The Way Forward; A GATE RP [IC] [OPEN]

[British Prussia]

Corporal Alexander Blake, NZDF
Alnus Hill, Special Region

Rather surprised by the Captain's scolding, Corporal Blake smiled at the officer. "Sir, won't happen again sir. I'll take care of the Ferret." he turned, hand signalling the concealed Ferret. "But I must advise you all, I ran in the special forces gauntlet in Iraq. There we simply didn't invite random civilians to tea, there they bomb you. But I suppose this is the U.N." he gave a small, two-fingered salute to the team and a Hitler salute to the giant, who seemed to be having fun, before running off rejoin the Ferret back to the base.

Perhaps joining the U.N. force wasn't such a good idea. Slaughtered an army, shot a civilian, the they go all angus over the use of non-lethal force? What a shambles this is turning out to be. It's becoming less of a military base and more of a bus station with all these barbarians running about all over the place...

While the Ferret sped back at base, the Corporal noticed that the engineers and medical teams were still busy, though at least a semblance of a proper, military base was taking place. "Oh for fucks sake..." the Corporal blurted out. "Thanks for the ride!" he called out to the Ferret team, slamming the vehicle's thinner armour, before once again hopping off. Leaning on a tent, he made sure he was a distance away from Major Wiking, who had now found himself surrounded by an unusual collection of locals. He watched in disapproval, and admittedly, slight curiosity.

[Zjaum]

It was a long day's work at the Tourmaline Mining Company, and Zjael and Theillu were sitting down for their evening supper. Granted, there wasn't any light in the mines, so the only cues to eat and sleep came from the bellowing dwarf-horn in the center of the mountain shell, and the only food came to the miners via carts. Still, it was a relative feast, and Zjael and Theillu took extra large portions before passing the cart down the mineshaft. Better still, today was a special occassion (no one knew which occassion), and the finest Zinfandel of the local vinyard was sent down in bottles, for all the dwarves to taste.
"You know, I've been longin' for the taste of wine for a dragon's age," reminisced Zjael, popping the cork of the bottle. "Oi, Haapsalu, you want some?"
"He doesn't drink, remember?" whispered Theillu, before shouting back down a corridor. "Hey, Haapsalu, we're all excited about your findings, but you have to come tell us about them first!"
Haapsalu emerged, with clean hands but dirty clothes, face, and shoes. "Ah, sorry, friends. I just uncovered an old dwarven sculpture! I reckon that it's about two hundred years old!"
"Ah, how curious! What was the purpose?" responded Zjael.
"I believe it was a self-portrait, if you could imagine that. Actually, I found something even more important today!"
Theillu piped up. "Oh my! I was digging through this rock, and then I found MORE rock, but this rock was special-looking. But that doesn't even come CLOSE to this OTHER rock I found!" Theillu paused to nibble on the choice ribs he picked out.
"Everything's a rock with you, Theillu. Especially your head. Anyway! I was about twenty meters from the top of the mountain, and I found wood elf tools. Wood elves, underground! I didn't think they could break stone, let alone dig all the way this deep!"
"Or perhaps there was a landslide before they left," theorized Zjael.
"I thought that, but the small cavern doesn't look like it was crushed. It's remedial, of course- it's made by elves- but it's definitely-"
A series of short horn blasts echoed through the corridors of the mine. "That's the call for our squad," noted Theillu. "What do you suppose they want from us, or is it our turn for guard duty already?"
"Whatever it is," Theillu stretched, "we need a good day out in the sun, and I'm sure the boss wants to talk to you, Haapsalu."

Haapsalu took a rather long detour and passed by the stone desk of the surface administrator on his way to the surface. "Oi, boss, did you like the artwork I sent up?"
"It makes a fine mantlepiece, elven as it is. My thanks. Did you find anything else?"
"I got a dwarven sculpture, but it will take some time to chip out."
"All right. I give you permission to work on that for the next few days, after guard duty, of course. Very important to keep our heritage intact, if only because it brings in a few coins. Say, do you still keep those adamants around in your pocket?"
"Thank you, sir, and yes, I do," Haapsalu replied as he showed a couple large gemstones from his pocket to the administrator. Haapsalu loved digging, but he loved exploring more. It was always nice for the higher-ups to appreciate his work.
After a long walk, he climbed up the ladder to see his friends equipped with crude helmets, shields, and an assortment of weaponry. The mine was too far out of the way to attract visitors or thieves, so guard duty was, for all practical purposes, a two-day-long vacation in the sun. Haapsalu fitted himself with a spear and tomahawk, his weapons of choice, before relaxing on the side of the mountain. "I can feel it getting more hollow by the day," he chuckled.
After an hour of waiting, an anomaly occurred: A band of a dozen or so wood elves appeared on the horizon, walking toward the mines. The three friends gave each other uneasy glances, and Haapsalu readied his spear. "Oi! Wood elves! What are you doing here!"
The wood elves gave no response. Theillu bluntly called out, "Go away, stupid elves!"
Ever the diplomat, Zjael shouted, "We are armed! State your intention, or feel the wrath of the Tourmaline Mining Company!"
The wood elves approached the side of the mountain before they responded. "Which one of you is the smartest?"
Haapsalu looked at Zjael, while Theillu and Zjael looked at Haapsalu. The elf sighed. "Figures. We have an important announcement, and we would appreciate it if your company were assembled to listen to it."
Everyone became immediately suspicious, but nobody had the guts to refuse. "I'll go get the administrator," grumbled Haapsalu. He climbed down the ladder and began the ten minutes' journey down well-crafted halls back to the administrator, knocking on the door entrance before being summoned in.
"Um, sir, there are about a dozen wood elves that want an audience with the whole company."
"I can give them an audience with me, if they want. The whole company, though? Seems much too impractical, and a little suspicious."
As the administrator finished his sentence, dwarven shouts were heard from the direction of the hatch, followed by elven battle-cries. Like wind, the elves swept through the corridor, traversing in seconds what had taken Haapsalu minutes to navigate. The administrator was speechless, and Haapsalu's head sunk in thought. What was their plan? They surely couldn't wreak enough havoc to satisfy whatever radical-
Then it hit him. "Administrator. The horn room!"

Haapsalu was out of breath by the time he reached the horn room, a large hall hidden in the very center of the mountain. The fresh corpses of dwarves lay strewn about the floor, their horns shattered by their sides. The elves stood in a circle in the center, chanting in a slow but tense rhythmic pattern. With a shout, Haapsalu charged the terrorists but was instantly repelled by the magic of one of the elves. Groaning, he rose to his feet once again. "Fiends! What is your intent?"
"We are sad to see this mountain laid waste. We have come to bring it to its final resting place," murmured one of the elves.
"You will kill all inside, including yourselves!"
"Our lives are nothing compared to the power of nature. As for you, it is fitting that you should die in the place you defiled."
The ground shook, and the corridors on the ceiling gave way. Haapsalu staggered out of the horn room, looking back only to see the supposedly-brave elves now filled to the brim with fear, realizing too late the gravity of their decision. Tons of stone came crashing down, and Haapsalu only barely made it to the egress. As he hurried out, he took a moment to form a plan. The mountain would surely come crashing down faster than he could run. Unless...
He recalled and rushed to the nearest mine cart. Sticking the spear upward to prevent any medium-sized rubble from crashing down on him, he cut the ropes that kept the mine cart connected to the now-surely-defunct central hub, pushing against the walls to pick up speed. The cart was slow at first, but with enough of Haapsalu's friction it quickly surpassed a running pace, and Haapsalu was riding far away from where the bulk of the mountain would fall. The mine cart made quite an impact, but Haapsalu wasted no time in finding an exit. He had learned that gemstones were harder than rock, and that adamants were the toughest of all. He chipped at the hard rock until, miraculously, he came upon dirt. He stowed his adamants in his pocket and used his bare hands to dig his way upward. After minutes in actuality but what seemed like days, Haapsalu finally found sunlight and popped out of the soil.
He took a moment to breathe. By then, the mountain had completely given way. What remained was a wide yet shallow pit, littered with mine carts, corpses, and tools. In front of the mess were the slit bodies of the rest of his squad. Around the perimeter, and even in the rubble, a few dozen dwarves surfaced and joined Haapsalu to look upon the wreckage. "There must be thousands dead in the rubble," Haapsalu thought aloud.
Yet, in the middle of the carnage, there was a single elf. She had cast a shield spell on herself, and now she stood among the ruins, singing songs of victory. At the sight of this, some dwarves bowed their heads in sorrow, while some were filled with rage. Haapsalu did not hesitate. He took his tomahawk by his side and slowly made his way towards the elf.

He made quick work of her, as a proud company guardsman should.

---

Haapsalu was reminded of his distant past as he took a moment to truly survey what was left of the fallen soldiers. It would be best to move on, perhaps by meeting new faces. He clearly new the elf, but perhaps there were more important figures to whom he could introduce himself: for example, the lich, or the number of soldiers nearby. He continued hiking towards the top of the hill, approaching the human ((Powell)) and bowing. He again attempted communication. "Haapsalu Argyrix."

[Vahltunskhja]

Sergeant Césaire Arsenault
The Special Region - Alnus Hill

"I am in awe."

Truly, he was. He wasn't even angry. He knew he would be, in time. He also knew his knuckles were white on the grib of his C9, and that a voice in the back of his head was screaming every swear word he had come to possess along the full unadulterated bilingual spectrum of his upbringing. What he didn't know was how he managed to merely grit his teeth and spit into the dirt, turning to walk up the hill after the dwarf. This had been one hell of a snatch mission.

He halted next to the captain on his way, hesitating for a moment. "Cap'n Jonckheer, I..." He paused, letting out a sigh. "Thank you for preventing an incident. I'll take these folks to see the Major."

After taking his leave from the captain, he trudged back up the hill. Today had been... something. He hoped he'd get an hour to himself at some point, to rest his aching limbs. He needed a smoke and a sleep aman'né, but he doubted he'd have a second to spare given the circumstances. Finally coming up to the Major and Sergeant Major. "Found your Dwarf, sir. Though I suppose he found you himself. His giant friend certainly gave us a surprise, but she seems friendly enough. You want me to fetch a medic to check out his leg?"

He looked over at the natives, paying special attention to the pale woman's appearance and how the elf from before seemed to shrink away from her. He raised an eyebrow at this. "I hope we're all getting along."

Césaire shook his head and rested his crossed arms on his machine gun, looking into the distance at the engineers setting up shop. "Viarge... on n'est pas sorti du bois." He glanced over to the Major after a while, when he hoped it wouldn't be intrusive, adding "Sir, if you have a moment, I've got some... concerns. If you'll hear 'em."

