Leave no stone unturned (ATTN: Tagorian Mountains)

[Blackhelm Confederacy]

Much like the situation with Spartan Philadelphia, the tiny nation of the Tagorian Mountains had made itself a viable target for the Griffincrest Corporation's wave of expansion. The small island nation in East Asia was lead by a fourteen year old girl, directed by the will of a regent who watches over her. Within the nation were untold material riches which the Griffincrest Corporation would quite literally kill for. As soon as Claudius had read of the fourteen year old queen, he immediately smelt weakness, and summoned yet another meeting of his trusted Board of Directors. As usual, they voted to deploy a fleet to seize the islands.

The newly selected admiral of the Fourth Security Fleet, Julius Stryker, was chosen to lead the assault. Stryker was not fit by any means to be in the position of admiral, as he was the Conscript Labor Czar of the Griffincrest Internal Security Force. He had many friends in high places, however, and thus he was given the position when its former holder retired. This would be the new Admiral Stryker's first chance to prove himself in combat.

"When you hit that beach men, remember to leave no stone unturned in your search for glory and leave all of your fears behind. They have no place with you in the coming fight. Today marks a great day for all of us, a day when every single one of you will have their lives changed for better of for worse. Men, I will see you in the Tagorian Mountains. Best of luck to all of you" announced Admiral Stryker over the fleet wide PA system.

With that, the massive fleet glided slowly out of its port in Redemption, BC, on a course for the Tagorian Mountains. Much like the situation with the Spartans, there would be no sign that this fleet had hostile intentions. It would not be very long before the fleet was surrounding the hapless island nation and its two hundred thousand man strong landing party was disembarking on the shore an slaying whatever meager attempts at defense were mustered against them.

[The Tagorian Mountains]

OOC: My nation is called Tagoria, not the Tagorian Mountains.

Tagoria. Populated by a white colored people who had lived on the archipelago for centuries, the Tagorians would have been waking up to their usual radio hosts as the Griffincrest ships made their way towards their homeland, the lust for land and resources burning in their malicious eyes. But what the Griffincrest Corporation may not have known was that the Tagorians were a martial people, a warrior people whose exploits in the battlefield and love of the sword spelt brutality out in blood red ink in the history books.

Tagoria. Right about now, the Empress would have woken up to the usual breakfast brought to her by her usual maid. She was only fourteen, as any reports would have said, but in her was a soul unwilling to shirk in the face of adversity, a spirit that was dedicated to protecting the people of Tagoria, a being born from the tree of Tagoria's namesake, Tagor the Great, who unified the people centuries ago in a brutal series of campaigns. Seka's sword sat in a corner of the room, the sharpened steel covered with the black sheath.

Tagoria. A group of schoolgirls sit together on the sands of a beach, while a group of boys ogle them. Old men play a game of cards while a little girl worries about her sick cat. The Tagorian Armed Forces, always mobilized, sit around in a dead silence that whispers, "We aren't expecting an attack," to prospective invaders. Shepherds walk across the ancient paths carved into the alabaster mountains while their wives keep watch over their children, who run around in adorable outfits.

Tagoria. It had not seen a war since the days of Tagor the Great. But if the Griffincrest soldiers set foot upon its soil, the Tagorians would fight, and let the soil become irrigated with their scarlet patriotism, until the last soldier breaths his last breath, clutching the torn and soiled flag.

[Blackhelm Confederacy]

Fleet at 6k from Tagoria

"Admiral Stryker, we are within Khan range sir. What are your orders?" a young officer asked. Julius looked out over the deck of his flagship, the GNF Acedia, for a moment before speaking. "Not yet. I want total surprise here" the admiral replied.

"But sir, this will be the utmost surprise, and they have no way of striking back as of yet" the younger officer replied.

"No, they will have more time to defend the beaches. Do as I say sailor"

Fluid Time, just outside of Tagorian waters

The massive fleet was closing in quickly towards the Tagorian maritime border. Now was the time for the fleet to attack. Dozens of F-4 Tomcats began to blast from the decks of the Forrestal Class Carriers, and headed towards the enemy. At the same time, the rest of the fleet was targetting the ships of the Tagorian navy with their Cormorant's and P-700 Granit missiles. In a few moments, a hail of munitions would be racing for the once proud Tagorian navy.

[The Tagorian Mountains]

The sailors of one of the nearest ships were busy acting like high school jocks. One of them was writing a letter to his wife while another was reading the newspaper even though the issue was almost a week old. They did not know the impending surprise awaiting them, but being neutral for so long surely had stamped the elusive imprint of indifference upon their hearts, making them oblivious to the developments of the world until their leaders shoved their faces in them, beseeching them to fight. One of the men, the man who had been writing his letter to his wife in the hopes it'd be sent, walked out and inhaled the crisp ocean air with a grin. He was holding the letter in his hand, and feeling the stubble on his chin with his other hand, remembering how his wife and daughter were waiting for him back home with their best wishes and such, typical soldier's fare. One of his friends walked up to him, smiling. "Still think she's waiting for you, eh? Don't be so sure." He joked, elbowing his friend. "Perhaps she's found another steed to....."

