The Grand Nicholia-Abiottis War (IC, MT-PMT, Semi-Open)

[Grand Nicholia]

The Altans raid villages all the time, and Travvy had convinced Azan to bring her the raided people's books back with him. She had managed to decipher most of their languages, and found the cultures very interesting.

"Have you ever had children with the wolfman? As you are his 13th wife."

[Azi Altul]

Travvy wrapped her arms around her stomach defensively. "I am with his child, as are four others. his children will found the hordes of the new world, and will follow their father through the day's sky, as children of the hunt."

[Grand Nicholia]

Travvy wrapped her arms around her stomach defensively. "I am with his child, as are four others. his children will found the hordes of the new world, and will follow their father through the day's sky, as children of the hunt."

" You can not have a wolf child! Cleanse the lady of the wolf child, and purify her! Call the Archbishop of Arras! You are with a wolf mutant, not acceptable in this society. You have two choices, I kill you or you abort the child! What will it be?!" Said Owen Gregio

[Eredion]

2 million of the mobilized men arrived to their army, boosting their numbers up to 2.2 million. They are awaiting orders and standing by. 1 million men stayed back in Eredion for defensive purposes and 300,000 remaining troops are kept in reserves.

[Azi Altul]

Azan had donned his armor, the traditional chest plate, shoulder pads, and kilt used in one to one combat. The Altans used ironwood armor, which was made from a type of tree found in the mountainous areas in the north. They had acquired the armor on a raid, about 17 years ago. They had developed their own way of using the wood, which sadly was far inferior to the native's methods. Azan donned pre-invasion armor, which could take almost indefinite blows from a sword or a spear, but would be ruined from a strike taken by axe, or a flaming weapon.
His men were preparing the Va˙ihl, which was a customary pit used in hand to hand combat and the executions of a fallen warrior. The pit's diameter was only around fifteen feet, and an eight foot deep, 6 foot wide trench was dug around its radius. Rotting bodies were thrown all throughout the pit, doused with gasoline, and lit aflame during the battle, to produce a large, powerful flame. Spears were stabbed into the pit's outer rim, head up, to make sure no escape could be taken, and also to provide a bit of a tactical advantage to whoever could use it properly. A plank would be placed over the trench so the participating parties could enter, but on rare occasions, that proved deadly in of itself, killing one or more before they even entered.
Azan knew that Ravvis was itching to perform in the battle, and perhaps he would allow it. Azan was getting old, perhaps he needs to start relaxing more. at 46, he'd outlived most of his warriors, who averaged a lifespan of 30.

[Claanyad]

Azan had donned his armor, the traditional chest plate, shoulder pads, and kilt used in one to one combat. The Altans used ironwood armor, which was made from a type of tree found in the mountainous areas in the north. They had acquired the armor on a raid, about 17 years ago. They had developed their own way of using the wood, which sadly was far inferior to the native's methods. Azan donned pre-invasion armor, which could take almost indefinite blows from a sword or a spear, but would be ruined from a strike taken by axe, or a flaming weapon.
His men were preparing the Va˙ihl, which was a customary pit used in hand to hand combat and the executions of a fallen warrior. The pit's diameter was only around fifteen feet, and an eight foot deep, 6 foot wide trench was dug around its radius. Rotting bodies were thrown all throughout the pit, doused with gasoline, and lit aflame during the battle, to produce a large, powerful flame. Spears were stabbed into the pit's outer rim, head up, to make sure no escape could be taken, and also to provide a bit of a tactical advantage to whoever could use it properly. A plank would be placed over the trench so the participating parties could enter, but on rare occasions, that proved deadly in of itself, killing one or more before they even entered.
Azan knew that Ravvis was itching to perform in the battle, and perhaps he would allow it. Azan was getting old, perhaps he needs to start relaxing more. at 46, he'd outlived most of his warriors, who averaged a lifespan of 30.

Meanwhile, Getúmen, who had been hiding in the woods around the group, decided to emerge. Clányan people were stealthy and swift fighters. Holding his tacal, with its trademark trident hilt, made for stabbing one's opponent when they are on the ground, he walked into the midst of the fighters, staying to the outside to avoid drawing too much attention, but gradually moving closer, his leather armour shielding him from appearing too foreign. His physique may have given him away, and he received some dirty looks from the Altul riders. But, very soon, he was at the point where Azan was, holding his tacal and shielding his face.
"Gurayáten Vúten!" He said, finally revealing his face.