[Ormata]

Private Tori Abadžić
Special Region - Alnus Hill

"I am in awe."

"Cap'n Jonckheer, I...Thank you for preventing an incident. I'll take these folks to see the Major."

"Found your Dwarf, sir. Though I suppose he found you himself. His giant friend certainly gave us a surprise, but she seems friendly enough. You want me to fetch a medic to check out his leg?"

"Sir, if you have a moment, I've got some... concerns. If you'll hear 'em."

During the incident, Tori struggled to neither smile at the clear issues between the groups, at the Corporal who didn’t seem to understand the difference between civilian and soldier, or to yell at him. The man could cause some significant issues in the future, and she didn’t know why the hell he was there. Why the hell was he there, er...here? What did he bring that a mentally-sound soldier could not? Why did he go?

It was annoying and it was concerning, to say the least. They all seemed to have their own issues. Tori shook her head; if this was what the UN had sent, then what would the natives truly be like?

[Shyluz]

Traugott, Wilkin A.
1st Special Region Company, Korporal
Alnus Hill, Special Region

It had been one thing after another for the poor radio operator. First, the moment they'd exited the Gate, they'd been engaged in a massacre against the nigh defenseless phalanx of legionnaires. They weren't monsters either, they were humans. Red-blooded humans. During the battle, Wilkin had turned off his emotions--a skill which he was thankful for--but he now knew the full atrocity he'd committed. It was a cold knot in his stomach, he still remembered the face of the first legionnaire he'd shot. A face of surprise, then fear, and finally agony before the light faded from his eyes. He shuddered as he recalled the image. He gulped down a swig of water from his canteen and returned to his radio. The radio wasn't receiving anything on the predetermined frequency. He gave a quick quizzical sigh before he returned to the monotonous task of flipping through frequencies. The usual frequencies weren't working. He knew the issue wasn't the radio itself, it had worked perfectly prior to entering the Gate, and he had used it without issue to communicate and coordinate the Company.

This all lead him to believe the issue lied with the Gate itself--it was blocking the signal somehow. He had a working theory--the Gate had a "membrane." This membrane was the threshold between his world--Earth--and the Special Region. After a few brief minutes of procuring what he needed, a solution to this theory had been found. He'd cannibalized the radios of several trucks--thankfully these weren't likely to operate outside of the base. He'd then constructed a very rudimentary switchboard, and he held the small wired transmitter his hand. Using a length of insulated wire scavenged from one of the trucks, the small transmitter wasn't particularly long-range. That wasn't an issue. All he had to do was get it on the other side of the Gate if Wilkin's idea was correct. He'd snagged one of the Americans--a particularly burly-looking one who had been smoking a cigarette by the...well, he supposed it was technically a motor pool now, and soon, he had his ear to the receiver. At first, it was static, then he signaled the American, who lobbed the rugged transmitter through the Gate like a baseball. Still static. Traugott held his breath. All he could hear was the faint crackling of static. And then, he heard it. At first, it was soft, barely audible. Then it got louder. And louder and he could start to make something out... it sounded like... Swedish? "Alpha-Alpha do you read?" A gentle female voice said, over and over, "Please confirm your status. This is Stockholm-Central, please respond. Alpha-Alpha do you copy?" After a sigh of relief and a brief victory dance, Traugott retrieved his microphone.

"Stockholm-Central, this is Alpha-Alpha-Switchboard, I read you," Wilkin spoke into the microphone, excitedly gesturing for the American man--a Staff-Sergeant by the name of B. Ross--to fetch the major. "I'm retrieving the major now, standby for a status report."

---

Traugott sat on the end of one of the trucks he'd cannibalized, having marked the truck as "Radio Inoperable, Do Not Use for Excursions" with a piece of chalk in a trio of languages. He now sat, idly sketching the field of battle and a diagram of the makeshift switchboard in his journal. He glanced at the hive of activity around him. Soldiers were unloading things, setting up defenses and organizing watches. To put his current feelings in layman's terms, he was bored. He was hoping his adventure would be more than creating a switchboard. He was hoping he'd learn exciting new languages, and meet new people or explore new worlds. So far he'd built a radio set that looked like something out of the '70s and slaughtered a couple hundred Romans. Exciting, yes. But it was not the kind he hoped for. He looked up for a moment, hoping idly that there would be some need of him soon, and gave a tired sigh.

[Zjaum]

Haapsalu looked around. Clearly this gathering of both sides could yield some benefit. He cursed himself for not having done anything to further communications. Oh well, now was as good a time as any to continue.
While Quuzj'mit was far easier and personally more beneficial to teach, being his native language and all, Common Imperial was probably the most useful to them. An angry foreign army was not something he could deal with alone. Now, where to start...
He took out his tomahawk and made hacking motions toward the ground, making the first few characters of the Imperial alphabet. After making a crude outline, he pointed to each character and made its respective sound. "Ei," "Kuh," "Dzo," "Ai," and so on and so forth.
This was about as good a start as any, and at least he would be in control of communications. A thought crossed his mind about how to use his newfound power. No, that would be too mischievous. But still...

Okoya had sat down, tired of standing after an hours-long walk and such a tense standoff. Her meditation was interrupted, however, as she saw Haapsalu with a consortium of different races and peoples assembled at the top of the hill. She might as well join them; there was no point in waiting here. She called out to the UN soldiers and reached out her arm, asking if any of them wanted a ride up the hill on her shoulders. ((OOC: The following happens whether or not the UN soldiers climb aboard)) She ran up the hill, accidentally stomping on a few tents along the way but ultimately unaffected. She approached the top, where Haapsalu was just finishing up a detailed Imperial alphabet. Ah, that was a language she hadn't heard for years, much less spoke! She sat down and listened to the lesson. It wouldn't hurt to have a refresher.

[Vahltunskhja]

Sergeant Césaire Arsenault
The Special Region - Alnus Hill
Hilltop Gathering

Césaire intertwined his fingers and cracked his knuckles, grimacing as he twisted his torso slightly to stretch his sore spine. It was a good thing he'd packed a couple of compresses for his lower back. He'd have to dig them out of his gear on one of the Swedish trucks in the slowly expanding UN camp at some point.

In the meantime he leaned forward slightly to watch as the dwarf seemed to scratch an alphabet into the ground with a handaxe. Crossing his arms and resting them on his SAW as he watched with some interest, he realized that the words and symbols the dwarf was indicating was probably the sounds each letter made. Hmph. It was like he was back in prématernelle. He smiled slightly at the thought and looked up at those gathered around him.

A couple of the UN troops were watching, and one or two of the forward thinking types were silently trying to mouth the dwarf's words or were scribbling down the symbols for later reference. The pale woman from before was there, still garbed in black and giving the elf the willies - he wasn't feeling too comfortable either. She seemed almost... fantomatique. Like she wasn't quite alive. Judging by what'd he'd seen in the place so far, he doubted it was anything like a particularly good Halloween costume. He kept an eye on her as he wandered over to a familiar looking Yank.

The USAF Parajumper was close by, the one he'd seen earlier in the Swedish chow hall. That seemed like a distant memory after today - literally a world away. 2nd Lieutenant Mason, if he recalled correctly. He had a young girl with him that he hadn't taken a close look at before, but now he gazed at her with some surprise. Less striking than her green skin was the defiance with which she looked at the Major and other UN soldiers.

"Leftenant, where'd you pick up this one? She don't look too pleased to be here." He looked over at her with concern. She was probably around the same age as his daughter, or his niece for that matter. Had the same look in her eyes that the two of them got sometimes, now that he thought about it. He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile before looking back over at the 2LT. The giant woman came stomping up and sat down as the Dwarf looked up from his alphabet with an almost mischievous glint in his eyes. The sight of their rag-tag, almost surreal group managed to bring a smile to his face. Half a dozen different uniforms and alien races all looked with each other a varying mix of confusion, wonder, and fascination.

"Quite the gathering of folks we've got here, eh?"

[Bentus]

Osira
Alnus Hilltop

---

The invading commander didn’t immediately address Osira. Her heart was pounding incessantly in her chest, but the girl refused to allow the fear to show on her features. She would gain nothing by appearing weak before the invaders.

“Get this abomination away! Why are you speaking to it? Walking beside it? Are you fools? Get it away from yourselves. Get it away from the battlefield. Most certainly get it away from the dead.”

The smooth voice spoke in perfect – if somewhat accented – Common, and with an undeniable tone of authority. Turning to its source, Osira saw the elf addressing the Demons with an urgency that bordered on defiant. The young Green Priest couldn’t help but allow a nugget of curiosity to rest itself in her thoughts as she looked over the older woman. While elves were not an uncommon sight within Omashu – the Order drawing in many Wood Elves especially – she had never once laid eyes on of their dark-skinned kin. They were said to be malicious, scheming creatures according to Imperial teachings, choosing to live underground rather than in the nourishing rays of the Sun. However, it was the recipient of the elf’s ire that dominated the scene.

Instinctively, Osira’s eyes shot open in shock, her jaw dropping as her eyes became locked on the skeletal limb that extended menacingly before the elf. The Lich’s expression was blank, its two emotionless eyes staring out from their pale surroundings. The melodic voice that emerged from the creature’s lips sent a shiver running down Osira’s spine, the unnatural sound railing against the fibre of her being. She could feel the magic around her shudder and recoil from the Lich, its mere presence upsetting the peaceful order of the world. What would a necromancer be doing at Alnus? Why would one of their ilk defile such holy ground with their corruptive magics?

Did she bring the Demons here?

Osira felt a surge of dread wash over her at the thought. She glanced over towards the humans with an accusatory appraisal, as if piercing their eyes in search of any sign of a soul within. One was staring straight back at her, and Osira met his gaze. She wouldn’t be the one to turn away, to surrender to her desire to keel over and beg for mercy.

The man smiled at her.

The young girl flinched in surprise, her eyes immediately darting away at the unexpected gesture. Why had he smiled? It hadn’t been a grin of malice or ill-intent, but rather an expression of kindness that echoed from the depths of the soldier’s eyes. Osira’s stomach tied itself into confused knots, uncertain how to react. The older man began to address the Demon that had captured her back at the camp, their words flying over the girl’s head. Mentally, she tried to grab onto those that she could, trying to tease some sense of meaning from the elusive phrases.

