Unto the Breach: A Gate RP (IC|Open)

by **United Islands of Polis** » Sat Sep 30, 2017 9:01 am

Auropa wrote:*Cutting Sounds*

Dimitri Aleksandr Zubarev
Recon Section One [STANDING BY FOR FURTHER ORDERS]
Special Region, Italica

After the fiasco before the infiltration Dima had simple decided to shut up and eat. The rest of the infiltration went rather smooth asides from almost getting stuck due to his LMG and forcing a stray cat to leave the current area, nothing bad did happen. As soon as orders were given once they reached the safehouse he went to his designated position for the possible defense of this sector.

T"ak zhe, kak ya chuvstvoval sebya komfortno." (Just as I was getting comfortable) Dima said as he grabbed his equipment he previously dropped. Chair and a small table in hand he set them down on his spot, transportation of which was a lot more quiet than his counterpart's methods.

Placing the PKP on the table he checked the sights right before removing the box magazine loaded in to check the firing chamber of the machine, Dima's thoughts were derailed as someone came up to him. An American CIA agent, two things veterans told him to hate, he only despised the CIA part.

"Yes? What you want?" Dima answered impatiently but still in a polite way. After hearing his message he processed everything before making a response, carefully detailed as to not spark a fight since this Chernoye pyatno wasn't making things any easier.

"I am well aware of the job description of a soldier, I also know what not to shoot unless the OIC says otherwise, if she asks for opinions on her land I'd rather keep it to myself, she'd be surprised of the dark truths, I'd know. Idi Nahui, I have a courtyard to watch." Dima rep!oed back as he placed his helmet back on and slid down the faceplate.

Placing more box magazines on the table he thought to himself in English to mock the agent in his mind "I'll pull every god damn string I'll have to, any strings you can pull to make you less of an ass towards strangers? Needs a real good yank." after placing an AP box magazine he reloaded the weapon and proceeded to continue looking at the courtyard below.

by **Second Helghan Empire** » Sun Oct 01, 2017 5:14 am

Specialist Martin Karev

"Don't worry we will bring you back for your things, but right now we have to go Althea." Martin reassured the woman.

Martin shouldered his weapon and motioned for Althea to follow with his head. He began moving back toward the way the pair of soldiers had come in the first place. They needed to get to a safe position before the retreating army accidentally stepped on them. Martin's head was on a continuous swivel. The echoes of men and animals racing away from Italica bounced around the dark countryside. It was eerie, and the smell of smoke and flames from the city had given the darkness a physical feeling of dread, as if to couple with the hundreds of warriors bearing down on them.

"Sarge, we heading back to the Ivecos? I mean we are supposed to link up with the rest of the platoon, but how do we do that now that the fighting is all over and our guys are already in town?" Martin kept moving, his slinking stride kept him low enough to the ground to better hide his movements but up enough to move quickly.

Stopping in a shallow furrow in the ground Martin waited for the others to decide their course of action. He watched as the figures who had been attacking the walls scrambled through the darkness. Unlike him and Thompson, they were nearly blind. Many tried to keep a semblance of formations but others simply sprinted away from the cavalry near the walls. At any time the horsemen might have pursued, but Martin watched as they returned to the city.

"Well, that's one problem we don't have to worry about anymore." Martin stated flatly.

by **Bentus** » Tue Oct 03, 2017 7:26 pm

Floronia de Yamada
Italica

The Knights of the realm were as much symbols as they were warriors, and their duty to the Emperor didn’t even end in victory. The column of armoured soldiers re-entered Italica triumphant, but they maintained their air of calm professionalism as the garrison around them celebrated. Floronia could feel a surge of pride for the members of her Order, the knights smiling and waving firmly at the occasional cheer that they received. Ignoring the sharp pain that still ran through her wounded shoulder, Floronia maintained her cool demeanour as she sat straight on her steed but she allowed herself a widening smile as she saw Cordelia wave her aside.

The Countess returned the Princess’ smile, holding her mount steady with the reigns in her still-good hand as her subordinate took her place at the head of the column. Performing a half-bow towards the royal, Floronia chuckled at the offer.

“Cordelia, don’t go making promises that you don’t know you can keep.”

The Countess’ eyes met the Princess’ for a moment and Floronia allowed herself to take in the woman before her. Gone was the young girl with sloppy footwork that she had first trained all those years ago, in her place stood a knight of the Empire. Cordelia had proven the naysayers wrong, showing them all that her title as a knight was not a mere honorific. Floronia’s voice took on a more serious tone as she felt her chest swell.

“I cannot say how proud I am of you, Cordelia. I am honoured to have trained you and see you grow into the woman that you are today.” The knight smirked playfully. “But don’t let that go to your head. I saw you on that wall, your footwork could still use some work.” Glancing around, Floronia looked at the tired warriors around her, buoyed by their victory, beginning the process of clearing the debris from the battle. Feeling the weight of her own fatigue and injury, Floronia reluctantly found herself agreeing with the Princess’ orders. No matter how much she wished to lend her hands to the efforts until she dropped from exhaustion, to do so would be folly.

“I shall go see the healer in the Keep, and while I’m at it I’ll check in on Berien. But please do not overexert yourself in the meantime, Cordelia. I fear that the North Company will not be deterred so easily this day.”

Osira Yamasee
Italica

Osira lay in one of the UN’s sleeping cocoons, her body turned on its side and her head resting on her hands. Compared to the thin bedrolls that were the staple for travellers, the sleeping bag provided a luxurious feeling of comforting warmth. The room was largely lightless, the recon squad not wanting to give their position away to any passing onlooker, and voices were kept low. A faint stream of moonlight filtered in through an open window, but Osira was not quite in the right position to peer out into the stars.

Sighing to herself, the girl shifted to her other side for the umpteenth time in her vain effort to fall asleep. Despite her tired limbs, she couldn’t put her mind to rest. The events of the past day reverberated within her skull, her thoughts inexorably drifting to Dima’s earlier outburst. She had been blindsided by the outpouring, recoiling instinctively in the moment at the unexpected reaction. Osira’s initial confusion kept her mute while other members of the recon squad sought to calm their comrade. She had watched the tears stream quietly down the Russian’s face in silence, her thoughts still catching up to events until Fischer ended the exchange. Osira had wanted to turn to the Captain, to ask him if she had accidentally mistranslated her words, but her mouth refused to even open at the sharp look that she received from the Earther.

During their scaling of the city walls, Osira had forced herself to set aside her multitude of questions, but now that she had the opportunity for rest, she couldn’t stop thinking about Zhihai’s words.

What we demand, however, is change. Change for the better, and for the people here to start acting on the goodwill of their own hearts to people who are not like themselves.

Was change all that the UN desired? And if so, what kind of change? If that was all that it took, then why had the UN not told anyone? Why did they shoot and kill in the name of this change for the better? It really didn’t look to be better to Osira, in fact better would have been the last word she would have used to describe the upheaval since the first attack on Alnus hill. And the Chinese soldier’s words weren’t the only ones reverberating incessantly between her ears.

We will be required to mark and secure a LZ for future operations should the need arise.

Osira felt her nerves stand on edge as she recalled Fischer’s briefing. Most of the strange words that the Earth soldiers used continued to pass over her head, but two stood out in her mind: future operations. The young girl’s eyes rested on Zhihai as he sat idly on watch.
Unable to continue pretending that she would be able to get to sleep, Osira manhandled the zipper for her cocoon and tossed aside the covering. Standing to her feet, she made her way towards the Chinese soldier. A part of her wanted to approach Fischer, but that cold, silent look from before caused a stone to lodge itself in her chest and she decided against it for now.

“Zee-hi?” She began, trying out the strange new pronunciation with her tongue in an effort to get the soldier’s attention. “You said that the UN wanted change for peace. I know that the Empire would be willing to change if it meant a friendship with Earth and if you teach us.” Osira still didn’t really understand what Zhihai had meant by this ‘change for the better’ but she would grab any chance she had for the fighting to stop. She bit her lip, pausing before continuing as she mulled over her next words, fearing the answer that she may receive.

“Why are we in Italica?” Osira blurted the words out, and once she did, she couldn’t stop herself from continuing. “What is an [i]LZ[i]? You said that the UN fought to teach people how to treat each other with goodwill, but then why are you not helping the city? Sir Fischer said that there were future operations, but shouldn’t you tell the garrison first so that you can work together to fight the invaders? Otherwise someone might make a mistake and think that you aren’t here to help.”

Her voice had risen as she had spoken, her rapid pace betraying her concern. She looked to the soldier with an almost pleading expression, hoping that her fears weren’t about to be confirmed.

Pixiv · by **Wolfenium** » Tue Oct 03, 2017 8:26 pm

Safehouse, Italica
Lt. Huang Zhihai

It was Zhihai's turn on guard duty, and his sleep-deprived eyes bore a strange familiarity to the strain. This was not his first time he had to pull a long night, but while it felt routine, he had to admit he hated to stay up like that. Still, being on the front as opposed to the rear duty he was officially given was a nice change. He would rather pick the rough and rugged path if it meant getting closer to his childhood fantasies. Sort of...

“Zee-hi?”

Zhihai took a moment to register the call. He had long expected his colleagues to mispronounce his name, but he was not expecting Orisa to speak to him directly. Looking back at her, he blinked a bit as he tried to focus. Rubbing his chin, he was surprised she recalled his words earlier, even though he himself merely spoke off the top of his mind.

"I am not too sure you know your nation's leaders as well as you think," he admitted, "I know you would prefer peace to war. We all do. But you weren't at Stockholm when they came. They didn't came as emissaries bearing gifts for exchange. They looted our city, took prisoners and slaughtered innocent people without a single thought. I wouldn't dare say we are better; there are many among us that would do the same if left unchecked. But we try to be better than that. No slaves, no killings. That's our definition of peace."

"Therefore," he explained, pausing for a yawn, "the first thing we're trying to do now is find out what's going on, who staged the attack, and bring those your people kidnapped back to our world. If we find out who is responsible, regardless of how high up their position of power, then I'm afraid they will have to face justice. We won't execute them, but they'll be staying in prison for a very long time."

Gazing at the bright moon above, he was quite sure Orisa would get mad if she understood what that truly meant. The Terrans were invincible alien invaders, out to impose their foreign culture on the primitives of the Special Region. With a history of being on the receiving end of European imperialism, Zhihai himself was uncomfortable with such an idea. But what other choice were there? No one in his world would consider a peace with the Empire until they were willing to give up their acts of pillage. They had people to rescue, all of whom were likely slaves for the merchants of nobility of the Empire. This was the reality of his childhood fantasy, a reenactment of ancient Terran history that no one wants would realistically want to be in.

"This, I believe, is also why we're not helping your friends here just yet," he admitted, "we don't know what's going on, or who we're dealing with. We'd love to help; I'd help if I had a choice. I don't think I need to tell you what will happen to the folks here if whoever's outside ever broke in. The problem is, we don't know who those people are, and we're still as much an enemy of the folks here as we are of them. What if they were revolting slaves? Wouldn't that mean we'll be helping the Empire abuse them? Our commanders wouldn't want to be hasty with such decisions. It's frustrating, I know... but we can't just jump in blindly, especially when your friends have every reason to kill us on sight."

The fact was that the UN was once again committing one of its gravest sins to humanity - indolence. This was not going to be the first time this happened. In the UN's seven-decade history, millions of civilians had died simply because the peacekeepers were not allowed to intervene. How many times had they simply stood aside in then name of neutrality? How many times did they just watch nightmares unfold. Only once did the UN ever took a side in a war, and it was ironically the one China had ever fought against the UN. But Zhihai wanted to believe they were better than that. But they have no grasp of the situation, and they were asking for a quick demise if they simply ran in.

"If you were wondering," he said, "an LZ is short for 'Landing Zone'. We need those to bring help from Alnus Hill. If we can secure one... maybe we have a chance to protect the city, perhaps not their leaders, but the ordinary folks. We definitely can't do anything with just ten... eleven men, "he responded, upping the number as he peered at Orisa with a smile. He might not count her as part of their team, but he felt her help might be worth it in their mission.

In any case, he really did not want to see a city sacked before his eyes.

by **Legatia** » Tue Oct 03, 2017 8:36 pm

Cordelia Hastine Augusta
Italica

Cordelia gave a nod and a smile to Floronia, turning with a sigh to the night sky- one of her favorite sights, she saw herself getting lost for but a moment before returning to face her. The excitement and pride still lingered within her from the conversation, and the Princess could not suppress the smile it brought to her face.

"I agree, this was only the first sally. Yet they will not attack again so rashly. They'll come with a plan and more of them, if they've got half of a brain." It was unlikely that they'd attack again for the next few hours, yet she could never be sure. "Send the Landgrave my personal regards and thanks- tell him he'll be rewarded in due time as well. It's my belief that the truest of friends should be rewarded." Glancing again to the wound in her shoulder, she grimaced. "Rest well, Countess." Tugging on the reins of her horse, she began to move past the knight, resting a hand on her shoulder as she did so. "You have earned it."

Cordelia was winded. She could persist in a few hours more of combat, but she longed for rest. There would be none for her, she knew, as she made her rounds of the gates and the walls, inspecting defenses and directing the commanders there on how to repair, giving orders for re-supply, commending soldiers and commanders on their jobs well done. She and the escort she had with her paced expediently throughout the streets. One rider carried a lance, baring a blood-stained pennant with the colors of the Emperor upon it, having it rest upon her shoulders as the group moved through the city. Their talk was upbeat, elevated from the victory won.

"My, you should have seen the look about them!" One knight noted exuberantly, articulating for effect. "With the cataphracts and the Order knights upon them, they looked terrified, helpless.."

"Hopeless, more like." A laugh from the group filled the stone corridor, the Princess at the front simply smiling at the cheery mood of her comrades.

"Remember your humility, of course." She noted, turning a corner to head east, a group of townsmen passing- and as if to exemplify the message, their tone was somber- they bore a young man, in his prime it seemed, from the walls- plucked with a number of arrows through his makeshift armor. The knights shifted in their saddles, uneased as their conversant mood began to wane.

"Things like these are common in war, sights of death and drab;" Cordelia imparted as they continued past the procession. "It's no fault to be morose in the face of these sorts of things as well. You just must learn to cope with these things."

"Right.." The lance-armed rider nodded, eager to change the subject and quickly moving to do so. "..Say, Princess, where do we head next?"

"The East gate. After that, we'll examine the garrison at the castle and I'll release you." With a brief nod, the group continued on, their silence matching the streets, ever empty and around them.

by **Zjaum** » Thu Oct 05, 2017 12:41 am

Coda Village, Special Region

Okoya had gotten mildly annoyed that no one had bothered to reply to her, and Haapsalu even more so. Their chances of reentry were growing increasingly slim. That said, perhaps it just wasn't the appropriate time; the rest of the army had started preparation for leaving. Okoya was mildly bewildered. "So, well, what do we do now?"

Haapsalu responded matter-of-factly. "Well, I guess we just go where we were supposed to go: Italica."

Okoya nodded and was just about to fall in with the rest of the foreigners and take her place when a faint cry caught her ear on the wind. She paused. "I heard a cry for help."

Haapsalu groaned. They were so close to getting back into good graces, and he was not going to endure another setback. "Okoya, we must leave now. Do you want to be considered unreliable? I, for one, do not."

"Well, we've lived with them for at least two weeks. That has to count for something."

"Two weeks of mistrust, and ostracization, et cetera."

"Well, that was mostly because of you."

"But still!"

"I'm going to help that girl. Are you coming?"

"...Fine. Pick me up, and I'll follow." Haapsalu didn't like these delays, but he didn't want to leave Okoya unattended. Someone needed to get her out of trouble, after all.

They were significantly behind the rest of the group by the time they reached Italica. There, to their surprise, they found a vast army in front of the city walls. A number of soldiers near the back turned their heads at such an outlandish sight, and some even turned their weapons towards the newcomers, but none broke formation.

Okoya and Haapsalu were mildly confused. There was never talk of fighting. More importantly, they didn't know which side was the side supporting the foreigners. None of them wielded the foreigners' weapons, on either side. The banners on both sides were from various factions in the Empire, but they never heard of the Empire taking sides with regard to the foreigners.

Okoya was the first to reply. "So, well, what do we do now?"

Haapsalu shrugged. "Well, I guess I can try and talk to both sides, ask them if they've seen any foreigners, and we'll go from there. There could potentially be foreigners behind the walls, so we should probably check there first."