[Sperland]

Labhrás also known as the Mountain Fox arrived in grand Nicholia in a plane. He was rated as one of the best General's in the world. He was nervous about the savages and the drones. He knew his forces were outnumbered by the Eriodinians. Eriodon won't be a problem he thought, he defeated many armies double his size. So far theirs was the biggest. Labhrás hadn't been named the mountain fox for nothing. Now that Sperland joined with the Hambonians into one nation Sperland would be even stronger.

[Azi Altul]

As Azan sharpened his sword for the upcoming battle, he felt a tingle on the back of his neck, and Raull's ears shot up attentively. A man had appeared, a foreigner. He was a bit above average height, clad in leather armor, and held himself like a warrior light and quick on his feet. He said something in a language Azan didn't understand, and then Raull was on him. He tackled the foreign man, and his wolf opened his mouth around the man's throat, awaiting Azan's kill command.
Before he could give it, the metal man put his hand on Azan's shoulder, stopping him.
"He is with the coalition, perhaps he is the one accepting your challenge."
As the metal men said this, more warriors showed themselves, aiming their fire sticks at Raull.
"Release." said Azan.
The metal man spoke next to the Altan people. "These men are safe here, as they have accepted your lord's challenge, and may remain here under parlay. Treat them nicely" His voice got quieter. "Azan, hear what this man has to say, and don't kill him yet. Save that for the arena."

[Balashov]

Le snip

---

20 miles off the Northern coast of Grand Nicholia
In the bridge on the HRS Rollo I, the radio broadcast came in from the Claayan fleet. "Admiral," the comms officer said, "The Claanyan Lord High Admiral agrees to meet. They request that we prepare our ship for boarding, as he will be coming shorty."

Admiral Burgiak looked out across the open sea. A smirk appeared on his lips. The Vice Admiral, who just returned from ordering all troops down from battle stations, stood at attention near the door, slightly out of breath. "Vice Admiral Gorbachev, I am terribly sorry about all this running and going around you are doing, but please order our boarding ramps prepared to accept a ship."

Vice Admiral Gorbachev snickered at the Admiral's dry sense of humor. "Yes sir." he said before saluting and leaving the bridge once more.

Admiral Burgiak once again turned to the comms officer, "Radio them saying we are ready to accept their ship," he turned to the rest of the officers in the room, "And please prepare this room for a meeting. That means get all maps, intel reports, satellite imagery, and fleet information ready on the meeting table. Dismissed."

The bridge officers saluted the admiral before moving in different directions, each to obtain the necessary material. The comms officer picked up the microphone and began speaking into it:

Code: Select all

CLAANYAN FLEET - HRS ROLLO I STOP FLAGSHIP OF ROYAL NORTHERN FLEET STOP IS READY TO ACCEPT YOUR SHIP OVER

The Admiral then focused his attention in the direction of Grand Nicholia. What lies ahead of us he wondered as the waves lapped against the hull of the ship What enemies lie ahead of us and how can we beat them? A good shelling should take care of them, but, then again, reports indicate millions of them, and the GN command reports that when one dies, he is replaced almost immediately..

"Sir..." a voice interrupted his thoughts. Admiral Burgiak spun around, to see his Vice Admiral standing there, red-faced. "Sir, should you not go groom yourself and get into your formal uniform? After all, we will be meeting with the Lord High Commander of the Claanyan forces. We must be presentable!"

The Admiral laughed, "Of course Vladimir. Some days, I wonder how lost at sea we would be without you." He walked out of the room to his quarters to prepare for the meeting ahead.

[Grand Nicholia]

Now Miss Travvy, shall you abort the child or will you be killed yourself? I have contacted the Minister of Faith, the Archbishop of Arras is on his way, what is your choice, Madam?" said the sweaty interrogator, Mr. Gregio. TheArchbishop was about to leave, but was confronted by the Cardinal Justice Julian Michalea,
"Holy sir, you mustn't go! It is wrong to do such a procedure!"