It appeared as if the others had similar ideas, and it wasn’t long before a dwarf appeared – armed much to Osira’s confusion and continued surprise, perhaps he was an ally of the invaders? The stout figure began to carve out the Imperial alphabet, sounding out each phonetic in an apparent effort to being to teach the Demons how to speak. Osira resolutely remained silent during the exchange, if the invaders knew their language, wouldn’t that give them an advantage? The girl’s eyes narrowed at the thought, realising that perhaps such influence could go both ways.

[Zjaum]

"...khoi, psoi, oo, megoi." There. The full alphabet. Now for standard greetings. He waved at one of the foreign soldiers. "Salrete." He saluted. "Avrete." He turned his back. "Valetio." He repeated this a few times, just to make sure they got the point. Let's see, what's next. Probably verbs. That should be fun, if not productive.
He paused. Hello. There's a human woman, about Okoya's age, dressed like a wood elf. Not like the wood elves he had encountered; most of them were dead. Curious, nonetheless. Why would anyone want to be like those self-righteous, self-destructive people? She was staring right at him, with equal parts defiance, fear, and confusion. He flashed a smirk in her direction. Typical for a wood elf. Perhaps this one could actually learn something useful, like proper grammar, for once. He motioned for her to join the crowd. He wasn't sure if she could with her hands behind her back, but at least he would get some entertainment in seeing her try.
He turned back to his audience. He had only paused for a few seconds, even though it felt like minutes. Where was he? Ah, yes, verbs. He walked in a small circle. "Amboltes." He ran in a small circle. "Trekhorrei." It just dawned on him that this would take a laughably long time to produce on entire lexicon, but it was at least worth the effort.

[The Tophat Empire]

April 14th | 1132 hours
Day 14 of Operation Forward Unto Dawn
UN FOB, Alnus Hill, Special Region

---

Wiking stood inside a large round tent, centrally placed on the top of the hill, a sign outside informing in both English, French, and imperial that this was the Field HQ tent, inside rows of radios and other communication equipment, as well as a large table containing several maps of the special region. Using the new knowledge of the friendlier natives, what information the swedish government had gotten from those that survived the initial attack, as well as what information the small recon parties had been sent in before Wiking and his company. Not that wiking had seen any of those maps. they had arrived on the fourth day, together with reinforcements. A mortar battery, A section of MP, a dedicated unit of Radio operators and support personnel, 2 Platoons of Infantry to help guard the base, and 2 more platoons of Sappers, that had spent the past week and a half creating a fort of HESCO barriers surrounding the tents, men, vehicles and material that occupied the hill.

Likewise so the swedish government had in secret prepared a basic book of vocabulary and phrases, why was wiking and his men not given this, wiking did not know, and command refused to tell. Wiking stood inside the tent with a headset pressed against his ear, on the other end sat his superiors, chewing him out, as usual. "Yes sir, i understand sir, but i lack the men" wiking said, seemingly interrupted "No sir, yes sir, as you command sir" he continued when he was allowed. He had been standing there by the radio with the headset against his ear for close to half an hour now, with a RTO sitting in the folding chair below wikings bent chest. His helmet more than once dumping down onto the RTO's field cap from it's position clipped onto wikings harness. At last wiking rose up, handed back the headset, it covered in more sweat than before wiking got it. Wiking placed his hands behind his back and pushed them forward, creating several cracking sounds as his vertebras were realigned.

Wiking thanked the RTO and left the tent, walking towards the tent he had. As commander of the force he had managed to request a tent for himself, and all the still classified information it held. His tent was close to the Field HQ, and outside it stood a man in M/90 uniform, with a uncommon collar insignia, he was from SÄKK, and his job was to make sure the classified information inside the tent stayed hidden. Wiking walked into the tent, ignoring the SÄKK soldier to mark his distaste of his presence. He walked up to the saml foldable desk he had, and opened up the heavy duty laptop that stood on it. He then started to access the personnel files. His orders were in, a recon unit was to be assembled....

[to be continued soon]

[Zjaum]

Haapsalu stood across a desk from a number of UN soldiers, his best teacher's face in full display. In perfect English, he commanded: "All right. Say you approach a common citizen and are looking to reach higher authorities. Recite for me: 'Take me to your emperor.'"
The UN soldiers responded in unison, in perfect Imperial: "Take me to your fork."
"Good, good!" Haapsalu replied, trying his absolute best not to crack a smile. He had diligently worked to ensure that the soldiers had learned every bit of Imperial grammar, but he took the liberty of moving one or two words in the lexicon around, just short of attracting the lich's or either of the elves' attentions. "Now, then, you are about to eat with the high command, but the table is empty! Say: "How can we eat if there is no food or wine?"
"How can we riot if there is no peace or money?"
"Great!" Haapsalu exclaimed as he peered out of the tent flap to ensure that no native Imperials were around. "Now, I believe that is all for today. We shall work on the Imperial fifth declension tomorrow, if we have the chance. Dismissed!"
The UN soldiers shuffled out of the tent, and Haapsalu peered out into the forest's edge to see if Okoya was around; she said that she would be back by noontime today, if all went well. Sure enough, Okoya parted the trees and began to approach the encampment. Haapsalu met her at the camp's border.

"So, how was the debacle at the Gahnospinel Mining Company?" asked Haapsalu.
"Exactly as you said, sir. The situation resolved itself. This is the fourth time so far that I've had to walk back and forth from the mines, even since the beginning of the season! I am rather tired at this point, though; when is lunch?"
"It hasn't happened yet, but it will soon."
"All right. Would they mind if I took a nap before reporting my travels?"
"They can talk to me if they do; I have to do most of the talking for you, anyway. On your journey, did you practice the English drills I taught you?"
"Yes. To confirm: has been, have been, was, were, would be, would be, had been, had been, is, are, is going to be, are going to be, will have been, will have been, will be, will be?"
"You confused the 'has been' and 'have been' with the two 'had been' fragments."
"I can't do this!" Okoya shouted in frustration. "There are too many verbs!"
"Be grateful that there aren't any Imperial declensions, Okoya. Count your blessings!"
"Yes, sir. Say, I don't believe you've been to my finished dwelling yet! Would you care to come?"
"Please."

It took several minutes from the base to approach the dwelling. With the help of a number of UN soldiers, Okoya had managed to dig a small pit, stack a number of tree branches together Lincoln-Log-style, and fill the gaping holes such that, even if she couldn't stand inside the house, she could at least sit down and have shelter from any potential storm. Haapsalu surveyed the structure. "I can see which corners are yours and which ones are the UN soldiers'."
"Give them a break; they're trained to fight, not to dig holes."
"Also, they were probably short on time." Haapsalu paused. "But even still, you'd think that they'd have smoother edges! And that they'd have taken better advantage of the soil! And-"
He paused again. "Would you mind if I take a moment to work on the corners? I shouldn't take long, but this is really bothering me."
Okoya nodded and chuckled. "I'll be at the main camp. Should I wait for you to give my report?"
"Please wait, but you don't have to if the matter is urgent."
Okoya ran off towards the foreigners' camp. Perhaps it would be her big chance to finally communicate with the UN soldiers in their native language.

[British Prussia]

Corporal Alexander Blake, Royal New Zealand Signallers
Iraq, Taji

"Fuuuck this traffic..." Corporal Blake was sprawled out in the back of an American Humvee. "Don't know about you Blake, but I'm gonna cook in here, stepping out..." Corporal Blake suddenly straightened "Officer stepping out!" the Corporal grabbed his Steyr rifle. "Wish the Americans would fix the bloody A/C on this piece of shit." the lieutenant looked at Corporal Blake, who really didn't know what to say. "So... Blake, how are the Kebabs doing? They able to hit their targets with reasonable speed and accuracy?" the officer smiled. "Well, sir, they're a bit slow on the orders, but they can hit targets. Though they go through shells quite quickly." "That's expected, after all the backbone of the Iraqi Army is American airstrikes and artill... Oh... Hello." "I am sorry", a woman approached, pulling the kid back, who had run up to the officer, and was just staring at him. "No, no that's quite alright... A Nirvana fan?" the lieutenant gestured towards the boy's shirt. "They're my favourite, and my mate's girlfriend here loves them too." the Corporal became quite irritated at the mention of his ex. "Can we have selfie?" the boy looked up at the officer. "Sure, why not? You've got good taste in music after all." smiling, the lieutenant looked at Blake, who was frozen in shock. What was happening? The woman seemed to be stabbing his lieutenant in the neck, but that wasn't possible... But... The Corporal raised his rifle, switched to fully automatic, and pulled the trigger.


Corporal Alexander Blake, NZDF
Alnus Hill, Special Region

"You've just been killed by an Imperial, soldier! For fuck's sake, we've been at this for two bloody weeks!" Corporal Blake looked at the other soldiers, they were all younger men, it was apparent enough that this was their first serious deployment. "What did I tell you lot? This is the home stretch of your rather rushed training, stay fucking vigilant! When dealing with natives in close proximity you shouldn't let your guard down." the Corporal's tone had suddenly dampened, almost to a soothing and caring level. "You must remember, we are a foreign occupying force, not everyone will be happy with this arrangement."

"You", he addressed a soldier, "You just let your partner get killed. Always cover your men," he gestured at a couple of soldiers "Because while they might not be paying any attention, you are in a position to intervene. So... We'll run this simulati--"

*thump* *thump* *thump*

The Corporal let out a sigh. "Truthfully, I doubt you lot will likely be put in this situation. Not unless we invade the rest of the Empire. But still, never hurts to be prepared. If you ever get anything out of this, just remember, positioning and concealment. Personally, that's helped me out more than anything else. Some," he pointed at the 'dead' soldier "just weren't lucky."

*THUMP* *THUMP* *THUMP*

"It's her again... Ready boys?" he faced the giant. "Seig heil! Sieg heil! Seig heil!" the corporal, and all his men, gave three Nazi prussian salutes in quick succession, much to the amusement of the gate guards. "Very good. Run the simulation again please."

[Monfrox]

Corporal Graves had been helping to supervise some establishment of barracks in the sense of separating the females and males, and the soldiers from the civilians. But usually, it was guard duty that she was assigned to. This was bull! She was a Ranger! Sure she wasn't ready to jump out into danger, but anything was better than just sitting here and doing nothing! Then again, they needed to cover their asses. Last thing they wanted was another repeat of Stockholm within the same month. Bad press, bad rep. The media would point the finger at them despite them doing their damnedest. It was the nature of things, and it still pissed her off. She hoped Powell would have good news for them soon.