Okoya agreed. The two approached the walls through the invading army. The soldiers there happily obliged them, if only to prevent from getting crushed. Okoya assured them in broken Imperial that they just wanted to talk, that there (probably) was no need for the Zjaumit duo to fight the rest of them, and they were only passing through (for now). They approached the gate and the walls. Okoya called out in a loud voice: "Hello, there! Defenders of Italica! We want to speak with you, if at all possible!"

As was expected, there was no official response. Realizing this, Okoya outstretched her arm and placed Haapsalu atop the walls. One of the invading commanders came forth. "That is quite a mighty reach! We could use you in our army! Good food and pay! [At this, the low-level soldiers nervously shuffled at the thought of becoming giant food] What say you?"

Okoya replied cheerfully. "I thank you for the offer, but we're just looking for certain people!"

The captain was curious. "What sort of people?"

Okoya realized her mistake. "Um..."

"The people from the Gate?"

"Well..."

The captain knew that he didn't want to upset Okoya, but the giantess had certainly aroused his suspicions. He retreated to his men to discuss with the rest of his legion. In the meantime, Okoya made another call. "If you could open this gate, I might be able to squeeze through! I've lived in the caves for a while; I can get through tight spots! I promise I won't let anyone through!"

Meanwhile, Haapsalu was talking to the grunts at the top, in Imperial more fluent and eloquent than they themselves spoke. "My name is Baron Haapsalu Argyrix, ex-administrator of the Gahnospinel Mining Company. I seek audience with the leadership of this establishment, if at all possible. I mean you no harm, but..." Haapsalu brandished his tomahawk. "I have much more experience in battle than you. Further, I have a giant a few cubits away from you, and I don't think you wish to anger either of us."

The soldier, a tad weary from the war and eager not to make any more new enemies, brought him to a court of female knights and the Princess herself. At this point, Haapsalu bowed slightly with an equally slight grin: the business mannerism he liked best. "Your Highness, it is most interesting to see you here defending this establishment! I don't know if you know me personally, but the Empire has had the best of relations with the Gahnospinel Mining Company, which I founded and ran most loyally."

Haapsalu knew that transparency would give him the quickest answer. Death was one such quick answer, but that was a risk he was willing to take. "Now, we've been helping your loyal subjects with the storm, and we seem to have parted ways with our company: a band of men from the Gate, wishing to tour the region. Perchance, have you encountered them, or are you housing them in Italica? We'd like to know so we could meet up with them as soon as possible. If you do, we can be quite valuable mediators, and, with the sizable army outside your gates, I'm sure you need as much help as you can get." Haapsalu didn't mean that as a threat, but he figured that iron in the glove would be useful regardless. Now to await an answer from a monarch brought to her knees.

by **Legatia** » Thu Oct 05, 2017 11:42 am

Cordelia Hastine Augusta
Italica

The Princess had a number of questions. The first one was how in the hell that soldier located her so quickly, others quickly coming to mind yet not to voice. She dismissed the soldier rather quickly, her instincts eager to rid herself of such a particular situation before addressing the man whose size and stature failed to intimidate the still-adrenal Princess.

"I'm sorry, are you threatening me, Baron... Argyrix? You say you have an army- yet you now are separate from them. They would not be here to assist you if I declared you a threat and had you ran through where you stand.." A knight behind her began to slide her steel from her scabbard, but Cordelia held her back, the sword returning to the sheath. "Yet, you present yourself as a friend of the Empire and I'm not eager to make an enemy I don't need to. Consider this exceedingly generous- many other nobles of lesser caliber would have had you dead. Someone with your experience should know this."

After she had recovered a proper standing, she continued. "It was incredibly foolhardy of you to threaten me, regardless. You are saying there are men from beyond the Gate within our walls? Your quarrel is not with us- I would be inclined to assist you given you explain. Why have you trailed them to Italica with an army? What importance are they to you?" She looked over him for a second more. "..Perhaps most importantly, how did you come to contact them?"

by **New Finnish Republic** » Thu Oct 05, 2017 7:11 pm

Matti Heikkinen
Archer 3-4
Safehouse, Italica

As the rest of the Recon Team set up in the abandoned building, Matti finally was able to let out of sigh of relief as he reached into one of his front pouches on his vest where a small metal can awaited him. After giving the can a few small shakes, he took the lid of and retrieved a rather large pinch of chewing tobacco from the container. The small lump on his gums immediately brought the man relief, even though the "buzz" of nicotine didn't seem to really affect him. Glancing around the room he was in, he managed to find a small cup that would serve as a spitter. Content, he found a spot that he could rest at for the moment. As he quietly spit out the saliva-tobacco mixture from his mouth, he overheard Zhihai speaking to the young girl.

"If you were wondering, an LZ is short for 'Landing Zone'. We need those to bring help from Alnus Hill. If we can secure one... maybe we have a chance to protect the city, perhaps not their leaders, but the ordinary folks. We definitely can't do anything with just ten... eleven men."

Matti, his humor dry as ever, spoke up.

"You underestimate the strength of a Finn when he's outnumbered. We tend to do pretty well even when outnumbered."

He gave a small wink as he nodded his head at the Russian.

"Just ask his people."

by **Zjaum** » Thu Oct 05, 2017 9:59 pm

Legatia wrote:"I'm sorry, are you threatening me, Baron... Argyrix? You say you have an army- yet you now are separate from them. They would not be here to assist you if I declared you a threat and had you ran through where you stand.." A knight behind her began to slide her steel from her scabbard, but Cordelia held her back, the sword returning to the sheath. "Yet, you present yourself as a friend of the Empire and I'm not eager to make an enemy I don't need to. Consider this exceedingly generous- many other nobles of lesser caliber would have had you dead. Someone with your experience should know this."

After she had recovered a proper standing, she continued. "It was incredibly foolhardy of you to threaten me, regardless. You are saying there are men from beyond the Gate within our walls? Your quarrel is not with us- I would be inclined to assist you given you explain. Why have you trailed them to Italica with an army? What importance are they to you?" She looked over him for a second more. "..Perhaps most importantly, how did you come to contact them?"

"Trust me, Your Majesty,'someone with less experience' couldn't have made such a gamble," Haapsalu replied with a slightly-warmer and infinitely more sly smile. It wasn't a calculated gamble, of course, but Haapsalu learned to keep cool under negotiations, no matter the situation. There was a time a few years back when a robber baron tried to behead him. In a surprising display of incompetence, the bandit both overestimated the height and underestimated the skill of his adversary, and the Gahnospinel Mining Company acquired a great number of new weapons and recruits that day.

"Regardless, to show amiability with a 'noble of such caliber'-" Haapsalu set his spear down on the ground. It was a reasonable gesture, and he was more agile with his tomahawk, anyways.

Haapsalu took a deep breath before continuing. He wanted to be as clear and concise as possible, while still making himself look good. "Now, about the foreigners from beyond the Gate. I dare say that a small band of their men, such as the one that accompanied me, has more might than all the forces in Italica, both within and without. They are equally well organized, able to feed both themselves and the surrounding countryside for weeks on end. Most shockingly, their soldiers have an incredible amount of discipline. Less than a day ago, they were right alongside us helping your citizens, instead of looting! As a whole, they act with the curiosity of a giant playing with insects. Surprisingly little ill will unless provoked. In this spirit of curiosity, they wanted to travel through the Empire. I offered my services, of course, and those of my friend Okoya- speaking of, she's currently outside the walls waiting to get in, and I'd appreciate it if you could let her inside- and the group peacefully made their way through." Haapsalu purposefully omitted the multiple clashes with Imperial forces, since that might cost him his head.

"Seeing as Italica is the jewel of our empire, we all decided to travel here, to witness the beauty of the Empire. Clearly we came at the wrong time, but I'm sure the foreigners are capable of helping," Haapsalu stated to the ensemble. If their pacifism doesn't get in the way, Haapsalu thought to himself. "However, the recent storm separated the two of us from the foreigners. I personally figured that they would have arrived by now. Regardless, if you could help us reunite with them, perhaps with a small search party, I'm sure they would be quite grateful. It would be a gesture befitting of your magnanimity, regardless." It always helped to butter up the ego of royalty. Haapsalu made another slight bow.

Okoya was getting a tad tired of the long wait, but there wasn't much she could do. Busting down the gates was a simple task but would open up a whole can of worms. She waved to the top of the wall. "Hello! Is anyone up for small talk?" Not surprisingly, no one was brave enough for "small talk" with a giant. Mildly depressed, Okoya sunk on the wall. She grabbed a pike from the defenses and etched in the dirt in front of the city walls:

| |X| ~|? -| -H |~? _| T

(Okoya was here)

by **Asturial** » Fri Oct 06, 2017 2:24 am

Berian Cergaine

Berian's grip around the captain's throat tightened as his eyes bore into the other man's. After what felt to be agonizing hours Berian released and fell back onto the padded cot. The captain fell to his knees gasping for air, it had been less than a minute but the Landgrave's grip had left bruises across his throat.

"Forgive me captain." Berian said while pressing a hand to his forehead.

His captain nodded and slowly stood once again. Taking a place at the far wall he stood with the half dozen knights. The others paid practically no attention to their comrade and focused on the Landgrave, it was obvious his mind was turning with the news his man had whispered in his ear. After a long while Berian sat up on the edge of his cot, hand pressed tightly to the bandaged wound on his side. He stared daggers at an invisible point in the door. Jaw clenched, fists tight, and knuckles white. The Men had only ever seen their lord like this one other time.

Typically calm and collected under any pressure Berian's loss of his family had shaken him to his core. The remains he had returned to and the broken husk of a noble house he had inherited had left him physically trembling with grief and rage, only worsened as his sister was torn from everything she had known and carted off like a common criminal to the capital. Berian had not seen her a single time in the last four years and an added year and a half from his time in the legion prior to the destruction of his house.

Nothing had ever broken Berian's world like what had happened that day. Now, to discover Floronia, the only leader among the defenders Berian felt he could trust, not only aided in the death's of his family but actively took part in the killing. Berian felt a weight drop across his chest. The cogs in his head spun wildly as his mind ran through scenario after scenario looking for a solution that allowed him some form of respite from his bubbling anger.

Very slowly he stood. His men reached out but he waved them off. He made his way to his clothing and attempted to dress. Yet finding it too difficult he waved two of his men over and allowed their help in donning his garments then slowly his armor.

"As tight as possible, it will help keep the blood stopped." Berian said. Barely managing to rasp between heavy breathing.

Berian sent a man to gather his officers and have them come to his chamber. Another was sent to the men at the walls and stables to conclude casualties for the Regenosi soldiers and knights. Two more were sent to keep a sort of watch at the ends of the halls. Berian now felt surrounded by enemies. It wouldn't be long before it was time to leave Italica, but the Landgrave needed his men to be ready and prepared to force their way out of the city if necessary.

However plenty of issues remained. The north Company could attack them on the road, and even though Berian held no love for the Empire, he felt responsibility for the people of the city. Floronia and Cordelia's troops would be overrun far easier without his support leaving the people of the town to the hands of the mercenaries turned raiders. The coming hours of the night would largely decide the direction for not only Berian and his men, but possibly all of Italica.

by **Kassaran** » Fri Oct 06, 2017 9:38 am

Second Helghan Empire wrote:Specialist Martin Karev

Murphy's Laws of Combat Operations; Rule 20 - A retreating enemy is probably just falling back and regrouping.

Staff Sergeant William "Wild Bill" Thompson

Callsign "Crossroads 2-1"

3 Kilometers Southeast of Italica

"Sarge, we heading back to the Ivecos? I mean we are supposed to link up with the rest of the platoon, but how do we do that now that the fighting is all over and our guys are already in town?"

Looking out into the darkness, his eyes could pick out across the fields of green emitting from his NODS (once again securely put into place over his eyes), the quickly retreating figures of the raiding military force. They were running full tilt through the darkness, pushing through the debris and bodies that littered the battlefield. Among the many riders, there were choice members he could pick out carrying out banners and most directly fighting directly in the battle. Knights and heavy cavalry standing a chance against foot soldiers wasn't something he'd been familiar with. The long-lances and siege pikes of the attackers should have been enough to at least stymie the defenders, but the Imperials ran through their ranks like a child through a snow bank. Tumbling over and leaving nothing but ruin behind. He dropped to a knee bringing his hands up to his eyes to push the NODS up off of his face and to bring instead his rangefinder to his eyes. The light green glow lit up battle-hardened and seasoned eyes as he picked out individuals in the crowds.

Women were fighting alongside the men, not a common thing given that the majority of troops he'd been responsible for killing, or had seen killed or captured in the wake of the invasion of Stockholm were all male. These were the first female fighters, but he knew there was a point to be made here in that the enemy was on the run and then cavalry were not pursuing. Sure they were picking off the stragglers, those whom tried to surrender and even cast aside their arms were cut down mercilessly. He sighed inwardly at the inherent brutishness of the world about him. It was sad, perhaps moreover tragic, that they had chosen Earth of all places to attack, and at that they were only receiving the relatively minor response they were getting now because the nation they'd specifically offended was too weak or too lazy to do it themselves. Not that Thompson wasn't going to fully enjoy himself on this semi-working vacation, but there were certain battlefield objectives that needed to be completed.

He took away the rangefinder from his eyes and slipped the night-vision piece back on over his head as he turned to look at the merchant woman, gesturing impatiently for her to also get off the road. Surely they were to soon come across more stragglers and he felt that there was really, truly, no reason to try and figure out the location of the enemy this time around. The defenders that had sallied out to engage the hostile forces in the fields outside of Italica were now slowly retreating back into the protection of the walls that had housed the defenders. The fires that burned within the city still burned brightly enough that he could barely stand to turn in the direction of the city from where even he stood some 3 kilometers away. No, he would have to get closer and allow the walls to eclipse the bare flames that now shone brightly along the city-scape of Italica. Finally rejoining with Karev in the shallow furrow he'd chosen to take up position within, Thompson turned to the man and pointed towards the East Gate.

"Well, that was the plan since the fighting was going to be so heavy, I didn't want us to get caught up in any excess ambushes or fighting along the other walls, but the Imps just took care of that issue. It looks like we'll have a narrow window of opportunity to try and slink into the city, but first ask your friend here if she's aware of any other ways into the city... any at all that might allow us to link up with the others and give them a sitrep. They'll likely be radio-silent for now, so we can't try hailing them, but we can try locating the safe-house based on the description of the house given to me in Fisher's brief. We won't have much longer though until the guard normalizes and begins to resume normal watch patterns, so we need to move quickly if we're to get through."

Pixiv · by **Wolfenium** » Sat Oct 07, 2017 3:20 am

Kassaran wrote:-snip-

Althea
3 Kilometers Southeast of Italica

Her arms crossed as she followed the two, Althea did not particularly enjoy being dragged along. She was tired, annoyed, and she just wanted to head for a nice inn for a rest. But no... she was in a warzone now, and she was stuck following two unknown fellows in strange outfits who, despite their insistence otherwise, fight a lot like the infamous wood elves she tended to dislike.

Her eyes shifting as Karev translated Thompson's word, Althea felt a bit disgusted at the demand. Who were they, she felt, to order her around? What was in it for her to sneak into a besieged city. If it were the opposite direction, she would be more than happy to help. But not this, not without something in return.

"I might know a few routes," she quipped, glaring at her fingernails nonchalant, "but why the hell are we going into the city? I thought it's a lot less safe than running?"

While the elf felt tempted to ask for money, she knew better than to demand any reward from folks who just saved her life. Not only that, anyone who could take on a cavalry charge head on was not someone she could deal with in open conflict.

by **Nations United for Conquest** » Mon Oct 09, 2017 4:20 pm

Captain Alois Fischer

Crossroads 1-1

Italica | Safe-House

Tense. It was a common feeling among every soldier present in the first Recon Section since the day they were informed of their current mission, and a feeling that had been resting on the shoulders of every man and women present on the large concrete and stone fort that made up the base on Alnus hill since the day they first crossed through the mighty GATE all those months ago. One would be hard pressed to reminisce about a time in the Special Region, much less during the so called, 'adventures' of the Recon Section, that wouldn't be tense. Being some of the first to venture out into the unexplored and unknown of the Special Region, to the engagement with Imperial forward elements right off the bat, to even their several encounters with the thankfully scarce Beast that had seemingly been hunting them from the very beginning. Each event providing its own set of challenges and tough decisions that transformed this literal fantasy world into one of pure horror and distress. Even the morale boosting experience at Coda Village, which felt like centuries ago, had its fair share of tension. Whether between the villagers and the members of the Recon Section and UN, or simply through the unpreparedness of the Recon Section to under take such at operation at that time. It was a wonder something hadn't gone terribly wrong, at least something they knew about, so far. Then again, such an opinion was open to heated discussion depending on who someone would be foolish enough to ask such a question.

