succumbing to the same disease which had taken his son– and the very same that had claimed Klaus' father, Hans. And the man had refused any hope, no matter how slight, of curing it, in favor of aiding anyone he could before he passed.

When it was clear that Wilhelm had finished, and after an extra moment that Klaus took to truly comprehend the situation, he finally spoke.

"It pains me, Wilhelm, to see you afflicted by that same accursed disease which took my father and your son." After a brief pause, Klaus pressed on, eyes watery: "But what I find truly remarkable is your selflessness. Few would have chosen your path– it is not an easy one, to be sure. Many would have taken the easier, selfish route– but you saw past your own needs and to those of not only your family, nor only your nation, but the world."

Klaus looked Wilhelm in the eyes and nodded deeply. "I now understand what makes a great ruler."

The Grand Duke prayed that he was capable of such courage.
Capilean News (Updated 16 November)
Where is the horse gone? Where the warrior?
Where is the treasure-giver? Where are the seats at the feast?
Where are the revels in the hall?
Alas for the bright cup! Alas for the mailed warrior!
Alas for the splendour of the prince!
How that time has passed away, dark under the cover of night, as if it never were.

The Wanderer

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Vrijstaat Limburg
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1168
Founded: Jan 07, 2018
Iron Fist Consumerists

Postby Vrijstaat Limburg » Wed Nov 27, 2019 12:27 pm

Tom Ramaekers
Roappe
09:31 AM local time

Image
The contractor-controlled T-6 Texan, preparing to lift off, shortly before being told that the runways are too unstable and that their flying mission has been postponed.


Ramaekers's eyes gazed carefully over the civilian air strip. This patch of dirt was nothing compared to the former military airport in Gravines, that is to say, before it was overrun by fascist forces. The pilot and co-pilot of the T-6 Texan had seen the lovely plains of what was once the newly-proclaimed Free French State crumble to ashes. The cities were infested with rats and lice, and French troops, accompanied by Bavarian volunteers, desperately held onto the grey city blocks by setting up defenses as precautious measures. The country had been burnt and shelled, and the peasants now roamed the roads as refugees, attempting to run from the war that devastated their homes. The French had not been careful enough when the Wolfish freikorps poured in from the west, and the longer Gravines remained in Reich hands, the more desperate the troops in Roappe seemed to become.

The struggle was total and bloody, worse than any of the two mercenaries could have ever foreseen. If they could believe French chatter and international news, they would be shot upon being captured. The Stoßwehr troops were ruthless, and though mercenaries and contractors have existed for as long as reckless betting has existed, the two green Limburgian pilots knew that the odds would not be in their favour. This was not the flashy, hip vacation that they had wanted it to be.

The state of the aerial infrastructure was awful. There were constant manpower shortages, so aeroplanes hardly received any accurate intelligence on whether they were allowed to land or fly. The information that they did get was limited and given by those who might not be fully qualified to control air missions. Supervision was essential for an aeroplane as old as Ramaeker's T-6, and even Tom knew that they could not fly away in these circumstances. The artillery guns in the west had been keeping silent for some time, and that meant that the rusty Limburgian two-winger wouldn't have to fly in and conduct strafing runs or reconnaissance ops. Where the air strips were dusty and unused and the supply of manpower was ever-decreasing, a constant need for money arose, especially among the opportunistic mercenaries. Their salaries were sometimes paid in French currency and sometimes in the Bavarian federal mark, that is, if there was any pay at all. Their life insurance had run out, and though the pilots' trust in ever getting out of the godforsaken isle was dropping exponentially, they found a remedy in the fact that they did not have to fly now. Anxiously, the pair awaited the construction of a superior airfield, or their conscription into the Free French Forces. What kept the French from enrolling them in some kind of labour battalion, sending them towards the Nemetzists and making them toil until they were captured or killed?

Where loud music once came out of Dumont's iPod, bitter silence now reigned. The sound of French boots marching around had deserted them, and only very faint engine noises from cars and civilian aircratt transporting the wealthy and priviliged could be heard in the background. It reminded Ramaekers of "Also sprach Zarathustra", the famous novel by Friedrich Nietzsche. "Silence is worse", Tom thought, "all truths that are kept silent become poisonous.", evaluating his predicament.
Last edited by Vrijstaat Limburg on Sun Dec 01, 2019 1:11 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Karevka
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Founded: Jan 16, 2019
Ex-Nation

Postby Karevka » Sat Nov 30, 2019 10:19 am

Kongsburg
Socialist Capile


At last, Stepanov thought as he read the header of Marshal Novack's reply. As he waited for this reply he had seen an unusual increase in activity. Civilians marching northeast, wielding rifles while others laid down sandbags and barbed wire in the cobblestone streets outside his window. He continued reading the message. He did so until he the second sentence: There is but little time for me to issue you your orders. A major Royalist offensive is striking NE of this city, possibly with the intention of besieging it. He stopped right then and there, and looked out his office window again. The civilians were, militiamen he should call them, were digging in for a defense of the city. He kicked himself for his shortsightedness and dialed his office phone for Salkov.

"Colonel, this is urgent. Organize the men and get them to the village of Gansheim to the northeast as fast as they can. The royalists are advancing on Kongsburg, there is no time!" He shouted into the phone.

Salkov quickly replied, with confidence in his voice, "Yes major general!" The field HQ, located in a larget tent, was not very active at the moment. Radio chatter was calm and the battalion officers were playing a game of cards at a nearby table with about 1,000 rubles at stake. Cigarette smoke hung in the air. "Comrades!" Salkov boomed. All of the men whipped their heads around in surprise, eyes on the colonel. "The imperialists are making an attack to the northeast. Are socialist allies are in need, this is the moment we've come here for! Battalion commanders, get your men on their transports immediately, comms contact General Schaffer in Gansheim tell him we are on our way." Everyone stopped their previous activities, the 1000 rubles could wait after all.

Neilkev and his squadmates were in a recreational tent, smoking cigarettes. It had been a quiet few hours, apart from armed civilians in trucks moving north, and they were discussing various topics like girlfriends and their best kill. This was interrupted by Gazna who ran up to them, rifle in hand. He spoke with urgency. "Get to the nearest truck or APC you can find, we have orders to move northeast. The royalists are making their play. Move!" They looked at each other, their faces saying That explains the civilians. Five minutes later they clambered into the covered bed of the BM-05 truck, 16 men seated on two benches. Nelikev, despite being a combat veteran, was tapping his foot in anxiety. It had been a long time since he been in active combat but he would readjust soon enough.

Gansheim
Socialist Capile



Initially, the 1st and 2nd battalions of No.3 Regiment and battalions 1 through 4 of No.1 regiment were deployed to or outside Gansheim. The remainder of No.1 and No.3, along with all of No.2, remained in Kongsburg. Not every man could fit on the trucks, APCs and IFVs and many had to walk, but they all reached Gansheim. With them, they brought anti-tank missiles, mortars, and tanks to bolster the BSU. The colonel in command of the detachment went to General Schaffer's post for orders.

"General Schaffer," he said as he entered the tent, the guard outside slightly suspicious, "We're here. What are our orders?" They didn't know how long until the Royalists made it to the frontline but they must move swiftly to meet them. The colonel expected the opposing force to be large and with air support and they man-portable SAMs for that.
Last edited by Karevka on Mon Dec 02, 2019 5:09 pm, edited 2 times in total.

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New Decius
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Founded: Jul 24, 2014
Ex-Nation

Postby New Decius » Sat Nov 30, 2019 4:56 pm

Ludislau, Saatland
SMS Kaiser Friedrich III, IV. Kampfgeschwader, Hochseeflotte
Operation Greaves

”All Flight Deck Personnel! All Flight Deck Personnel! Stand By To Receive Returning Aircraft! Stand By To Receive Returning Aircraft!”

Vizeadmiral Anton Hurtig watched as a pair of Me-708 Strike Fighters veered away from a combat formation and were lining up for a landing back on the Friedrich III one of them trailing some minor smoke from his left wing, a sign the Saatlander’s weren’t completely defenseless. While their anti-air assets might be minimal they weren’t completely non-existent, and Hurtig had three downed aircraft as evidence though in all three instances the pilots were able to successfully eject and parachute to relative safety. They were safely deposited to solid ground at least...inside a still hostile city.

’Those battleships are proving their worth finally.’ Hurtig watched from the bridge of the Kaiser Wilhelm Augustus III-Class Supercarrier, as the SMS Bayern and SMS Anhalt continued to pound away at their targets inside Ludislau. Their 11-inch guns were blasting the Saatlander’s few remaining fortifications to pieces, providing excellent cover for the Royalist forces to successfully execute their amphibious landing operation. ’Though I’m sure my aircraft could have done the same job just fine without those lumbering behemoths.’ Hurtig thought smugly as he saw a strike fighter swoop down to drop its payload on an enemy position within the city proper; as a naval aviation man by schooling and experience, Hurtig was convinced that one could do away with battleships, cruisers, destroyers entirely and build a moderate force of carriers to achieve global naval dominance.

Another result of the introduction of the Battleship Program; the reigniting of the age old rivalry between surface combat officers and naval aviation officers.

Still the operation was going off rather well, casualties remained low and within the expected parameters while the amphibious troops steadily gained more and more ground.

Hurtig had seen to deploying the two helicopter cruisers in his squadron, SMS Neuwied and SMS Zwickau as close to the largest of the beachheads as he could, the vessels were after all not littoral combat ships so there was a limit to their close-shore capabilities, allowing the Royalists troops some (small) amount of friendly helicopter cover. Though less offensively armed than the average Multirole Frigate, German helicopter cruisers packed a more than modest amount of CIWS and several SAM launchers, complimenting their ability to carry up to five helicopter’s including VTOL gunships and attack gunships, however at a stretch they could carry up to eight light unarmed recon helicopters. Presently they had both been stocked with five Fe-300 VTOL Gunships each for use in medical evacuation of the seriously wounded troops to the two hospital vessels in the squadron.

“Vizeadmiral! Get down!” Leutnant Felix Steiger tackled Hurtig to the ground as a barrage of bullets slammed right where he had been just a moment before. Admittedly the sixty year old Vizeadmiral was tempted to wallop the twenty year old Leutnant upside the head for slamming a superior officer to the ground. At least until he heard one of the CIWS guns spitting out a rapid stream at the water.

Leaning up and peaking over the side he saw a small speedboat dead in the water, riddled with holes, just like the three men inside it. A chaingun had been blown to smithereens by the bow.

Immediately Hurtig flattened himself down again.

“The bastards! Commanders are not meant to be shot at! Its just not good cricket!”

Leutnant Steiger had to bite his lip to keep from laughing at Hurtig’s old fashion belief’s about battlefield etiquette. It probably wouldn’t help his career to explain to the Vizeadmiral how things had changed since the 14th Century.

“Indeed Vizeadmiral, its in absolutely terrible form.”

“Those Saatlander bastards knew our sensors were looking for something the size of a frigate or small torpedo craft! Something that could actually harm the fleet! They knew we weren’t expecting them to be so dishonorable as to rake our ships with machine gun fire from close range!”

Steiger rolled his eyes, when he knew Hurtig wasn’t watching. “You did have to give them points for creativity Vizeadmiral.”

“I’ll hardly commend the enemy for coming up with a new ungentlemanly way to kill us!”

An ensign stuck his head outside and saluted quickly as Hurtig was getting back on his feet. “Vizeadmiral, I have a Hauptmann Grüner here for you, Abwehr.”

Hurtig scoffed, what could one of those bunglers want on his ship. He smoothed out his jacket and went inside the bridge to find said officer waiting for him, the crisp dark grey uniform as pristine as if he were on parade. Hauptmann Grüner could’ve been the poster child for the Abwehr what with his muscular build, golden hair, and cerulean eyes.