But while good news was hoped, bad news was doled out. See, not much could be done around base without the resident Sergeant Major hearing about it. With the fiasco of an engagement narrowly avoided by the quick action of one of their resident Canadians, Powell sought to keep an eye out. These were not the operators she was used to having watch her back, and this was not the way she was used to things working. Then again, she went from basic frontline infantry, to green beret, to Delta and saw a lot of shit along the way. The shit she saw now, though, was something else. Something out of Buffalo Soldiers.

The Sergeant Major made her rounds, and came upon the resident giantess walking by some of the other UN soldiers on a training mission, to which they were giving her the high-handed salute. Well, joke or no joke, that was not allowed here. She thought she made that clear before, but evidently not. Well, this is what NJPs were for.

"Corporal Blake!" Powell called out in that tone of voice that was simultaneously a friendly greeting while at the same time sounding so forceful that it made your asshole clench up in fear.

She walked up, the Cheshire smile still on her face as she circled around, looking him right in the eyes. Yes, this was the same one thinking it was funny and harmless to hand an M84 to someone more than twice his size.

"Did you miss the brief about interacting with the natives? I hope so, cause there isn't an excuse for what you're doing right now. Unless you want to beat the dirt with your face, you better put that hand down right now."

Though still in her black multicam, she didn't have her plate carrier on, and it wasn't hard to see why. Powell was very well-endowed for her stature. Likely to the point of having been handed a custom-made vest to fit those huge bombs under it, with each one being about as big as her head. Her combat shirt was all soft fabric, leaving just enough to the imagination. Of course, she was still the Sergeant Major, and her sleeves were rolled today up around her biceps that were much bigger than the Corporal probably ever saw on a woman. Her forearm tattoo was also showing as well. She was a hell of a lot of woman, and she wasn't afraid to show it.

[British Prussia]

"Corporal Blake!"

What is it now?... the Corporal turned. Sergeant Major Powell approached, with her smile, but obviously not one of appreciation. But the Corporal smiled too, a lot, usually with glee, and this was one of the occasions.

"Ah, Sergeant Major, may we help you?"

"Did you miss the brief about interacting with the natives? I hope so, cause there isn't an excuse for what you're doing right now. Unless you want to beat the dirt with your face, you better put that hand down right now."

"There was a brief about them? No, I'm afraid I must've missed that out." the Corporal replied, losing the smile and seeming quite disinterested. "I've had more important duties lately. Security reports for the Major, language school, officer's school, and training these men to be a little more effective than conscripts. Might you catch me up? Have the UN given these... locals human rights yet? I wouldn't have thought it likely. They aren't really known for expediency are they?" the Corporal now looking towards the rest of the base.

The Corporal paused, and smiled again, this time with genuine happiness: "Ah, I know what we can do. You can tell me all about it over some tea perhaps? There's nothing much to do here, I doubt these men will get much better without actual experience. I've got Mariage Frères, I've got their selections from New Zealand and Formosa, though I recommended you try the latter, even the Major wouldn't have access to such a fine harvest. I had an old leftenant used to enjoy the little luxuries I'd bring in Iraq. Perhaps you'd appreciate it more than the others."

[Hetland 2]

Haapsalu stood across a desk from a number of UN soldiers, his best teacher's face in full display. In perfect English, he commanded: "All right. Say you approach a common citizen and are looking to reach higher authorities. Recite for me: 'Take me to your emperor.'"
The UN soldiers responded in unison, in perfect Imperial: "Take me to your fork."
"Good, good!" Haapsalu replied, trying his absolute best not to crack a smile. He had diligently worked to ensure that the soldiers had learned every bit of Imperial grammar, but he took the liberty of moving one or two words in the lexicon around, just short of attracting the lich's or either of the elves' attentions. "Now, then, you are about to eat with the high command, but the table is empty! Say: "How can we eat if there is no food or wine?"
"How can we riot if there is no peace or money?"
"Great!" Haapsalu exclaimed as he peered out of the tent flap to ensure that no native Imperials were around. "Now, I believe that is all for today. We shall work on the Imperial fifth declension tomorrow, if we have the chance. Dismissed!"
The UN soldiers shuffled out of the tent, and Haapsalu peered out into the forest's edge to see if Okoya was around; she said that she would be back by noontime today, if all went well. Sure enough, Okoya parted the trees and began to approach the encampment. Haapsalu met her at the camp's border.

The Lich however was closer than the dwarf had predicted, he'd done an adequate job teaching them how to speak it, but she'd begun to discover some inconsistencies in the training he'd been giving them. As such, she took it upon her self to correct these mistakes in his lessons. However, the students appeared to have been pleased with their lessons, coming out talking happily. She checked her time, she had to prepare for the translation between the green elf and the humans, but she needed to make corrections if there were any.

She raised her skeletal hand which burned in a dark flame, "D̝̝̳ar̨̹̹͚k̪͟ḙ̡̩s͎̭͔̺̙ͅt͓̫̲̺̠ͅ ͡S̸c̺̭̭̤̦͖̳o̳͕̲rp͍̦̞͉i̬͖͙̱̗o̫̭͖,̸̟̹̙͈̭̗̣ ͓̭̪̲̣b̡̺͕͉̭̰̯e͚̲͎c̱̻̘̙͔om̲͎͍e̻̲͡ ̫͔̣͖̩͈m̷͖͕̩̫̲̪y̝͓̱̝ ͞g҉u̞̟̯̭i̻̮̳̪̝ͅͅd̙̹̗̗̖̮e̢̻̮̥̳̼̹d͓̬̹̖̼̙̤ ͎̙̣̠ͅh̻̮͎̘̳ͅa̼̞̙͍̤̝͢ǹ͍̖̮̤̖d̳̠̣̼͔ ̖͈̼a͚̣̘̫n̥̙͍̠d͓ ̷̖̯̹̩do̩͕ ̟͖̪̤͖̩͜m̛̗͙̺̪̙y̢̭̯͖̝̠͕ ̱̻̟͢b̷̺͈̞̻̖i̗̦̼͈̱͎͕d̤͈͇̖d͓̞̦̰͖̣ḭ͟n͚̥͖̭̰g̺̹̫,͙̥ ͏̜̬̥I̝ ̟̞̳̖̻͞c̨͎͓̭a̤͎͠l͎l͔̪̘͔̻̖͖ ̢͎up̶͈̖̞̱͙o̖̘̹̟̦n̠͉̹͕̥̤͡ ̫̜̜ţhe͕͓e̸̟̫͔!͕͎"

Her shadow slowly split itself off from her and began growing changing and reforming until it became a perfect replica of her own form. She placed her hand upon Shadow-lich's chest and spoke softly, "Go my child. Speak for me, and do my bidding." The shadow simply nodded and floated off, towards the tent where the meeting was taking place, and she approached one of the soldiers and began speaking softly, in her assimilated voice.
"Tell me child, what did you learn from the Dwarf?"

[Bentus]

United Nations Encampment
The Special Region

A collaboration between Hetland 2, Bentus and The Commonwealth of Vahltunskhja.

---

The soldiers led Osira to one of the unmarked tents that had sprung up as part of the invaders’ camp. She still struggled to decipher the layout of the facility, every structure appearing in the same dull shade of green that seemed to blend into the fields from a distance. It was a far cry from the proud vibrancy of the Imperial camp that still lay abandoned at the bottom of the hill. Osira couldn’t help but wonder if the other world was devoid of colour, as drab and dry as everything the soldiers seemed to have brought with them. An image of the World Forest flashed back into her mind, a wild grove filled with flowers of unimaginable variety: a spectrum of life nestled deep within the upper fronds. The memory brought a slight smile to the girl’s face as the entrance flap was drawn aside, her escort gesturing with his free hand for her to enter before him.

The room was Spartan in appearance, if not outwardly intimidating. A single desk and a free seat awaited her, with some of the strange magical candles that the invaders seemed to favour providing a comforting illumination. Taking her place in the chair, Osira offered a smile to the man sitting before it. He was one of the humans who had been there when she’d first been brought into the camp, the one which had smiled at her back on the hilltop. She hadn’t really interacted with any of those soldiers since then, having been surrounded either by the silent escorts or the ‘linguists’.

Osira’s eyes rested for a moment on the Lich – her presence having been expected, but still causing the young girl to squirm instinctively. Regardless, Osira tried to offer a faint smile before her eyes darted away from the pale features back to the man behind the desk.

“Hel-lo.” She offered. The standard greeting, she had been told. “Pleased to meet you.”

"Hello." Césaire replied, the Canadian soldier looking up from a sheet of papers and giving her a polite smile. "How are you today, Ms. Osira?"

“I am well.”

He wasn’t sure if she was just repeating phrases, or if she really meant it, but she did seem a bit more comfortable than when he last saw her on top of the hill. A half an hour ago he'd been told that as one of the first to make contact with the Special Region's inhabitants and among the more experienced enlisted when it came to UN peacekeeping deployments, he'd be the man interviewing one of the local inhabitants and had thirty minutes to learn the basics of Imperial and receive his briefing. Captain Gardner and the linguists had their work cut out for them, and someone in the chain of command thought chatting with a familiar face might put the natives at ease. Ease was relative, he supposed. Awkwardness and apprehension on both sides was to be expected at first when interacting with a local population, even more so when making contact with an entirely new civilization.

Still, a forty-one year old Canadian non-commissioned officer didn't seem like the best choice for the job - some kind of scientist perhaps, hell, even an officer or a diplomat seemed like a smarter choice. Talking down battle hardened Serb militias and establishing relations with Afghan civilians was one thing, but he wasn't quite sure what to make of the green-skinned young woman and spectre-like necromancer sitting across from him. At least now he'd maybe get to answer some questions that'd been gnawing at his mind ever since he stepped through the Gate.

He nodded to the newly appointed undead interpreter. "Lady Sherianna, if you're all set to begin." He started out by asking a few simple things, letting the lich translate his words and relay them to Osira, before waiting for her to reply and looking back to the necromancer for the response.

The Lich nodded slowly, tenting her hands together. “I was waiting on you.” She had chosen to remain “standing” to prevent her dress from getting wrinkles, though her lack of legs would have made sitting rather strange either way.

"Do you need anything? Have you been treated well?" He scribbled something down on the papers with a pencil before setting it to the side and introducing himself and his purpose slowly and clearly for the benefit of the others. "My name is Sergeant Césaire Arsenault. I've been tasked by the United Nations to ask you some questions, if you're comfortable with that, to better avoid future conflict with the inhabitants here."