The tight and confined environment of the Safe House or Forward Observation Post according to the officers back at Alnus, was no different. The soldiers of the Recon Section had gone from a stressful time in Coda, to packed up like sardines, thank due in part to the fact their numbers had nearly doubled since then. No doubt some ploy for more countries to put a hand on the scale that was the balance of the current operation, to the tight urban center that was Italica. At least it was by Imperial standard. Likely something that brought back memories for a lot of the soldiers who had spent the last three months fighting in relative open combat with lush forests and open plains. There was of course also the added bonus they were deep behind enemy lines in what was already an active war zone, though not from any United Nations operations for the time being. Surrounded on all sides, there wasn't much of an option for breathing room, or even talking. With no knowledge of the Imperial routines, much less positions, there could already be people patrolling the streets and fortification walls that were only a tens of meters away from where they were currently positioned. Never mind the fact they were next to a major traffic point, the East Gate, that would no doubt be highly patrolled with the previous battle well and through. The perfect conditions for something to go wrong. It was only a matter of when and how.

There was another factor at play, maybe even two if one payed close enough attention to the signs. That of course being time. Something you always want on your side in an operation, especially one they were undertaking. But with a majority of the operation done for, at least until the brass back at Alnus made up their minds and sent in some orders, that time slowly began to turn against them. They had arrived within the city's walls no later than twenty two hundred hours, and the battle raged for at least another hour or so before finally ceasing to a point of nothing as both sides withdrew to see to their wounded and prepare for each other's next moves. Which meant, there was little to do for the Recon Sections members, who were bunched up in a small house in the heart of the enemies held territory. What were feelings of excitement and adrenaline from silently navigating the trade city quickly developed into boredom, and then into anxiousness as the minutes ticked by and the night grew longer and darker. Some glanced out windows, hands tightly gripping their weapons, while others sat fidgeting slightly. The first rotation of watches was set to begin soon, and even with some of the soldiers obviously tired, few would be getting sleep this night it seemed.

Thus the soldiers were left with the question that perplex people of all ages, race, and gender, at every period of their lives. What to do when there's nothing to do. Some would talk, or play games, or drink and watch some shows on television. Others might play on their phones, or run around, but no such luxury would be provided to the soldiers bunched up in the safe house. Talking too loud could give away their position, and most likely had similar thoughts on their minds anyways. Moving around was also a problem, and sleep was something that few could afford in the tiny loft. They hadn't exactly planned to stay the night after all. Patrols were knocked off the table for risk of noise or being spotted by a passing enemy in the streets or upon the high reaches of the wall. And so other methods were needed to be found. Reading, eating, and the occasional small whisper were all well and good. As were those who continued to check their gear and clean their weapons, though any thought of using them was still a ways off at the current state of the Recon Sections operation. Yet again, they were thrown to the sidelines, much like the months spent idle by at Alnus for months until they were finally given a mission. But in reality they all knew what would no doubt be coming in the morning.

It was likely another topic of quiet discussion among the minds of the soldiers as they sat, stood, or lay in their respective areas. That of course being the thought of combat. By now half of the Recon Section had witnessed combat in the Special Region first hand. Whether it was the older guys who had been there from the first foots that stepped across the Gate, like Fischer and Pierre, to the newer guys who had seen the horrors first hand in the small skirmish just outside the mighty walls of the fort upon Alnus hill, likely still shaken from the experience only two days prior. No doubt it felt like an entirety to some and just an hour ago to others. For the other members of the First Recon Section that had only arrived across the Gate and been tacked unto operation following the mission in Coda Village, whatever happened here in Italica would be their first taste of the brutal combat shared in interactions between both Imperial Forces and those of the United Nations and Earth. Men like Karev, still wandering the grasslands surrounding Italica no doubt and the young Orisa resting in a sleeping bag in the loft would be left steeling their resolve for another day of bloody combat. Those who were fresh likely had their own thoughts and troubles about what might transpire when the call for combat inevitably arrived. In reality no one could really prepare for what might happen, it was all left till the orders came down to get moving.

Fischer was in some ways no different. Though his thoughts lay in others areas. The idea of what combat might be like had escaped the inner workings of his mind. Experiences he had already seen provided enough of a reasonable doubt of what was likely to happen. That was of course if nothing went horribly wrong, and for the most part it had gone smoothly. The infiltration operation had gone off without a hitch and the Recon Section, nearly a platoon in size, was safely tucked away into the two floors of the Safe House, prepared for combat operations should the need truly arise. The only thing that was missing, was the forward elements of Thompson and Karev, who after engaging some Imperials had gone dark. No doubt wishing to keep in check the radio silence they had been informed of prior to their departure. Though they were instructed to radio if things went south, no such transmission had come through Fischer's radio. But the pair were well trained, and even without the help of Pierre and the ladders, who had both returned, they were likely to be fine. Worse case they would be forced back to the Convoy, and wait out the North Company's next move. And so for the time being such a thought and worry was tucked into the back of Fischer's mind as he continued to flip through the pages of his small journal.

Though rather than write a recording of the day's recent events, and not just because he was running low on ink in his pens, he was flipping through some of the pages near the beginning of the notebook. Stories from his great grandfather, a soldier in the Great War which happened over a hundred years ago. And, in such cruel twist of fate the experiences written there a hundred years ago sarily reflect those currently taking place around them. Thus, there were few other places to turn for a look at what was going on. It was, of course, not a terribly way to kill them as they waited somewhat eagerly for the North Company to make their next move.

Sigurd Fischer
15/4/16
Verdun, France

In total it has been over two months since the initial fighting over this damned piece of land began over the waning days of the February of Nineteen Sixteen. We've been in combat for only a short span of time and already over hundred thousand of our comrades and enemies lay dead or wounded along this infernal piece of ground. The one shiny hope is the cold rains, snows, and winds of the previous months have begun to die down as the spring was landed upon us. But already dread seems to have made its way through our lines and the worries of another heated summer have dawn upon us. Though for now all we must look forwards too is combat, and more combat. It has been the same way since the summer of fourteen all those years ago.

I write today for the same reason I always write, the news of another push to be made. It's a shame, we had just held off an advancement by the French only a few hours earlier than when I am writing this. The bodies, still in their blue uniforms though now soaked a deep purple by the sheer amount of blood spilled upon them lay just above the entrance to our trenches, some even on the ground now covered in a thick coat of mud, hiding their true identity from any pair of wandering eyes. It was quite the fight, though it was the same as any. The call was given for an advancement, not by our own commanders, but by the ceasing of French Artillery that had been pounding our positions for hours on end. It was a welcome sight to be free from the constant pounding of heavy shells colliding with the earth. But it also meant that the enemy would soon be upon us. I myself rushed to my machine gun position, all set to take aim.

Looking across the barren fields of the 'no-man's-land' devoid of any life or defining features save for the massive craters and piles of corpses littered around. In the distance there is the faint sound of whistling. Not of a songbird of any kind, but of an enemy officer instructing his men to prepare to go over the breach. All across the line the men begin to place their rifles just beyond the lip of the trenches. Exposing themselves anymore would mean certain death. I am lucky enough to have a small fortified position to call my home. And thus begin the two worse seconds of any battle, as you wait for the orders to open fire at the sight of the enemy. And sure enough out of the fog and mist comes the outline of hundreds, if not thousands, of blue men rushing towards us. Immediately we began to fire, unloading hundreds of rounds from out guns into the thick line of blue and watching as they quickly fell, like a piece of paper caught in the wind. They ran there across the fields, unable to fight back. Stopping to fire meant you were only an easier target for the enemy, thus left them only with their bayonets protruding from the barrels of their guns. They were doomed to die if they couldn't get close enough-

Fitting, was the word passed through his mind as his eyes finished scanning through the last words on the page. The events were both similar and different in many ways to the current situation unfolding around them in the Special Region. Thousands of enemy soldiers swarming them with blades, only to be cut down by machine gun and artillery fire. Though in one case the enemy were French soldiers and the other involved Roman type soldiers who had never seen a rifle or gun of any sort in their entire lives, and if they did it was likely to be a short life. Still, the passage was a good reference point for the Captain, Recon Section, and United Nations operations as a whole. The similarities between the two often called him back to the pages repeatedly throughout his time in the Special Region. Especially during those open saying, when it could have truly been something straight out of the Great War. Waves of enemies rushing towards them, thousands strong, only to be massacred en masse by the rifles, machineguns, and artillery pieces brought along by the many nations of earth. Within a hours thousands lay dead, and within a few weeks tens of thousands. Statistics that were equal to that of the Great War, and in many cases seemed to pale in comparison. Something that would likely bring much disbelief and likely sadness to the hearts of the Recon Section members of such information was ever discovered.

About to flip the page of the notebook to the continued entry of the battle, another slaughtered among the almost genocidal amounts of death suffered in war as a whole, there was a large thumping sound originating from the loft above his current position. Almost as if someone had jumped up on the floor. Something that would be quite troublesome given the sense of relative silence they were aiming for. It was a stealth mission after all. It was also quite puzzling, considering no other follow up sounds of similar manner could be heard. Meaning, it was likely someone standing up in haste, and likely small at that. Thus it could only point to a single person, Orisa. The young girl had been shaken up only a few hours prior by the words of some of the Recon Section's members. Notably those of Dima and young Chinese lieutenant, who had left her in an almost state of panic. A rupture in the tension. Luckily Fischer had broken in before the discussion got to levels where something went seriously wrong, though a mentally scared Russian crying wasn't exactly the best of circumstances either. Now it seemed that those levels of tension had built up once again and were overflowing yet again. Only being a meters from the staircase, which had no diving door, it was easy enough to hear the faint sounds of her high pitched voice arguing with those around her.

"Zee-hi?"

Zee-hi, Fischer ran the word through his head, and a few seconds later came to the conclusion she was likely attempting to address the young Chinese lieutenant. The same one she had gotten into a small argument, if you could call two twenty something soldiers basically screaming at a young sixteen, at least according to earth years, old girl about politics she likely had no grasp over what to ever. Now it would seem she was on the verge of no doubt reopening a similar argument, though the harshness of her voice had lost the next few words on him, due to his position on the bottom floor. Not wishing to have to deal with another shouting match, especially under such conditions as they were presently affect Fischer closed the small notebook returning it to its place in his vest. Blinking once he instantly felt the dryness of his eyes from having stared at the paper of the notebook for so long. Pulling his hand over his face as if to wake it up, he blinked a few more times, adjusting his eyes once again to the light before standing up. As he did he craned his next so as to allow the light of the moon to reach his wrist, revealing the time of Twenty Four hundred hours, just about midnight. Luckily it was also near a full moon placing a great deal of extra light upon the room, leaving out the requirements of night vision optics to be on to simply navigate the layout of the house. Which was a benefit, given the fact that flashlights, lanterns, or even candles were far out of the picture at this point. They were staying in a safe house right near a major traffic area that was supposed to be abandoned. Something like that, even if it was simply a few candles, would instantly put suspicion on the house. Suspicion leads to investigation, and investigation lead to discoveries. And the safe house was something the Recon Section didn't want to be found and something the Imperial forces, if they could know what was good for them, would never dream of wanting to find in a million years. For now, he was lucky to have the moonlight as he slowly made his way towards the stairs.

Everything in the house was made of wood and stone, ornately crafted and colored. Further adding to the opinion that this was indeed a merchants or wealthy mans house. If the location and size hadn't given it away already that was. Even the simple chair that Fischer had previously occupied seemed to be made from a rich piece of whatever type of trees grew in the might and lush forests of the Special Region. Rather than a few planks roughly piled together, as he had seen in some other places, notably in the camps of the Imperial Armies near Alnus in those first fateful days, this chair and the ones surrounding it were made of sanded and glazed wood. Even in the dull light of the moon it wasn't hard to make out the rich bronze color of the wood and other blues and greens that decorated the many surfaces of the chair. No doubt it even held some Imperial writing on the back, perhaps signifying the owner of the wares. Though it was not to say everything was made in perfect and beautiful condition. The house was no doubt old and in certain places it was easy to see its ware. One place in particular was the the stairs that creaked as Fischer slowly placed his left foot upon the first step. It wasn't terribly loud, but it was still a groaining sound that made it sound as if the wood itself was under great distress from the Captain. Yet before he could even place a second foot on the next step there was the familiar voice of the Old Man calling back to him. Something about Alnus being on the line. Hastily but calmly Fischer removed himself from the staircase, moving back towards the table where the radio and the Old Man both waited

As Fischer took the receiver from the Old Man's hands a voice rapidly came across the channel, <<This is Rook, come in Crossroads>> Wasting no time, due to the somewhat urgent tone of the young officer on the other end, Fischer pressed the talk button, his voice steadfast coming through the mic <<This is Crossroads, 1-1 go ahead>> There was a slight pauses as the officer on the other end was no doubt gathering his thoughts and rereading whatever stack of papers was likely just placed in front of him. No doubt new intel on the North Company or the Imperials, but likely both. After what seemed like a good two minutes the officers voiced returned to the frequency <<We have new information regarding the current formations of North Company...>> <<Roger...Crossroads out>> came Fischer's reply in the same steadfast voice. Turning to the others standing around him, the majority of Recond Section, or at the very least over half of it, he gave a simple nod and began to relay the message and new orders to those still standing around him, in a quieter voice than the one's raging on only a few cms of wood above them.

Finished with that he turned back, leaving the others to go about their business, and moved back towards the stairs. Already there were new voices flooding down the step and into his ears. It would appear the conversation between Orisa and the Chinese soldier had continued, and fortunately it seemed to have stayed relatively calm for the most part. Hopefully it would stay that way for the time being. As he continued to climb more and more of his body began to appear over the edge of the stairwell and into the loft. First his head, same emotionless cold expression plastered across his face, eyes darting around the room registering who was and wasn't present in his direct view. No doubt some of the soldiers had attempts to grab what little sleep their minds might offer them, only to likely be awoken by the ramblings of Orisa and the Lieutenant. Already he could make out the outlines of Dima, Barrow, and Popov against the streams of dull light filtering in through the open windows. They were luckily smart enough to drap the barrels of their guns to prevent the moonlight from giving them away. Elsewhere he could make out Grace off to herself, absorbed in something he couldn't quite see in the soft light, and form the O'Connor, crouched besides Dima, the two likely having or had spoken about something. But there towards the centerpiece of the room stood Orisa, standing proud and gazing down on the Lieutenant who was still sitting, next to them a man who he recognized as a Fin. Who had someone left his post down stairs to make his way up here. But that was a discussion for another time. Instead he was here to listen to Orisa and the Lieutenant.

"We don't know what's going on, or who we're dealing with. We'd love to help; I'd help if I had a choice. I don't think I need to tell you what will happen to the folks here if whoever's outside ever broke in. The problem is, we don't know who those people are, and we're still as much an enemy of the folks here as we are of them. What if they were revolting slaves? Wouldn't that mean we'll be helping the Empire abuse them? Our commanders wouldn't want to be hasty with such decisions. It's frustrating, I know... but we can't just jump in blindly, especially when your friends have every reason to kill us on sight."

"an LZ is short for 'Landing Zone'. We need those to bring help from Alnus Hill. If we can secure one... maybe we have a chance to protect the city, perhaps not their leaders, but the ordinary folks. We definitely can't do anything with just ten... eleven men"

It would seem he had arrived just as the two were presently finishing up their conversation with one another. Despite having missed a majority of what the young Orisa had said, he was able to piece together most of it from the answers presented by the the lieutenant. Likely she had been wondering why the Recon Section, was in Italica in the first place, and even more specifically why they were just sitting on their asses in a house doing nothing while a battle raged on outside and 'innocent' people were likely dying for no particular reason. It was certainly a valid question, and likely one on the mind of more than just Orisa. Or the first part for that matter. A good majority of those who had been in combat before likely knew the answer to her second question, and the Lieutenant seemed to be doing quite a fine job of explaining that second part. It was the first part that was shaky. Why they were in Italica, was truly a grey area, and beyond reasonable assumption, Fischer himself didn't really know. It was likely no one really did. Not even the commanders back in Alnus who were no doubt yelling at each other over what they should be doing with the Recon Section at this very moment. It also explained their most recent orders.