[Azi Altul]

Travvy was left alone in a room all night, to ponder her decision. These people were moronic, she thought. There was no way in hell she'd give up her child, even if he was destined to envelope the world's weak. She had a knife, which she had pick pocketed from one of the guards. She would use it to cut that dick's throat out, if he tried to take her child. Before resulting to violence, of course, she would calmly tell her captors her decision, and try to make peace with them, baptizing her child into whatever church they fell into. Morning had come, and a guard opened her door. With this, she stood up defensively, and wrapped her arms around her unborn child, as her interrogator asked for her final decision.

[Grand Nicholia]

Travvy was left alone in a room all night, to ponder her decision. These people were moronic, she thought. There was no way in hell she'd give up her child, even if he was destined to envelope the world's weak. She had a knife, which she had pick pocketed from one of the guards. She would use it to cut that dick's throat out, if she tried to take her child. Before resulting to violence, of course, she would calmly tell her captors her decision, and try to make peace with them, baptizing her child into whatever church they fell into it. Morning had come, and a guard opened her door. With this, she stood up defensively, and wrapped her arms around her unborn child.

"Holy Sir, you mustn't do it! Can you at least think about it!" said the Cardinal Justice. "My fellow man, we must let the our Holy Sir decide what he wants to do!" said High Judge Wilhem Von Juckment of Nicholius. " I believe the wolf child of the woman, is unholy and must be killed. Both of your opinions are no concern of mine!" said the Archbishop of Arras as he got in his limo to the Hexagon with the necessary tools. "Wait....." said the Cardinal Justice.
MEANWHILE AT THE HEXAGON
"The girl is trying not to have the child killed. Guards, drag her to thee hospital. Kill her if necessary....." said the Psychologist Mr. Gregio. "Wait she did not choose yet!" said a guard. Mr. Gregio asked again "What will it be? I have guards if you attack me you know...."

[Azi Altul]

Travvy stabbed her captors in the throat, with all the force she could muster. A guard grabbed at her hair, but she ducked out of the war before he could get a hold on her. Men were rushing around her, but she was a small woman, agile and quick on her feet. She ran down corridor after corridor, and that seemed to take hours. On her way out, she stabbed another man, a large man with a neck-beard, and her knife got stuck. She didn't have time to wrench it free, as her attackers were shooting at her. After what seemed to be ages, she finally exited the building, but she had nowhere to go. She was trapped, in the home of men who wanted her child dead. Her only hope of escape was to find Azan, who would probably snap her in half. There was nowhere she could go.

[Grand Nicholia]

Travvy stabbed her captors in the throat, with all the force she could muster. A guard grabbed at her hair, but she ducked out of the war before he could get a hold on her. Men were rushing around her, but she was a small woman, agile and quick on her feet. She ran down corridor after corridor, and that seemed to take hours. On her way out, she stabbed another man, a large man with a neck-beard, and her knife got stuck. She didn't have time to wrench it free, as her attackers were shooting at her. After what seemed to be ages, she finally exited the building, but she had nowhere to go. She was trapped, in the home of men who wanted her child dead. Her only hope of escape was to find Azan, who would probably snap her in half. There was nowhere she could go.

"GET THAT GIRL! Send for the Military, we have a runner. Also, when you capture her, force a abortion...." said Mr. Gregio, Head Psychiatrist of the Army. "Yes sir!" said the guards. They sent a message to the Nicholius Police and City Militia. A force of 1,200 men searched the city under the command of General Douglas Manvock. One Police Office said they found her and quickly grabbed her by the collar and dragged her to Gen. Manvock. The General was pleased with search only taking three hours and told them to to escort her to the medical ward of The Hexagon. The Archbishop of Arras also appeared and walked with the tools for the Abort. When Travvy was about to be strapped to the table when...