The lovelost sailor laughed before noticing, out of the corner of his eye, a group of fighter jets soaring across the clear, cloudless sky towards them. The captain was alerted by whoever was manning the radar installed on the vessel, and with his gruff Victorian appearance, he looked to see the missles, those metallic instruments of death, slamming into the vessel, blowing shrapnel and flames together in a wind of crimson death. The man who loved his wife was vaporized, lost. His letter flew in the wind and landed in the sea, to be consumed in an aquatic oblivion as the Griffincrest Corporation drew Tagoria into a world that, for centuries, it had almost forgotten.

-------------

It did not take long, as the Tagorians were trying to fight off the invaders, that the mainland recieved word of the attacks. Relaying the message through highly developed military channels, the news that the Griffincrest Corporation was attacking had reached the capital within a moment's notice. It was, as it was out in the ocean, a clear afternoon. Empress Seka was hanging out with her friends, those girls from the Academy, while the regent was grimly discussing the news about the attacks with Tagoria's highest ranking military brass, a bunch of Victorian British looking strongmen with curly mustaches and nationalist tendencies. "It seems we are under attack," the Chief of Staff of the Navy, Earl Janikowdze, said while looking over the hastily drawn up reports. The others looked solemnly at each other and then back to the reports.

"I fear the fleet they're attacking may....." Janikowdze continued, feeling the burden of the fact that this attack came just as he was moving fleets around the map of the Empire. This fleet hadn't been, he feared, prepared enough as it should have been. Then again, a part of him didn't know if the fleet was, as he feared, unable to do what it was meant to do.

"Mobilize the Army? Of course, you fucking idiot." The Chief of Staff of the Army exclaimed bitterly while looking over to the regent. "Go tell the Empress that our nation's at war," he said, "and assure her we will do whatever we can."

The Regent sighed. "She's too young. If we let....."

A loud bang echoed through the room, as the Army Chief of Staff slammed his rock hard fist onto the table. "She's our Empress. In the name of everything good, she must know what's going on!"

And so she did. On the eve of a July afternoon, the Empress discovered she was now leading a nation into war. Moments later, some officers began whispering amongst themselves about a fourteen year old girl consorting professionally with the military brass.....

-----------

"Fire your fucking guns," a captain called, "I said fucking fire them!"

Instruments of patriotic retaliation flew in the air towards the Tomcats and the encroaching Griffincrest ships as the Tagorian sailors began preparing for the defense of their beloved homeland. Captains mobilized their men, men prayed to the God That Watches Over Mankind for victory and salvation, and a shrill warcry is carried by the sharp wind as missles fly and soldiers shout. On the mainland, soldiers begin to man positions while coastal villages and towns are alerted of the very high possibility of enemy landings. Some citizens could not believe that Tagoria, of all places, was under attack. Some thought it was a hoax, an emergency services test, but some of the citizens, especially the right wing ultranationalists, donned their private arms and raised the flag of the Blood of Tagor up in the air above.

If the Griffincrest Corporation's soldiers landed, a wall of bayonets, bullets and manpower would await them, and with every layer cracked open, another would rise to take its place.

[Blackhelm Confederacy]

The main force of the fleet held position where they were. No point in sending good ships into harms way so early was there? Instead, they continued to lob out Cormorant missiles upon any still sailing Tagorian vessels. Hundreds of these missiles were screeching out over the sea every minute, and the mighty railguns and cannons of the larger members of the armada rang out constantly, pummeling the far off shore with their massive shells.

Stryker was pleased with the pace of the operation so far, and ordered his two hundred and fifty six Um al Maradim class assault ships to travel ahead of the fleet and begin softening up the coast. As this happened, the F-14's would provide them assistance from the air, as would F-4's currently being scrambled.

All this was not without casualties. A handful of the F-14's went down with the Tagorian counter strike, and a Rajput class cruiser recieved some damage as a result of a missile strike, losing some of its ability to maneuver. These loses, however, were barely a scratch on the armour that was Julius Stryker's Fourth Security Fleet.

[Lynion]

OOC:

Question for BC: Do you enjoy the lustful operations of striking a smaller nation much like yours and taking away its resources like taking candy from a baby? Seriously, are you always after minerals and oil just for a quick buck?

[Blackhelm Confederacy]

OOC:

Question for BC: Do you enjoy the lustful operations of striking a smaller nation much like yours and taking away its resources like taking candy from a baby? Seriously, are you always after minerals and oil just for a quick buck?

Quick buck.

[Lynion]

OOC:

Question for BC: Do you enjoy the lustful operations of striking a smaller nation much like yours and taking away its resources like taking candy from a baby? Seriously, are you always after minerals and oil just for a quick buck?