In its simplest form, the Recon Section was simply in Italica because Italica was there. When they were deployed on their intal umbrella operation, there was almost no intel to go off of. They were simply instructed to go out and find something, anything. But more specifically something that would help them get one step closer to finding out what the hell was going on and who was responsible for everything that had happened thus far. A simple enough task in itself. Thus when Italica came into their sights, a city that was said to be rich and full of trade, it would only make sense for the Recon Section to go an investigate it. It was beyond reasonable doubt they would find something there that could help them, and at the worse it would become a new forward operating base or FOB for the United Nations Security Forces. Only they hadn't expected a battle to be raging for control of the city upon their arrival. Another bit of sand to thrown into the cogs of the UN's current operations in the Special Region. And thus, no one could truly figure out what to do. Likely a bunch of Lieutenant Generals and Generals from multiple countries were sitting around in a room in Sweden, or Alnus wonder what the Recon Section should be doing.

Some would argue that they should be helping fend off the city, to fight off the North Company and help the people still trapped and dying in the city. Though others would argue that we'd simply be helping the Imperials who slaughtered hundreds of our countrymen and women just a few months prior. Nevermind the type of danger that could put the Recon Section in after the fighting had ceased. Others might have said we should take out the Imperials and simply place the city under United Nations Peacekeeping Protection. But then they'd basically be taking over a city that was just in the process of being taken over. Though at least they would likely agree on one thing, and that was saving the civilians inside the cities walls. Even if some of the commanders and even nations back home wanted to look at it as a war, which it rightfully is, it is still a peacekeeping operation at the end of the day. Yet, for all the militaristic and interventionist actions that had been taken over the past months, they still fell ill to the same curse that has plagued Peacekeeping forces under the UN from day one, Neutrality and a unwillingness to involve peacekeepers in combat. Though it didn't help that most time such happened, it ended in a literal bloody failure, though if there was ever a time to turn it around it would be now.

"You underestimate the strength of a Finn when he's outnumbered. We tend to do pretty well even when outnumbered - Just ask his people"

It was the voice of the Russian man that had somehow managed to leave his post on the first floor, or completely ignore it all together. He seemingly had made his way to the center of the room to throw around a bit of dry humor in the middle of what was a pretty tense situation, discussion over the purpose of the United Nations in the Special Region. It was a call back to the winter war that took place between the Soviet Union and Finland back in the nineteen forties. A war which ended in a humiliating embarrassment for the Soviets as a whole. Not exactly the kind of topic one should bring up to a Russian man who just a few hours ago was bawling his eyes out and screaming at a small girl. But it was too late to stop him or even yell at the man. Hopefully he'd take it better than the Imperial propaganda the young Orisa had been going on about earlier. One could hope at least. It was about this time that some of those not busy listening in on Orisa and the Lieutenant began to notice the Captain had made his way back onto the top floor. He gave those who met his eyes a quick nod, his expression never faltering from its normal self. He then moved towards the back wall and began to speak in a slightly quieter voice, his accent a little thicker than usual against his steadfast voice

"Listen up" He took a paused as he waited for those around him, in particular those currently having their own little conversation, eying up Orisa and the Lieutenant with a cold gaze as his eyes panned over them, "We've just received word from Alnus about information regarding the North Company's current position, as well as additional orders regarding future combat operations in Italica." There was a pause as he took a breath, "Intel shows that the remaining North Company troop, some four hundred soldiers, have made their way from the South Gate, over near our position here at the East Gate. Thus it can be reasonable assumed that the East Gate will be their next target of attack, as we assumed previous to this operation taking place." He paused, casting a glance towards the window watchers, and the courtyard area just spread out beyond the wall where several empty bulwarks stuck waiting for soldiers to return, "Alnus Operation Command as designated two areas as LZs. LZ Oberg has been designated as a zone just outside of the main wall, which will be overseen by the IFV at the convoy resting designation. LZ Ludin, will be overseen by us, and has be designated at the courtyard below us. Thus it will be our job to secure this location, in conjunction with air support should the need arise." There was a pause as his eyes returned to the center of the room and his voice grey slightly louder, "Now. Alnus has left the determination of intervention up to us. They wish neither to involve themselves with either party and decrease the risk presented to us in such a situation. Thus, our main focus lies in protecting the civilians present in Italica and we are strictly forbidden to intervene unless we dub it necessary for the safety and protection of Alnus." He paused. It was the type of order he had been assuming they would receive, but not quite the one he had hoped for. It put a great amount of pressure on the Recon Section, as any Air support would be at least an hour away from arriving, and in that short time, a lot could go wrong. But it also meant the Imperials were still to be treated as their enemies and they would not be forced to work with them, an order he was thankful for. "It can be assumed this next assault by the North Company will transpire sometime" He looked down at the watch on his wrist, straining to see it in the dull light "Within the next two hours. Gear up and be ready to move at any point should the need arise."

With that he made his way over to a spare chair in the corner of the room, near the staircase and back wall facing away from the windows. He had already given a similar briefing to the soldiers still on standby below, and they would likely inform Karev and Thompson upon their return to the safe house, if they hadn't met up with the Type-89 crew and the rest of the Convoy. Thus he grabbed the mic resting on his shoulder and began to speak into it, <<This is Crossroads 1-1 to Archer 1-1. Intel received from Alnus. Maintain position and wait for further instruction>> With that taken care of his slowly took a seat in one of the few empty chairs upstairs, and began to take out his notebook, flipping through to a new entry from his Great Grandfather. Something to entertain the mind while and too hopefully pass the time until North Company made their move. He would have returned back to the lower areas, to be better prepared to move out immediately, but instead figured it would be better to stay upstairs, were tensions seemed much hotter. And with that, the waiting game began.

by **Arcanstotska** » Tue Oct 10, 2017 6:08 am

Dominik Fritz
Archer 1-5
Italica

"Gear up and be ready to move at any point should the need arise."

To Dominik, the words "gear up" we're two words that he simply could not ever forget nor stop hearing in the back of his head. He had heard it in Iraq, he had heard it in Afghanistan, and now it was being spoken to him in another world. This two words annoyed him, and brought back some bad memories, but he had a job to do. Dominik began to check his gear again, making sure he had everything he would need should conflict arise, which he hoped it would not. But, he was also eager for action, action against an enemy that didn't have modern weapons like assault rifles and gun trucks. He put a clip in his rifle and awaited for further orders.

by **Auropa** » Wed Oct 11, 2017 4:12 am

Andrew O’Connor
Crossroads 1-5
Italica

For a few moments O’Connor silently stared into the side of the Russian's face looking for any signs or signals he could use against him. But to the man's credit, he showed nothing and as much as O’Connor would like to keep pressing and ensure no more outbursts, he had to admit when pushing would do no good. Before he could move back to his original spot though, Fischer took the room’s attention.

Nations United for Conquest wrote: snip

‘Well shit’ O’Connor thought to himself. If the East gate was going to be attacked that put them almost directly in the firing line ‘or stabbing line in this case’. Everyone here knew about the risks heading in so the danger wasn't really a concern, the problem was the timetable. In O’Connor’s mind, the defenders were meant to be kept fighting until the second wave smashed them from the rear or at least made to be worn down and kept busy while the remaining forces moved into position. A good plan that probably would’ve worked, if not for the whole cavalry thing. He wasn’t entirely sure of the details but the unmistakable sounds of the tide turning and hooves sundering the ground was unmistakable. But by flipping the invasion so quickly the defenders had likely forced the attackers to start rushing in an effort to push their last advantage and use momentum while they still could. It put them at a disadvantage in the long run but gave them on hell of a better chance of getting through the gates and by extension, reaching the infiltration team. That left them with precious few options. Air support was a nice boon but would take time to arrive, wasn't exactly subtle and was heavily limited if their main focus actually was protecting the civilians. Assuming no one had screwed up though, the defenders still had no idea they were there. That at least gave them some level of discretion and the chance to move about. At that thought however O’Connor couldn’t help but give a small sideways glance towards Orisa ‘god help us if one of the natives told them we were here…' he began to think, but almost interrupting his own train of thought, inspiration struck and a new idea took root '...Or maybe that's exactly what we need...’ he decided.

“Nice chatting to you Ivan” He quietly said to the Russian as he got to his feet all the while flashing a warm out-of-place smile shared between the closest of friends. As of now everyone had work to do, and that meant that that the whole friendly CIA relationship advice could wait. Instead he needed to focus on risks and possible attacks. Unlike most of the others he was still acting reserve, so camping by a window would likely just place him in the way of others rather than help. His equipment was still stowed, packed more for quick movement rather than long combat. It made him less able to hold any lines on his own but he’d be better suited to getting around if there was a breach or if another objective came in to play. But there were still a few concerns hanging on his mind. ‘No time like the present’ he figured as he silently approached the captain and began to finalize his idea.

“Captain Fischer, we haven’t had a chance to be properly introduced. My name is Andrew O’Connor, pleasure to be here. Not the time I know, but I won’t get paid if I don’t follow the technicalities. Now I’m sorry to interrupt your reading but I think we might have a situation.” As he paused for a breath he took a second to study the captain’s features, not too surprisingly, the man’s face gave almost nothing away, if anything, it was almost eerily calm. “There’s a good chance that the North Company will break through. The siege might run out of steam but we’ll likely be exposed during the attack. We’ve got the position and armament to deal with that for a short time but I feel like I have to mention the serious risk of irreversibly damaging our relations with the locals here. On one hand, we’re at major risk of hitting unintended targets but if we try to limit ourselves we’re at a bigger risk of being overrun and cut down. Of course, you know this and none of us are here to complain. And its not like we don’t have options, we can turn the courtyard into a complete kill zone and deal with the future retaliations when and where they come. We can stick to silenced weapons and try to fight surgically, take out the leaders or the odd soldier who gets to close and hope its enough. Truth be told sir, we’ve got dozens of different ways to fight but each leaves us with a different risk, downside or cost. My concern is that while we can deal with any remnants and the odd patrol, we’d be hard pressed to stand against either force after they regroup. So, I'd like to propose another option, we go loud. Make a stand against the north company if they reach us, take down any forces if they get too close and turn the area into our own designated safe zone for non-combatants. We’d hopefully get the local civies on our side and for when the defenders show up, we’ve got their citizens in our custody. Practically force them to listen to us. I’m not saying we should do this, or that it’s a good idea. But our resident green priest has shown some sway with the locals before. If she could do it again, when the gate comes down and people start running we could convince some of them that the courtyard is protected by some barrier, or something. Meanwhile, any attackers come, they’ll see the group of civies and ignore our little old abandoned house giving us a clear shot with minimal risk. Everything goes well and we might finally get a chance to talk to the empire.” Pausing for another breath O’Connor decided to wait another second and let his idea sink in. It was risky, flawed, unfinished and if done wrong, could be seen as using civilians as living shields and hostages. And while it was technically true, the main idea he had to get across was the long-term danger and the potential pay offs that could come from the operation “What we do is your call sir, I’ll keep on standby for anything but we can’t afford another massacre against the empire and this may be our only chance chance to strong arm the officials into talking. One way or another, we need to get them to the table sir.”

by **Sterkistan** » Wed Oct 11, 2017 6:06 am

WO James Ryan
Crossroads 1-4 | Italica Safehouse
James glanced over at Fischer as he told them the situation, grimacing under the balaclava covering his face. They had to go into an alien landscape and hold down a fuckin' LZ. Of all the shitty jobs, holding LZ's was pretty shitty.
But upon hearing about the number of troops he was slightly surprised, 400 strong, despite the battle before. With the slight, rare glimpses of Italica residents he'd seen through the window they looked pretty raggy. He doubted they'd be able to take on 400 more, probably well-rested soldiers.

He nodded to himself, going over the plan in his head. He didn't want to hurt any civilians who might come for a look at the flying metal carriages. So he repacked his combat kit, switching out 2 of his 4 frag grenades for flash ones, checking his watch occasionally for a time update. He finished up, his kit was versatile and had enough equipment for a prolonged engagement. As well as giving him the capacity for some CQC should the need arise.
He looked at his left shoulder, patting down the SASR patch and the grey Australian Flag underneath, before shifting his head over to his right shoulder, patting down the UN SOF patch. James realized that he wasn't the only patriot here. Even just looking around in the dim light he could see people flying their flags on their arms.

He readied his gear, taking his place back at the window. "I'll wake whoever's next up for second shift when it's their turn. Get some rest." He said to everyone in the room, turning back to watch out the window. Where he sat, thinking for a few minutes before turning away, "Someone cover my post for a few minutes."
He made his way up the steps slowly, taking care to make as little noise as possible. That didn't stop the old floor however, creaking despite the fact he was rolling his feet to limit the noise he made.
He made his way over to Fischer, waiting for the CIA guy to finish first, "Sir, it's Ryan, probably not my place to say, but I reckon we should help the civvies, fend off the North Company. From what we mostly know about medieval history, I'm pretty sure civilian casualties weren't that big of a topic." He specifically told Fischer his name because the Captain, despite his heavenly powers of information, may not have recognized him in the dark with a friggin' balaclava on.

by **Zjaum** » Wed Oct 11, 2017 6:35 pm

As Okoya drew in the dirt, a soldier from the North Company approached he, discarding his helmet as a gesture of good faith. He wanted to show the guards on the wall that he meant no harm, and the helm probably couldn't do anything against a giant. Still, he pitied the now-lonely Okoya (and he was feeling moderately bored himself), so he figured that a conversation wouldn't hurt.

"Hello, there!" he called up to the giant. "How goes it? What's your name, besides?"
Okoya turned her attention to the soldier beneath her and responded in broken Imperial. "Okoya, sir, and doing good at that. And you?"
"I am Amilus," the soldier chuckled. "That is a foreign accent, and those aren't Imperial marks. From where did you come?"
"Ah, good, sir, from Zjaum, and Unterritory, I come. It is a long ways hence; a day's travel if you run and run fast."
"Hm. I've been all across the Empire, but I don't think I ever traveled to Zjaum. How is it in the summer?"
"Very good, sir. Peaceful, and quiet."
The soldier paused. Peace and quiet had been out of his reach for quite some time now. "Perhaps, once this tour is over, I'll take my wife and children there. I'd like piece and quiet."
"Ah! How old are they?"
"The wife?... Oh. I have three children, aged twelve, ten, and five. They've been without their father for some time now... much too long a time."
Okoya sympathized. She'd been separated from her family ever since she left home. She wondered, for a moment, how much they'd changed since she left, or if her absence made any difference at all. "What are their names?"
"Geralt, Amila, and Hans, from oldest to youngest," the soldier replied. "When I left home, Amila was sick. I prayed every night since I left that she'd be well, but I won't know if my prayers were answered until I return."
What was supposed to be a light conversation turned grim in a matter of minutes. Perhaps that was all that the soldier could think of at the moment. Okoya decided to lighten the mood. "Hey! Would you like to know what these symbols mean?"
"All right, sure! If I'm to go to Zjaum, I should probably know their language!"

And so, for as much time as was allowed, Okoya taught Amilus the strokes and dialect of her favorite language. It was rich and bold, and Amilus had trouble with the nasal labiodental, but the two had fun, and, in the midst of so many reasons not to have fun, that's what mattered. At the end of their time, when Amilus was called back by the officer who'd questioned Okoya just an hour before, Amilus made one last request. "If I die, could you tell my wife and children that I'm sorry I couldn't be there for them?"
"Stop speaking nonsense!" replied Okoya, in Imperial words with much harsher connotations than what she wanted. "Hold out your hand."
Amilus complied, and a large diamond fell into his hands. Okoya shuddered; it was like losing a memory. She could retell precisely how she got the jewel, but there wasn't enough time for that now. She'd just have to remember the story of how she gave it away. "Give this to children. I pray for Amila too." Smiling, Amilus marched back to his camp.

Okoya relaxed back in her position on the wall; the front stones cracked a little but the structure supported her weight. Whether she was fighting for or against the invaders, she knew that they had faces. She'd best be sure to remember that in the battle to come.

by **Second Helghan Empire** » Mon Oct 16, 2017 3:09 pm

Specialist Martin Karev

Martin translated words for the pair, however he also took the opportunity to answer Althea. He had been taking brief moments to scan the horizon and nearby area, and in doing so noticed the majority of the North Company were moving away from their location. However they remained in the area, and that meant they remained a threat.