Grüner saluted Hurtig and then proceeded to produce a manilla folder from within his jacket and passed it to the naval officer. Inside were dockets on several dozen individual’s with information on every conceivable facet of their life listed next to their photograph.

“Vizeadmiral, Hauptmann Oscar Grüner with orders from Oberst Rolf Mehlen, Abwehr Station Chief for Special Operations in the Capilean Theater. Your Kampfgeschwader has at its disposal several hundred soldiers of the Seebataillon whose normal duty is shipboard security. The Abwehr is commandeering these men to apprehend a number of individuals who were residents of Ludislau prior to the start of Operation Greaves. You will please see to this.”

Taking the folder Hurtig was about to ask precisely why the Abwehr wanted these individuals in particular when Grüner beat him to it. “No need to worry about any legality Vizeadmiral. All the subjects are being transferred to the custody of our Royalists colleagues after a few routine questions.”

Hurtig nodded and dictated the orders to Steiger that the groups of Imperial Marines aboard the fleet would seek out as many of these people as they could in Ludislau during and after the battle.
Proud advocate that Europe stands stronger together than divided. The EU may be flawed in some areas but the idea of a united Europa can only bring good fortune to Europe and the world. For more than two thousand years, Europe was home to conflicts inspired by coveting one another's territory and resources, even making the continent the home to some of the world's most destructive and costly conflicts. But the idea was all wrong in their minds. Their idea was to bring this territory or that under their flag and spread influence on the continent. The idea they should all have been thinking was that the goal should be to bring the continent under one unified flag.

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The Grand Duchy Of Nova Capile
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Founded: Jul 12, 2015
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Postby The Grand Duchy Of Nova Capile » Sat Nov 30, 2019 5:41 pm



LUDISLAU
SAATLAND


In spite of tenacious resistance, the Royalist marines clawed inch by inch up the rocky shoreline and into the streets of Ludislau. The Saatlanders clearly intended to fight for their capital, but unlike most of the other factions, seemed unwilling to disregard the safety of their citizens.

People evacuated en masse. The streets were gridlocked with outbound traffic, such that convoys of Saatlander reinforcements had to find alternate routes in order to reach the battle. Civilians panicked in the streets, shielding themselves from stray shells and weeping over lifeless bodies.

The German battleships’ bombardment almost single-handedly secured the battle for the Royalists. With their fortifications reduced to dust and mortar, the few professional troops within the city had little hope of resisting the waves of hardy troops that were now crashing against Ludislau. The fighting was pitched and bloody, but without heavy equipment or professional soldiers, the secessionists were pushed from the waterfront within an hour of the assault’s commencement.

With the passing of another hour, the fighting reached deeply into the heart of the city, and Royalist commandos stormed the Bamburger House in hopes of capturing Saatland’s president. They were too late, but the fall of that mansion, the fountainhead of the Republic, seemed to signify the fall of the entire capital.

By midnight, the Crown had captured the seaward half of the city and was now assaulting the last holdouts of resistance, namely the industrial district and a wealthy neighborhood where a brigade of secessionists had entrenched themselves. This latter was of particular interest, as the neighborhood where the Saatlanders gave their final hurrah was the same that housed many of the individuals marked for arrest by the Abwehr.

Those that had not already fled for their lives were loath to do so now, as the fighting surrounded them on all sides. Royalist troops, fighting with state-of-the-art night vision equipment, assaulted gated mansions, palatial courtyards, and towering chateaux, resisted by raging Saatlanders. German operatives weaved in and out of these sieges, bagging Saatlander civilians left and right, not wanting any of their targets to slip between their fingers.


ROAPPE
FRENCH FREE STATE


After securing the trust of Colonel Chenevix and his men, Oswald Drach– or Gilles Drelincourt, as he was now known– reenacted the Reign of Terror, playing the part of Robespierre, naturally. Heads rolled daily as the spy unravelled a conspiracy which linked the lowest private with the most venerable officer. Instead of suspecting and usurping this new tyrant, the men of Chenevix’s brigade rallied around him, some out of a genuine belief in his findings, and others out of fear that they might otherwise be next.

The breadth of Drelincourt’s investigation naturally called for additional investigators, and so a number of his comrades from the Free French Intelligence were brought into the encampment. These men were much quieter than their superior, hardly speaking at all and with a vaguely strange accent when they did, but their authority was unquestioned. One was given vigil over the armory, another monitored the officers’ quarters, a third stood watch in the communications center, and the last supervised the construction of a rudimentary airfield.

The necessity of an airfield was clear after the loss of Gravines– what few planes the French possessed had nowhere to land! But, under Bavarian administration, funds and workmen had finally been allocated to the construction of a major airfield on the outskirts of Gravines. Until then, and as eventual supplements to this future airfield, emergency airstrips were hastily constructed with many encampments, such as the one over which Drach had wrested control.

The intelligence officer assigned to this project noticed a peculiar pair of pilots during his first inspection. He did not speak to them– by custom he spoke to no one– but made a scrawl of it on his clipboard, which was always with him. He reported to Drach, and the next morning, Major Drelincourt awaited Tom Raemakers and Mike Dumont in front of their ancient plane.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” the man began, a wolfish grin that was decided not good crossing his face. “I understand that you two are mercenaries,” he continued, placing a peculiar emphasis on the final word. “You understand that it is my job to root out traitors– and so it is simply a matter of protocol that I have a word with you.”

A pair of sturdy Frenchmen, led by one of Drelincourt’s silent subordinates, now came into view. “You will not mind if these men search your bunks while I, ah, interview you, no?”


GANSHEIM
SOCIALIST CAPILE


The deluge of Royalist troops had rushed past Gemberg and spilled from those foothills into the broad valley below. Their next target was Gansheim, a moderately-sized town which lay at the crossroads between Kongsburg and Osthilt and was the last link which possessed significant infrastructure to facilitate a transfer of troops from Raus to Kongsburg. It was thus imperative that the Royalists capture Gansheim to prevent the BSU from raising a tidal wave of reinforcements, and, on the other hand, imperative that General Schäffer’s command kept control of the city.

Egon Schäffer was standing beneath an enormous canvas canopy, alongside a host of busy staff officers, overlooking a tactical map of the situation, when the Karevkans arrived. Lines of concern and stress were etched into his aquiline features, and he did not immediately look up or greet Stepanov when he approached.

“So, we must hold them for at least three more days before Proskurkin’s corps arrives?” the tall officer questioned one of his subordinates.

“According to Marshal Koch, that is the fastest reinforcements can arrive,” the younger answered.

Schäffer shook his head and shut his eyes for several moments. Finally he turned to the foreign officer before him.

“It’s about time you got here,” he broached, adjusting his glasses and glancing once more at the tactical map. “The Royalists have the advantage of air and artillery supremacy, and have fought their way past the foothills of the Kongs Mountains, which were our surest line of defense. Luckily, we had time to prepare some impromptu breastworks and redoubts which should slow down the capitalists’ advance. Our objective is to hold the line and prevent Gansheim’s capture for another seventy-two hours, at which time General Proskurkin’s Armored Corps will relieve us.

“Our left and right flanks are anchored in hilly terrain and have been reinforced with many of our veteran troops and anti-air emplacements. It is our center,” Schäffer said, pointing to the location with a bony finger, “that is in danger. It is flat land with scant protection from the enemy’s air force, and our men are losing ground quickly. Your unit will reinforce it.”

The general looked his counterpart in the eyes, analyzing him thoroughly. “I trust the fate of the Revolution in you and your men. Now, get to work.”

With that, Schäffer turned to his other business. The rumble of artillery and whir of jet planes grew closer.
Capilean News (Updated 16 November)
Where is the horse gone? Where the warrior?
Where is the treasure-giver? Where are the seats at the feast?
Where are the revels in the hall?
Alas for the bright cup! Alas for the mailed warrior!
Alas for the splendour of the prince!
How that time has passed away, dark under the cover of night, as if it never were.

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Vrijstaat Limburg
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Postby Vrijstaat Limburg » Sun Dec 01, 2019 1:56 am

Tom Ramaekers
Civilian airstrip near Roappe
11:01 AM local time


Mike had been working on the engine for well over half an hour now, and Tom sat in the front seat of the aeroplane, reading some sort of a French magazine. Ramaekers's French wasn't that good, and he had trouble comprehending the words. The lack of his proficiency in the frog language and the fact that he had not slept well the night before made Thomas grumpier than he was usually, albeit only slightly.

Four men came up to the plane. The column was headed by a tall, strong man, whom Ramaekers thought was a lieutenant-colonel. He had yet to get familiar with the French rank system, and where this man would have been a major, Ramaekers saw a colonel. As the 'colonel' and his entourage arrived, Tom neatly put his magazine besides him and stood in his seat, greeting him with a nonchalant tip of his cap. Both Tom and Mike had disdain for military hierarchy, and they had never expected to chat with officers in this fashion. Before Tom could say a word, the officer before him began, greeting them, and stating his causes. It was only now that Tom saw the monstrous scars running along his face. The men were much taller and stronger than Tom and Mike, and even though the colonel was clearly older, he didn't doubt that this ragged-war-machine-turned-colonel would absolute beat his ass if he wanted to.

Mike was still busy working on the engine, and he had not yet noticed the four men. He was mostly covered in oil and dirt at this point, as working on an engine for over half an hour could easily become very messy business. Tom, who still stood in the front of the plane, didn't know how to feel about the man opposite of him. The scars put him off, and gave him a primal sense of distrust. Doubtfully, he rose from his cockpit and stepped onto the small wooden ladder that was positioned next to the T-6, to meet the man face to face.

"Good day, sirs." Tom said, as jolly as he could. "I'm afraid you've got the wrong people here. According to the Office of the High Commissioner of the UN on Human Rights, we here are foreign fighters, not mercenaries." He placed the same emphasis on the words 'foreign fighter' as the "colonel" had put on the word 'mercenaries'. Tom had read up on his rights as a mercenary, specifically now that the fascist militias had taken the town of Gravines. Simply knowing his rights didn't make one less likely to become the victim of a war crime, but he took consolation from the fact that at least he knew his rights now. He did not know how to feel, however, about letting strangers into their sleeping quarters and letting them look through their personal belongings. Thus, he avoided the question, and spoke: "Monsieur le colonel, I don't think we've been introduced. My name is Captain Tom Ramaekers, pilot of la Garce Texane. My co-pilot is currently very busy, working on hardware that shall win us the war." his tone was serious, but even he knew that calling this downtrodden T-6 and its outdated engines 'hardware that would win them the war' was near-laughable. He reached his hand out, offering to shake Drach's, and asked: "And who might you be, sir?" He would make sure that he'd be introduced with the man that was trying to sift through his garbage, that was for sure.
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Akordania
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Founded: Sep 12, 2019
Ex-Nation

Postby Akordania » Sun Dec 01, 2019 3:44 am


ZHYTLO
CAPILEAN REICH

"Control to all posted details, standby for following net announcement. Second shift to relieve first shift in five. Second shift to relieve first shift in five. Detail leaders, no need to acknowledge. Control out." The heavily accented voice was followed by a half-second screech as the speakers picked up the slamming of the handset. Beneath newly erected loudspeakers, Zhytlo was buzzing with activity.

Following Colonel Korver's visit, Ruslan had begrudgingly implemented all of what was asked of him in a mere two weeks. Prisoners, all universally adorned in roughspun grey uniforms and work boots, strode dutifully back and forth between assignments. At the eastern end of the camp massive showerhouses ran at assigned times as offgoing shifts prepared for bed. The latrines, now simple concrete structures, were accessible throughout the day; though they were still closely monitored by guards. The enlisted and commissioned yards were transformed from mudpits dotted with tents to organized hutments.