[Claanyad]

As Azan sharpened his sword for the upcoming battle, he felt a tingle on the back of his neck, and Raull's ears shot up attentively. A man had appeared, a foreigner. He was a bit above average height, clad in leather armor, and held himself like a warrior light and quick on his feet. He said something in a language Azan didn't understand, and then Raull was on him. He tackled the foreign man, and his wolf opened his mouth around the man's throat, awaiting Azan's kill command.
Before he could give it, the metal man put his hand on Azan's shoulder, stopping him.
"He is with the coalition, perhaps he is the one accepting your challenge."
As the metal men said this, more warriors showed themselves, aiming their fire sticks at Raull.
"Release." said Azan.
The metal man spoke next to the Altan people. "These men are safe here, as they have accepted your lord's challenge, and may remain here under parlay. Treat them nicely" His voice got quieter. "Azan, hear what this man has to say, and don't kill him yet. Save that for the arena."

Getúmen began to laugh as Raull came off of his neck.
"I wasn't expecting such a hostile welcome," he said, as he slowly got up from his place on the floor, "But, I suppose you should be ready for anything, even if the first words you say are 'hello'. I wish to speak - one warrior to another. I hope these terms do not cause you dishonour," He said, grabbing his tacal, which had fallen to the ground.
As the guards approached, they lowered their weapons. As they got closer, it was revealed that they were holding bows and arrows, as well as large, double ended longswords, not guns or rifles. Their uniform was not standard Clányan gear - they wore plate armour as well as Green cloaks over said armour, and helmets of steel. They looked far more like medieval guards, which is technically what they were. While the army has been around only for a couple of centuries, the Royal Guard has been around since Clányad's inception.

[Azi Altul]

Azan was forced to laugh at his current situation. He was under the influence of metal men from under another sun, a great war was being raged, and now some enemy warriors had snuck into his camp of 3 million men, for the second time this week. The foreign man with the smooth tongue was here under peace discussion, which made no sense to Azan. The two of them were to face each other to the death within the week, and he wanted to chit chat.
Azan's laughter confused and angered the metal man, but seemed to strike a chord with the foreign man. Azan sat down against a tree, and looked down into the fight pit, with a smile on his face.
"It's been an unusual week, my fellow warrior. These metal men are space creatures, did you know that? They flew here on their spaceship to take your R†hul's daughter, and are going to tear our earth apart just to... Well, I'm not even sure what they're here for. They just seem to desire wanton death and revenge." The foreign man smiled and listened very courteously, not interrupting. Azan held his hand out to the man, and when he grabbed it, Azan slammed his chest into the foreigner's, mildly shocking him, but not knocking him down. This was good. A warrior fallen was not a warrior at all. The foreigner had gained Azan's respect as a warrior.
"Why are you here, my friend? What is your business here, if it is one of peace?"
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In the hexagon of Nicholia, Travvy was lying on her back, strapped to a surgical table, struggling for her child's life. She refused to give in. A doctor stood over her, checking her body, ignoring her cries. The straps chafed her skin, leaving her wrists bloody. She fought, with a pure animalistic, maternal fury that was not subject to any reason of coherent thought, just the need to leave. To escape her captors, to run from the men threatening her baby. She cried out, tears blinding her and leaving a salty stain in her hair, but to no avail. Her captors ignored her. She meant nothing to them, they only wanted her child dead. After what seemed like hours of crying, and realized her enemies simply would not listen to her, she was left screaming for mercy from whatever god or gods there may be in the world. She asked them all, man, women, animal and foreign deity alike she just wanted her baby to be safe.

But nobody answered. She was alone, pure and simple. There was nothing she could do, her sobs meant nothing. Her captors stabbed something into her arm, and her eyes went black. In the blackness, as she was leaving reality, she would later swear she could hear the cries of her unborn child.

[Grand Nicholia]