"Althea, I am sorry we are dragging you along, but our people are holed up in there. With them we would likely be safer than anywhere out here." Martin had lifted his NVG scope to look her in the eyes, his hope was to convey to her that she would be safe with them, but that they did need to get into the city.

After a moment Martin lowered the scope back down and allowed a second for his eye to adjust before scanning once again.

Pixiv · by **Wolfenium** » Tue Oct 17, 2017 6:45 am

Safehouse, Italica
Lt. Huang Zhihai
Crossroads 2-2

Hearing Heikkinen's quip, the Chinese officer could not help but break into a coy smirk. As much as the lad's boasting suggested otherwise, the fact that Finland was ultimately a loser of the Winter War was not lost to Zhihai. One could not feasibly call the loss of Vyborg, and later Petsamo to be anything resembling a victory. At most, it was a lackluster victory for the overwhelming power of the Soviet Union, but a victory regardless.

"Problem was, the Russians could take the losses," Zhihai quipped back jokingly, "the most you can claim is that you performed damage control extraordinarily. Didn't work as well the second time around."

That 'second time', of course, was the Continuation War, which certainly did not have the same lopsided bloodletting as before, not the least because of field experience gained by the Soviets in both the Winter war and the current Operation Barbarossa.

As Fischer gave his orders, the young lad readied his rifle as he soaked in the news. Good news was, they were going to focus on guarding the civilians without working with the Imperials. The bad news was that they were going to be outnumbered and cornered doing so. How they could feasibly convince the civilians to come to their protection was beyond him, but he was hoping Orisa could help out.

"Yes, sir," he stated, "looks like we'll be getting that LZ ASAP."

by **Bentus** » Sun Oct 29, 2017 12:49 am

Floronia de Yamada
Italica

The healer sighed as he rubbed the last of the ointment into the woman’s wounds, the immediate sting of the concoction gradually transitioning into a smooth, cooling sensation that brought relief to Floronia’s painful shoulder.

“I cannot condone your going about like this. More than anything Countess, you need to rest.” At the Knight’s insistence, he had sewn the stitches quickly – warning the woman of course that doing so would lead to more visible permanent scarring that was ill fitting for a maiden of the nobility. Floronia had brushed his concern aside with a laugh, of course, which was what the ageing doctor had expected.

“These stitches will not hold through much activity, and if you tear them open you’re going to start losing a lot of blood.”

“I understand, doctor. And I appreciate your concern, truly.” Floronia offered the man a thankful smile, but the weathered features remained unconvinced. Grunting, the doctor reached into his satchel to pull out a rolled bandage.

“I have little doubt that you do, Floronia. But, as much as I enjoy your company, I would sincerely appreciate it if I saw you less in my line of work. Especially if you’re just going to ruin the stitches that I spent the last time putting in.”

That brought another smile to Floronia’s features, and she rolled her eyes as the doctor began to wrap the bandage around her treated shoulder and chest. “I’ll take that into consideration then, perhaps my business would be more appreciated elsewhere?”

“Oh please, no-one else would be willing to put up with you.”

Stifling a laugh, Floronia allowed the healer to finish his duties before standing and attempting to move her arm. A dull ache still emanated from the wound, but it was a far cry from the immobilising pain that had crippled her in the battle. She frowned, realising that her plate armour would ride painfully on the tender wound if she were to wear it any time soon. Glancing in the mirror that stood beside her, Floronia noted the array of new cuts and scratches that now adorned her torso – although the cloth bandages that wrapped around her chest and shoulder now hid the worst of it. Gradually, her eyes rested upon her own expression and she silently had to agree with the doctor: dark bags betrayed her fatigue, even if the blood, dirt and grime had all been scrubbed clean.

That’s to be expected when fighting a siege. Floronia smarted at herself, amused that a part of her mind saw it fit to worry itself over her appearance at a time like this.

“I will be sure to take your advice to heart doctor, I owe you both my life and those of my warriors.”

Hiding a proud smile, the old man waved away the compliment. “Merely my duty. Is there anything else that I may assist you with?”

Floronia glanced for a moment longer at the woman staring back at her from the mirror before she turned to respond. “Actually, I was hoping that you could direct me to where Landgrave Berien has been quartered?” The Knight paused as a new thought struck her. “And if perchance you may know whether the Keep’s wine cellar is still intact?”

Making her way towards Berien’s chambers, Floronia could feel a sense of proud satisfaction in her chest. Her prize – a bottle of pristine Regenosi Ale that she had relieved from the Keep’s wine cellar – was held in one hand. It was from a particularly exquisite vintage, she had been told, and would doubtlessly have been worth a significant expense. Of course, being the defender of a city meant that one could take certain liberties. Floronia herself tended more towards Imperial wines than the harsher liquors of the vassal state, but she was certain that Berien would appreciate the sentiment and memory of his home. The man had fought valiantly on behalf of Italica, and it was the least that she could do to express her appreciation for his efforts – and to remind him of the firm links between his people and her own.

Floronia knew that any celebration of victory was premature, and they were far from ridding themselves of the North Company. But morale was a fragile thing, and it was important to savour every respite from the bloody slog of battle and war. She knew that it would be hard for the Landgrave, the prospect of weathering a siege and sacrificing his men for a cause that some of them may not entirely believe. In no small part, she feared that he would feel as if he stood alone and forget that she and the princess would stand by his side in the days to come.

Arriving to the right floor, the Countess nodded to the Regenosi soldier her stood guard at the end of the hall – briefly confused when the man turned to enter the room ahead of her rather than respond. She paid the strange behaviour little thought, and knocked on Berien’s door before allowing herself in.

“Lord Berien, Lion of the South Gate! Guardian of Italica!” Floronia exaggerated the impromptu titles as she entered. “I hear that the North Company shall quiver at the merest mention of your name after tonight.” Smirking, she was about to continue when the expression on Berien’s features stopped her in her tracks. Caught off guard, Floronia looked at her friend with concern.

“Is everything alright?”

by **Nations United for Conquest** » Sun Oct 29, 2017 3:22 pm

Captain Alois Fischer

Crossroads 1-1

Italica | Safe-House

The briefing itself was simple enough in nature. A basic outline of what was supposed to happen based on the information that had been provided from Alnus hill only a few minutes prior to the brief in f which had just concluded in the tiny and cramped loft that was the sace house of Italica. If everything was to go according to plan the Recon Section wouldn't even have to fire a single bullet until the Air Cavalry came swooping in to rip Italica a new one. Both for the defending Imperials and the invading North Company. An issue that it seemed Command back at Alnus wasn't even sure to deal with. Thus as always the final judgment had been left up to the Recon Section, just as the Rules of Engagement had been prior to their leaving the fort on Alnus Hill. But if the previous day's events and the track record for the Special Region as a whole were anything to go off, odds were stacked against them for a clean execution. It was a common trend of things in the Special Region to go wrong, and it all stemmed from a lack of intelligence provided by Alnus Hill. Though to be fair this wasn't Afghanistan where twenty or so satellites always had a clear picture on what was happening on the ground and could provide intel at the snap of a finger. Instead hours and even days old information made up the backbone of the Recon Section and United Nations operations in the Special Region. Not the best to be giving soldiers who would face odds stacked against them twenty to one in some cases.

Yet, it was simply the nature of United Nations operations as a whole. It had been since the first day that the news surrounding the GATE expeditionary mission was given out to nations and their governments across the world. The United Nations knew nothing about this world besides the fact that it wasn't ours, and in no small surprise the first troops across the breach, Fischer included, were presented with a massive clusterfuck of a hundred thousand strong army waiting on just past the front door. And they had just stepped on the welcome mat and opened the front door. The same story was repeated during the first mission outside the white walls of Alnus Hill. No information on what was going on left four hundred some dead Imperials and horses laying on a road only about fifty kilometers outside of Alnus, in a messy pile of blood and body parts. Thus the cycle was about to come around full circle in the cramped corners of the Italica Forward Observation Post. Though to be fair they had received some information on the developing situation, it only helped to paint the same picture every soldier of the Recon Section had painted in their head since the minute the convoy stopped at the foot steps of Italica. It was of course, that of a bloody battle for those on the receiving end of their weapons.

Thus it would be assumed that the orders only given a few minutes would be safifactoy to the Recon Section, as in truth they weren't any different than the orders they had been given since the whole Operation on the Special Region developed. A typical example of United Nations Bureaucracy it was hard for the countries on Earth to truly make up their minds on what exactly they should be doing in the Special Region. Should they be toppling the Empire like they had done so many times in the middle east, or should they peacekeep, like the close memories of disasters across Africa and the world. It wasn't an easy question to answer and thus many side decided to play their bid for what the operation should be. Leaving it as a clusterfuck for the troops on the ground who had no clue whether they were peacekeepers or combat troops. A question that if left unanswered could bring devastating effects for both the UN troops and the Natives on the ground. All it took was one overlooked rule and an entire village could be burned to the ground, whether caused by the hand of the UN or some other party in the Special Region they weren't allowed to deal with for a lack of a clear plan or protocol.

It was something easily reflected in the small situation currently unfolding on Italica as the UN was posed with their age old enemy; what to do in response to a hostile groups action. Do they simple sit back and wait out the storm, hoping their mere presence would drive away the hostile forces and make them reconsider their actions. Or do they finally get the green light to go ahead and remove the threat altogether. All too often it was a question that was left up to be answered after the fighting had stopped and the combatants and sometimes even neutral UN peacekeepers lay dead in the streets and forests of backwater third world nations. Italica was no different. Just as they had in Alnus for months on end, the Recon Section again sat, powerless, watching as the events around them unfolded. They could only watch as barbarians attempted to slaughter innocents and burn a small town to the ground, and even with their heavenly powers of discussion and death, the Recon Section could not be found to move itself to defend the city. Though such a fact was only partially their fault, as despite the lack of rules of engagement placed upon them, they were only a platoon facing off against a small army, and they had no support besides a single Type-89 parked in some bushes and trees a kilometer or so away from the walls of the city. Even if they wanted to act, which was clear from the faces repeatedly glancing towards the windows, they couldn't do much. At least for the time being that was.

It was no surprise then, that many in the Recon Section would be unhappy with such an order to simply sit by and wait, knowing all hell was about to break loose on the small and once peaceful trade city below. Despite having never partaken in the first battle that had started well before the strange green convoy even arrived within a few kilometers of the cities walls, they all knew the outcome of a second battle. The invaders, easily doubling the numbers of their defenders would easily break through the walls when they launched their second attack. The Defenders were tired, having likely brought up most of their reserves to fight in the first battle in some feeble but loucky attempt to hold the wall from the invading army. And now they were to be faced by hundreds of rested and equally trained soldiers. Not the best odds for the defending city, and all the more reason for the Recon Section to get involved. It was a thought likely on everyone's mind, Fischer's included, but few would seem to wish to speak their mind. Likely they all knew the response they would get from the Captain, as much as they likely knew it pained him to speak such words to them. But some people simply wish to hear answers for themselves, even if they already know they'll dislike it, and soon enough Fischer was approached by two soldiers, likely a number of questions on their minds.

The first to approach was a recent addition to the team, an American spook, much like Thompson, though this man choose not to attempt to hid the fact that he was a spook of some sort. Even in the dark of the loft, with the only source of light being the soft and creamy rays of moonlight that shined through the windows, evidence of a near full moon, it wasn't hard to distinguish the man from any other soldier. Unlike those who were combatants, it was easy to see the man carried himself much differently. Just by his walk and the almost cautious way he approached Fischer, it was easy to see he was no simple soldier. At the very least Thompson tried to mask such an appearance to the others, if sometimes to no avail, but this man seemed proud to hold the title of Spook, and dutiful so. Though it didn't mean it made Fischer or anyone else that much more contempt with having him on board the mission. Spooks have decency to really mess up combat operations, and not just in Fischer's own experience of working with them in the middle east years ago. They had a tendency to put national interests before operational interests, a tendency that rubbed Fischer and others the wrong way. But command at Alnus had stuck him onto the Recon Section and there was little they could do about it now. The spook was quickly followed by another man, dressed in darker clothes and wearing from his shadow, as Fischer was sitting facing the windows, a balaclava. An interesting choice on the heat of what was likely the Special Region summer. Though he had seen operators use them in Afghanistan as well, so it must not have been that bad. Likely another one of the newer guys, whether inspired by the actions of the spook or not, with questions on his mind that needed answer. However as the two approached and began to talk, it seemed they were rather their to raise their own concerns for the mission than anything else.

Captain Fischer, we haven’t had a chance to be properly introduced. My name is Andrew O’Connor, pleasure to be here. Not the time I know, but I won’t get paid if I don’t follow the technicalities. Now I’m sorry to interrupt your reading but I think we might have a situation | There’s a good chance that the North Company will break through. The siege might run out of steam but we’ll likely be exposed during the attack. We’ve got the position and armament to deal with that for a short time but I feel like I have to mention the serious risk of irreversibly damaging our relations with the locals here. On one hand, we’re at major risk of hitting unintended targets but if we try to limit ourselves we’re at a bigger risk of being overrun and cut down. Of course, you know this and none of us are here to complain. And it's not like we don’t have options, we can turn the courtyard into a complete kill zone and deal with the future retaliations when and where they come. We can stick to silenced weapons and try to fight surgically, take out the leaders or the odd soldier who gets to close and hope it's enough. Truth be told sir, we’ve got dozens of different ways to fight but each leaves us with a different risk, downside or cost. My concern is that while we can deal with any remnants and the odd patrol, we’d be hard pressed to stand against either force after they regroup. So, I'd like to propose another option, we go loud. Make a stand against the north company if they reach us, take down any forces if they get too close and turn the area into our own designated safe zone for non-combatants. We’d hopefully get the local civies on our side and for when the defenders show up, we’ve got their citizens in our custody. Practically force them to listen to us. I’m not saying we should do this, or that it’s a good idea. But our resident green priest has shown some sway with the locals before. If she could do it again, when the gate comes down and people start running we could convince some of them that the courtyard is protected by some barrier, or something. Meanwhile, any attackers come, they’ll see the group of civies and ignore our little old abandoned house giving us a clear shot with minimal risk. Everything goes well and we might finally get a chance to talk to the empire | What we do is your call sir, I’ll keep on standby for anything but we can’t afford another massacre against the empire and this may be our only chance chance to strong arm the officials into talking. One way or another, we need to get them to the table sir

Almost instantaneously following the remarks of O'Connor, the other man, introducing himself as one James Ryan, the team's combat engineer is he could remember properly, butted in with his own take on what the direction of the Recon Section's mission should be. Apparently it would seem he had missed much of Fischer's earlier briefing as many of his point we're simply those loosely said in the brief not but two minutes ago.

Sir, it's Ryan, probably not my place to say, but I reckon we should help the civvies, fend off the North Company. From what we mostly know about medieval history, I'm pretty sure civilian casualties weren't that big of a topic.

Both had broughten up interesting questions or rather concerns regarding the mission. In the case of both, but more so the young warrant officer, James Ryan, the concerns had largely already been covered in the briefing only a few moments prior. Recalling correctly he had specifically stated one of their main objectives, even outlined by Alnus themselves, the place responsible for so much bureaucracy it was a wonder it got anything aside from eating done, had specifically ordered them to do. That was the peacekeeping prospect of their mission after all. Something they had executed in Coda a day prior, and something many back home on Earth had been hoping for from the minute they decided to send a bunch of soldiers across the GATE and into the Special Region. The concerns of O'Connor, on the other hand were much more interesting. As in truth, the briefing has left out a lot of the smaller details, such as what was to go down when the call was eventually made for them to step in, in support of protecting the civilians and driving back the North Company. For the most part it was mainly owed to the fact Fischer or anyone for that matter had no idea what was to happen. It would take well over an hour for air support and reinforcements in the form of an Air Cavalry company, to arrive to support their operations in Italica. Thus what happened between the North Company;s attack and the arrival of the Air Cavalry was much in the air. Getting involved to early could spell doom for the Recon Section, and getting involved to late could spell the same for both them and the civilians still inside the city's walls. It was no wonder than that O'Connor had brought up such a point, though most soldiers were probably already aware of such information.