With the structural changes came new security policy as well. Berkut soldiers patrolled the interior of the camp and more regularly interacted with the population. Most of the time, however, the interactions were unpleasant. Anyone caught shirking their duties or simply idling too much were subject to extensive beatings and verbal abuse. Following the infraction the inmate in question was dragged alongside an officer of their nationality to convene with the Supervisory Board. Ruslan and his lieutenants were always sure to mercilessly berate the summoned officer; knowing full well he would enact discipline of his own on the offender following the meeting.

Boredom plagued Berkut's barracks a few miles to the east. The men regularly engaged in gambling and binge drinking, and in their stupor often wandered into Wolfcour. Roving gangs of rowdy Akordanians became commonplace in the town, though by en large they left the citizens alone. The aforementioned gangs did however become the bane of the every bars' existence. Every night Wolfcour's pubs and clubs were packed with militants, all uniformed and speaking in the harsh Vazkh dialect. As the days crept on the sense of restlessness was only exacerbated by the inclement weather. In Ruslan's mind, he now had two populations to keep in order.
Last edited by Akordania on Sun Dec 01, 2019 4:22 pm, edited 1 time in total.
VISIT AKORDANIA
Akordanian News
Capital: Veroykne
Currency: Veksel
Leader: Sergei Yukashenko
Population: 9 Million
Exports: Heavy machinery, gasoline, diesel, dairy products
Neighboring Alternate: Kistya

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Welfresio
Chargé d'Affaires
 
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Founded: Mar 20, 2016
Ex-Nation

Postby Welfresio » Sun Dec 01, 2019 8:10 am

Palgrouny
Federal Welfresio


Si vis bellum, para pacem.
Louis Antoine Fauvelet de Bourrienne



Image
Nicknamed the Jewel of the East, Palgrouny has always been an cultural and economic center of Welfresio

Loud steps echo the hallway, the carpeted flooring and soft hum of the ventilation doing little to mask the tension ingrained into each passing second. Zntés Altsanka, a senior diplomat reporting to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, had been in constant communication with the embassy embedded deep within Saxtonburg, alarming reports of different severity reaching his ears almost everyday. Clutching the loosely packed documents stored in a folder, Altsanka dashes past and through an open frosted glass door, placing the files on a smooth executive desk.

He looks up to meet the withering eyes of Táberał Herze, the Minister of Defence. Well known for his straightforward interpretation on Welfresio's foreign policies, Herze exhales his cigarette as Altsanka settles down, taking a seat adjacent to the table; "Minister, the embassy has communicated about the improving situation in Nova Capile, the front lines are far away enough to safely evacuate them, but both the public and the Parliament demand an intervention." Altsanka ends his remarks in a worried tone. "The Ministry of Foreign Affairs told me to send this to you for your final decision, the President will have the final say however." Herze silently flips open the folder with a distinctive flap and reads one of the reports pinned onto the leather backing, taking an another pull as he scans the text from top to bottom, shades of white fog obscuring his steadily worsening expression.

Herze's head pounded hard as he came to terms with the details: twenty injured, three dead and the entire building damaged from the surrounding bombardment, with the embassy located so close to the administrative center of the city, it wasn't surprising shells would land upon them. A picture was attached, showcasing the shattered windows and the desolate surroundings, the facade of the building sprinkled with shrapnel, scarring the once stylistic architecture. This was it, he thought, this would be the catalyst for a full-blown intervention by the military, he had no more excuses left to appease the hawk's thirst for war. Not willing to sacrifice his career nor spill blood for a worthless country, this decision was purely based on pragmatism, stuck between two hard places, he had no choice but to concede.

Image

Embassy of Federal Welfresio, Saxtonburg


This was not the only factor that have led the country to the path of intervention. Herze turned his chair and looked out of his window, a soft glow emanating some distance away, plumes of smoke slowly pulsating out of view. Musing over the restless streets, the socialist protests were getting more bold, whining and flailing around like children, destroying the infrastructure that their previous government have prided so much on. He was one step away from sending in the military, with the only thing holding him back being the fact that the state of emergency so dearly needed to authorize such force is still being deliberated. With the increasingly dire situation and ideological friction caused by the riots, it has made many within the ruling government eager to exploit the opportunity to divert attention to the international incident that is happening within Nova Capile and with elections inching ever closer, a decisive victory overseas could keep the Radical Party to stay afloat.

Inspecting the operational and strategic details of the proposal, it envisioned the gradual deployment of up to a hundred thousand combat and non-combat personnel into the field, elements of several armies cooperating together into one combined Haseregrmia-Csoupa (Army Group), therefore establishing a formal joint task force. Consisting of a mixture of both motor-rifle and armored formations, it specifically mentions the embedding of Samolegőben-Zaokk (Airborne Shock) units and the involvement of special forces into the intervening divisions, intending to serve as a force multiplier or a surgical tool in attacking high value targets. Flipping through, transportation was to be realized by the utilization of the First Air Fleet, colloquially named the ''Western Fleet'' in escorting the associated cargo and transport vessels. With the cigarette now down to a few vapors, Herze rubbed the fore-end of his pen, engaged with himself as he debated the soundness of this plan. Sighing in defeat, he signs his signature and stamps the official Ministry mark of approval onto the front page, briskly handing it back to Altsanka who hurriedly showed his appreciation before walking out. Herze softens his posture, lamenting as he presses the spent cigarette onto the ash tray. "Is this truly the only option we considered?"

Image

Riot police watch on as protestors burn a police car, Palgrouny


Image

Permanent Representative of the Federal Republic of Welfresio to Nova Capile
Staandó Przedzentatív az Fedetségi Welfresio nd Nova Capile
Genslerstraße, Saxtonburg, SX, 12781, Nova Capile
Genslerstraße, Szátnnabáro, SX, 12781, Nova Capile




To - Nova Capile
From - The Federal Republic of Welfresio
Subject - Military Intervention & Aid
Encryption - ASCII +240-bit



To the legitimate government of Nova Capile,

The collapse of authority and the subsequent rise of subversive fascist and socialist elements vying for central power has caught the attention of our nation after the unfortunate shelling of the Welfresioan embassy and revelation of Welf nationals being injured or killed in the opening days of the conflict. In light of this, the power vested into the Presidency and the Parliament of Welfresio humbly request with sufficient evidence that an intervention both humanitarian and military in nature be allowed to safeguard the integrity and the stability of the Capilean state as well as to see its mandate restored nation-wide.

In pursuing this interest, we propose to establish and deploy a general command responsible for handling Welfresioan units as well as aid coordinating with Capile and its allies called (WFCAPCOM) or Welfresio Capilean Command, in addition to the organization of the Capilean Aid Group (CAG), which will be solely answerable in distributing and delivering humanitarian and non-military supplies, facilitating rehabilitation of damaged and/or war-torn areas. We earnestly hope you deliberate the merits of our offer of help.

Sincerely,
Image
Baláz Kristóf
Permanent Representative of the Federal Republic of Welfresio to Nova Capile

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New Decius
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Ex-Nation

Postby New Decius » Tue Dec 03, 2019 11:23 pm

Rochefort
Royalist Capile

“So far it seems that Großmarschall Winser’s offensive is proceeding within the expected parameters in a largely successful fashion.” General Lilian von Schneider browsed through the data file on her tablet that had so far been compiled on the progress of the offensive. Presently she and Rommel were speeding down the streets of Rochefort in a small convoy of black SUV’s en route to the airport from where they would travel to Poldorf to offer advice and counsel to Großmarschall Winser. “Operation Greaves in particular appears to be making significant progress. Subsequent moves against the Dutch are also showing promise, though reports seem to indicate the BSU will soon be able to launch a counteroffensive against the Royalist gains on their territory.”

Having left the management of the newly ‘reconquered’ Stammburg territory to Fleischmann and his Royalist forces, the commander of all European Forces in Capile had begun shifting his command for another move. Presently all three of the field armies composing Heeresgruppe Beowulf were on Resting Standby to recover from the losses (few though they were) taken during the Stammburg Campaign; time was needed for the lightly wounded to be stitched up and inserted back into their units, for the severely wounded to be transported by medical airlift to Deutsch-Ostafrika for extensive treatment, and for those caskets draped by the Schwarz-Weiß-Rot flag of the Kaiserreich to be sent home for a proper burial. Though Feldmarschall Heitmann had favored utilizing Beowulf in a spear-like thrust against the BSU to once again separate Raus and Kongsburg, Rommel had overruled the man because he saw the risk as too significant given the lack of intelligence regarding the organization and training of the civilian militia’s in the territory. Based on their recent actions the Red’s were far more concerned with simply holding onto the territory they had rather than going on the offensive again, at least for the time being. Rommel wasn’t about to throw a million men into a hasty offensive against a potentially massive organized guerrilla warfare resistance if said enemy was content to stay quiet for a little while longer.

Instead he was slowly but surely displacing Heeresgruppe Beowulf North, towards the Reich-Occupied Rei Valley. Where Feldmarschall Kurt Doppler was presently entrenched in a stalemate against the Stoßwehr while attempting to carry out Operation Lance, though Rommel could not get any significant force to Doppler’s aid without a week’s preparation and that was if he detached individual Division’s from an Armee. The Generalfeldmarschall refused to take such an action as it exposed his forces to the risk of defeat in detail where a single Division could be picked off apart from the main Armee where it does not have the other eleven out of twelve Division’s composing an Armee to support it. However, whether or not Doppler was successful in taking Quassdorf and the Rei Valkey, Beowulf would be in a position to deploy to the Northern Front within three weeks time all the same.

“A shame that Doppler did not meet with the same success up North as his colleagues are against the other opponents.” Joachim pulled the brim of his cap down and closed his eyes, attempting to get a few moments of rest while they drove. “Any indications as to if he can break the stalemate or not?”

“None yet, after Doppler failed to take Quassdorf the Stoßwehr was largely able to fortify its lines while the Royalists were rushing to commit their full force.” Lilian shook her head in disapproval as she read through the report. “If Doppler hadn’t been so cautious in his flanking maneuver and had committed to taking his enemy in their rear then such a stalemate would not have developed.” Joachim smiled at that, he knew full well how Lilian would’ve attacked had she been in command instead of Doppler. Ever the vicious viper, she would’ve struck with heavy divisions at the Fascists flanks while using lighter troops in coordination with precision air strikes to limit the Stoßwehr’s capacity to respond quickly to the move.

“To be fair to Doppler I believe he was largely selected because Winser both expected and needed him to be cautious and invite a stalemate. I could be wrong but I believe Winser wanted to force a battle the Fascist’s could not afford to lose or retreat from. Looking at it strategically Quassdorf is a vital staging ground for either the Reich or the Duchy to launch an all-out invasion of the other’s territory; it offers routes through to Landrath, Reiburg, and Saxtonburg should the Royalists take it.” Joachim lifted up his cap as a pensive look crossed his face. “The Stoßwehr will be forced to throw everything including the kitchen sink into defending Quassdorf or else destroy vital infrastructure offering those prime invasion routes, infrastructure they themselves will need not just for military purposes but also the small amount of civilian commercial traffic in the region. What effects would such a commitment have on the Reich strategically speaking?”

Lilian didn’t even take a full minute to answer. “It prevents them launching any significant offensive into Royalist territory, as well as reduce’s the strength they can bring against the Free French pockets left opposing the Reich as well as the Pritzen Pocket. It also allows Großmarschall Winser the opportunity to finish off the Dutch and Saatlander’s without having to worry about the Reich taking him in the flanks.”

“Indeed, Nemetz is also a stubbornly proud man, as our experience at Stammburg showed us. Even despite the hopelessness of the situation, intelligence says he continued to send orders to hold out and counterattack right up until Reudel and Wetter surrendered. The man won’t be able to resist the temptation to answer such a bold challenge on his own doorstep from Doppler.”

Before the famous man could delve too deeply into a complex strategy to use Nemetz’s pride against him, in which case Lilian wouldn’t get a word out of him for hours, she brought up another file and passed the tablet to Rommel. On it was a top secret strategic operation direct from the OHL, the office of Luftmarschall Willibald von Brätwitz, Chief of Strategic Air Operations.