The Lich paused for a second, as if deciding how to proceed before speaking in Osira’s native tongue, a flawless if brusque male voice, which probably belonged to a nobleman of some kind. Before repeating the question back to the Soldier in Grave’s voice, letting the two know clearly what sort of voice she’d be using for translations.

Osira was taken aback by the initial question, not having expected the soldier to immediately enquire about her own well being. Was it some kind of a test?

“We have all been treated very kindly.” Her brow furrowed as she tried to form a response before falling back on Imperial. “You have given us food and beds, for which I am most thankful.” Food and beds? That was an understatement, and Osira knew it. She could still smell the incredible aroma of the meals that they had been served.

“It’s not much, but I’m glad you’re comfortable.” He noted down her response and mulled over what was to come next. The UN needed answers, and they needed them as soon as physically possible. He tried not to let his own personal curiosity show as he looked down the list he'd been provided with, outlining the various intelligence they were in urgent need of - things ranging from the location of major roadways and the variety of sentient species to enemy strength in the region and military organization. He gave the paper another quick once over before setting it aside for the moment, clasping his hands and setting them on the desk.

"Now I'm sure you have some questions of your own, and I will be happy to answer them if I can. I'll answer a few to begin with, before we move on. Whenever you're ready to start."

Her eyes widening in surprise, Osira had to bite her tongue less she launch into an unending tirade. How do your staffs throw fire? How do you make the metal boxes move? How do you get so much hot water even in the dead of night? What is my bed made of and why is it so soft? How do your magic candles work? Merely the thoughts were enough to leave her breathless.

“Why are you here?”

The question was in English, and Osira regretted it as soon as the words had spilled from her mouth. She turned away in nervous shame, her eyes darting aside. Stupid girl! The question had been roiling around in her heart since she had hid herself in the Commander’s tent, since she had first seen the Demons cut down the Imperial army. It had been that unyielding, insatiable question that could never be satisfied in its entirety: why.

Sherianna turned her dark eyes on Osira, not in surprise that she’s learned english so quickly, but why she seemed to be trying to hide it.

Césaire nodded. He’d been expecting something along those lines, and almost chuckled. Broad and complex, but if anyone deserved an explanation it was those who had been swept up in this confusion and conflict. He took some time thinking over his response.

“A perfectly reasonable question. A very important one too.” One he asked himself every hour he was in this place. He ran his fingers through his greying moustache as he leaned back and tried to keep his explanation as simple and understandable as possible.

“Just over three months ago,” he began slowly, “the Gate appeared in our world. The Empire sent their forces through the Gate and attacked a city called Stockholm, in a nation known as Sweden. We don’t know why they attacked, or why the Gate appeared, or why it appeared where it did. There wasn’t any warning. But we know they murdered innocents before they were defeated and driven back. Where we come from, killing women, children, and the unarmed, and attacking without warning or reason, are among the most serious crimes any person or country can commit.”

He paused, picking up his blue UN beret and fiddling with the badge, taking it off and setting the wreathed globe symbol down in front of her. “Sweden is just one of 193 countries that are a part of a group known as the United Nations, or UN. The UN is meant to keep the peace between these nations and solve disputes - sometimes soldiers called “peacekeepers” are sent to keep warring factions apart and protect people during conflicts. When Sweden was attacked, they asked for peacekeepers from all nations to help them find out who attacked them and what was beyond the Gate.”

“We’re here to explore this world and make peace with its inhabitants. Our immediate goal right now is to learn as much as we can and try to convince the Empire to make peace.”

The Lich translated as best she could, picking words and phrases with a precision that only many lifetimes of expertise in a language could provide. Regardless, Osira struggled to follow as confusion increasingly seeped onto her face. The Empire had no word for ‘peacekeeper’, the concept of international soldiers being deployed to prevent conflicts being an entirely foreign one to their culture. Nor did Osira have any analogy for an organisation like the United Nations - it sounded like a grand Empire that covered the entirety of the world beyond the Gate. Did that make this ‘Sweden’ a province of the United Nations?

“Peace?” The revelations of what the Empire had done in the other world caught Osira off guard. She had no idea that the legions had crossed the boundary prior to the invasion, let alone lay siege to one of the invader’s cities. Osira felt a slight rekindling of fear in her chest. If the invaders reacted with such ferocity to the minor incursion, to the killing of their citizens in the horrifying melee of war, then what were they capable of when truly crossed?

The thought caused a shudder to run down Osira’s spine.

The Empire was a nation of conquest and triumph, having not lost a war in generations - and with nearly every victory ending in the vassalisation of their foe. For the Empire, peace almost certainly corresponded with victory, but Osira wasn’t sure what it meant to the man sitting before her.

“If you are trying to make peace, is the UN going to conquer the Empire?” She wondered how the United Nations treated its vassals. If Sweden was a conquered province and they reacted so strongly to an attack upon it, then perhaps they would be treated with mercy. “There are those who would rather die than live with the dishonour of seeing the Empire collapse in their lifetime.” She stated, matter-of-factly.

Césaire nodded, slowly making several notes. At the moment, he didn’t think overthrowing the regime was going to be their course of action. The last thing the UN needed was another Iraq, this time with dragons instead of IEDs. “The UN does not make peace by conquering. We do it by negotiating fair agreements. Our goal is to make the Imperials see reason and make amends for their actions.” He paused. “We don’t want to fight a war, if we don’t have to, but we have orders to defend ourselves.”

“If we know who is in charge and how things work, we can set up peace talks. If you can explain to us how their government works, how your society functions, we can understand each other better and this will lead to a greater chance to end this conflict before it escalated further. ”

Is the United Nations so powerful that they need not even fight to defeat their enemies? It was a terrifying thought. Osira squirmed slightly at Arsenault’s question, biting her lip as she mulled it over in her mind. The Sergeant seemed to be speaking sincerely, truthfully. Maybe they really didn’t want to fight a war? To kill? But why wouldn’t they with such overwhelming power?

“The Emperor is the only one with the authority to rule over the Empire and decide upon the best path for its people. He was selected by the Gods by the grace of his birth within the royal family.” Surely, Osira reasoned, there couldn’t be any harm in revealing what was common knowledge? “He graciously listens to the advice of the people through the Senate, which deliberates and proposes laws for the Emperor’s approval. Both the Senate and the Palace are located in the Capital, Sadera.” Osira paused for a moment, thinking about anything else she could mention.

“There are also the provinces and vassals of the Empire, most having been conquered in past campaigns. Usually they are led by a governor appointed by the Emperor or a King who swears fealty to the royal family.” Osira smiled as memories of her home once again swam around in her mind. “I am from Omashu province, although we border the Kingdom of Alguna - one of the oldest vassals of the Empire. Originally we were part of the Kingdom, but during the conquests the Empire welcomed us as one of their own. It’s a beautiful place, with trees taller than the highest building!” The girl’s eyes had lit up as she spoke. “You can run for miles without ever once needing to set foot on the ground, and if you were to fall the forest would catch you as if you were family. Of course my parents think it’s all too dirty, but -”

Osira stopped, smiling sheepishly as she realised that the Sergeant most likely cared little for the stories of her home.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to get carried away. Did you have any other questions, Sir Arsenault?”

Césaire smiled, even as he mulled over this new information in his mind. “No need to apologize; it sounds like a very beautiful place.” He flipped over a sheet of paper and nodded. “Yes, actually. There are many creatures and cultures here that we have not encountered before. The people among you who are not human - how many different races are there? What are they like, and what’s their relationship within the Empire?”

The question caught Osira off-guard. Why would the United Nations be interested in the non-humans? The young girl looked puzzled as she tried to figure out what Césaire wanted. Are they planning to attack them as well? Or maybe they are looking for allies against the Empire. Slowly realisation began to dawn for her, the way in which all the invaders seemed to look at the elf, the dwarf, the giant. She had always assumed that it was the same suspicious glare that the Imperials reserved for them. But hidden behind the mistrust and caution, these humans looked at the others with curiosity.

“The non-humans...” They’ve never seen non-humans before have they? Osira didn’t even know where to start. “Humans are the most populous race in the world, and the Empire is a human kingdom, although some of the conquered provinces were originally held by the other races - and auxiliaries sometimes fight in the legions.” An entire world of only humans. Osira couldn’t even picture what such a thing would be like.

She told Césaire what she knew, doing her best to recall the lessons she had received as an acolyte, or drawing on the stories she had gleaned from visiting Priests. She talked about the elves - from their deceitful dark-skinned kin and the mistrust that they had earned, to the noble wood elves of the forest. She recounted what she knew about the dwarves and their industry, how they spread like a cancer from their mountains in search of ore and minerals with no regard for the forests or the lives that suffer in their wake. She spoke of the Orcish tribes that roamed the plains, raiding and pillaging or warring for the highest bidder as the Imperial legions fought to keep them away from the bastions of civilization. And those were only some of the most notable, without even considering the Warrior Bunnies or the giants. Osira talked for hours, answering any questions that Césaire had as much as she could, but she could never hope to recall an entire world’s worth of history and culture - not that she had ever known it all herself to begin with.

“And there are others as well.” Osira paused, glancing nervously at the Lich that still patiently translated her every word. She hesitated at the sight of the malformed creature, its skeletal arm hanging as an ominous reminder of its nature. Osira changed from Imperial to English before turning back to the sergeant, doing her best to form sentences in the foreign language. “Like the non-dead. Like Liches. They are not natural, and are spoken of in the stories.” Osira looked straight at the United Nations soldier, becoming visibly uncomfortable. “They are not good.”

Sgt. Arsenault raised his eyebrows and looked between Osira and Sherianna, stopping his frantic scribbling. It was a good thing they’d been recording this - his hurried notes couldn’t have hoped to capture the entirety of what she had said. He was, however, more worried about the relationship between Osira and their interpreter.

Sherianna looked unconcerned about the comment. Distrust and hatred of the undead not uncommon to say the least. “I only wish to find a place for my followers to rest their weary souls once and for all” She spoke to Osira directly. “And I will do whatever it takes for there to create that place. Your people drove me to this alliance. You turned my hand against you.” Her voice seamlessly changed to Graves’ as she turned to the Sergeant. “Sergeant. Don’t worry about the details. I had a Shade transcribing it once I realized you were taking notes. It might take a few hours for me to translate it but I shall have it ready with the other books I thought you might appreciate.”

“Ah, thank you Miss Sherianna.” He looked between the two for another moment before pretending to look over his papers. “Well, she at least was kind enough to translate for us.” He sat back and scratched his face, looking down at the mass of documents and notes. In between writing everything down he didn’t have time to be bewildered and amazed at the huge array of different species and creatures in this place. And from the sounds of it, they didn’t get along all that much with each other at times. That at least sounded familiar.