Closing his book with a sudden snapping noise, Fischer shifted his body in the chair to better position himself in respect to the two men who had just approached him. Sitting straight up the two men, who were luckily similar in height, had gathered standing shoulder to shoulder and facing him, a look of anticipation on their faces. Fischer first turned to Ryan and then O'Connor, meeting their gaze before shifting his own back towards the moonlit night, barely visible through the window and between both of the men. Letting out a small breather Fischer began to answer them, voice as calm and steady as ever, "I'm well aware of the dangers facing the citizens and defenders of this city. It's unlikely they'll be able to hold a siege for long, when it inevitably arises." He paused for a moment, attempting to choose the right words to avoid sounded to off putting, "But, our place here isn't as a diplomatic envoy to meet with the Imperials located here. I'm sure you're aware, as am I, that if the North Company had not been here, we could very well be taking their place as of current." It was a true statement. Had the Recon Section arrived earlier it was likely the city would be under United Nations control hours ago. That would be, if the people back home and at Alnus could ever figure out what they wanted to do. Even so it was likely the place would end up under UN control one way or another. "Yet, I don't wish to see the city over run with brigands anymore than the rest of the Recon Section, or the Imperials sitting in complex up on the hill." There was another pause as he ran over some of the man's words in his head and the situations he had laid out. "That being said, exposing ourselves to early or too late would be disastrous to ourselves and the civilians here. Thus this operation needs to be timed correctly. I plan on radioing Alnus the second the first North Company arrow flies over that wall. Then it's only a matter of holding out for an hour. So long as the Imperials can last thirty minutes without our help, we'll be fine." Opening back up his book, he flipped through the pages once again attempting to find his place. "And besides" he spoke without even removing his eyes from the pages, "What's better, holding some people hostage or wiping out a few hundred soldiers as a show of force?" It was a rhetorical question as both of the men already knew the answer.

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Sometime Later | Italica Safe House

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The Recon Section, just prior to the operation in Italica had split off into two distinct groups before the main mission, that of course entering into the city began. Two of the Fire Team Two's members, Thompson and Karev, departed on a small mission to scout out the North Company positions and gain what info they could. In hindsight it was a relatively useless mission, as Alnus had already delivered reliable aerial reconnaissance to them only fifteen minutes prior to the pair's departure from the main group. It was also likely that Alnus was in the process of clearing some sort of recon unmanned aerial vehicle or UAV for use by the Recon Section over Italica. Effectively making it the first UN operation in the Special Region to have a reliable and constant information on enemy positions and the area and terrain around a mission zone. A welcome sight for the Recon Section which had relied on crudely drawn maps and even cruder estimate for the last few months and days of their stay in the Special Region. A fact that made sense given the overall importance of such a mission in Italica. A mission that likely could produce the first contact with an actual Imperial authority and bring them one step close to solving the mystery of the Special Region and get a picture of what the hell was going on. And of course what happened to all the missing civilian, a topic likely reintroduced to many with the prospect of being in a trading town.

Thus it would seem strange that a two man Recon Team would be needed at all given the current state of how operations were going, not to mention the fact that the Recon Section would likely need all the help they could get given something were to go wrong on the current infiltration mission. But in reality the decision to allow a recon party to exist was more of a morale and unit consisting mission than anything else. A common problem with United Nations operations, especially in Fischer's experience was friction. People of different countries and even more so soldiers, hold different values and ideas, and so when lead by someone who may not embody those ideas, never mind the fact Thompson was just as much a paperwork cowboy as his name implied, there is a lot of fiction generated. It was easy to see the American wasn't exactly having the best time being cramped up in the compartments of the Iveco, nevermind his philosophy difference with the Captain. Thus it was only natural that they would have to split from the program soon enough and get some fresh air for themselves. And what better way than to go on a Recon Mission deep in enemy territory. Obviously some people have different views on relaxation than others. But then again there isn't terribly much to do in a combat zone, let alone for entertainment anyways.

The only problem that arose was with timing. As requested by Fischer, the pair was only to spend around a half an hour to an hour in the areas around the Southern Gate of Italica. At which point they were supposed to rally up with Pierre on the North Eastern corner of the city and be lead to the safe house where the other members of the Recon Section would already be waiting. Though it would seem this wouldn't be the case at all, as over three hours later no sign of the team had been reported anywhere. They had said they were engaging North Company forces, despite struct orders not too, though it was doubtful they could be doing so for over three hours. Even if that was somehow the case, they would have heard it somehow or at least noted shifts in both the Imperial and North Company forces to accommodate for such a thing. The only thing they had maintained as constant throughout the operation was their us3e of radio silence. For better or worse they would be off the radar until they arrived at the safe house, or matters got so bad that they eventually radioed Fischer and the others to let them know the situation. At the very least they had two hours to make it back into the city least they were to miss out on second battle, for better or worse.

After having answered the questions or more reasonably the concern of several members of the Recon Section, one of which was a spook much like Thompson, Fischer returned to his reading. There wasn't terrible much to do anyways, with the battle still likely a number of hours off, and anything like talking served to risk them being caught by the passing guard. Something they were well aware of as torches and bonfires could be seen across the walls and small courtyard directly outside of their positioning. Regular patrols were both a good sign and bad. Good in the fact that the Imperials could still muster and Garrison defence for all their positions, but bad in the light that it meant the Recon Section's mission just got multiple times harder than it already was. And the fun was just beginning. Only around ten minutes or so after his conversation with O'Connor and Ryan, Fischer was interrupted from his reading by the voice of Pierre. Shifting his head over towards the staircase, which lay to his left he spotted the head of the man just poking above the staircase no more than a meter or two away from his current position. He spoke to Fischer about the arrival of some friends old and new. No doubt referring to the return of Thompson and Karev, though the mention of a new friend was slightly worrying. The appearance of another Native was a big security threat to the Recon Section, and could prove dangerous.

With this in mind Fischer closed his book with a quick juster, though placed his hand inside the pages of the book to avoid a thumping sound that had originated when the first pair of Recon Section soldiers had brought their concerns forward to him. Standing he looked around the loft, still painted a soft grey color from the glow of the moon, but now a crispy crimson color had risen from the torches and fires lit by the Imperials below. It was a strange combination of colors. A black and white background with small hints of red and yellow reflecting off of the Green uniforms and helmets that each member of the Recon Section wore. Rather than approach the staircase where Pierre waited with the returning members of the Recon Section, Fischer instead made his way over towards the center of the room. Treading carefully to avoid the creaking that plagued the old and worn floor boards of the loft, he eventually found his way over toward Orisa, the young translator. If it was true Thompson and Karev had brought a native with them, Orisa would be incredibly useful. As he approached the young girl, who had somehow managed to fall back asleep despite her earlier outburst, Fischer lowered himself to a crouching position next to her. Leaning down, about a meter away he spoke in a quiet voice, "You need to get up, you're needed." Upon hearing his voice the girl nearly half way jumped from her bed. Whether she was more stunned to hear the voice of Fischer speaking to her, or the fact that she was needed for something, he didn't know. But sure enough she got up and after rubbing her eyes a few times, proceeded to follow him down the stair to where the majority of the Recon Section, including the new arrival, had been waiting.

Climbing down the old staircase, the familiar creaking sound that had first come from Fischer's ascension could now be heard on his descent back to the main area of the house. It was soon followed by the lighter and quieter sounds of Orisa walking down the same staircase only a few seconds behind Fischer. Coming into the main area, even with the open space, and lack of windows facing the courtyard, where both natural light from the moon and the artificial light of the Imperial's Fires floated softly through, it was still easy to make out the features of those around them. Most on the first floor had taken up positions on the ground and away from the windows to avoid being spotted by any passing Imperials or risk their helmets and rifles giving their position away. Some had taken to half sleeping, as evident by they constant fidgeting rather than still and soft movements. Others simply sat, checking their rifles over or quietly whisper their thoughts to one another. It would seem Fischer was the only one clever enough to bring a book with him on the mission, though in truth it was more a journal than anything. The behaviors, however, made it quite simple to pick Pierre and the others out from the other soldiers. Pierre himself sat in one of the chairs that surrounded the large wood table that was no doubt the dining room. Twelves chairs in total, all made from fine craftsmanship as one would expect of a merchant's house, sat around an oval shaped table. Directly across from Pierre sat a small figure, noticeably more feminine and smaller than any of the others in the room. No doubt the native Pierre had been talking about. To the right or left of the chair stood two soldiers, easily identifiable by their rifles slung across their chests and matching forms. Despite the shadow cloaking their faces, it was easy enough to tell apart Thompson and Karev by the rifles they held.

Fischer first turned his attention to the two men standing behind the newly arrived native, that of course being Thompson and Karev. His features remaining the same emotionless and stoic as ever he let out a small breath for address both men simultaneously, "Your about" He paused looking down at his watch which read about two hundred and fifteen hours "Three and a half hours late. Great time gentleman." His voice came out with an almost sarcastic tone, if light. It was a rare sight of dry humor from the Captain, no thanks in part to the pair's own lateness of lack of communication during the operation. It was also a representation of the situation as a whole, as a majority of it was completely uncertain and the Captain held an old habit of making feeble attempts at dry humor when pressed into a situation of unknowns. But just as quickly as he had let it slip, his voice regained the same calm tone as usual, "I assume she" His gaze dropped towards the woman sitting before than for a moment "is the native you informed me about earlier." Both of the men nodded in response to which Fischer replied in turn, "Well, this is certainly not what I expect, and I doubt either of you was able to brief her. For now, get some rest." He turned to the Old Man, "And if you don't mind, you can brief them while I focus on our new native." With that all three men moved towards another area of the room leaving Fischer and Orisa in the dining room with the new Native.

Shifting his position to the area in which the Old Man had once been sitting, Fischer was able to get a better look at the newly arrived guest. As he had assumed from her figure and size she was none other than a young woman, appearing to be quite a bit shorter than Fischer, and set around the height of Orisa, if not a slight bit taller. With the moonlight now filtering into the room, he was able to make out more of her features. She wore a simple grey and white colored coat of some kind. It was tight fitting, though appeared to be light and appeared almost dress like in style. Likely having something to do with heat of the Special Region's springs and summer, yet it most likely also held some sort of sex appeal as well. Despite being quite small, she appeared as if she could be in her early twenties. Though as he moved to study her face, he was met with an interesting surprise. Her hair of a smooth and creamy white, not unlike the white of her own dress. Her eyes carried a similar color, almost appearing grey, a sharp contrast to the shining blue eyes of Fischer and the dark earthy eyes carried by Orisa. Yet the most striking feature was her long and pointed ears, something he almost immediately recognized as the sign of an elf. Though the realization of such a fact was apparently lost on Fischer, as he didn't even bat an eye. He had seen much stranger things in the Special Region thus far, but the elf seemed to be the first of its kind he had come across.

Turning to Orisa who was equally passive at the sight of the elf, likely having run into one or two before in her travels, he began to speak to her, "I need you to translate what I say." The young girl simply nodded, it being an almost routine by this time. He next turned to face to young elf, who perked at the strange green man's normally cold gaze staring her down. "My name is Captain Alois Fischer, I work for the United Nations. This is Miss Orisa Yamasee." He passed, watching as the elf's face twisted upon hearing the strange words spoken by the even stranger man in green clothes. Though as Orisa translated them back to the elf, her face began to relax, but still carried the same questioning look upon her face. Seeing as Orisa had finished he continued, "We are here to help you, and the other people within Italica. But " He paused searching for the name that Karev had only told him a few moments earlier. Finding it he continued, "Althea, we need you to co-operate with us. We apologize for the inconvenience." He paused again allowing Orisa to finish before continuing for a final time. "If you have any questions, feel free to ask Orisa." He questered towards to young girl who flashed a small smile towards the newly arrived elf. With that, Fischer made his way towards Thompson, Kareve, and the Old Man to get the update on what had gone on outside of the walls, and to make sure the two were caught up on what was going to be going down inside of them when the time came.

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Sometime Later | Italica Complex | Imperial War Room

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The main and most prominent and at that most important building in Italica was the main complex that rested up a hill in the center of the town. It sat above most of the other buildings in the trading town, making it easily visible to both the Recon Section hiding within the city's own walls, and the North Company soldiers eagerly waiting outside of the East Gate with hopes of eventually taking the building for themselves. The latter of which those who currently inhabited the building and the many houses, designated as safe zones by the Imperials, surrounding it. It would, however, be wrong to call the building a castle, as it lacked the large stone walls and watchtowers, never mind the moats and ramparts that most would associate with a castle. In anything the outer wall of the trade city resembled a castle far more than the cities main hive. As such it was likely better to call it a Complex than anything else for lack of a better term. While high and mighty, made of stone even, and with smaller ramparts and walls surrounding it, it looked more like a large fort than anything. There even appeared to be plenty of room for merchants to set up their wares for selling, though for the time being it was used as a staging ground for the Imperial soldiers as well as a field hospital for the many wounded who were still coming in and being treated houres after the last arrow of the the battle was fired.

Though, if there was a single place that served to act as the complex's or even the town's castle, it would be the inside. Unlike what one might have expected of such a fort like complex, the inside was quite ornate and might have confused one to believing it was the home of a noble, as it once was. Large painting depicting bast owners and great battles could be seen hanging in almost everyone and across all the many walkways and corridors of the complex's internal lay out. Smooth and polish hardwood floors lay in the place of normal stone or dirt and were often covered by ornate rugs, likely hand made in the capital or the mighty skin of some beast, hunted by the owns of the keep many years ago. As in the case of the merchants hours the Recon Section was currently using as a safe house, the furniture of the complex was wood in nature and even more fine than that of the Safe House. Large solid cuts of smooth dark wood made up the tables and chairs that were no doubt used for dining. Light wood was used to accent these very pieces, like in the case of an almost birch color and styled wood laid across the outward edge of the table to round it off and give it a highlight that made it stand out in the room full of other beautiful hand crafted furniture. This pattern repeated itself all across the many rooms of the complex. Including a large and open room, filled with only a single large wooden table and a mess of papers strewn about it. Once a great dining hall that would no doubt entertain the lord of the complex and its many quests, had been turned into a war and planning room not unlike the one the Recon Section currently had set up in their own dining room of the safe house.

Yet rather than be filled with lords and knights bending over papers in every direction to attempt to get a new angle of attack or guess the next move of the enemy, it was filled with only two people, quite different in just about every way, a dish of wine and small cheeses to serve as a snack and a likely a transition point of conversation between the two, and some candles to light the night room. One one side of the night table which stretched to fill most of the room, save for areas to walk around, sat a young girl not much past the age of twenty. She wore a simple red, gold, and blue dress, not unlike the colors of the flags that stood hanging from the walls of the small room, with a small coat on top of it, accompanied by leggings and some boots. On top of her dress sat light plate armor covering much of her upper chest, as well as her shoulders, arms, and others body parts, not unlike a typical cavalier or social knight. Her hair was long and of an almost scarlet red color, braided back in some areas, while flowing beautifully in others. Her eye's were a sharp contrast, sitting a light blue, not much lighter than that of the flags behind her. The person across from her, however, was a different story. Sitting much older, with grey hair easily visible both on his head and around jaw line, he was easily forty some years major to the young woman sitting across from him. He also wore no clothes baring a symbol, and was dressed in simple robes with plate armor visible above them. Like the young woman who had a sword sheathed at his side, he instead carried two axes, one on each side, and a shield that now sat resting next to his chair rather than upon his back.

It was evident by the low level of the candles and the puddles of wax growing below them that the pair had been in the room for sometime, discussing all nature of things, but most notably the members of the Recon Section and the United Nations as a whole. The man sitting on the left of the table was once, though technically still was, a guide of the Recon Section which currently sat resting in Italica. Having been separated from them during the ordeal in Coda Village he had somehow reasoned that asking someone he was aware was an enemy of the Recon Section for help in locating them. And by some miracle or curse he had ended up face to face with an Imperial Princess in the process. Thinking the man to likely be a spy either for the North Company or the Recon Section, the young princess had decided to take the man back to the Imperial Command to be questioned. And with Florina and the Landgrave in the medical yard, she was alone left to question the strange man, and hopeful get some information out of him. Luckily for her, and unluckily for Fischer, the man seemed all to willing to talk. Yet it seemed after sometime the conversation had died down. Likely due to the fact the man did not know much about the Recon Section. He did not speak their language and had large been absent from most of the Recon Section's ordeals and operations up to that point. Someone like Orisa, who had knowledge both of the language and people of the Recon Section would be of far more help. But in the case of the young princess, she would have to take what she could get.