“What do you think of this?”

The operation in question (Sonnenuntergang (Sunset)) was a proposed plan for utilizing strategic bombers to cripple the capacity of the Reich to function effectively as a state. The scale of it made the ‘Blitz’ seem like a minor strafing event, calling for strikes by dozens of intercontinental bombers a day launching from airbases in Africa to prevent the Reich interfering by hitting the airbases. Specifically Sunset proposed the targeting of all energy infrastructure within the territory of the Capilean Reich; conventional power plants, solar panel fields, wind farms, hydroelectric plants, oil refineries, natural gas pipelines, etc. any significant energy infrastructure reconnaissance satellites could find and the bombers could hit. The end result would be to cripple both civilian and military day-to-day operations as basic tasks became either extremely difficult or impossible, hospitals would have to run off generators alone severely hampering their capabilities and with Winter fast approaching who knew how many would die without access to heat. With no fuel, Nemetz’s precious armored troops would be dead in the water, and his military would be forced to start rationing fuel which effectively put any major offensive off the table. Secondary subsidiary operations including the usage of thermobaric munitions on agricultural targets to start large firestorms the Fascist authorities would be ill-equipped to fight.

“Whoever came up with this plan at the OHL clearly has never read the Geneva Convention.” Joachim looked absolutely livid the more he read. “Regardless of any possible strategic benefit this might bring, crippling Nemetz or otherwise, this will force civilian’s to share an equal if not greater amount of suffering with the Stoßwehr. There’s no telling how many will die when hospital’s are hemorrhaging electricity from their generators nor how many will freeze to death when Winter hits. I refuse to put such a plan into action.”

Lilian grimaced. “All the same, Regensburg has sent along a personal signed order that you are to bring up the plan with Winser during your strategy session.”

“I’ll simply tell Dietrich that we ran out of time discussing other strategies.”

Another grimace. “The only problem is that its all too likely one of our Abwehr deep covers is on Winser’s staff, or more accurately one of Regensburg’s.” Rommel had been very largely opposed to the proposed Abwehr Long Term Deep Cover program when he first became a staff officer back in 1993 and was cleared to know of it. Particularly as the factionalism within the intelligence service became more and more apparent over the years; that certain branches of the service were more loyal to one officer in the establishment or another. Regensburg had had two decades to build up a powerbase of support within the Abwehr just as he had within the political realm, Rommel had a few choice allies as well and so did the Reichskanzler but the Kaiserliche Marschall held the majority of support from the Abwehr.

“Damn it all.” Then an idea came to mind. “Perhaps I should bring His Highness, Prince Claude along with me? Most of the Abwehr may play into factionalism but their still largely some of the most fervent monarchists in the Kaiserreich, not likely to snoop on a meeting in which the Kaiser’s own nephew is present.” A devious grin spread across Joachim’s face. “Technically he isn’t supposed to join my staff for another four days, officially to give him a little time to catch up with his dear cousin Elizabeth but really so Major Dernen can effectively pass on his current assignments to new operatives. I’m sure no one will mind if it happens a little earlier than expected.”

Lilian nodded. “Very well I’ll let the transport aircraft bringing us to Poldorf know an additional passenger will be joining the flight.”




Mühlburg
Capilean Reich

Though some time had now passed since the end of the battle over Mühlburg, the city still bore some of the scars of siege. A burnt out house here, a pile of rubble there, signs that the city had taken a pounding but it was clear they were recovering. A scene not unfamiliar to Ruprecht Becker, for he had known the city these past fifteen years, lived in it, made his home in it with his beautiful wife and three wonderful children. Ruprecht had worked in a steel plant just outside the city for twelve years now. Now they all followed the glorious banner of Walther Nemetz to battle against the decadent Royalists. Ruprecht’s eldest son Wolfgang was even in basic training right now, ready to do his duty for the Vaterland. His wife Anna’s two brothers were both in the Stoßwehr and on the Rei Front, and one of Ruprecht’s closest friends was the local Stoßwehr recruitment officer who had even helped place Wolfgang in sniper training given his talents. The dictionary definition of the perfect subject of the new Capilean Reich.

If only it were not all a massive lie.

Oh most of it was in fact true. These people did exist. Ruprecht had lived in Mühlburg for fifteen years, worked at the factory for twelve, and brought up a family with Anna.

However his loyalty to the Stoßwehr and Walther Nemetz was somewhat more questionable.

For Ruprecht Becker was in fact Manfred Saalt, an operative of the Abwehr deployed to Capile sixteen years ago as a deep-cover agent to observe the growing fascist movement. Like so many other operatives in the deep cover program, Manfred was inserted as just any other average person, going about his day with complete normalcy.




Ruprecht was walking down the street from the bus stop on his way home, a few of his coworkers from the plant with him. They were laughing and talking of stopping off at the local bar but Ruprecht wasn’t for it.

“Boys if I’m late for dinner again Anna will tan my hide. I am the master of my house but, as the married lads among you know, if you ruin their dinner then its all hell let loose.”

With that Ruprecht waved off his friends and continued on towards his home, down dark streets and alone save for a few other late night travelers. He had not gone twenty feet when he was pulled violently into a side alley by two pairs of hands and shoved against a wall. The cold steel of a blade pressed against the side of his neck and a gruff voice barked demands at him.

“All right you fascist bastard! Give us all your money and you might get to live!”

This was quickly followed by the much more soft whispering of:

“Hoist the colors.”

However Ruprecht merely growled and began struggling against his attacker.

“Get the hell off me you bastards!” Ruprecht kneed the man holding him right in the family jewels causing his attacker to stumble, before nailing him with a sharp right hook to the chin. His two assailants immediately scrambled away down the alley while Ruprecht slowly regained his breath, hands on his knees as he recovered. “Yeah that’s right you degenerates run away like the cowards you are!”

After making sure no more unsavory persons awaited him back on the street, Ruprecht continued on his journey home grumbling as he did so. This did happen from time to time, no matter how brilliantly Walter Nemetz was reforming society into something grand and orderly, you couldn’t stamp out every vandal who popped up in the middle of a war. Oh well he would forget it as soon as he tasted the delicious dinner Anna had cooked up and heard what Bruno and Lisa got up to at school today. The comforts of home.

’Oh that reminds me I must tell Anna about those cousins of mine I have coming to stay in a few days. How careless of me to forget to let her know more in advance.’




The two ruffians who had accosted Ruprecht were at this moment climbing down a ladder into the sewers underneath Mühlburg, much more hardened looks on their faces than had been when they were repelled during the mugging. The two men carefully picked their way through the network of tunnels and waterways to their desired destination, a journey that almost took them outside the limits of the city. A few times they held up and waited for the occasional civil employee doing maintenance or conducting an inspection of some pipes to pass before continuing but they were able to pass undiscovered.

Finally they found a third man hidden away in a long since disused tunnel closed off due to concerns about its structural integrity, their contact happily puffing away at a cigarette. He offered the pack to the two but both refused, however they did not refuse when he produced a silver flask from inside his jacket and both took a nice swig of what turned out to be a fine French brandy. After months of the second-hand alcohol the civilian’s had access to in the Reich, of course the top brass were hoarding the good stuff from before the war, that little swig of Cognac seemed like a sip of heaven.

“So you passed the message?”

One of the two ruffian’s nodded ascent as he pulled a handkerchief from his own jacket to wipe some of the soot from his face. “Yes the asset has been informed.”

“Good Operation Flutwelle begins in three days time. Intelligence assets confirm the targets will be present at the residence in four days time.”

Both of the ruffians nodded before splitting up to leave the area, heading down opposite directions while the third man stayed where he was continuing to puff on a cigarette. A sinister smirk slowly spread over his face as he thought of what was to come.

’Lets see how that bastard likes it when its his family in someone’s sights.’
Proud advocate that Europe stands stronger together than divided. The EU may be flawed in some areas but the idea of a united Europa can only bring good fortune to Europe and the world. For more than two thousand years, Europe was home to conflicts inspired by coveting one another's territory and resources, even making the continent the home to some of the world's most destructive and costly conflicts. But the idea was all wrong in their minds. Their idea was to bring this territory or that under their flag and spread influence on the continent. The idea they should all have been thinking was that the goal should be to bring the continent under one unified flag.

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Pan-Asiatic States
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Ex-Nation

Postby Pan-Asiatic States » Wed Dec 04, 2019 6:15 am


GANSHEIM
SOCIALIST CAPILE


As a misty morning fell on the white Communist-controlled mountainside and clouds of fog began to roll-in from the South of Gansheim, so did Company A, 1st Battalion of the Capilean-Asiatic Socialist Volunteer Cadre. Marching rank-and-file, the men, clad in non-commissioned attire, could easily deceive the naive enemy. From afar, these men, a little over a hundred-and-twenty in number, were in fact part of the Special Forces Unit of the Pan-Asiatic States Armed Forces.

Leading them was their Datu, Commanding Officer of Company A, Ōshiro Nagato, the renowned war-hero. His men were in high spirits, and were all itching for a fight. They knew the significance of their role - they took orders from the Secretary-General and Terry Blücher alone, they were hand-picked from the finest of the finest, they had all survived war after war in the Middle East and pockets of Southeast Asia. Above all, they knew that Nova Capile was the heart of imperialist supremacy in Europa, one of the last remaining bastions of the old world.

The men of Company A were determined to liberate the Capilean proletariat once and for all. Each man of the unit prepared themself to take a bullet for the cause if necessary.

Two Type-85 Armored Ambulances, serving as both forward command-posts and mobile anti-aircraft guns, as well as three YW-309 Infantry Fighting Vehicles, trailed the contingent as a single armored column. The Pan-Asiatic States Armed Forces strictly adhered to a mobile defense doctrine with an emphasis on highly-capable individual units and modernized guerilla warfare. Immediately upon reaching the outskirts of the village, the Datu of the Company and his staff officers rendezvoused with Karevkan and Socialist Capilean commanders to be briefed of the situation.

"Seventy-two hours," disdainfully remarked the Datu. "I'll make-ready the men. This'll be a long three days, comrades."

Upon taking his leave, Ōshiro ordered field engineers to construct a series of anti-aircraft pits for Karevkan SAMs as well as several mortar pits for Pan-Asiatic infantrymen. When the emplacements had been dug swiftly by crowds of engineers, crewmen hauled-in ZIM56 Indigenous Infantry Mortars - the reliant 90 mm smoothbore of the Pan-Asiatic States Armed Forces.

Four vantage points were chosen to cover the entire perimeter of the village - where sniper teams of two, a spotter and a gunner each, would mount long-range armor-piercing (12.77mm) thermal Hwangbo Anti-Material Rifles. Each team carried with him three smoke-grenades and a flare gun to be fired when the position had fallen to enemy hands.

Mines were set around key points, claymore explosives were planted diametric to doorways. KN-3 Light Machine Guns were distributed per fire-team, and each fire-team, typically armed with either HAR-87 Indigenous Service Rifles (5.45x39mm) or KM-11 (7.62×39mm) Indigenous Sub-Machine Guns. Machine-gun caches were set-up near fortifications, with calibers marked in bold white letter-stamps.

"Hold the line comrades! Let no enemy trespass the soil of the revolution! Let the fields be watered with their blood! Crush all that oppose you!", Datu Ōshiro exclaimed towards the many soldiers priming weapons, arranging ammunition caches, and calculating drop-zone distances around the battlefield.