Quick buck.

Dude, seriously, I think that's why people respect you. Anyhow, it'll be interesting to see how this ends.

[The Tagorian Mountains]

Plumes of smoke rose from the burning ships in the dark blue ocean that intermingled with orange crimson flames. The sailors tried as hard as they could, trying to force back the enemy to whereever it was that they came from. Some of them perished in flames and blood, a horrible bloodcurdling sight born out of ships sinking to the ground, people losing loved ones without even knowing it. Battleships, submarines, all sorts of naval vessels that the Tagorians could muster were surging forward against the enemy with everything they had, not knowing if the Griffincrest Corporation had simply walked past them, at some point, to conduct landings on their precious soil.

"Fight on," a captain shouted, "fight on, remember your wives and children!" A coldness, then, came over him, but only for a moment, before a Comorant smashed into him with unyielding, brutal force. He was vaporized, unable to see the shore being bombarded, vacationers running for their lives, people with a "what the fuck is going on," burning in their minds. The Tagorian Army, the divisions in this particular area, were already ready to face the coming onslaught. If their wives and children, their mothers and fathers, the girl who lived down the street, could know that, in a way, many of them would be dead, then perhaps there wouldn't be as much sorrow for them.

Some ships were swinging themselves around in an arc, as if trying to isolate pockets of the Corporation's fleet. Others were burning, sinking, collapsing into a pathetic, pitiful wreck that sank to the bottom of the indifferent ocean. Tagorian fighter planes began to soar through the skies, firing missles at whatever targets they could reach. Bang, bang, the explosions rippled through the ocean.

They had no idea what was in store, that the blood intermingling with the water, was only a foretaste of the brutality of war fought for resources. Then again, in war, soldiers weren't anything but such.

Seka looked solemnly at the map of the Tagorian Empire that hung in her room. It was from 1910 but it still served the purpose, as her father put it, of reminding her of what nation she was to serve. As she shivered, feeling the coldness of the realization that Tagoria was at war assail her, she reached forward for the map, placing a tender finger on a small island down in the south, probably where the Griffincrest forces, she figured, would try to strike at. The North --- were they striking there? --- was a mountainous maze of ice and snow and shepherds. The histories told of the blood that flowed down the slopes of mountains, crimson alabaster rocks.

She remembered visiting that island, the one she had felt with her finger; it was a small, modest island that was rich in what a guru might call the richness of Nature, what a poet would look for when he was writing his poems, what a novelist would use in constrast with her protagonist's bitter, destroyed life. She had no idea, poor Seka, that it was being bombarded, or that it would, since it was in a strategic area; strategic areas were places the Tagorians assumed would be top priorities for invaders to capture.

Seka withdrew her hand. She felt like she had to take charge of things. She was the Empress of Tagoria, born of the seed of Tagor the Great, the most powerful teenager in the entire nation, the girl every snobbish high school girl envied. She clutched the sword she wore around her waist, having donned her military uniform moments earlier in the spirit of solidarity with the soldiers. She pulled it out, radiant sun shining upon sharpened steel, steel that had once cut through flesh, steel that was once held by Tagor himself, so the legends said.

It would be her instrument, if need be, to defend the honor of Tagoria, to defend her existence as an independent nation, to become the Joan of Arc of Tagoria if it had to come down to that. Innocence dead, she walked into the halls of the palace, not looking back at what had once been hers.

[Blackhelm Confederacy]

More ships seemed to have survived the initial assault than Stryker had thought, and now it was starting to cost him. The Pocket Battleship Pygmalian was seperated from the fleet by the Tagorian fleets movements, and after a brief fire fight recieved a crippling blow, causing the ship to crack in half a few minutes later. Nearly the entire crew was lost with the vessel. This was not the only ship to go down, however. Several corvettes and frigates, along with a pair of cruisers were hit and in various stages of damages, some sinking, some burning wrecks, others just hit but still afloat.

The operation was not going as smoothly as the new admiral had hoped, and it was beginning to anger him. The enemy aircraft were fighting with fierce bravery rarely seen by the enemies of Griffincrest, and were so determined that there was even a near miss on Stryker's own ship from a kamikaze attempt made by a doomed pilot. In a panic, he ordered a third of the fleet's SAM's, some four thousand missiles over all, to be launched. Nearly his entire staff was against the mover, realizing that it could possibly leave them vulnerable later, but he over ruled them. And so it was. Thousands of weapons were soon taking to the sky for the Tagorian aircraft.

Nearere to the coast, twelve Um al Maradim's had been lost, mostly hit by missiles fired from the enemies aircraft. The rest, however, continued to mercilessly unload their shells upon the enemy trenches on the beach. Stryker had no intentions of landing his men until he was confident that the resistance on the coastline would be minimal. He knew the dangers that an amphibious operation held, and was determined to have his first ever campaign as a Griffincrest admiral not end in a failure.

[Kirav]

Is this open?