Osira meanwhile shuddered at the Lich’s words, the gaze of the undead sending a cold shiver running down her spine. Immediately, the girl regretted her words, regretted drawing the necromancer’s attention. Shrinking into her chair, Osira averted her gaze from Sherianna. When she opened her mouth to address the Sergeant once again, she had clearly become more uneasy.

“Would that be all, Sergeant?”

Césaire looked up with raised eyebrows, giving her a nod. It wasn’t hard to spot the tension in the room. “Oui, eh, yes. That will be all for today, I think.” He checked his watch, noting they’d spent a good few hours talking despite the feeling that he’d barely scratched the surface here. Best give everyone a break and process what they had before digging any further. Not to mention what they had now would undoubtedly prove invaluable.

He rose and leaned across the table with a smile to shake her hand. “Hopefully this’ll help us understand each other better. If you have any more questions or need anything, come find me or the Major. We’ll be happy to help.”

[Zjaum]

Okoya reached the gates to receive a battery of Roman salutes. How quaint! She bowed in return. For some reason, this perfectly normal salute in her land seemed to make the soldiers uneasy. Even now, the soldiers' eyes were passing around, as if this was a difficult task to do. She smiled. Though she had interacted with these foreigners for a bit less time than what Haapsalu spent, she could read people far better than Haapsalu ever could. Perhaps that was why she was an executive.

One of the better-known higher-ups began what Okoya had come to call kolya-tauka: "sweet-shouting," at the officer in charge here, the "Blaik" who had handed her the present. In a loud voice, she would talk to a soldier in a friendly manner, with daggers in her smiles. It was curious to watch, at least, but she must attend more pressing matters. She bowed at the higher-up, recalling her name to be Poul. She knelt and waited for the spat to be over before interrupting, in broken English: "Must report now." Remembering that Poul would most likely be listening to the report, she spoke, "Follow?"

She got up and stepped over the hastily-made metal wire wall and cautiously headed for the camp. There were many breakable things here, and she wouldn't want to break her perfect record thus far. Well, almost perfect...

She sat down at the table and waited for Haapsalu and the rest of the higher-ups to attend the meeting space. Most people seemed to notice her movement, so it would only be a matter of time before they showed up.


Haapsalu hustled as fast he could towards the camp. The foreign doctor said that "strenuous exercise should be avoided at all costs," but, then again, the doctor didn't know much about dwarves. He hustled past the small squad at the gate and gave them a quick Roman salute before using the door into the camp. He was, by a fraction of a second, the last to sit down at the meeting. He was glad, however; Okoya would definitely feel more comfortable speaking in Quuzj'mit. He began, slowly but surely, to translate:

As discussed with Haapsau, the purpose of my visit was to deal with-

Haapsalu heard "the wood elf problem," but, seeing as that may have been a little touchy, Haapsalu decided that a little modification on the fly was necessary. Thus:

-foreign negotiations. I travelled into Unterritory, and the [takeover] negotiations were successful; I wasn't even needed. I summarized for them the events that unfurled here, and the company gave me these gifts to give to you.

Okoya shuffled through her gem-filled pockets before coming upon a large ruby and a large tourmaline, which she moved to the foreigners' side of the table. She continued:

The company sends their greetings and would love to do business, et cetera; I'm sure you're not interested. I could describe a little more about the goings-on of Unterritory, but you explicitly wanted information about what has happened within the Empire. I've noticed that a number of Imperial city garrisons have been left with skeleton crews, and that a number of soldiers have been marching off in a direction that was not along my path. If I were to guess, I would assume that the Empire was planning to build a large army, but I can't say for what purpose. From my basic knowledge of Imperial, I was able to talk with a few villagers. They are just as clueless as I am, but they are, for the moment, very afraid of your arrival. A few think that it's some sign of end times. I tried to persuade them otherwise, but my stature made them fearful of me as well. I was only able to talk to a few people who were brave enough to approach me.

As for other curious happenings, I noticed some sort of wolf creature lurking in the forest. I don't know of his intentions, but he was staring at me, and he did look hostile. Also...

Okoya looked at Haapsalu with fearful eyes. "I saw someone from my thief past."

After translating (and omitting the word "thief"), Haaspalu asked for a second and responded to Okoya in Quuzj'mit. "You're not getting any ideas, are you?"

"Sir, I have food, water, clothing, and shelter in abundance. You have shown me more mercy than I have had in my whole life, and these foreigners and the Company have provided me with all the friendship I could want. How could I possibly return? No, of course not."

Haapsalu nodded and resumed translation.

Her name is Niehv, known in [my] popular thief circles simply as "The Bard." She was a very excellent musician who had turned to thievery and pickpocketing to earn money; I guess, in the city, theft was a better profession than most. That said, she was notorious for using magic and, on occasion, the most brutal violence to get her way; most of [us] the underground simply left her alone. From what I've heard over the years, I heard that she stole a precious sword of the governor of that district, and that she joined the Black Company. That said, she was alone when I encountered her.

Okoya paused. "We actually did know each other quite well."

Haapsalu sighed; there was no hiding Okoya's past now. He continued translating, directly this time.

One might even call us close friends, although that would be mostly false. We were two notorious thief loners, and so we would naturally cross each other's paths. Our methods were far too different for us to work together as a team, at least most of the time, but people spread the rumor that we were close friends. In actuality, we were occasionally rivals, both after the same trinket or gem that would fetch a good price on the black market. She was the sword; I was the spade.

Okoya snapped out of reminiscence.

Now, I guess there is no real danger to you all right now, seeing as you are well protected, but I would still keep your wits about you. It wouldn't be wise to underestimate her. I believe, then, that that is the conclusion of my report. It was actually a rather boring, albeit beautiful, journey. Does anyone have any questions?

[Monfrox]

Powell's smile never faltered, even if her eyes were hard and cold. Blake went about talking about how much he was doing like he thought his job was done, but also went on about tea. Things must've been different in New Zealand. That, or he was being a smart-ass. She assumed the latter, and though she was here to be the go-between for the Major and the rest of the NCOs, she also was the one in charge of them when the Major was off doing his officer duties. She looked up. The sun was perched high in the sky, narrowing the shadows to limit any escape of it.

"Nice day, isn't it Corporal? Sun's shining without a cloud in the sky. Why, it's a perfect day for a run, don't you think?" She looked down before he could raise a protest. "Five laps around the FOB. Full kit. Mandatory briefings are just that, Corporal. Mandatory. Another five for that "sieg heil" I heard on my way over here. From now on, we use our salutes. I see you slacking off and I'll throw you on KP for the rest of the week. I hear about you throwing that Nazi salute up again, and I will if it happens, I'll have you beat your face in front of the whole platoon."

[Vahltunskhja]

Sergeant Césaire Arsenault
The Special Region - Alnus Hill
A somewhat disorderly tent

The late Gord Downie's distinctive voice was singing Nautical Disaster somewhere over by the poker game outside, giving Césaire something to tap his foot to. He scratched his forehead and sighed over the pile of reports and debriefings and maddening assortment of paperwork, tossing his pen aside. He looked up incredulously at a stack of books, smirking at the titles - "Fechtbücher Compendium". "Roman Weapons and Tactics". "Self-Defence Techniques: Bladed and Melee Weapons". He wasn't sure if they were going to help, but they seemed a bit more practical than J. R. R. Tolkien.

Reading, patrols, digging, reports, training, language lessons. Christ, he was going to get stir crazy. They were in another world for God's sake. All he could do while waiting and preparing for any mission was worry and fret over what they'd find and what could go wrong. He fiddled with the rosary in his pocket and stood up. Fuck it, he was technically on freetime, and most of the reports were done. It'd be best to take a break, get some fresh air and conversation.

The four soldiers outside looked up as Césaire ducked under the tent flaps, a couple of Van Doos and an Pat along with a soldier from the Dutch contingent. The sergeant pulled up a nearby ammunition crate and laid a few dollars down on the table, shooting the corporal across the table a quick smile. "Deal me in Wilson."

---

- - -

Níehv Lu Aois-Dàna
The Special Region - Italica
A homely food shop

Steam drifted lazily up around Níehv's face, already beginning to curl her hair as she savoured the warmth and smell of the broth set before her. Lunaryur's fiddle, she thought she was going to go all day without eating. The waybread had been reduced to crumbs quicker than she though, but thankfully she had just enough coins left to buy a noonday meal and some supplies for the road.

She gave a smile to the sweet old lady behind the counter of the food shop, shovelling hot noodles into her mouth with one hand as she brushed her hair back over her ears self consciously. Thankfully Italica had a reputation for tolerance when it came to non-humans, so she could relax her guard. Not to mention the stupid pointy things came in handy for picking up rumours and gossip. Lots of places to find answers in a crossroad city like Italica, such the pair of loudmouthed guardsmen talking over a couple tankards of mead nearby....

"My old man was in Rosa with the legions, and he says you're going to see more troops gathered in one place than ever before in the last thirty years."

"Your old man's full of it. Didn't get get knocked upside the head by an angry harpy? Or did that happen that time he fought an entire warrior bunny raiding party by himself? With both hands tied behind his back?"

"Get ploughed. I'm telling you this has something to do with that excursion thing Darius was talking about."

"I don't buy it. If Darius is right about one thing it's probably about Count Formal's death having something to do with it."

Níehv looked up in surprise and nearly knocked over her drink, causing the two off-duty guards to look over in mild concern and confusion at the sight of a wide-eyed elf girl with a mass of noodles hanging from her mouth and broth dripping down her chin. She covered her lips with her sleeve awkwardly and gulped the mess down before speaking. "Colt Formal has died?"

One of them nodded. "Yeah, not too long ago. Real sudden. If you're just coming into town I'm not surprised you haven't heard."

"So who's the head of Clan Formal now?" She tried to think back to her knowledge of the many noble houses and clans within the Empire, and the criss-crossing ever-changing lines of secession.

"Countess Myui, at least for now." The guardsman's friend leaned over his drink and chimed in. "Yep, she's only eleven. Her two sisters are practically going to war over who will be her guardian."

Níehv frowned as the human continued. "Yeah, so since they're already married into other noble families and they're at each other's throats, all the soldiers are being transferred away and right into the whole mess. Just knuckleheads like this moron next to me left to deal with things, so crime's going up around here like mad."