In the distance, a squad of Pan-Asiatic volunteers had begun planting a black flag with a red star painted stark through its center. For the newly-arrived Asians at least, the revolution had only just begun.
Last edited by Pan-Asiatic States on Sun Dec 08, 2019 6:45 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Akordania
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Ex-Nation

Postby Akordania » Wed Dec 04, 2019 6:49 am


BERKUT HEADQUARTERS
CAPILEAN REICH

In a massive clearing tucked between a network of field tents, huts, and pillboxes the men of Berkut engaged in the ages old art of waiting. The ability to entertain oneself in between duty was an important tool in the arsenal of any soldier across history. Fortunately, being of the notoriously rowdy Vazkh ethnicity, Berkut troops could do so with ease. Men milled about the yard between weightlifting sets, shirtless or brandishing custom telnyashkas bearing the golden eagle of the Vanguard. As per Vazkh custom, they proudly displayed bodies tattooed heavily with Slavic runes and knotting, as well as zaholovok haircuts consisting of a flat mohawk stretching from the back base of one's neck to the forehead. To them, their bodies told a story of their brutal lifestyle and undying allegiance to Western Akordania. Any man who would choose to abstain from quite literally wearing the markings of their people was considered a coward in the eyes of the Vazkh. Such was the reason President Yukashenko secured their allegiance as a private army.

Speakers blasted gangster rap beside a grappling cage as young troops clashed in bouts of sparring; struggling against one another's weight until one man achieved a submission. Columns of outgoing patrols, consisting primarily of BTRs and Urals shook the ground as they rolled by. Those with the misfortune of guard duty strode about the camp in squads; looks of boredom plastered upon their faces as they passed row upon row of huts and fortifications. At the main gate, guards patted down local merchants before granting them access to the visitor sector, where the men bought clothing, field supplies and fresh food. Combat arms crews field-stripped and cleaned the host's stockpile of heavy machine guns, hurling foul language about endlessly in their struggle.

From the roof of a T-62, Ruslan and one of his lieutenants overlooked the scene. The commander of the Berkut host had long since taken a break from his position at Zhytlo to ensure his headquarters was properly fortified and manned to maintain a rigidly scheduled duty day. As per usual, the aging Vazkh was nursing a hand-rolled cigarette.

"The men are getting far too restless, droog. I believe they came here with the impression they'd be picking up the slack for the army, not babysitting prisoners."

Blowing out a thick cloud of stale smoke, Ruslan passed his cigarette to a stocky man to his right. He accepted it, taking a long drag of his own before speaking.

"I know it. These dogs are ready for bloodletting. My guess is, things will heat up even into the winter. The Udarnaoborona's reports about the new monarchist offensive, zaebis...a serious win for those guys. Those German assholes too. They've got quite a lot of firepower to back them up."

Ruslan took the final stub of the cigarette and finished it. He blew an O into the frigid air through his cracked lips.

"Yeah. Their warring is respectable, no doubt. But these Udarnaoborona...they're uptight, sure, but even Krovoposkov, the old fart he is had nothing but good things to say of their performance. An honor, he said, to fight alongside them. We've got formidable partners at our side."

He tossed the butt into the mud below and hopped down, adding, "Like you said, we'll see soon enough."
Last edited by Akordania on Sun Feb 09, 2020 11:14 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Capital: Veroykne
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Atkemri
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Postby Atkemri » Wed Dec 04, 2019 8:13 pm

Rochefurt
Hubert left the boat jovially happy to leave the seas for at least some small amount of time, however, he still had his job to do. He walked by the sailors unloading the crates of ammo as Hubert pitied the poor worker who would have to count all of them and then continue to check them and later deal with the drama of determining their use. Hubert knew that the logistical side of every conflict was very unappreciated, but needed, but the media wouldn't tell you that. Instead, most of the public's attention would be on how big of a gun could be slapped on a tank. Hubert knew his job was virtually thankless, but he got some satisfaction out of it and that was what mattered, or to him at least. Hubert focused his attention on the mission at hand, looking around the crowd he looked to see if a clear logistical officer was in the area. Mustering the best German he could he yelled through the crowd moving deeper through the shipyard "Hello? Hello? Is there a coordinator of logistics in this shipyard?" It was quite sloppy, but it could be understood by the common speaker of the language. Hubert hoped someone had heard him and hopefully could bring him the information he needed.

Presidential Palace
Lucky Wells sat in his nation's largest architectural wondering what to do with the war. He had joined it because his re-election campaigners had urged him to do it even when before they told him to unilaterally pull out of all of his nation's engagements, a request which he ultimately refused, but the point still stood that he was becoming the thing he feared. Another cog in a bureaucratic machine consuming everything inside a once efficient and just government. That may have just been biasing since the time he referenced was when his father was President, but he didn't think of that. Instead, he thought of what he was going to do about the situation. Now he did, in fact, care about the struggle that Capile was going through and he felt disconnected from the people involved in it, like a child looking at an animal enclosure from the outside. Simply put he needed to meet the leadership and maybe forge some alliances. If his staff got mad he'd claim that he was just making the war look more legitimate. Anyway, what gets you re-elected faster than sincerity?

Official Communication From the Atkemrian government
To: The Government of Nova Capile

Our current President, Lucky Wells, would like to initiate a meeting with the leadership of your country to better aid in the war effort against the insidious threats that encroach upon your nation. When and where might this be able to be accomplished? Thank you.
ATKEMRIAN NATIONAL NEWS: Atkemrian police arrest ringleaders of massive human trafficking ring. 22 aressted with more predicted in the next few months.\150 people freed from the ring

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The Grand Duchy Of Nova Capile
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Postby The Grand Duchy Of Nova Capile » Thu Dec 05, 2019 12:13 am



QUASSDORF
CAPILEAN REICH


Henrik von Ravenstein sat behind the desk in the mayoral office which he had appropriated as a temporary headquarters.

Projected cleanly on a digital display was the battlefield, updating in real time as troops moved and intelligence reports streamed in.

Kurt Doppler, cautious as ever, had acted too slowly to seize the initiative, and now his offensive was being bogged down, never to reach Quassdorf. Unfortunately, the Royalists’ other offensives had met with much success.

“I do not understand why Doppler was put in command of this operation,” Colonel Dienst snorted from behind the general. “He has always been a sloth of an officer.”

The pale-faced superior turned in his chair to face the hot-headed colonel, a smile playing on his thin lips.

“That is the benefit of fighting a civil war, I suppose,” he mused, steepling his fingers before him. “It is like fighting one’s brother. One knows all of his weaknesses and his strengths, his fears and his needs, his greatest flaws. The only downside is that one must, eventually, kill one’s brother.” He laughed, a high, chilling noise.

“Winser, unlike Doppler, is no fool. An eccentric and a coot, sure, but not an idiot. He will have had a reason for appointing your so-called sloth to this post. And, if I am correct, it is because the old man knows he will not be able to sweep through the Rei Valley as he may through Saatland and the East. He merely intends to check our advance, so that Rochefurt cannot come under siege before winter.”

Ravenstein turned once more and looked down upon the map. The red enemy dots still swarmed against the Stoßwehr line a few dozen kilometers south of the city.

“Major Kutt,” he called to the blond, black-uniformed man standing at attention near the door, “send a message to our Akordanian friends. I am activating them for deployment here, at Quassdorf, to test the famed Berkut’s mettle.” The messenger saluted and stomped away.

“I gave this city to the Reichsleiter as a gift, a token of our friendship. I do not intend to lose it.”


ROAPPE
FREE FRENCH STATE


Drach looked suspiciously at the “foreign fighter” before him, then at the man’s “war-winning hardware,” and finally at his outstretched hand.

“This is a military, Captain,” he said curtly after a brief pause, “not an ice cream social. I am Major Drelincourt, not your equal but your superior, and you shall treat me as such.”

Taking an immediate dislike to Captain Ramaekers, the man looked to his subordinates. “Search their bunks, immediately.”

Nodding, the three men left before Ramaekers had a chance to object. Drach took a step forward, and his square, scarred face came within inches of the captain’s.

“I intend to keep this questioning civil, Captain Ramaekers, but if you refuse to cooperate, then you will very soon find yourself beaten, bloodied and several kilometers underground in one of my agency’s interrogation facilities.” The sneering, wolfish grin spread back over Drach’s face, and he backed away slightly.

“Now, let us begin. Captain, why would you say that you are fighting for us? I know that the pay is not frequent or plentiful enough to justify it– you must have a motive.”


POLDORF
NOVA CAPILE


Großmarschall Hermann Winser waited patiently for Rommel’s arrival in the business lounge of Poldorf’s most expensive hotel, the Bladenbrücker Hof. A collection of staff officers stood aloof in the corners of the room, whispering amongst themselves about the reports they were clutching.

Winser was the only one sitting; he sat near the middle of the long, richly-carved mahogany table, upon which fine wine and aged cheese had been laid, as per the marshal’s request.

Winser wore not the finely-pressed military uniform in which he was usually to be found, but rather a loose velvet smoking jacket and a plume-like cravat; and as the minutes ticked on, he commented not on the war but on the taste of the cheese and the aroma of the wine, and even asked a server to order and bring out a light meal.

These eccentricities were permitted to him because he was a genius, and a war hero, at that. But there was no doubt as to his sanity, because his blue eyes were fiery and alert, and the moment Rommel came through the door, there was no doubt that he would shoot into strategy.

But for now, the man ate and drank and savored by himself, no one daring to join him.


ROCHEFURT
NOVA CAPILE


In all the chaos of a disembarking fleet, Hubert might have shouted himself hoarse before he found the logistician for whom he was looking, had the harbormaster, a man called Krause, not been passing by.

Whipping around to face the pale Atkemrian, Krause, a tall, broad-shouldered, brown-bearded fellow, strode toward him.

“I am the harbormaster, Krause,” he introduced himself, elbowing past bustling teamsters. “I am in charge of what passes for logistics today.” He looked around apologetically at the chaos which was unfolding.

“There is typically a much more precise methodology under which my men operate, but, with the unplanned arrival of your fleet, we were forced to improvise.”

Krause stroked his beard as he looked at Hubert. “So, sir, how may I be of service to you?”


GANSHEIM
SOCIALIST CAPILE


The forward lines and pickets were crumbling under the weight of the Crown, but the time they had won had allowed their comrades to erect hastily-built but effective fortifications in the fields before Gansheim.

Under withering air and artillery assault, the Communist lines roiled like liquid, each of the thousands of men a drop of blood beating outward from the heart of the Revolution and into its veins, the trenches. But they held fast and prepared for the wave which was gathering off their fortified shore.

The young conscripts and volunteers alike were emboldened by the veterans among them. Seasoned Karvekans brought heavy instruments of war up to the front, shouting encouraging words to their comrades and digging in for the fight. With their anti-air systems, resisting the enemy planes was now possible. The revolutionaries began to return fire at the screeching vultures above them, and a few fell to Earth with broken wings.

Even more encouraging were the hardy Asian volunteers that now made their way to the frontline. They had personally strengthened the fortifications and now stood by them, ready to give their lives for a foreign cause; but nay, this cause was theirs, too, and was that of every proletarian. There were no borders anymore– those were merely imaginary lines drawn by monarchs and autocrats in distant times. Now there was only the worker and the master– and the Pan-Asian veterans preparing for battle had clearly chosen their side.

All down the line the booming echoes of political commissars could be heard. Megaphones in hand, they stood fearless atop the breastworks and thundered the words of Blücher.

“For the Revolution, comrades!”

“Not one drop of blood is shed in vain!”

“Fight now for the liberty of all future generations!”

“Do not cower and allow the capitalists to rape our land!”

“Never retreat!”

“Never surrender!”

“Victory, or death!”

The battle lines were drawn. Far in the distance, the Royalist tidal wave swelled. The bombardment lessened. The floodgates opened.

Above the screams of the commissars, a new strain was heard.

Für Thron und Reich!”

Rollicking gray waves rolled up and over the revolutionaries’ fortifications. The two voices, that of the master and that of the slave, were mixed up into one scream of battle.