Azan was forced to laugh at his current situation. He was under the influence of metal men from under another sun, a great war was being raged, and now some enemy warriors had snuck into his camp of 3 million men, for the second time this week. The foreign man with the smooth tongue was here under peace discussion, which made no sense to Azan. The two of them were to face each other to the death within the week, and he wanted to chit chat.
Azan's laughter confused and angered the metal man, but seemed to strike a chord with the foreign man. Azan sat down against a tree, and looked down into the fight pit, with a smile on his face.
"It's been an unusual week, my fellow warrior. These metal men are space creatures, did you know that? They flew here on their spaceship to take your R†hul's daughter, and are going to tear our earth apart just to... Well, I'm not even sure what they're here for. They just seem to desire wanton death and revenge." The foreign man smiled and listened very courteously, not interrupting. Azan held his hand out to the man, and when he grabbed it, Azan slammed his chest into the foreigner's, mildly shocking him, but not knocking him down. This was good. A warrior fallen was not a warrior at all. The foreigner had gained Azan's respect as a warrior.
"Why are you here, my friend? What is your business here, if it is one of peace?"
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In the hexagon of Nicholia, Travvy was lying on her back, strapped to a surgical table, struggling for her child's life. She refused to give in. A doctor stood over her, checking her body, ignoring her cries. The straps chafed her skin, leaving her wrists bloody. She fought, with a pure animalistic, maternal fury that was not subject to any reason of coherent thought, just the need to leave. To escape her captors, to run from the men threatening her baby. She cried out, tears blinding her and leaving a salty stain in her hair, but to no avail. Her captors ignored her. She meant nothing to them, they only wanted her child dead. After what seemed like hours of crying, and realized her enemies simply would not listen to her, she was left screaming for mercy from whatever god or gods there may be in the world. She asked them all, man, women, animal and foreign deity alike she just wanted her baby to be safe.

But nobody answered. She was alone, pure and simple. There was nothing she could do, her sobs meant nothing. Her captors stabbed something into her arm, and her eyes went black. In the blackness, as she was leaving reality, she would later swear she could hear the cries of her unborn child.

As the Archbishop of Arras finished the procedure, he stabbed a another syringe into Travvy that was to counter the first syringe. The unborn child was sent to the Government Lab of Science and Innovation for studying. As the Girl awoke the Archbishop gave her a chilling smile and said "Hello dear, its done now. Your impurity was cleansed.... May I add that your fate shall be decided by me, be good and you shall be spared, fight more and you will suffer." The Archbishop recieved a text from the same Cardinal Justice that opposed his plan. It read:

You finished it, the procedure. I can never look at you the same way.....
-Cardinal Justice Julian

"Girl, I will unstrap you now and you must get dressed quickly as you will be placed under house arrest in the Chateau of Forqular, your name will be changed to Jeanne de Forqular, just to let you know...." said the Archbishop

[Claanyad]

Code: Select all

CLAANYAN FLEET - HRS ROLLO I STOP FLAGSHIP OF ROYAL NORTHERN FLEET STOP IS READY TO ACCEPT YOUR SHIP OVER

Code: Select all

EXCELLENT STOP WE SHALL ARRIVE IN GOOD TIME STOP

The Lord High Commander of the Military had been getting ready on another ship. It was a destroyer, not as large as the CŚM Nefen, but it was easier to board with. He had his Green Military Jacket and cap on, as well as his whitest trousers and shirt, with a black tie and many medals. He was not nervous of the meeting with the commander of the Royal Northern Fleet, as he had met with commanders before. More that he was nervous of the fact that his fleet was going to be out in the open. Sure, his fleet was united with the Royal Northern Fleet, but it was still out in the open. He was not too afraid of Abiottis finding out this fact, as they preferred to make others do their dirty work, nor particularly the savages, since he knew they had little, if any, naval capability. He was more afraid of the Eredian and Manticulonian forces, with whom he would have a much harder time battling should they arrive suddenly.
As the destroyer neared the Royal Northern Fleet, Cáðéit Cecáðéit Cascus walked onto the deck of his ship. He could see the Northern Fleet, and their organisation was possibly as good as that of the Clányan fleet.
Of course, he had received a message from the Emperor just minutes after first contact with their fleet, so it could be argued they were in no real danger, but still, he had a sense of urgency just before contact was established, and it still haunted him. Plus, now he was going onto their ship to discuss the war, and their tactics. If he could, he would try to get their troops access to Sichou. He had personally asked the Government of Sichou for access, and contrary to the Nicholian claims, they were only allowed a four day window through a small mountain pass, mostly to protect their own agriculture and national stability.
He waited for the ship to get closer with eagerness. This would be the first coalition force they had visited since its establishment. This would be interesting.

