NationStates

Marcellus Fort, Island Hylar XI
Federation of Ulthranian Islands
Grand Commonwealth.


Field Master Marcellus had always envied this place, he built it with his and the 75th Federated Islanders Corps of Engineers . It took them almost less than a week to build. But after that, he came here to rest from the endless waging of war. It did not have to luxurious, it was his quite, subtle place in paradise. He would, however, be having guests. Highest ranking military officers of the SEC were to come and discuss the reforming of the SEC Coalition Forces, tactics, build. He would make it so...

His servents, all of whom he gave the option of working for him or in a POW camp chose to work for and live within the boundaries of the island. Twelve of them were local rebel islanders, eleven were insurrectionists from Rexta and six were foreign, three Britannians from the Ulthranian-Britannian War when he was a colonel, two Quendi and an Aquillian, respectively. They set up plates, they cleaned the floor and, at the kitchen at the cookery down from the house, they prepped the meals.

The Field Master had instructed the other SEC officers that when they land at Hylar Main Airport to meet up and go to a hydroplane and take them to the island. But until then, he sat on his front patio, he lit up a cigarette, placed his coffee on the table next
to the rocking chair and began to play a guitar, without a care in the world.

He now awaited the other SEC officers...

Grand Marshall Gort was quietly excited about this meeting. He was quite anxious to see where an S.E.C force would go and what shape it would take, and would like to see it influenced by him. The flight in was uneventful, and the Hydroplane he was riding was quick and smooth.

He wondered if he would be the first one there.

(OOC: Ulth, if you wan't you can RP my guy arriving at the island, getting off the boat etc. I will respond if you talk to him as well.)

Ishmael disembarked the Hydroplane, along with his two friends. He stared into the sunshine, scowling already. "Great" He thought, as he beckoned for his men to follow him. Lugging Briefcases each they walked up to the fort. The Three men had been picked for the obvious reasons. Himself, Field Kommandant General Ishmael Grieves, one of the worlds most cunning military leaders and leader of the Dewhurst-Narculian Armed Forces, the tall thin man to his left was Captain-General Dahlgren Zof, excellent sailor and grandson of the famous Admiral Yakov Zof.The two, being men of military wore the black tunics and boots of the Dewhurst-Narculian Armed Forces but the man on the right was a civilian, a well off civilian at that. He was Sir Isambard Furlington, CEO and Chief Naval Architect of Imperial Royal Shipyards. His smart charcoal waistcoat, dress shirt and back trousers contrasting with the other two.

The ride on the hydroplane was intriguing to Chief Jarl-Commissar Pereknov Vanarhelvik. He had never seen any place like this. Of course he had been to the various tropical Aldarminian colonies, but on those trips he was always secluded to the airport or some overly luxurious hotel. This place, though, was barely touched by man. The island was beautiful to Vanarhelvik. The strange vehicle that was the hydroplane interested him. The old veteran wished he could retire to a place like Hylar. He and his son Arch Commissar Ashrocmhar Vanarhelvik were both anxious to meet fellow SEC military commanders. They were surprised by the fact that the Emperor allowed this kind of thing. Despite all the little curiousities, the renown father and son military commanders were serious when they landed and began to make their way to the wooden structure on the beach. They could see that others were arriving as well.

Pereknov was the highest ranking military officer in all of the Imperial Republic next to the Emperor himself. He had distinguished himself in the Azcheyko Uprising. He, with aid from the Emperor, successfully captured the capitol city Aldaler from the oppressive government forces. Pereknov's son, Ashrocmhar, was one of the most accomplished Aldarminian commanders in history. With not a single defeat out of dozens of battles, Ashrocmhar brought pride to the Vanarhelvikil(House of Vanarhelvik).

Two payed servants carried the two commanders' luggage. They stayed a little behind to prevent from seeming disrespectful as if they were listening on any conversation. One of them also carried an electronic translator in case it was necessary. Both of the Vanarhelviks were given a crash course in several of the languages spoken by the various members of the SEC. Both assumed though that English would be used, and they spoke that fluently. Pereknov waved his hand at a figure who sat on the porch of the structure.