The battle lines collided.
Capilean News (Updated 16 November)
Where is the horse gone? Where the warrior?
Where is the treasure-giver? Where are the seats at the feast?
Where are the revels in the hall?
Alas for the bright cup! Alas for the mailed warrior!
Alas for the splendour of the prince!
How that time has passed away, dark under the cover of night, as if it never were.

The Wanderer

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Karevka
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Founded: Jan 16, 2019
Ex-Nation

Postby Karevka » Thu Dec 05, 2019 11:57 am

Gansheim
Socialist Capile


Nelikev brought down another royalist plane, clipping the wings of another bird preying on the revolutionaries. With grim satisfaction he watched the aircraft make it's fiery descent to it's death. As he loaded another rocket into his STA-9 he heard the massed shout of a thousand men: Für throne und reich! The royalist troops clashed with those of the Capileans and Karevkans, like a wave crashing onto the rocks of a cliff. The squad sergeant barked orders to return fire and Neilkev raised his KG-86 assault rifle on the enemy. A VD-6 GPMG opened up with it's distinctive sound of ripping cloth. The royalists were too close for the mortars to be used without friendly casualties, and it would severely hamper the effectiveness of the defence. Bullets were whizzing everywhere, and a man next to Nelikev was struck in the neck, holding a hand to the hole in his neck before collapsing. He only took a second to look his fallen comrade before firing a burst into a royalist.

The Captain was on the radio. Their situation at the moment was desperate. He was laying on his belly as he shouted into the radio, “Foxtrot-Red to HQ, Foxtrot-Red to HQ, we need reinforcements. I repeat, we need more armour and AA, I...” he was cut off as a shell exploded nearby and dirt and rocks pelted his back and helmet, “I repeat, we need armour and AA support immediately.”

“Understood Foxtrot-Red, I'll order the reserves for action.” Stepanov's worst fears about the operation seemed to become manifest. It was only their first engagement and already they were caught short of men, equipment and half built defences. Switched channels on the radio, “This HQ to Foxtrot-Green, deploy to the combat zone ASAP. Copy?” The voice of the tank commander called back after three worrying seconds “Copy that HQ, rolling out.” He, albeit cynically, hoped that his men could hold out long enough for the reinforcements to arrive.

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Akordania
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Founded: Sep 12, 2019
Ex-Nation

Postby Akordania » Sun Dec 08, 2019 12:07 am


NORTHERN COUNTRYSIDE
CAPILEAN REICH

Mere hours after orders were handed down from the Reich, the "Psoglav" Host under Osaul Yahontov marched southwest to cleave into Doppler's rightmost flank. Northern Capile's endless web of backroads was put to use yet again by the Akordanians as their battalion tactical groups sped toward the front. Cutting out a brigade to man Zhytlo and the nearby headquarters, Ruslan accompanied Osaul Oblonsky's "Stuhac" Host further westward toward Landrath to rendezvous with the Udarnaoborona for an angled advance into the Royalist center. Utilizing precision fire support, mechanized tactics and the inclement weather, Ruslan hoped to condense Doppler's lines; enabling the Udarnaborona to smash against the entirety of the Royalist host from their positions at Quassdorf and drive them to rout.

Despite the prospect of no decent rest or accommodations for the foreseeable future, the men of Berkut were in sky high spirits. A great buzz of excitement could be felt in their presence as the Vazkh warriors could at last seize the field of battle in place of the army. There was a sentiment among these dogs of war that the regular army was a band of misfits with mixed motivations. Given an overwhelming percentage of them were conscripts, the quality of soldiers varied greatly across the board, and as a result, they earned a poor reputation in circles of professional troops. Additionally, not a single one of them was Vazkh. War was simply not bred into them, and it showed.

Deep in the countryside, farmers were awoken by a deep rumbling in the earth. Seemingly endless columns of T-62s and BTRs rolled out of the cover of the frozen woodland, brandishing massive spotlights that pierced through the inky veil. Heavily armed men in faded camouflage suits and balaclavas similarly emerged from the trees, either on foot or in trucks. They marched onward into the distance, where an eternal flame burned on the horizon: Quassdorf. Day after day, the horrors of war began to adopt a sick sense of normalcy amongst the populace. The uniforms, language and ideology of their shifting overlords made no difference. The only thing that remained consistent was the destruction itself.

"Psoglav" Host arrived at their rendezvous point right on schedule, while "Stuhac" lagged behind by several hours. Though it was indeed quite late and the troops had yet to rest, the army was ordered to deploy to their echelons directly from march. Armored brigades were deployed at the front of the attack with a depth of 10-15 kilometers each, and an assigned zone 6 kilometers wide. 8 kilometers behind them, a second echelon of motorized troops took up position to exploit the success of the armored spearhead; driving deep into the heart of the hasty enemy defense and producing chaos. At the rear, a dense line of combined arms reserve served as the bulwark between the primary attack and the brigade artillery groups, anti-air and anti-tank defense. By the early morning, "Psoglav" would strive to accomplish three objectives: defeat the first echelon of the hastily prepared flank defense and occupy their position, create momentum through the destruction of the second echelon, and advance further into the center of Doppler's host to eradicate reserves at the divisional level. Simultaneously, "Stuhac", bolstered by Udarnaoborona forces would drive southwest into the belly of the Royalist host with a similar tactical composition; only to force a panicked enemy retreat further westward to fall into the Quassdorf garrison's iron sights. Eager for glory, Fieldmaster Ruslan Bidyovka would own the day or fight until the very last man in the attempt.
Last edited by Akordania on Sun Feb 09, 2020 11:15 pm, edited 3 times in total.
VISIT AKORDANIA
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Capital: Veroykne
Currency: Veksel
Leader: Sergei Yukashenko
Population: 9 Million
Exports: Heavy machinery, gasoline, diesel, dairy products
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Pan-Asiatic States
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Ex-Nation

Postby Pan-Asiatic States » Sun Dec 08, 2019 7:47 am


GANSHEIM
SOCIALIST CAPILE


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"Deploy smoke! I repeat, do you see our flare? Deploy smoke!", exclaimed the commander of the Type-85 armored ambulance towards a half-burnt piece of radio. The machine, barely functioning, sent radiowaves across the battlefield. While the request was being handled, the top-gunner of the vehicle bit-off the cap from a long plastic tube, waving it back and forth as light and smoke poured out of the tube's mouth.

Royalist gunfire erupted from a knocked-over rock North of the armored ambulance, spraying submachine-gun fire towards the top-gunner's scalp. Six rounds blew that gunner's head off, sending his dismembered body sliding back into the ambulance. The driver shrieked.

From above, a low-flying enemy fighter throttled slow, gliding towards the armored ambulance. Without a top-gunner to man the anti-aircraft gun, the ambulance was a sitting duck. The driver pulled the lever to reverse, and stomped on the gas. Those who remained alive inside braced for contact with the fighter's main gun.

"We've zoned-in on your position. Hang-in there! Deploying smoke!", echoed an Aspirant Second Class from a damaged mortar-pit, a klick away from the target ambulance's position. A short, yellow-skinned Korean woman beside the Aspirant switched the explosive round preemptively loaded into the mortar's metal tube. The order was given to fire at will. Phosphorus-filled shells rose from the ground, zooming parabolically, then spiralling down towards a few centimeters left of the Type-85 - just as the enemy fighter began to close-in on its prey.

The white gas blocked the fighter's line of fire, causing the pilot to miss by a small margin. A few bullets ricocheted from the Type-85's thin exterior, while most hit the mud missing the vehicle entirely. Three more smoke-shells were fired towards the armored ambulance. The driver made a sharp u-turn and drove away from the front. More Royalist gunfire could be heard ricocheting off the vehicle's surface - too far away, and too disadvantaged by the smoke to hit anything significant.

Asians and Capileans fought side-by-side, holding the line in six-foot trenches. Machine-gun fire forced enemy squads to hit the dirt: ensnared by suppressive fire, they would be at the mercy of HE mortar shells. Despite the resilience of the defenders, the enemy's numbers remained overwhelming. Capileans and Asians began falling one by one as vollies of grenades were hurled from No Man's Land. The flames ruptured the defenses and shattered the will of the defenders. The screeching of the fighters threw squads into disarray. Many began to retreat from the forward-defenses and into the evacuated houses of Gansheim itself.

Elsewhere, Lance Corporal Dumakulem Nazareno had racked-up fifteen kills lying prone from a belltower East of the village. Royalist fire-teams attempting to flank the well-defended position of the Socialists had been met with ruthless and overwhelming sniping ability from this veteran of the Israeli-Asiatic War. The Lance Corporal, wearing a rugged untrimmed beard and a pair of circular-framed glasses, had an aim deadlier than a Philippine Eagle's eye in the forests of Davao.

A group of six Asians moving from the West advanced to reinforce the Eastern garrison. As one of the Aspirants looted a royalist's corpse, the Fascist battlecry thundered alongside the boots of dozens of enemy reinforcements. The gray horde emerged from the ashes of grenade explosions. Two of the Asians received fatal stabs in the stomach, and the four others were shot in the back as they tried to retreat.

One of the downed Asians, with a final breath, unclipped a fragmentation grenade just as the Fascists began to move once again. He took three enemy soldiers to Yasukune Shrine with him.

On the belltower's ledge still, Lance Corporal Nazareno began to pray. With an ornate amulet tied with brown string on his left hand clasped to his right hand, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Lord God, if I am destined to fall here - let it be so, so long as victory occurs and ten more soldiers take my place. Give me strength to protect my people one last time," muttered the skilled sniper. As he returned his hands on his HAMR-2, a strong breeze began to blow 30 degrees off of his muzzle's orientation. The bells of the tower themselves began to shake. Nazareno pressed a finger on the trigger, and instantly, the bullet ripped a Fascist soldier's neck in half.

Lance Corporal Nazareno loosed another bullet, piercing through the knee of the squad's commander. Another bullet bypassed a thin sheet of corrugated iron used for cover by a Fascist pistolier. Another bullet smashed through a window pane and set fire to a house used for cover by three Fascist submachine-gunners. Another bullet triggered the explosion of an enemy fragmentation grenade, killing three more.

But as the Lance Corporal adjusted his zoning distance, an enemy soldier had been able to flank his field of view, unleashing a handheld rocket towards the belltower. The sandbags the sniper had used for cover disintegrated, and his HAMR-2 was blown-off the edge of the vantage point. Nazareno lit his flare and radioed the position of the Fascist forces' bulk.

A hail of bullets from below took the sniper's right arm with deadly precision. Succeeding bullets suppressed the Lance Corporal's mobility. In his attempt to wiggle himself out of the intense killzone, Nazareno fell to his death from atop the tower. Another Asian soldier had died in the defense of the revolution. The grayshirts simply waltzed over his corpse and continued their relentless assault undeterred.

Commander Ōshiro Nagato ordered a column of his YW-309 Infantry Fighting Vehicles be deployed to counteract the Fascist intervention of the battle. Due to Nazareno's radio silence, the Commander assumed the worst. He ordered his mortarmen to fire directly towards the belltower's vicinity. The structure's foundations ruptured, the cobblestone that constituted its body collapsed unto the dirt road below. Nearby houses were obliterated or set aflame by overwhelming mortar fire.

The mortars continued to concentrate their fire - proving devastatingly effective on one hand, and garnering the spite and infamy of the enemies on the other. Forward-squads blitzed through the flanks to reinforce the mortar pits with light machine-gun support. The flanks had to be secured.
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New Decius
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Postby New Decius » Tue Dec 10, 2019 12:22 am

Poldorf, Eastern Front Theater
Royalist Capile



It did not take long for the secure vehicle to take Rommel and his staff from the airfield to the Bladenbrücker Hof, then again all of them had basically been whisked right from the transport to the APC as soon as they stepped foot on the tarmac. While General von Schneider had wanted to accompany her friend, mentor, and commander, she had to remain in the Western Theater to properly command 12. Armee as it displaced Northwards with the rest of Heeresgruppe Beowulf. To make up for her absence was the inclusion of one recently commissioned Prince-Leutnant Claude von Aachen now attached to Rommel as a staff aide, accompanied by one Major Wilhelm Dernen his Abwehr security attaché. In total there were five members of the staff present besides Claude and Dernen, two Major’s, a Hauptmann, and two Oberstleutnant’s.