---

Azan was forced to laugh at his current situation. He was under the influence of metal men from under another sun, a great war was being raged, and now some enemy warriors had snuck into his camp of 3 million men, for the second time this week. The foreign man with the smooth tongue was here under peace discussion, which made no sense to Azan. The two of them were to face each other to the death within the week, and he wanted to chit chat.
Azan's laughter confused and angered the metal man, but seemed to strike a chord with the foreign man. Azan sat down against a tree, and looked down into the fight pit, with a smile on his face.
"It's been an unusual week, my fellow warrior. These metal men are space creatures, did you know that? They flew here on their spaceship to take your R†hul's daughter, and are going to tear our earth apart just to... Well, I'm not even sure what they're here for. They just seem to desire wanton death and revenge." The foreign man smiled and listened very courteously, not interrupting. Azan held his hand out to the man, and when he grabbed it, Azan slammed his chest into the foreigner's, mildly shocking him, but not knocking him down. This was good. A warrior fallen was not a warrior at all. The foreigner had gained Azan's respect as a warrior.
"Why are you here, my friend? What is your business here, if it is one of peace?"

"Well, I don't think it honourable for two men, even for representatives of sworn enemies, to not have any introduction or knowledge of the other. So, as such, I suggest that we spend a few days getting to know each other - our loves, our hopes, our fears, why we are in this war. No need to rush, of course. I should be happy to take as long as you need, and even to offer gifts. After all, what is a fight without some drinking, maybe a feast... There's no need to rush this at all."
He still held his tacal defensively, ready for if the wolf-creature were to pounce again. It may not be so lucky this time. As far as Getúmen was concerned, he was amongst friends and honourable men until such time as he should become their enemy. And though that time was upon the horizon, it was not too soon. The guards around him held barrels full of Clányan food and drinks, ready for such a time as if there should be a feast.

[Azi Altul]

Azan smiled at the foreigner's request, but Raull remained wary, his brown eyes darting from each enemy man to another. The man wanted a feast, and he desired a drink. The Altan people were heavy drinkers, of course, and were known to outdrink any heathen man, but there wouldn't be much of a party if the large black Vaethis devoured the man's intestines, so Azan placed on a hand on the wolf's head, and whispered the calm command. With this, Raull's eyes gained their warmth back, and he ceased bearing his teeth. Azan laughed, and the great wolf sniffed at the foreign man's hand, licking it when he was finished, wagging his massive tail.
Azan's men cheered, and the foreign men popped opened their drinks, and the two civilizations feasted and drank and laughed, not as enemies, but as friends. For the next few days, they would share their stories, to allow a more suitable, holy fight, appeasable in the eyes of the Rider.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Travvy awoke on a new table, with a sharp pain in her arms, and an emptiness in her stomach. Her pounded, and her entire body was screeching with pain. The creepy, shifty eyed archbishop had taken her child. With that knowledge, nothing else mattered. She lunged for the man, wrapping her slender hands around his slimy throat. She straddled him, slamming his head against the floor. This was the man that had taken her baby's life, and with that, she had to take his.

[Grand Nicholia]

Azan smiled at the foreigner's request, but Raull remained wary, his brown eyes darting from each enemy man to another. The man wanted a feast, and he desired a drink. The Altan people were heavy drinkers, of course, and were known to outdrink any heathen man, but there wouldn't be much of a party if the large black Vaethis devoured the man's intestines, so Azan placed on a hand on the wolf's head, and whispered the calm command. With this, Raull's eyes gained their warmth back, and he ceased bearing his teeth. Azan laughed, and the great wolf sniffed at the foreign man's hand, licking it when he was finished, wagging his massive tail.
Azan's men cheered, and the foreign men popped opened their drinks, and the two civilizations feasted and drank and laughed, not as enemies, but as friends. For the next few days, they would share their stories, to allow a more suitable, holy fight, appeasable in the eyes of the Rider.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Travvy awoke on a new table, with a sharp pain in her arms, and an emptiness in her stomach. Her pounded, and her entire body was screeching with pain. The creepy, shifty eyed archbishop had taken her child. With that knowledge, nothing else mattered. She lunged for the man, wrapping her slender hands around his slimy throat. She straddled him, slamming his head against the floor. This was the man that had taken her baby's life, and with that, she had to take his.