'This is more like it. Sand, sea, blue sky, perfect flying conditions. Bring an AFT here to.... that field and I could vacation here.' "Sir I know what your thinking and I doubt the rest of the Joint Chiefs and the King would let you take one of the Parasite's here for a vacation." Air Marshall Liam Beckett looked up from the window to Command Sergeant John Peelo who was travelling with him, as always, to handle communications. Beckett sighed "I know but a man can dream can't he? I mean take a long look out there, It would be like the Air Shield over Khedive Rex all over again but with even less SAM's." "Sir I don't disagree with you but the fact stands that you wouldn't get approval. Anyway where coming in to land." "You don't think they will be upset that we only sent an Airforce representative will you?" "No Sir. As you well know all other Closian branches exist to serve the Airforce."

Marshall Gort disembarked off the hydroplane, and admired the place, thinking to himself that they should hold S.E.C conferences here rather than in dreary capitals and cities. Plus, it might make for a more relaxed debate if everyone is lounging in the pool in their swimwear. He noticed other delegates had arrived as well.

Hylar Main Airport Docks

General John Lynch walked through the sandy path on the main island that led to the docks where a hydroplane was waiting.
John hated the heat, reminded him wayyy to much of the Velucian Islands and those were some nasty times, those Velcuians rebels can be quite dangerous and barbarous.
John shook the memories from his head and cleared it as his brown boots hit the wooden planks of the dock. He was wearing the standard Itailian Army dress uniform, various medals and ribbons decorating the brown top of the uniform. On his hip was a Browning Hi-Power with a leather clip case on his other hip, containing two clips. On his head was the typical garrison cap, an IGC logo on it, signifying that John was here on Joint Chief business
He neared the hrydroplane and stepped a board, eager to attend the first meeting ever with a Ultranian, the nation who Itailian Maifias had very strained ties with

Marcellus got up from his chair and took a sip from his coffee, he turned to the delegates forming around himself. He knew it was time to get things into motion and ready to get the gears pumping.
"Greetings, fellow imperialists" he called from his chair, still wearing his military BDUs with sunscreen on his face and a tropical hat to match the mood "We must go to the dining area, so that we may feast upon some glorious food and get the military talk up and running" He told his servents to go and get them, one of the servents, the Aquillian, directed them there.

The dining area, about two hundred metres down a lush pathway, was a massive circular table, underneath a pavillion. The heat was fine for Marcellus, who more double-lined BDUs, unsure as to whether the others would be so thrilled with the weather. They each had their nation's name on their for them to sit at and a vast choice of different drinks and snacks for them to feast on before the main course.

As that was happening, he saw the second hydroplane come in, which was carrying the Itailian delegate. He walked over himself and with one of his Britannian servants did he great the military man.
"Welcome to my home in paradise" he told the Itailian as he was disembarking.

Isambard sat down with his countrymen, noticing Zof's uncomfortable movements. "Poor gent" He reflected, he knew Zof had lived on Durlkard before moving to the homeland and was at home in the minus temperatures instead of the sweltering temperatures of this island. He, himself, had spent 4 years building the Great Central Railway in the searing temperatures of the center of the homeland. Ishamel remained still and stoic, his face betraying no facts. Isambard sighed and peaked down at his notes in front of him, smiling...

"Steady sir steady." It was times like this Beckett was grateful that he had Peelo with him, and that he could speak Laelig as well. "I know but this has gone from informal to decadent in record time. And Imperialists?" "Just live with it Liam. It won't be too painful. Hopefully anyway I think speaking a dead language in front of these fine people is a bit rude?"

Marshall Gort followed the Ulthranian to the table. Seeing his designated seat, he sat down and got himself a drink. The heat never bothered him, being in charge of the 17th Desert combat division for 23 years, and being stationed in the jungles of Resodromia for 7 years after that had allowed him to become accustomed to heat.

OOC:found it finally

Ic: Commander Dale Smith sat down beside the Dewhurst-Narculians representatives. He smiled at the though, once again Benstrilia in the enormous shadow of Dewhurst-Narculis. This was the first time a Benstrilian representative had been to a SEC conference and finally Benstrilia was emerging as a military savvy nation, being supplied with weapons and arms by Lyras and Dewhurst-Narculis. Hopefully in the Luncheon, Benstrilia could secure some new suppliers, set up new factories and grow it's military