As soon as they were ushered in to the lounge where Winser awaited them, Joachim smirked at his old colleague, finding him resting in a smoking jacket. He strode across the room to greet the man who for all purposes he consider Capile’s greatest military commander in a century, while his staff set up the various briefcases containing the needed reports and also a few computers uplinked to the satellites monitoring the war front in real time.

“Well Hermann I see you retain that old habit of yours no matter the conflict.” The German joked jauntily, not in an insulting tone but rather one of friendly jest. “Never could resist a moment donned in a smoking jacket while sipping at a fine wine accompanied by some nicely aged cheese. One must appreciate how you bring to life every old cliché French drama film’s cafe scene perfectly.” Joachim sat down in the chair opposite Winser.

It was somewhat awkward for Major Dernen as one or two of Winser’s staff must have recognized him from some report or other by the dirty looks they were giving him. All while he was quietly pointing out the finer details of the basic briefing notes to Prince-Leutnant Claude, he could feel several pairs of eyes boring holes in the back of his head. Just because the Generalfeldmarschall and Reichskanzler had worked out a deal to keep him from being brought before a Capilean or German court for the Reichsrat Incident didn’t mean the whole affair would disappear from everyone’s memory; he had told a Capilean officer to bomb their parliament for Christ’s sake to prevent the fascists having the propaganda value of its capture. It had seemed a perfectly sound strategic decision at the time he hadn’t considered the long term politics and public relations chaos that would ensue.

“Now as I understand it, everything is going swimmingly except for Lance which Doppler is in charge of?” A folder of satellite photographs was passed to Rommel which he in turn passed to Winser. “Being the man he is, old Kurt left his main strike too late and the Stoßwehr have shored up their flanks resulting in a stalemate. Worse than that, as the photographs show, the Reich is having the Akordanians send in their troops to reinforce Quassdorf and prevent any Royalist gains. Under these conditions Doppler will be unable to break his enemies lines or outflank them...” Joachim trailed off to give time for the photo’s and other intelligence reports to circulate through Winser’s staff. “However if I know you, and I like to think I do after fifteen years cooperating and conversing, this was your intention all along.”

“You knew that Feldmarschall Doppler was just the man to institute a stalemate at Quassdorf, also knowing the fascists can’t afford to lose Quassdorf as it offers invasion routes to numerous targets inside the Reich including Saxtonburg. Therefore they will be forced to continue to send troops to Quassdorf and prevent the stalemate from breaking, they cannot allow it to fall or they risk potential invasion; this means they cannot obstruct your other operations by launching a counteroffensive into Royalist territory at another point, it forces them to use up supplies and manpower they may have been stockpiling for a future offensive, and because Nemetz is such a stubbornly proud man he will accept nothing short of total victory. Oh and the Free French pockets and the Pritzen Pocket cannot be properly contained due to the effort required to hold Quassdorf.”

Now a new folder, German troop numbers and positions, was passed to Winser for review. It was the current strength and capability of both Heeresgruppe Beowulf and Siegfried. “The good news is that Feldmarschall von Sonnenschein can have the remaining two Armee of Heeresgruppe Siegfried active in two to three days allowing them to join operations here on the Eastern Front. I would recommend using them to contain the BSU and prevent a breakout attempt for the sea while the Saatlander’s are being crushed, the added bonus being your garrison units already containing them can get some rest at last.” Now for the bad news. “However, Heeresgruppe Beowulf is currently in the prospect of transiting North towards Reich territory, it will need two weeks minimum to be in a position to aid Doppler’s forces and that is if I start splitting off Division’s from Armee which I am reluctant to do. At the very least the air squadrons will be moved in two days and can begin providing him with increased air coverage and strike capability. To begin strategic level operations on the North-Western Front with Heeresgruppe Beowulf will be another three weeks minimum.”

“At present Kaiserliche Marschall Regensburg is organizing the transfer of two full amphibious Division’s from Oberkommando der Pazifik to supplement your present lack in amphibious forces as well as help train up new ones, they should arrive sometime in mid-December. Two Division’s of airborne troops are also slated for transfer from Sicily for mid-November, again to supplement your present lack and train up new ones.”
Proud advocate that Europe stands stronger together than divided. The EU may be flawed in some areas but the idea of a united Europa can only bring good fortune to Europe and the world. For more than two thousand years, Europe was home to conflicts inspired by coveting one another's territory and resources, even making the continent the home to some of the world's most destructive and costly conflicts. But the idea was all wrong in their minds. Their idea was to bring this territory or that under their flag and spread influence on the continent. The idea they should all have been thinking was that the goal should be to bring the continent under one unified flag.

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Postby Akordania » Tue Dec 10, 2019 3:11 pm


NORTHERN COUNTRYSIDE
CAPILEAN REICH

The dawn brought with it a dense fog that spat hellfire.

The Psoglav host initiated their assault with a half hour straight of shelling mustered by nearly fifteen brigade artillery groups. Forward Royalist positions were eviscerated by the rain of 152mm shells; which left little more than blackened craters in its wake. Deeper within the line, Capilean troops scrambled to their stations amid the chaos, while also desperately attempting to preserve exposed equipment. The charred skeletons of tanks, self-propelled artillery and munitions storehouses littered the landscape at the conclusion of the barrage.

The first echelon, consisting of Psoglav's armored platoons rolled onward into the haze; blanketing their sectors with heavy machine gun fire. Survivors at the edge of the line were cut down in droves in the advance, while monarchist reserves rushed to mobilize an armored counterattack. As the engagement intensified, the wind brought with it a building snowstorm. Fortunately for the Vazkh Berkut, such conditions were welcomed in their relentless assault. As Psoglav's armored spearhead broke though the first enemy echelon, it was at last met with fierce resistance. Royalist tanks boldly charged the Akordanians head on, lobbing HEAT rounds with astonishing accuracy across the icy plains. All down the line, the Akordanian T-62s took tremendous punishment from the onslaught; with a number meeting a fiery end.

Hunched over a hardcase computer, Osaul Yahontov took note of the unexpected counterattack through the eyes of a drone in a live feed. Though he was indeed expecting a massive rebuff, he certainly had not planned on it being so quick. Yahontov quickly ordered the advance of the second echelon. Additionally, the Osaul himself ensured the accomplishment of each fire mission that was requested of his brigade artillery groups.

Shells hammered the Royalist columns in clusters as the Akordanian incursion was bolstered by the arrival of motorized infantry. The battalion tactical group model was slowly coming into play as the reinforcements complimented the armored mission. With the introduction of artillery, the Royalist counterattack was stifled before it gained any considerable momentum. In a storm of shrapnel and churning earth, the monarchist tanks swiveled around for a full retreat. Psoglav's core remained in hot pursuit, turning the rear of the withdrawal into a slaughter. The trail of death grew and grew as they pushed deeper into the flank, seizing upon violence of action. At the 20 kilometer mark, the encroachment was brought to a halt outside of a wide collection of villages just south of Landrath. There, Doppler's right flank had established a sizable defense assembly area. Though Osaul Yahontov had come up short of his goal to eradicate the flank's divisional reserves, he had indeed taken a massive swath of land with minimal losses, and accomplished the goal of condensing the Royalists' breadth.

--

The Stuhac host, bolstered by its allies, thrust itself into the heart of the Royalist army.

The scene was expectedly nightmarish.

Massive armored formations clashed in a churning sea of ground troops just outside of Landrath proper, while the arrival of a snowstorm sewed chaos and confusion in the ranks of both sides. Even still, the apocalyptic fighting persisted.

Dying men drenched in the blood of themselves and their comrades wandered about aimlessly in no man's land as machine guns and rifles thundered from both sides relentlessly. Tank crews that became cornered drove themselves through the enemy and detonated their munitions storage. Companies of camo-clad Berkut poked and prodded enemy positions, only to be viciously repelled time and time again. With orders not to retreat, the Vazkh soldiers paid for every inch of ground with their blood; and in turn, similarly made the monarchists suffer for the ground they held.

With echelons one and two of Stuhac struggling against the might of Doppler's center, Osaul Oblonsky deployed the combined arms reserve to shore up weak points. Meanwhile, the Udarnaborona ran round-the-clock sorties to continually hamper the Royalists' armored and artillery capabilities. Though the support was invaluable, Oblonsky was anxious to receive additional reinforcements from the Akordanian Air Force. Their contributions would surely tip the balance of the battle in their favor, and force Doppler into a crammed defensive radius consumed with disarray.
Last edited by Akordania on Sun Feb 09, 2020 11:15 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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New Decius
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Postby New Decius » Tue Dec 17, 2019 8:19 pm

SMS U-190, IV. Unterseegeschwader, Ostafrikaflotte
20 Kilometers North West of Mühlburg
Operation Flutwelle

Kapitän zur See Friedrich Hartmann was thoroughly enjoying his command over U-190, the first operational Type-CXX (120) Class Special Warfare Submarine, even if he did have to answer to the Abwehr to achieve said command. The stealth system on the vessel was next generation and the engine was purring like a kitten, unlike some of the earlier Type-200’s which practically screamed their way in the seas because of their experimental diesel-electric engines during the 1980’s. He knew was easily in the most well armed submarine in the world what with the dozens of cruise missiles stashed on the boat and the five single barrel six inch guns on the exterior hull, three fore and two aft, meant for coastal operations support. Then there was the hanger topside, concealing three Fe-311 Stealth Gunships to be deployed once the submarine surfaced at its destination, carrying the assets for Operation Flutwelle.

It was truly a beauty.

“Kapitän?”

And the day was ruined.

He turned around to see a woman in her early twenties in the blue-black uniform of the KSK, a steel expression on her face. Admittedly the well-fitting black uniform with blue trim would accentuate her beauty in any other occasion however beauty was not on the fifty-two year old Hartmann’s mind. In fact this woman who held the rank or a Major in the KSK was his CO for Operation Flutwelle.

“Major Ulräch, how can I help you now?” ’Brat just because your uncle is a General under Rommel’s command you think you can boss me around.’

She maintained her cool expression.

“Kapitän we are nearing the deployment point and I remind you to keep at minimum six V-30’s spun up at all times for potential fire support.” The V-30 was the lightest caliber cruise missile developed for the Kaiserliche Marine’s warships and submarines. Its usage was largely tactical meant to obliterate a small area as opposed to a city block. “Also the third 311 is to be fully fueled and maintenanced in the event a Capture scenario becomes likely.”

He refrained from sneering as he so wished he could.

“Yes I am aware of my orders Major. I shall act in accordance to them. Prepare for deployment.”

Kathë Ulräch turned on her heel and marched from the bridge deck towards the briefing room to conduct the final debriefing with her team. Her boots clicked on the floor as she stalked the halls of the highly advanced submarine, sailors stepping out of her path as if she carried the plague. However it was the patch on her left shoulder that really drove them away; a black wolf in front of a crescent moon.

Since the KSK received its funding from the Reichstag like the rest of the military, all of its Special Operations Groups (SOG) were known to members of the Reichstag Committee’s which concerned the direction of funds to the armed services. However in 2003, KaizerTech International, the leading technological innovation firm in Germany which was responsible for a large number of Germany’s more recent breakthrough’s, cut a deal with the KSK to develop new covert operations equipment solely for their use. This equipment though was extremely expensive and paid for out of the ‘black budget’, the funds of the wealthier officers in the KSK so it was used by a new program, the Wolf Pack Genesis Program, essentially a new spin on child soldiers. However soldiers who did not officially exist.