"Child, you are purified and you treat your savior like this!" said the Archbishop as he took out a cutlass (a sword) and broke free of her weak attempt at choking him. He then grabbed her by the collar and escorted her into a dressing room and locked her in there. "You can come out when you behave!" yelled the angry Archbishop. (So angry in fact one of his veins was appearing.)
MEANWHILE AT THE G.L.S.I (GOVERNMENT LAB FOR SCIENCE AND INNOVATION)
"We finally have a perfect Specimen! Now we can under those beasts!" Exclaimed a extremely happy(Almost to happy) Dr. Jach Boctor. "Not perfect as it is mixed, but it's good enough for now."said a less exited Dr. Wilhem Jaqu. "Ether way it's something!" Replied Dr. Boctor. "Yes, but we need a purebred to understand them COMPLETELY." Dr.Jaqu said clearly. "By the way is it still alive?" Added Dr. Jaqu. "Yes, we were able to revive and put In our incubator that recreates a womb." Said Dr. Boctor. "Oh." Said a slightly surprised Dr. Jaqu as he tapped on the glass of the incubator. (They saw this kinda stuff everyday.)

[Manticulon]

Mthugal, the Manticulan high emperor, sits perched over his desk, analyzing the logistics of the war. He held maps of Grand Nicholia and Claanyad, data files on their weaponry and military tactics, and even what little he had on his own allies. He had three million savages behind him, six hundred thousand murderous drones from god knows where, three and a half million Eredions, and two hundred thousand Billugs. The savages had challenged the Claanyans to a frivolous trial by combat, where the huge savage lord, Azan, would more than likely break the back of the Claanyan champion. That would efficiently neutralize the Claayan threat, and the rest of the coalition would quickly follow. The Nicholian forces could easily be eradicated, due to their far inferior military tactics. He sent out a message to his military leaders.

Code: Select all

Good evening, my fellows. These are dark and turbulent times we live in, with the eminent coalition threat invading our values and our very way of life. I need sixty bombers, as quickly as possible, to neutralize their naval forces, before men and supplies are given to the enemy. Their forces are located here, in this map I've included in this telegram. Enter from here, the northern bay, and destroy as many of their ships as you can. Mvul'tass, my brothers.

[Grand Nicholia]

Ignore

[Grand Nicholia]

A sympathetic Maid saw a crying Trazzy through the keyhole on the door. The maid unlocked the door and sat down besides Trazzy and said "Don't cry about your child. I have heard he is still alive! At the Government Lab for Science and Innovation! They revived him and plan to study him! So its not loss!" said the maid trying to perk up Travvy. "But, do not leave, the Archbishop would kill you if you try to escape. But, if you try call me." whispered the Maid, she also winked.

[Claanyad]

Azan smiled at the foreigner's request, but Raull remained wary, his brown eyes darting from each enemy man to another. The man wanted a feast, and he desired a drink. The Altan people were heavy drinkers, of course, and were known to outdrink any heathen man, but there wouldn't be much of a party if the large black Vaethis devoured the man's intestines, so Azan placed on a hand on the wolf's head, and whispered the calm command. With this, Raull's eyes gained their warmth back, and he ceased bearing his teeth. Azan laughed, and the great wolf sniffed at the foreign man's hand, licking it when he was finished, wagging his massive tail.
Azan's men cheered, and the foreign men popped opened their drinks, and the two civilizations feasted and drank and laughed, not as enemies, but as friends. For the next few days, they would share their stories, to allow a more suitable, holy fight, appeasable in the eyes of the Rider.

Of course, Getúmen was intrigued by this 'Azan' fellow. He had never seen a larger man in person, and the way he held himself was admirable. And he was definitely honourable, perhaps even honour-bound. The way he looked after his large wolf, apparently named Raull, was admirable. Though Getúmen knew that he was very likely going to die at this conflict, or at least return home with many... changes, he still wanted to enjoy the experience in the camp of the 'enemy. And to be honest, he did not find the Altans to be enemies after a while. Learning their customs and drinking with them had almost removed the sense that they were at war. It intrigued Getúmen.
Finally, at some point, he approached Azan, drinking horn filled with Clányan Śwod in hand, and his tacal still close to his person. He had never let it go since he arrived in the camp - he felt it made him more respectable. He knew that the Altan people were a lot larger built than Clányans, so he needed all the help he could get in looking masculine. His tacal had always made him feel more respectable. But he approached Azan anyway, and bowed to his soon-to-be opponent.
"May I sit, R†hul?" he asked, hoping to sound honourable as he said it.