Wishing Florina or even the Landgrave could have been there to assist, she never the less attempt to strike back up the conversation, "May I ask, how many of these men from beyond the GATE did you say there were?" Her voice was tired, having been without sleep for many hours and exhausted from the previous battle.

The man himself was quick to answer, still full of energy and likely adrenaline, he responding almost as soon as she had finished talking, "There are about ten of the earth soldiers when we were separated from them." In reality it was much closer to about sixteen soldiers, nineteen if you counted the Type-98 Crew, and twenty one if you counted the two Special Region Natives, Orisa and Althea. But such information was unknown to the man at such a time. "I again ask that if you help me search for them, they will gladly help with the defense of this city." Another piece of information that the man was out of the loop on. Despite having seen the Recon Section effortlessly cut down hundreds of Imperial Soldiers in a few minutes, not long after they left Alnus, he seemed oblivious to fact that they were enemies of the Imperials.

It was a fact the young princess seemed aware of however. Despite having been left in the dark about what truly happened at Alnus and beyond the GATE for that matter, it was clear to her that these strange foreign soldiers were a threat to her and to the Empire. Thus she choose her next question careful, "How can such a small band of men being so powerful?" She asked in a tone almost resembling that of a rhetorical question.

Yet before she would even be given a chance to respond she was interrupted as a soldier, obviously winded stepped into the room and knelt before the young Princess. Panting and in dire condition the man simply help a small slip of paper up to the woman before collapsing onto the ground. The young princess almost hesitantly accepted the piece of paper, unfolding it to reveal a quickly written note as shown by the poor handwriting accompanying it.

Your highness, Princess Cordelia,

Your presences is required at the East Gate immediately. Just as he had suspect the North Company has decided to launch another push against us. Our men our tired and the enemy is seemingly full of renewed strength. Luckily they seem to be diverting their forces toward breaching this wall. We ask that you quickly route as many men as possible to our position to help fend them off. If we don't receive help soon, I fear we will only be able to hold for less than an hour.

Thank you,
Captain of the East Guard

Upon finishing the letter, she turned to the messenger who now sitting had regained his strength after a few blocks of cheese and some of the young Princess' water she had hanging from her side. She first turned to the man sitting across from her, addressing him in an urgent voice, "I am sorry to say, but it appears your friends will have to wait for another time." She paused for a second considering allowing him to join her. Seeing as they were low enough on men already, another soldier certainly would help, even if only a little. "But if you would be willing to assist us in battle, I see no reason we can not look for your friends when the day is won." She then turned her attention to the messenger. "Go out and find Florina and Landgrave Berian. Inform them of this at once." And with that, all three hurried from the room in their own directions.

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East Gate of Italica | 03:45 Hours

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Just about an hour from daybreak, the walls of Italica were surprisingly calm. A sharp contrast to the storm of death and destruction that had just plagued the South Gate only hours before. Still, the South Gate showed its fair share of scars. The night wood doors that shut it off from the invading armies or anyone that would dare attempt to breach the great walls, in this case the North Company, were cracked and scorched. Evidence of North Company soldiers both attempting to use battering rams and fire to remove the great doors from their places in the wall. But superb craftsman ship had and metal reinforcements had prevent either attempt from succeeded. Scattered all around, both the court yard and might some walls, were the broke shafts of arrows launch by the North Company over the walls. They were littered in random directions, sometimes in solid bars of twenty or thirty and other times in random assortments. No doubt the space where some poor soul had been struck by an arrow respectively. More towards the top of the wall one could find hundreds of broken arrow shafts and head. Intact arrows had already been gathered by the defending Imperials to arm their own archers who now sat upon the walls looking for any signs of the North Company attack. Occasionally one might have also found the scattered sword, axes, or shield. Dropped by a North Company soldier lucky enough to make it over the wall or the unlucky Imperial to be slain defending and the lazy Imperial who didn't collect it to reinforce their own side.

The East Gate was saved from most of these things for the time being. Where the South Gate had all the scars of a previous battle, the East like its North and West counterparts had been spared for the most part. There doors still rested firmly on their hinges and showed no signs of having been brutalized by the repetitive motions of ramming and burning on behalf the North Company. Its walls remained the same clean ta stone color, devoid of the broken arrows and crushed ladders that were easily visible to anyone on the ramparts of the wall. It was different on the East Wall and Gate to that extension. For the guards standing upon them, there was little to see. Mainly thanks to the fact that unlike the Recon Section, looting only meters away in their safe house, they possessed no night vision goggles or optics. Instead they were forced to rely on the small ten or so meter circle of like produced by the large bonfires that had been lit upon their section of the wall. Anything beyond that would be incredibly difficult for them to spot. Meaning if the North Company attacked, they would have the element of surprise on their side. Even if meant they'd risk organization to attack the wall in the night.

Thus it was no surprise that they took the route of a night attack to throw off the Imperial defenders, especially at the East Gate. The South Gate, while weakened in the first battle would likely have been easier to physically break through, it was more likely the defenders would place more soldiers there for that very reason. The North Gate, was also built on unfavorable terrain and much to far away to make for any decent attack route that night, and they would have surely been spotted had they attempted to attack from there. And thus it was left to a fifty fifty toss up between the East and West Gate. For some reason, possibly even a flip of a coin, they had selected the East Gate to begin their attack. It would seem that the gamble taken by Fischer had paid off for the first half at least. Had they attacked the Westgate, the Recon Section would be at least two kilometers away in a city full of hostile soldiers all moving to engage the enemy. Not the most favorable condition for moving covertly. There was also the fact that they would be unable to provide support for the capturing of the landing zones. Though with the fire power being brought in by the Air Cavalry, it didn't seem like that would be a problem regardless.

Though the attack itself was a quick Crescendo only lasting a few beats as it grew in intensity. It began softly with the appearance of a few blue orbs of light, easily visible from the onlookers watching from the wall. Most stopped to stare at the large orbs, likely not having seen anything similar. Even the Captain of the guard, a knight under royal order who had likely seen many battles himself, found himself staring at the orbs. Then behind them grew the faint glow of fifty or sixty smaller red orbs. It was at this point many of the senior warriors among the defending band realize what was going on. But it was already too late. Before anyone on the wall could even speak a word or cry out in warning to those waiting below, the blue orbs left their stationary positions, traveling rapidly towards the wall. Growing in size from that of what appeared to be no larger than a pea, to that of a softball, they struck all around the ramparts of the wall, exploding is massive shock waves that threw even some of the heavily armed defenders, and plenty of stone chunks from the wall. The Captain of the guard was among them, whom quickly took the chance to scribe out a note for the Princess, before returning to the wall. No sooner than did the blue orbs of magic strike, did the red glowing orbs reveal themselves to be arrows coating in oil and launched upon the defenders. All around men with shields and ladders could be seen rushing the sides of the walls, eager to climb and battle. Already orders were being sent to the other walls to join their brothers at the East Gate for a battle.

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The sounds of battle were not one's that were lost on the members of the Recon Section, including that of Fischer. After having finished with Orisa and the Native it was a simple matter to get Thompson and Karev caught up on what had happened between them leaving the Recon Section's Convy and arriving back in the safe house. In truth it wasn't much and after a quick round of questioning and new orders, Fischer found himself back in the dining room accompanied by the Old Man who seemed to be fidgeting with a small piece of paper. Not one for conversation, Fischer stopped himself from asking him what the paper was, and simply returned to his own paper. With the night growing old it seemed about a good as any time to recount the day's adventure, as uneventful as it had been, and return to the reading of his journal. Perhaps something from his own time in the middle east could spur memories and ideas of what could come from the rest of the night. Perhaps something about a night raid or a similar Recon Mission would appear and give him some faith on event that might be able to transpire. Even if they were going to be battling with a bunch of roman soldiers who were armed with little else than swords and shields. Not very effective against assault rifles, and quite different from the RPGs, and assault rifles carried by various insurgent groups Fischer had come across.

Yet such research would have to be cut short by the sudden explosion coming from just outside their safe house. More specifically coming from the Eastern Gate which state only about thirty or so meters away from many of their current positions. The sounds of six distinct explosions followed by the sounds of shouting Imperials and the thumping sound of arrows colliding with flesh, metal, and stone were easily heard through the thin walls, Special Region winters likely weren't that cold in Italica, and open windows. All eyes in the first floor were on Fischer. Most wore a face renewed resolve, faced with the prospect of another ensuing battle. Some were mixed with anxiety toward another blood shed, some excitement and relief with the idea that they might actually be able to do something, despite the last six or so hours of simply sitting around on their asses doing nothing. Others, like that of Orisa and even the newly acquired Althea, looked on with mixes of worry and confusions. Meanwhile Fischer's simply remained the same stoic expression as he grabbed his rifle and made his way up the old staircase that lead to the attic. Upon reaching the peak of the stairs he was again met with the same looks and eyes pinned on him. No doubt all were waiting for orders. Those who had stayed near the windows likely had a great view of the open shots of the battles. The volley of both arrows and magic launched by both sides. They quickly reporting the occurrence of blue orbs, no doubt magic to Fischer. No one asked, however, what to do. All knew it too well

It was at that point that Fischer turned from the window, and the sight of Imperial Soldiers both fighting off the swarming North Company soldiers and arrival of their own friendly reinforcements, to make his way towards the radio that was still in position next to the chair he had once occupied. Choosing to crouch rather to even bother sitting, he reached for the mic, clicking on the radio and contact Alnus. As he spoke his voice came across in a calm manner, despite the situation unfolding outside at current. <<Rook, this is Crossroads 1-1. We have a situation at Italica...>>

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[align=center]Alnus Hill | 03:50 Hours

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The airfield at Alnus Hill was constructed in the second month of the United Nations occupying the hill, for the main reason that until then there really wasn't much of a base desides a load of fox holes, trenches, and tents. But as soon as the initial building a fort had finished up and there were men free for other jobs, the airfield found itself as a top priority. It was only natural considering the importance of air power and support to modern warfare. Even if they fighting an enemy who was about six hundred years behind them. Though to be fair there had been plenty of wars where one side had almost complete air superiority over the other. And they were generally quick wars, like that of the six days war fought in the middle east over fifty years ago, when the Israelis nearly wiped out the air force of all their enemies and then clean swept them on the ground for the most part at least. So one could only imagine what it would look like when they were presented with the added bonus that the only way an Imperial could attempt to shoot down an United Nations aircraft with a bow, odds looked good for the pilots. Both of helicopters and the jets that were yet to arrive on base and be cleared for flying.

Though as of the moment the only aircraft that could be found on the runways were those of the helicopters and transport trucks parked off to the side for the timing being. In total fourteen aircraft were set out on the runways, their crews off in the hangars sleeping, eating, playing cards, or finding some other way to keep themselves busy while they waited for the green light to begin their assigned operations. Which of course were to deliver support to the Recon Section in Italics should the need arise. Though not all the aircraft were the same. Of the fourteen sitting in the airfield, only six of them were attack helicopters. Four Apaches, filled geared up with armaments of TOW missiles, 30mm chain gun, and plenty of rockets, sar next their Russian counterparts in the form of two Mi-28 attack helicopters fitted out with a similar armament. A rare sight to see the helicopters next to one another; the design similarities even easier to make out even with the white wash light that light up the airfield. Further down sat the remaining eight aircraft. All NH90s wearing different flags, those of the United States, Sweden, Germany, and others sat on the airfield, their ramps open and most ready to take on troops. Each could only about twenty soldiers, for a combined total of about one hundred and sixty additional troops, placing the support reinforcements at about a company of soldiers. But these troop transports were simple docile birds. They too carried an armament in the form of a gatling gun mounted to either side of each helicopter. Between the Apaches, Mi-28s, and themselves, there was more than enough firepower to support any peacekeeping operations at Italica.

But for the time being all the helicopters sat empty. Their crews were busy chatting among themselves, eating, sleeping or doing whatever they could to keep the time occupied. The infantry compliments to the transport helicopters were no different. Most were organized in platoons by their helicopter assignment, waiting on the cold concrete floor for the order to mobilize and head off towards Italica. They had assembled on the runways at just around twenty three hundred hours, not long after the Recon Section made their way into the city itself, and only a small while after they arrived into their designated safe house. Thus it had been well over five hours of doing nothing while they waited for the call that many thought would never arrive. That was until a voice suddenly cracked across the loudspeaker. It was a loud and deep voice, one that inspired command from simply hearing the words that came from his mouth. It was the commander of the Ninth Special Region Security Team, "Attention all members of the ninth SRST." There was a thick Swedish accent behind all of his words, "We have received a call from Italica, indicating fighting has already broken out in the city. You are to gear up and depart of Italica immediately." There was a rush of green as both pilots and infantrymen scrambled, some half asleep in the case of the infantry compliment, to their respective helicopters. Almost at once there was a large draft of wind as fourteen helicopters started up near simultaneously. Within minutes they were born and their way to Italica.

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Outside of Italica | 04:55 Hours

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Despite the speed of the helicopters, which easily clocked in at around over two hundred and fifty kilometers an hour, it would still take quite a bit of time to even reach the city of Italica. Not only that, they had to account for the slower transports, dropping the total time for transport at around an hour so until they would reach the intended drop zone. But even so the time seemed to slip by like it was moving at a thousand kilometers and hour. They had left the runways back at Alnus Hill at about three hundred fifty hours, in the dark. Rising like wraiths above the night the only thing that could be made out was the whooshing out of their metal blades clipping through the night. No searchlight or flashing light could be seen once they left the airspace above Alnus hill and the threat of collision died done. As they passed along the road leading from Alnus Hill to Italica, the night sky slowly began to grow softeners. The darkness of the early morning soon faded away as the sun, while still hidden below the horizon began to send of rays of light turning the sky from black to and almost greyish color; becoming in the morning dawn. Yet the sky wasn't the only thing to change as the flock of metal birds sped off towards Italica. With each kilometer as they neared closer the mighty forests and kept plains that surrounded Alnus Hill as far as the eye could see gave away to flat lands devoid of any growing trees, and as they continued on the ground slowly gave way to open field, cut into different shapes. Evidence of farming, and at that, evidence of Italica.

Yet the large open fields of crops, likely wheat and other grain based crops if knowledge of ancient digicult served them any good, wasn't the only sign of Italica. There were others though they were much worse in nature than simple farms. In the distance, dead ahead from where the flock of metal birds were flying, it was near impossible to miss the large black plumes of smoke that could be seen spiralling out of Italica hundreds of meters up into the sky. No doubt the effect of what was likely a breach in the defenses, exploited by the North Company, and used force more of their own soldiers into the city itself. It was confirmed moments later as the sound of a one Captain Fischer's voice came across the radio of the lead command helicopter, signalling fighting had already begun inside of the city's walls, followed by the noise of clashing metal and what sounded like rifle fire. It seemed the Recon Section had already involved himself in the fighting, making the arrival of the Air Cavalry all the more critical. Looking down at his watch the command, a Colonel Kile G. Ore, with a silent, came across the radio of the command helicopter, as it was too loud to yell. <<We'll be approaching the mission zone in five mikes. Swing into the East to meet them head on with the sun at our backs." There was a pause as he switched channels to only a select few helicopters, those being the transports who had been equipped with several speakers adoring each side prior to their arrival in the Special Region, <<This is Maverick to all choppers>> A thick Swedish accent still came across the radio, <<Start the music>>

It was then that all the soldiers aboard the transport knew what was coming. They'd be arriving at the mission zone before they would even know it, and when that came it was time to rain down hell on the unsuspecting North Company, and maybe a few Imperials in the process. But for the time being it was there last moments to check their gear and prepare himself for the combat that was to come. Having come over with their helicopters most had missed out on the first battles of Alnus, making this their first real taste of combat. Some checked their mags and looked over their rifles one last time. Some soldiers, out of a strange superstitions and traditions began to remove their helmets and sit on them almost like a seat. It was mainly the American soldiers present who had switched over the the First Air Cavalry. It was a choose that got them a lot of strange looks from their comrades and at one point a German soldier yelled over the sound of the helicopter's blades "Why do you guys all sit on your helmets?" The American soldier he directed his question at didn't even bother to turn and look at him. Instead he simply screamed over the blades as well, "So we don't get our balls blown off!" Soon both men would be drowned out as the loud sound of Music began blasting from the speakers on the Helicopters in unison.

by **Nations United for Conquest** » Sun Oct 29, 2017 3:23 pm

Continuation of last post

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Recon Section | 04:50 Hours

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Brutal. It was one way to describe opening hour of the second battle of Italica. At least from the Recon Section's perspective. But that is just war for you. Perhaps it was because they had gotten used to the clean kill of a sniper's bullet, or the way a single bomb or missile can leave no trace of an entire house between people that caused the close up nature of warfare to look the way it did. The life or death struggle of war appeared to more clear than it did staring into that courtyard from the second and first stories of the Italica Safe House. If one just focused on a single soldier in the mess of clashing blades, it was easy to see the struggle of them lifting their weapon to bring it down on an opponent's. How the quick and precious slashes quickly turned into the wild thrashes of a sword and sheild as a battle progressed. Footmen fighting tooth and nail just to survive a single engagement, the winner to be thrust into yet another. Gone in an instant where the illusions like held by the more naive members of the Recon Section that warfare would be polite as a jousting match and as clean as portrayed in the legend of King Arthur, or Robin Hood. By this time in the morning the North Company had easily broken through the night wood walls of the East Gate.