Níehv lowered her ears and stirred her broth with concern. The two men busied themselves with buying another round of drinks from the old lady before carrying on their conversation. "Didn't they sent riders out to see if they could get help? Nobody wanted to get involved in the feud, I'm guessing, but the I heard the one to Tubet was turned back by Imperial patrols."

"So what does that mean?"

"I dunno." The human looked over as Níehv stood to leave, tossing her coins on the table and gathering her things. She stopped and looked at the two, pulling her hood up and crossing her arms. "Hey, can I ask you one more thing? There been any... weird stuff around lately?"

The humans looked at each other and raised their eyebrows. "Uh... yeah. Lots of weird stuff. You wanna be more specific?" The other spoke up as his companion busied himself with emptying his tankard. "People talking about the end of the world, entire legions disappearing, messengers not coming back or talking crazy, that kind of thing."

"Who was it that was ranting about a giant telling him green men had come from another world? Zufmuut's beard... buncha crazy folks out lately." He sipped his mead nonchalantly. "All this talk of Alnus is starting to get on my nerves, honestly."

Níehv blinked. There it was again; something big was going down and it all came back to Alnus! It was about time she found out for herself what was happening. She shouted out a quick thanks as she hurried off, ignoring the spluttering guardsman's calling after her. "Hey! Where you goin'? Don't tell me you're going there! You won't get past the patrols!"

- - -

She got past the patrols. Pretty easily too, she thought with a smirk. Just a matter of going the long way around, through the forests where she could slink unseen among the shadows and leaves. The only person she'd thought had seen her was a giant, who got a glimpse of her face before she slipped off the road. Not her fault either, she thought it was a giant boulder until she was close. Nearly gave her a heart attack. Other than that, not an imperial in sight for most of the journey to the sacred hill.

She crouched on a branch, rubbing the imprint of bark and bits of wood off her palms. Climbing trees always made her feel a bit like a kid again, but it was a lot harder when you were a good couple feet bigger and lugging a pack, armour, and instruments up along with you. All worth it for the view... which was exactly what she was here for. She stood still for a few moments longer, brown and green among the bark and leaves as she listened for any sounds of life around her perch; her ears were met only the chirping of birds and rustle of leaves in the wind. She began to tread slowly along the branch, stepping carefully onto another limb below until she was in just the right spot to get a perfect view of Alnus Hill. Reaching out and pulling aside the mass of leaves, she sucked in her breath and looked out from the vantage point over the hill.

The sight that greeted her didn't give any answers, only more questions. She wasn't sure what she was expecting, but this... wasn't it. Níehv's fingers wrapped around a branch to steady herself as she looked out with an uneasy feeling. A sizable encampment sprawled across the sacred hill, tents large and small scattered around with a confusing rhythm. This wasn't anything like the massive, orderly Imperial camps she'd seen. They were all earthy greens as if meant to imitate the grassy hillside around them. Big tan blocks formed barriers and walls instead of wood or stone, and there were tiny beige rocks stacked tidily together to form short little barriers that looked better suited to keeping in livestock than any kind of fortification.

Even stranger, she could see bright white moving things, not creatures. None that she'd ever seen before, at least. Some where about as big as carriages and wagons, though she didn't see any horses. She squinted, trying to make out if the vehicles were running on rails like a minecart. Probably too far to see. The people walking around all dressed from head to toe in green, except for their hats or helmets which were blue. Their clothes were covered with strange patterns that made them almost look like they were part of the tents and landscape at times. A rectangular blue flag, same colour as their headwear, flapped in the breeze atop a pole. This didn't look anything like an Imperial camp. Where they mercenaries? Wizards? Green Priest scholars sent to study the Gate? They didn't look like anything like those stuffy old druids. Wait, the Gate-

The Gate of Sacred Alnus Hill. A black void filled the entrance, like a fathomless crack in reality. Had the Gate opened? What did that mean? Her heart was pounding as she looked out over the camp with wide eyes. Every race and culture in the world traced back their legends and origins back to the Gate. It was linked to forces beyond people's comprehension, to the Gods themselves. Was it Them who opened the Gate, to bring something through from another world?

She tore her eyes away, almost shaking with excitement and something resembling panic. She lept from her perch, grunting as she dropped from branch to branch in a mad rush to reach solid ground. The bard crashed through the canopy before landing at a crouch beneath an umbrella of dew-flecked leaves, breathing hard and trying to calm the flurry of questions in her head. She gripped the bark and caught her breath, pressing herself back into the silence and protection of the forest around her. The morning sun was rising, sending shafts of light between the trees. Leaves gradually drifted to the ground from above, shaken loose by her reckless descent. Quietly she pounded her fist lightly against the trunk at her back, staring at the ground as if it held an answer.

Eventually Níehv stood, brushing twigs off her cloak and taking a deep breath as she walked out in the middle of a small clearing, her brow furrowed with unease and uncertainty. Who were those people? If they weren't Imperials... they must have come through the Gate? Maybe she needed to get a closer look. A shiver went through her. The thought of getting closer to those... those people made her nervous, but see had an undeniable sense that something climactic had happened, something that would be enshrined in history and legend. Songs would be written about what happened here. She had to be the one to write them. An excitable grin threatened to break across her face as she rubbed her arms, mind racing as she stood lost in thought. She had to get a closer look.

[Bentus]

Osira
Native Accommodation, UN Camp
After the Interview

---

Osira thanked the soldiers as they dropped her off at the Natives’ tent. Any chance to practise her English was useful, and it didn’t hurt to be friendly towards her captors. As she stepped through the entrance flap into the temporary structure, she offered a passing, tired smile to the young soldiers before the barrier hid them from her view. Immediately, Osira felt her hands begin to shake as her self-composure began to slip away.

The tent was quite spacious, the United Nations eager to win over the natives in the camp, and each of them had been granted a small room which they could seal off from the common area. Wasting no time, Osira raced into her own safe haven, fiddling with the zipper until she had succeeded in closing the thin barrier between herself and the rest of the world. The strip of canvas was hardly capable of stopping the passage of sound within the tent, but still it offered her the slightest semblance of comfort.

The young girl collapsed on the ground, curling herself up against her bed. Osira pulled her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her knees in an effort to stop the shaking. Only then did she allow the tears to flow. The fear and terror that had been building up in her chest for the last few hours burst to the surface, the calm façade that she had held for so long finally coming apart. Osira buried her face in her knees, muffling the sobs that escaped from her lips. Despite their constant insistence, Osira had stepped into the interview not truly knowing what awaited her. She had had no idea how far the United Nations were willing to go to the answers that they so desired. They were already willing to welcome a Lich with open arms – what other lines would they consider crossing?

Césaire had greeted her with kindness and friendship, speaking to her as an equal. But behind the smile Osira could see the flashes on the hilltop; she could hear that chorus of thunder along with every greeting.

Get yourself together, what would Kaeso say?

Sniffling, Osira forced herself to take deep breaths. Brushing away the unwanted tears that had streamed uncontrollably down her features. The young girl scowled at her own weakness. She had to keep focused on what was important, on doing her part.

The United Nations had not come in peace. They had come bearing weapons of war, dealing death and destruction with an ease that sickened the stomach.

They were the enemy. She was a prisoner.

And Osira wouldn’t forget it.

---

The Present.

The pages of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory flew by, Osira’s eyes greedily swallowing every word. Seated cross-legged on the floor of the tent’s common area, she was engrossed in the novel and its fanciful stories. She skipped over words that she couldn’t quite grasp, occasionally diving into the hefty English dictionary that lay atop the stack of texts she’d accumulated in the last two weeks. ‘Factory’ in particular was causing her no end of trouble, with the definition serving to confuse her even further. It was supposedly a place where the humans of Earth made things, but what kinds of things? Willy Wonka’s factory made food, but then wouldn’t that have made it a farm? Such questions did little to push Osira away from the allure of the books.

The Priesthood made sure to encourage a thirst for knowledge in their acolytes, since the Taldani’s own curiosity was by definition unquenchable. They were pushed to seek out and read as many books as they could, no matter the genre or length. It was taught that the pages were the races’ way of imitating the Taldani World Forest. Through writing, ideas were shared, stored and debated across the lands. They were drawn out from the mind of the writer and made part of a grand body of knowledge by the will of their ink, connecting kindred minds across even the gulf of time. Osira had thrown herself at the challenge, eventually being encouraged to tackle even non-Imperial texts alongside her language courses. She had found that the books could bring the foreign tongues to life, bestowing the words with breath and allowing for the hearts of sentences to pump blood throughout their paragraphs.

And so Osira had asked the linguists for books from their world. She’d started off slow, spending entire days meandering through picture books as she trudged through the basic vocabulary before moving on to meatier texts. Eventually the linguists got tired of her constant nagging and had a whole chest of novels moved to her room, and she’d wasted no time in chipping away at its contents.

Osira had started Charlie and the Chocolate Factory that day and had not stopped to put it down even for a moment. Her eyes widened in horror as Violet is transformed into a berry of some kind, apparently as a consequence of ‘chewing gum’. Osira shuddered at the image but couldn’t stop herself from reading on, each new page tempting her to explore even further. Instinctively, she reached out with her left hand to grasp the fronds of her sapling, ready to recount the magical tale for the World Forest. However, her fingers only brushed up against air.

A momentary look of surprise flashed across Osira’s face, confusion before she remembered being separated from her Taldani. The girl sat there, staring at the empty space on the floor where her sapling would have rested right beside her, the spell of the book having been broken. She once again became aware of the silence, of the mental quiet that had descended all around her. Back in the World Forest, Osira had been surrounded by Taldani all her life. She grew up in their branches, slept amongst their fronds, even before she was a Green Priest the physical presence of the Forest had offered her a sense of comfort. And then once she was bonded with the trees, not a day went by when she wouldn’t lose herself in that communal ocean that was the Taldani mind. At least until two weeks ago.

Osira sighed to herself, closing the book in front of her. The Priesthood may have taught that reading was like delving into the Taldani World Forest, but to Osira it could only ever be a poor imitation. She felt isolated, cut off from her people and the warm embrace of the Taldani. She was being starved of the connection that she had so easily come to take for granted. Back in the camp, she had come so close, her Taldani had been right there. And yet now it sat an impossible distance away, outside of the invaders’ camp. But I can’t just sit here and do nothing. Osira hardened her expression in determination, knowing that she still had an option – no matter how much she didn’t like it.