Orphan’s from the age of 10 onwards with a family military connection were taken in and properly cared for while also receiving elite military training. Agents were not authorized to go on lethal missions until their eighteenth birthday however they could attend non-lethal operations like ambassadorial security for instance. The idea was to seize upon the youth and vitality of agents while one could.

Kathë Ulräch was the niece of one General Heinrich Ulräch who commands the 22. Armee attached to Heeresgruppe Beowulf; her father was Leutnantgeneral Julius Ulräch, younger brother to Heinrich whom was murdered by Sunni terrorists during a visit to Iraq as a military advisor in 2004. In order to ensure her proper care, her uncle saw her entry into the Wolf Pack Genesis Program, to the rest of the world she died with her parents in the attack in Iraq. In fact she was a rising star in the program, promoted to Major at the age of 23, 2017, and given command of Classified Special Operations Group (CSOG) Zeppelin an elite new unit composed of the very best agents the program had to offer; Fourteen brilliant lethal young operatives ready to fight for Kaiser and Vaterland as ghosts in the night. Only the very most senior members of the Abwehr, OHL, and the government knew about Wolf Pack Genesis meaning the Marschall der Abwehr, Kaiserliche Marschall, Reichskanzler, and the Kaiser himself.

Entering the locker room that was serving as the briefing room for her CSOG, she looked around pleased that the other thirteen members of Zeppelin were already suited up in their NUBA (Neural Uplink Body Armor) Suits, form fitted to their frames. The armored suits were resistant for anything short of .50 caliber rounds and also could handle most anti-infantry munitions, while also being light enough to offer maximum speed and agility. The uplink interface inside their helmets connected them directly to each others HUD allowing for perfect team monitoring; it allowed them to monitor each others vital’s, maintain secured communications, track one another’s position etc. In addition their weapons were specially designed for only a specific user, a fingerprint needed to fire the weapon so even if the enemy got hold of the assault rifle each of them carried, the enemy could not use it. Speaking of the weapons; their weapons were essentially heavily teched out G36C’s equipped with suppressors and silencers as well as shotgun attachments. Basically they were designed to silently bring down an enemy or, when silence became redundant, shred the opponent.

“Are you all prepared for the Operation?”

The first to answer were Albert, Hans, and Lukas, the ‘Triplets’, three identical triplets aged nineteen whom had been in the program since they were ten years old and were already accomplished agents despite only being ‘active’ for one year. They had decimated an entire terrorist cell in Mozambique on their first mission, claiming over ninety kills in the span of an hour, while their most recent assignment in Yemen involved the covert assassination of a number of high value targets in the Sultan’s family to stop a growing power struggle in its tracks. They were all three strapping young men with shiny black hair and green eyes, and smooth almost angelic voices.

“We are..”Hans began. “Perfectly and Absolutely...”Albert continued. “Ready for the mission.” Lukas finished.

“Well thats quite clear based on your appearance.” Angelique brushed her long blonde hair out of her face as she tied it up in order to stuff it under her helmet. She came from an orphanage in Elsaß-Lothringen, hence the French name, however she was loyal to Kaiser and Fatherland above all else. Well besides her not-so secret crush on Wilibald, another member of the CSOG, which the twenty-three year old was unaware was plainly obvious to everyone except the cool yet oblivious twenty-two year old Wilibald.

“Now now Angelique we’ve no time for snark.” Karl Müller was a veteran soldier, one was attached to each of the Wolf Pack’s five CSOG’s, and served as the long-distance fire support for the CSOG using his .50 caliber sniper rifle. The fifty-four year old may have the grizzled appearance of a seasoned soldier which he most certainly was, but all of them knew he was a teddy bear at heart whose favorite past time was talking to his grandchildren about their day. However he did have a dark side to him if you dug down. Once Klaus, a rather sarcastic twenty-years old member of the CSOG, made the mistake of making a joke about dating Karl’s granddaughter and found himself suspended upside down over a cliff begging for his life.

Meanwhile Maria and Theresa were in the corner going over each others gear, the two of them hardly ever doing anything separate. The two girls, nineteen and eighteen respectively, had been brought up in the same orphanage and were in the same training unit in the WPG and had done everything together. They looked absolutely nothing alike, one had black hair and the other blonde, one had blue eyes and the other brown, one was pale and the other tan, however they had bonded as only sisters could.

Kathë turned to watch as her remaining four operatives suited up, Siegfried, Anna, Sigrun, and Bertolth. The four of them were twenty-two years old and had been transferred over from CSOG Hannibau to make up the numbers on Zeppelin, she knew very little about them only that Siegfried and Sigrun had faced disciplinary action for pursuing a clandestine relationship without informing their CO. General Hermann von Walhun, the officer in command of the WPG, wasn’t opposed to operatives having relationships with one another so long as they informed their CO and didn’t let it interfere with their mission performance. They would see if such would be the case here.

“You all know the parameters of this mission and the goals. The Frenchies will act as a diversion to draw the garrison to the front entrance while we insert at the rear. Abwehr has a man on the inside feeding them information, he’ll provide us with the targets locations when we’re on site.”

Siegfried raised a hand and Kathë inclined her head towards him. “What is to become of this asset?”

Kathë shook her head. “Not a certified asset. Bribed servant. He is to be purged with the rest of the staff at the Estate after his information is acquired.”

Karl calmly wiped down his trusty rifle with a microfiber cloth. “As I assume remains the case, I only engage if it appears targets are escaping site?”

Kathë nodded. “Correct, if targets are escaping site you take them down immediately.”

Siegfried scoffed. “What difference does it make if their going to die anyway how they die?”

In seconds Kathë had crossed the room and slapped Siegfried hard across the face, ignoring the fact he was a foot taller and much bulkier. The look on her face was hot enough to melt steel. “It matters Siegfried because His Imperial and Royal Majesty, the Emperor of our glorious Fatherland wants the targets to die on their knees begging for their lives.” She spoke as if a Catholic reading the directive of His Holiness the Pope. For her she was. “Walther Nemetz kidnapped and tortured Her Royal Highness Princess Elizabeth Louise of Austria and Hungary, a favored cousin of His Imperial and Royal Majesty, the Kaiser. Vengeance will be swift and merciless. Nemetz will bear witness to German Justice, his family and Estate wiped out by a wolf pack in the night. His family home burnt to the ground by His Imperial Majesties Divine Fury!”

She returned to her own locker to finish gearing up. “Remember, the entire Estate is to be purged, Capture parameters have officially been rescinded. The Frenchies will largely be responsible for taking care of the garrison, assist where possible. All Targets are to be executed on site, and all staff are to be executed on site. No survivors permitted and make sure you get to the extraction point on time, Kapitän Hartmann will utilize a cruise missile strike to obliterate the Estate in the aftermath.”

The thirteen of them jumped to attention and saluted her with a call of “WE SERVE THRONE AND EMPIRE BY HIS MAJESTIES WILL!”

Stadtschloss, Berlin, Principality of Brandenburg
Kingdom of Prussia, German Empire
Federation of Imperial Europe

“Oh I quite agree Your Grace that taxes on agricultural products are presently too high and I expect the Reichstag to lower them as we get closer to Winter, however at present some small sacrifice is required.”

“I understand Your Majesty but still for our people to suffer for fore-“

“Clearly you do not understand Countess von Lippstadt...”Franz cut off the rather large noblewoman in front of him trying to debate his decision to authorize the massive food shipments to Capile and the Russian Siberian settlements. He had acquired a sharp tongue as of late causing Countess Irene von Lippstadt to wince at her sovereign’s words. “...firstly the Capilean’s are one of our longest standing allies and their world has come apart at the seams. Children and wounded soldiers are on the verge of starvation across the country because of a threat by an extremist Bolshevik and Populist tidal wave trying to unseat the natural order of democratic monarchy. If I stood by and did nothing while children are starving to death I would hope the Devil would be kind enough to reserve me a space in Hell.”

“As for the food shipments to Russia, they are our European brethren and a fellow Empire in the Federation, so aiding them can only aid all of Europa in the end. If Siberia can be settled, imagine the untapped resources that can be accessed there which can be used for the further benefit of all Europa.”

“Very succinctly put Your Majesty.” His Grace Baron Friedrich von Verden cut in before the startled Countess could react with a response that would not be in her best interest in front of her sovereign. The forty year old close friend of said sovereign allowed a charming smile to spread across his features as he directed the Countess’ attention to her left. “Is that not your daughter speaking with one of the son’s of the Baron of Köln?”

Turning to see her young daughter flirting with said young man, the Countess rushed away, decorum forgotten but Franz was just grateful to be rid of the woman. He turned to his childhood friend with a mild frown.

“How much longer must I endure this charade?”

Friedrich continued to maintain his charming expression while speaking out the side of his mouth. “Relax Franz, do remember this is your cover if it all goes tits up as the saying goes.” The only way which the Baron got away with addressing the Emperor of Germany and King of Prussia so informally was having been his close friend for his entire life. The Baron’s father was a close retainer of Franz’s father, Prince-General Erwin Ludwig Stadtfeld von Germania later Kaiser Erwin Ludwig I, so the two grew up around one another.

“I remember but it burns me I can’t just go on the televisor and tell that bastard that he’s getting what he deserves for daring to harm a member of my family.” Franz had to calm himself quickly; in his moment of anger he had squeezed his champagne flute to the point the glass was on the verge of cracking.

Operation Flutwelle was officially sanctioned solely by Marschall der Abwehr Viktor Lüpp, as retaliation for the execution of his nephew who was one of the Abwehr agents caught by Nemetz at the start of the civil war and strung up from a lamp post. Unofficially the Kaiser had ordered a retaliation mission put together a week after Elizabeth was rescued in Capile, not only to secure his vengeance but also prevent his uncle Rudolph making a dynastic power grab from exile in Switzerland, or for that matter his uncle August Wilhelm. It was unlikely Prince-Grand Duke August Wilhelm would attempt to unseat his nephew but one never could tell. Not only was August Wilhelm younger than Franz (August was 29 while Franz was 34) but he was a close blood relation, a respected and efficient member of the European Federal government, an experienced diplomat due to his posting to the office of the Federation UN Ambassador from 2011-2015, and had two children the eldest of whom, Johann Ludwig, was already seven years old. Even if August had never expressed any desire to take the throne even before his elder brother Erwin Ludwig was named Kaiser-König in 2014, one could never be too safe, especially after the direct affront Elizabeth’s kidnapping was to the Germania Dynasty.

“So long as I’m seen at these functions and gala’s no one will suspect I ruthlessly ordered the execution of Nemetz’s family. They will think I was in the dark?” Franz queried his old friend.

“Well provided no one finds out it was Classified Special Operatives and thinks it was regular KSK the most suspicion will fall on Lüpp, however if they find out its a CSOG on operation...” As a Head of State, Franz would be assumed to know about covert operatives and their deployment as is common. Most countries clear their Head of State be it monarch or elected official to know of covert operatives. “Shame though, Lüpp is rather efficient at his job but after this the Reichstag will have no choice to put him on trial for potential war crime charges. Has Regensburg selected a successor yet?”

Franz shook his head. “I intend to choose the successor myself and I intend to appoint General Wilhelm Winter to the post.”

“Really.” A sly smile spread across Friedrich’s face.

“What?”

“Oh nothing.” They continued on through the party to be bugged by more tiring aristocrats.
Last edited by New Decius on Thu Dec 19, 2019 9:53 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Proud advocate that Europe stands stronger together than divided. The EU may be flawed in some areas but the idea of a united Europa can only bring good fortune to Europe and the world. For more than two thousand years, Europe was home to conflicts inspired by coveting one another's territory and resources, even making the continent the home to some of the world's most destructive and costly conflicts. But the idea was all wrong in their minds. Their idea was to bring this territory or that under their flag and spread influence on the continent. The idea they should all have been thinking was that the goal should be to bring the continent under one unified flag.

IATA Member

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