[Balashov]

Code: Select all

CLAANYAN FLEET - HRS ROLLO I STOP FLAGSHIP OF ROYAL NORTHERN FLEET STOP IS READY TO ACCEPT YOUR SHIP OVER

Code: Select all

EXCELLENT STOP WE SHALL ARRIVE IN GOOD TIME STOP

The Lord High Commander of the Military had been getting ready on another ship. It was a destroyer, not as large as the CŚM Nefen, but it was easier to board with. He had his Green Military Jacket and cap on, as well as his whitest trousers and shirt, with a black tie and many medals. He was not nervous of the meeting with the commander of the Royal Northern Fleet, as he had met with commanders before. More that he was nervous of the fact that his fleet was going to be out in the open. Sure, his fleet was united with the Royal Northern Fleet, but it was still out in the open. He was not too afraid of Abiottis finding out this fact, as they preferred to make others do their dirty work, nor particularly the savages, since he knew they had little, if any, naval capability. He was more afraid of the Eredian and Manticulonian forces, with whom he would have a much harder time battling should they arrive suddenly.
As the destroyer neared the Royal Northern Fleet, Cáðéit Cecáðéit Cascus walked onto the deck of his ship. He could see the Northern Fleet, and their organisation was possibly as good as that of the Clányan fleet.
Of course, he had received a message from the Emperor just minutes after first contact with their fleet, so it could be argued they were in no real danger, but still, he had a sense of urgency just before contact was established, and it still haunted him. Plus, now he was going onto their ship to discuss the war, and their tactics. If he could, he would try to get their troops access to Sichou. He had personally asked the Government of Sichou for access, and contrary to the Nicholian claims, they were only allowed a four day window through a small mountain pass, mostly to protect their own agriculture and national stability.
He waited for the ship to get closer with eagerness. This would be the first coalition force they had visited since its establishment. This would be interesting.

---

20 miles off the Northern coast of Grand Nicholia
Admiral Burgiak stood, peering out through the windows overlooking the Claanyan fleet. The transmission had come through - the Lord High Commander would be arriving soon. The Admiral was dressed in his white naval garb, with his white hat on top on his head. His left chest was adorned with medals of previous wars, engagements, and honors. His right chest had his rank insignia, the Northern Fleet's badge, and the royal pin of the Kingdom. Burgiak had met with other commanders, yet, this time, he was bit more nervous. His palms were sticky with sweat. This would be the first meeting of the war between two coalition commanders and both fleets were only 20 miles away from a war-torn country. The fleets needed to be ready for anything. "Vice Admiral," Burgiak barked, "is everything prepare for his arrival? Is the intel ready? What about the maps, fleet size, and satellite info?" The Admiral was obviously nervous, hoping this first meeting would go well.

Burgiak's mind began to drift - What is the size of this Claanyan force? Where are they headed to and what is their objective for the time being? he began to wonder, If they're an invasion force, where do they plan on entering the nation? Surely the coasts of Grand Nicholia are being watched by the invasion force.. What reconnaissance have they done? Have they been in contact with the GN? A million thoughts flew through the Admiral's mind.

"Sir, do not fret.," Gorbachev interrupted his thoughts, "Everything is in order, I have made sure of it. We are fully prepared for your meeting with the Claanyan commander. Shall I order up the bottle of whiskey and some cigars? For formalities?"

"Yes, do so." the Admiral responded. He was content and starting to relax. Gorbachev was handling everything splendidly, as was expected of him. One day, he would be the commander of this fleet, and Burgiak saw it to prepare him for the role. "Gorbachev," he said before the Vice Admiral left, "order our destroyers to be battle-ready. I feel like a sitting duck out here, without knowledge of where any of the enemies are."

The Vice Admiral saluted and left the room. Soon two destoryers, the HRS Checniak and the HRS Bravik, began to positions themselves on either side of the fleet. Quick cleaning was being done on the deck of the HRS Rollo I, as the ship began to look presentable. However, the planes were left in scramble-positions, in the case they need to be quickly deployed.