- - -

Making her way through the camp, Osira scanned the tents around her, doing her best to try and follow the directions the soldiers had given her. After two weeks, she was starting to grow accustomed to the strange, dreary colouration of the United Nations encampment. Occasionally one of the horseless carriages would drive past her, the grumbling of the vehicle announcing its approach long before she saw it. Arriving at what she hoped was the right tent, Osira heard the strange, piercing sounds of one of the Earthers’ songs emanating into the air. Her eyes lit up as she saw the soldiers gathered around a table, some of the green strips they used as currency placed before them.

“Sergeant Arsenault!” She called out, smiling proudly at having located the older man. Osira paused for a moment, realising that perhaps she was interrupting something important – especially if there was money involved. “Sorry. You are not busy, yes?” The girl fidgeted slightly. Come on, you need their help. “I lost something that I need to find.”

[United Islands of Polis]

Dimitri Aleksandr Zubarev
Special Region, Alnus Hill
Recently Established FOB

To Dima guard duty was like the hills they were on, up and down, downside, it was boring to the point of seeing combat as more entertaining but then no one really likes being shot at or in this case being slashed at, or so he heard, but the upside was that he could think, his free time was around the corner, he was tired from building houses for the locals, digging holes for multiple reasons, training, language classes which he was sure wasn't the best so he would study the alphabet he had on his notebook which kinda worked, he was doing good in the language classes due to his previous course before signing up for the military, after all one dosen't get really far in Political Science without very good memorization skills.

"Nogi bolyat, spina bolit, vse bolit .... Blyat... (Feet hurt, back hurts, everything hurts.... Fuck)" Dima told himself as he went around the camp, he rounded a corner and stopped right before the giant woman passed by then saw people doind a Nazi salute "Fucking Gopniks" he daid in straight English which was weird.

Upon arrival the leadermof the group ended up being no other than the man who dared throw a flash bang, Corporal Alexander Blake, he was about to call his attention when someone else beat him to it, the Army Ranger he had yet to see it was something about her that threw him off and he didn't know why, Dima also noticed from a far the "packages" she had and and nearly missed the pole in front of him, he decided to wait there while she explaimed things to the corporal, after that he fixed the black ushanka on his head and continued in the way the two were located and said to the both of them.

"Do you think command will send us out anytime soon, I am starting to get bored despite being relatively safe" Dima said with a smile despite his tired posture

[The Tophat Empire]

[Continuation of my post]

But wiking did not have much time to assemble such a team, for within a minute of him sitting down to start to assemble such a recon team. His radio came to life. Apparently the sapers and comms staff had attached a small antenna to the flag pole. Or well, it was rather that the flag had been attached to the radio antenna, but the radio antenna receiver/transmitter had been delayed. So it had been a flagpole for a week. "Major Wiking, Sir?" the voice said. Against regulations, but it was not like there was a lot on the lines at the moment. So wiking let it pass, the operators were competent, and knew when you could flex just a bit.

"Major Wiking here, i read you, over" wiking replied back into the radio. waiting for a reply that came quickly "We got stockholm on the line for you in the comms tent. Out.".

Wiking rose from his chair, giving a sigh, he had just come of the radio with them, and now they wanted him again. He started to jog towards the comms tent as he gave back a reply "copy that, i am on my way. Out" he said. Before long he once again stook hunkered over a poor RTO, headset placed against ear. Apparently stockholm would send him something else, not something he wanted or needed however, but more MUST. Not that that was bad enough, they were sending him a KSI agent. Those spooky CIA wannabees. Try as he might, wiking was getting his own little KSI agent. Even if his superiors reassured him that wiking was indeed the KSI agents superior. Apparently he was sent as a "local relations advisor". or as wiking thought "another bloody clown". But wiking did what one did, and kept quiet, replying with the occasional "Yes sir". Before long, he was once again let loose. He looked at the RTO, thanked him, and ordered that he send word for the Sergeant Major as well as Sergeant Arsenault to report to his tent as soon as they are available. Or in fifteen minutes, whatever came first. Before he left the tent, and started to walk towards his own. Adjusting the AK4 slung over his shoulder as he did.

[Vahltunskhja]

Sergeant Césaire Arsenault
The Special Region - Alnus Hill
A poker table

Césaire looked around the table, his eyes lingering on the dancing end of MCpl Lévesque's cigarette as he mumbled to himself in French. He glanced down, lifting up the edges of his cards with a slight raise of his eyebrow before shoving forward a couple chips. The two corporals looked up, looked at each other, then back down at their cards.

"King, queen, eight." Cpl. Wilson looked up as a couple kronor were tossed into the pot and shook his head, folding. Soldaat Janssen followed him. "What're those purple ones, twenies?" "Yep." Wilson flipped another card. "...six." Lévesque frowned and laid down a 50 Kr note. Césaire called. Wilson flipped over another card. "That's a two boys."

Lévesque tossed his cigarette into an ash tray and tapped the table. "Check." Césaire laid down another kronor note, causing the master corporal to look up. "Han? Who's that guy?" Wilson leaned forward, raising his eyebrows and grinning. "Dag Hammarskjöld. That's a thousand kronor. You gonna match it or no?" Lévesque tapped his fingers on the table as Césaire watched him, bemused. Finally he grunted and tossed his cards aside.

“Sergeant Arsenault!” The men all looked for the source, spotting Osira nearby. Most of them looking with curiosity, having never seen one of the locals up close. “Sorry. You are not busy, yes? I lost something that I need to find.” The girl was fidgeting restlessly. Poker would have to wait, especially if it was something that important. A spectating private tossed him his helmet as he got to his feet.

"No, not busy at all. Just finished up, right boys?" Césaire gave Lévesque a grin and flipped over his cards, electing a curse in French and a laugh from the dealer. "Not bad Sergeant. Don't get eaten by a dragon, alright?"

Slinging an assault rifle over his shoulder and giving the soldiers a wave, he walked over to her and nodded. "What is it you need to find?"

[British Prussia]

Earlier that day...

"Tell me child, what did you learn from the Dwarf?"

"Oh, Lady Sherianna." Corporal Blake looked up, he'd not noticed her approach, it wasn't often that he'd get surprised. "Pardon me, but I other duties at the moment..." the Corporal looked at her. Though many were still creeped out by her appearance, strangely enough Corporal Blake had gotten used to her almost immediately and treated her with greater respect over time. And she was due for a little more. "I do appreciate your language lessons though. I feel that there's less nonsense from your classes, the Dwarf's pretty much just says we're doing well, like a school where you can't get anything wrong..." the Corporal sighed and took a moment to recall what was still fresh in his mind. It seemed he had reconsidered and decided to stay a bit longer. "Greeting Imperials, meeting the Emperor, asking for food, and the fifth Imperial declension is up tomorrow."

---

"Nice day, isn't it Corporal? Sun's shining without a cloud in the sky. Why, it's a perfect day for a run, don't you think?"

"Yes, I had noticed, Sergeant Major."

"Five laps around the FOB. Full kit. Mandatory briefings are just that, Corporal. Mandatory. Another five for that "sieg heil" I heard on my way over here. From now on, we use our salutes. I see you slacking off and I'll throw you on KP for the rest of the week. I hear about you throwing that Nazi salute up again, and I will if it happens, I'll have you beat your face in front of the whole platoon."

"Oh, what a shame, I hoped you would've had better tastes than most. I should remind you, though I respect your unit, rank, and seniority," though the Corporal didn't really sound it. "Remember who you're speaking to, my loyalties lie with Her Majesty's New Zealand government." the Corporal paused, his smile was eroded by a look of annoyance. He looked up at the same sky, and immediately smiled again. "But you are right, I suppose it's quite ideal for a run. Ten laps? I think we can do that." the Corporal turned towards the Peacekeepers. "You heard the American, ten laps, full gear, let's go!"

Ignoring the Sergeant Major, the Corporal immediately pushed off with his company in trail. "I'll have to teach you one of my favourite marching tunes." the Corporal clearly directed this towards his company of men. "It goes:
Ye brave honest subjects who dare to be loyal,
And have stood the brunt of every trial..."

[British Prussia]

Later that day...

Corporal Blake washed after his run. He preferred taking showers on his own, lest anyone be too curious. He afforded himself every luxury that no Corporal, or even perhaps officer, could afford. It was a staggering collection of items, there was no particular loyalty to any brand or nation. He had used his own fine soaps and shampoo, he'd shaved using shaving cream that smelled better than it performed. He took it easy on the aftershave and post-shave oils, he doubted he could restock it for some time. That concerned him the most. The ever dwindling supply. His skin never reacted well with any standard soap, let alone the harsher army ones.

The Corporal had ditched his combat gear in favour of his dress uniform. It was unheard of. Corporal Blake had taken liberties and had his NZDF dress uniform by having it made by military tailors Firmin House in the UK. It fitted, looked, and felt much better than the ones he got from the army, which everyone in the NZDF wore. For a mere Corporal it certainly was splurge.

Corporal Blake was born in London, England to a rather prestigious banking family, but one that lacked the wealth needed for Alexander to live a life like the truly rich, nevertheless his mother never denied him to develop his more gentlemanly tastes. His parents had sought a more meaningful life for him in New Zealand, something Alexander both appreciated and disapproved of but ultimately understood. He enjoyed his youth thoroughly, his friends would remember that he was patient, extremely kind and charitable. Nowhere near as aggressive, impulsive, and cynical as he was now. His one regret, one that he considered his duty for his family, was that he never could connect with people who mattered during University. His short holidays in the UK barely allowed him to make meaningful connections with the rich and powerful. Though after some time, he had eventually decided to make his own way through his own merits, and by the time his parents financial situation had improved he had signed up with the army, not for the pay, likely for the prestige, but definitely to serve the nation that had been good to him.

Corporal Blake looked particularly sharp in his uniform. Naturally everything was carefully polished, the few medals and ribbons worn with pride. Putting a UN issued cup to his mouth he took a sip of his precious tea. The Corporal had been mulling about the security situation at Alnus Base. He wasn't at all satisfied with it. The headquarters tent and single guard just invited all to enter and all the other military assets were open for all to see. This simply will not do. Luckily during his run, he had seen a solution. I must thank Sergeant Major Powell for this. The Corporal thought.

Overhearing Sergeant Arsenault and his local friend, whom Corporal Blake believed that he Sergeant had perhaps gotten too fond of, he had decided to take this opportunity and accompany them.

"Miss Yamasee, perhaps I could be of assistance too." the Corporal beamed, careful not to spill any of his tea, "And afterwards I shall need a word with you Sergeant Arsenault. Important but not urgent..." Corporal Blake signalled towards Osira with his eyes.