Rather than attempt the same ill fated bargain to break down the reinforced doors of the Eastern Gate, like they had futilely attempted at the South Gate, even with the help of magic this time, they instead choose a simpler path. By covering their attack with archers and the six or so mages they had positioned at the back of their advancing force. With this, they were easily able to overpower the weakened and tired defenders of the East Wall, and soon slayed even the Captain of the Eastern Gate. No sooner than they had scaled the wall did they open the massive doors to allow a good hundred or so of their men to flow into the courtyard, as that was about all it could handle. It was now they entered combat with the resting Imperial Forces. Even those that had been well rested, as in the case of the Social Knight that had one the day in the first battle, were easily cut down as an almost endless stream of men poured into the courtyard. Within half an hour, the Eastern Gate had completely fallen and was placed under the control of the North Company. And it was here there was a small lull in the battle as both sides seemingly regrouped to decided course of actions. The Imperial forces, strengthened in morale by the appearance of young Princess, a fact unknown to the Recon Section, sat firmly behind the bulwarks they had setup. Meanwhile on the other side the North Company formed up and prepared for battle, yet none move. Each knew they had the advantage if they other charged, it was typical of tactics of the time, and thus neither wished to make the first move when they held a matched playing field.

Thus it was nerve wracking for the Recon Section to have to sit through the entire ordeal on the sidelines, just as they had from the beginning. At the first sounds of explosions, caused by the North Companies mages at what felt like an eternity ago, most had risen from their posts, grabbing their rifles and gear. On the top floor those not already in the windows, moved closer, hoping to get a clear angle on what was going on below. The majority of the force, resting on the ground floor, Fischer included, lined up in Fireteams order near the door leading to the ridge just above the courtyard, each waiting patiently for the order from Fischer. Yet through the fighting, no order was to be sounded. For the first half and hour of combat it would have been disadvantageous to take fire upon anyone in the courtyard. They would be hitting more Imperials than North Company, only weakening their own defense in turn. And thus for half an hour, and another twenty minutes after than, the members of the Recon Section sat patiently, watching as the Imperials and North Company soldiers at in the open, perfect targets for the two heavy machine guns up stairs, and prime targets for the rifleman waiting below. Even the Natives seemed a bit anxious for the fighting to begin, though it was easy to read the same old fears once again appearing on the face of Orisa. But Air support had been ordered and the Imperials had held on for longer than expected, nullifying the need for any Recon Sections soldiers to open fire. Glancing down at his watched revealed the time, Five Hundred hours.

That's when he heard it

It was a soft sound at first. A low humming noise, like that of a trumpet playing with a mute in its horn. At first he simply thought it to be some noise made by the Imperials as a single or perhaps and anxious soldier humming. But looking upon the courtyard below it seemed that those in both camps, Imperial and North Company alike had begun to hear the noise, and were glancing above the sky. Likely thinking the heavens had opened up and their gods were playing music to them. That's when he heard it. A change in pitch of the low humming noise, and then another. The sound was immediately recognizable. It was music of some kind and someone was playing it. His mind quickly flashed at a million kilometers and second as he searched his head for where he had heard the music before. That was when another sound quickly became apparent to his ears along with what was clearly a horn of some kind. It was a swooshing sound, as if someone were letting the air out of a balloon or a whoopee cushion, minus the farting sound. That's when a large explosion sounded just from the back of the East Gate, sending several North Company soldiers fly and erupting a large section of the wall in black smoke and sending frightened looks across the faces of the Imperial and North Company soldiers. That's when his head put two and two together to equal four, or rather, four Apaches and two Mi-28s.

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The flock of metal birds had lowered their altitude as they came swing out to the East of the city, coming in with a rising sun, just floating above the horizon in a yellow glow. They moved in low, the Apaches and Mi-28s lowering their altitude while the transports still circled high above the others. Thus it was the attack helicopters who were the first fire. Loaded with a decent amount of Hellfire guided missiles, the lead Apache swung in low, heading directly for the East Gate and coming down on the pass, released a single Hellfire missile into the Gate, easily kill around twenty North Company soldiers, and wounding countless others. The remaining attack helicopters followed suit, unloading their 70mm rocket pods on the North Company soldiers still bunched together outside the walls. The lack of cover and closeness of the enemy formations made the small, maybe fifty meter square area a slaughtering zone for the Attack Helicopters. The Transports in similar fashion followed suit, unloading their gatling guns on those panicking soldiers attempting to flee from the destruction of the attack helicopters as they continued to make passes. Over and over the attack helicopters slammed the unprotected North Company soldiers with rockets, both unguided and guided, as well as their devastating 30mm cannons. At one point there was even a feeble attempt as using roman looking catapult to shoot down a helo. It was responded to with a hellfire delivered point blank and a congratulations reward of the Colonel shouting across the radio <<I'll buy you a case of beer for that one>>

Inside the walls of the East Gate, which was slowly crumbling under the power of hellfire and 30mm cannon shells, the North Company and Imperial soldiers were quite safe from the carnage, for the time being at least. Not wishing to accidently hit civilians or risk damage to the Recon Section which was still very much in the line of fire, they had restricted any attacks to the outside of the walls. Thus for a moment, the interior courtyard was a place saved from destruction and war as both sides were in awe of the shear power being unleashed only a few meters away. Yet the lull in battle didn't last long. Soon enough soldiers of the Imperial side, mainly younger footman, began to leave the safety of their bulwarks, only to be cut down by the blows of North Company soldiers standing behind their wall of shields and armed with long reaching spears. It was the moment that the Recon Section, and Fischer had been waiting for. The arrival of the Air Cavalry had effectively sealed the fate of the second battle, but that didn't mean they could simply leave the Imperials to their own devices. There was also the fact, Fischer knew every man and woman in the Recon Section was feeling trigger happy, and if they didn't get a chance to fire, they'd be pissed. Thus reaching for the mic still locating on his shoulder, he began to speak into it. His voice was the same calm, despite the situation outside, but carried an icy tone that one would think to freeze over the very mic itself <<This is Crossroads 1-1 to all members of the Recon Section" There was a pause of suspense as the imagines of what was about to unfold passed through is mind <<You may open fire>> He then turned to address those next to him, "On me. Let's go"

With those four simple words, a new hell, though weaker than what was being experienced by those on the outside of Italica's walls were unleashed upon those on the inside. Indiscriminately as both Imperial and North Company soldiers were targeted, the full might of the Recon Sections infantry weapons open fire in the unsuspecting Imperials and North Company below. The upper reaches and windows of the Safe House began to light up with red as muzzle flashes of both heavy machine gunners, a PKP in the case of the Russian, Duma, and the M249 in the case of their newly arrived American, began to dump lead into the forms of soldiers below. The guns trails of bullets swept back in forth in overlapping waves of death, as new rounds were continuously fed in through belts delivered from the Medic, Grace, and the other reserve soldiers still stationed in the upper level of the safe house. Down below Fischer and the other remaining members of the Recon Section burst through the back door of the safe house and found themselves on a small bluff, overlooking the courtyard, about three meters or so up. Not wasting any time they spread out across the wall, and began to open fire on the Imperials and North Company below. Some even tossed Grenades into the mess of soldiers, some still fitting while most tripped over one another attempted to get out of the view of the Recon Section, with great effect. Grenades ripped apart groups of soldiers bunched together behind shields and left devastating effects and limbs were shredded and ripped from the bodies of the North Company and Imperials soldiers, only to be put down by the sweeping fire of the Recon Section. Yet, their fire did little against the few hundred still in courtyard, much of which was now being flooded with survivors of the attack outside.

It was then, that through the large billow of black smoke caused by the original hellfire missile, and strengthened by the several 70mm rockets that eventually followed, came the form of the AH-64 Apache attack helicopters. Separating the patches of smoke with its metal blades, it swung around until it was basically floating above the safe house and the rest of the Recon Section. Obviously in a bid to prevent unwanted shrapnel or debris from colliding with any members of the Recon Section. It was at that point that the firing of the Recon Section ceased, all involved knowing that what every they continued to do would pale in comparison to the sheer destructive force of the single helicopter that hung above them like a guardian angel. And in truth in many other situations such an aircraft would be just that to an infantryman. But from the position of the Imperials and North Company it must have looked like a literal demon. Just like the Recon Section the members of the North Company and Imperial Force paused their fighting, as each man turned his attention to the might hovering beast only a small distance away. It was at that moment a voice, no doubt the pilot of the Helo, came across Fischer's Radio <<And this one is brought to you by our friends at Alnus Hill>>

Then the bird opened fire. The sound of a metal wind up could be heard as the gatling gun style barrel of the Apache quick warmed up to a forte, and then at that moment began to pump out massive 30mm shells down up the formation of North Company and Imperials soldiers. The shells and their traces sweeped across the sky like a massive beam of yellow, as the gun moved back and forth over the area of attack where a few hundred North Company and Imperial soldiers would be caught in the crossfire. Each of the shells hit with a devastating impact, easily disintegrating a man with a direct hit and blowing his buddies to piece if they were within a meter of him. Within second of opening fire already a thick cloud of dust had appeared over the entire area, the only visible sign of an attack being the flashes of 30mm shells leaving their guns and the awful sound of them striking metal. In all his time in the Special Region, with all the attacks on Alnus, the one thing that had bothered him the most was the crushing sound of metal being struck by a bullet. Something that was only amplified by the power of the 30mm shells. But his face stayed the same stoic it always did as the flashes of yellow lit up the dust cloud like lighting in a thunder cloud. It felt like hours, but the firing lasted only about fifteen seconds. At which point the Helicopter hovered for a few seconds before departing to clean up whatever resistance still remained outside of the walls.

As the smoked cleared an old sight to some and a new sight to others was revealed to the Recon Section. The courtyard where a few hundred soldiers, dressed in full armor and fighting it out with one another had once been, remained nothing but a pile a of broken and twisted pieces of metal. No intact bodies could be found, and fewer limbs, as most were loaded with shrapnels or had just disappeared together. Nothing was left but the broken swords and shields with holes the size of bowling balls punched through them. It was an eerily similar sight to the initial massacre just outside of Alnus. Though this time, instead of a bloody mess, there was nothing but the weapons the carried. But the battle would not sit still for time to ponder on the small slice of hell they had just witnessed. Almost immediately the transports from early had begun to circle back around to the court yard and areas outside of the main walls. As they landed, lines of soldiers dressed in new green SCRUB uniforms, the same as worn by the members of the Recon Section, though theirs were noticeably cleaner and didn't have the same dusty and even bloody marking of the older members of the Recon Section. Not wanting to waste anytime, Fischer clicked on the radio on his shoulder and began to speak into it <<This is Crossroads 1-1 to reserve team. Move down here. And Grace, bring Orisa with you>> He then turned to the others still around him "Let's secure this landing zone."

Hurrying down to the courtyard the full effects could be seen. Bodies, that someone escaped the meat grinder of the Helicopters 30mm cannon, had been cut down by the overwhelming fire of the Recon Section. One would be hard pressed to find a body not littered with more than five bullet holes, ranging in various sized from the smaller five point five six of some NATO weapons, to the full sized sized seven point six two used by many of the others. Already additional soldiers had begun to load off of the Transports, forty alone in the small courtyard and had begun to move to do various jobs. Some collected prisoners in general locations, while others attempted to treat those, mainly civilians who had been wounded in the fighting with the North Company earlier. Fischer himself, having met up with Orisa, began to talk to many of the other officers who had come down with their platoons, gathered in the center of the courtyard, ordering the officers to take their platoons to various locations for various missions. The battle had last little over an hour. A sharp contrast to the several hours of the days previous battle. Though even with having multiple platoons to move around, the question posed to him by O'Connor earlier still sat in the back of his head One way or another, we need to get them to the table sir. And wiping out an entire enemy force a few strong in but a few minutes seemed like a good of a way as any to get the Imperials to the table. At least in Fischer's opinion that was.

by **The Yuktobanian Republic** » Sun Oct 29, 2017 5:11 pm

Kita Umemoto - Type 89 IFV
Special Region, Outside of Italica

"You see those people down there? They should actually be lit up right now."

"Chiyomi, please shut up." Kita sighed as she held the binoculars to her eyes, staring down toward the mass of troops gathered outside the walls of Italica. Her eyes scanned for anything out of the ordinary in the group, identifying a few weirdly dressed people, as if they specialized in something else, rather than the traditional combat that the main ground troops of the empire were used to. Besides those people, the soldiers were wearing body armor in the form of metal plating, like old medieval times. They held different swords and spears, which was well suited for their style of combat. Pulling down the binoculars from her eyes, Kita looked at the pintle-mounted Type 96 40mm Grenade Launcher. The 40mm Grenades used by the Type 96 would not only destroy and shred the armor, but it would also detonate the surroundings in a ring of fire, killing everything that stood in it's way.

"What?" Chiyomi asked from the driver's seat, yawning. "We gotta do somethin'."

As Kita watched, the radio inside the turret buzzed a bit. Getting back inside the safety of the steel turret of the Type 89, Kita looked at Asuka, who was busy reading a book. Putting on the headset inside, Kita listened to the transmission, having a feeling in her stomach that this would be the one and only. This would be the one to cause the dominoes to fall. Kita practically ignored everything in her surroundings, even when distant explosions could be heard from where they were.

"This is Crossroads 1-1 to all members of the Recon Section" The message from the leader of the Recon Section started. His voice was calm, but there was a tiny tone to it, as if it was time to commence the event. "You may open fire."

Kita quickly took off the headset, and looked at Asuka, who was looking back. Kita nodded to her, but Asuka looked puzzled before gasping and setting her book down. Her eyes were innocent, since this would be the first time she would have to actually fire the gun in an actual combat situation, let alone kill a person. Kita, upon noticing this look in her eyes, already knew how to respond. She anticipated this.

"Asuka, you have to."

"K-Kita... But... Those are people..--"

"You get on your station now and get ready to fire on my mark." Kita bluntly said before poking her head out of the hatch. Her tone of voice had changed from one of boredom to one of seriousness. It was a voice that Asuka had not heard in a long time, the last time being when they were back in Japan in 2011. The tone of her voice pierced her heart, and she immediately did as she was told, even though a voice deep inside Asuka was telling her to not fire or to not obey. But if she didn't, she would get reprimanded and their lives would be on the line. This was no drill anymore. This was a combat situation.

"They are about a kilometer away from our position, and they do not know we are here. Chiyomi, prepare to advance. Asuka, arm a Jyu-MAT now."

Chiyomi, complying with a smile on her face, turned on the engine of the Type 89 IFV, the Mitsubishi 6SY31WA 600 horsepower engine letting out a roar as it was turned on. In the turret, Asuka shakily armed one of the Type 79 Jyu-MAT missiles, the green light going off inside the turret. On the turret top, Kita loaded the Type 96 Grenade Launcher with a fresh belt of grenades, looking through binoculars one last time.

"Check distance. Good. Cleared to fire."

Asuka stared at the screen, the crosshair over one of the soldiers. Because the Type 79 was a SCALOS guided missile, Asuka had to point the turret wherever the missile was supposed to go. For this, she had to point it straight ahead. Pressing a button to open one of the launcher's doors, Asuka gulped.

"Missile away." Asuka yelled.

To the soldiers who were loitering around outside the walls, a distinct sound filled the air as the Type 79 ignited and flew out of the launcher, accelerating to almost 200 m/s as it flew at the soldiers. One of them turned to the noise, and pointed at a small black object flying towards them at high speeds. They did not have time to react before a large explosion shook the entire area, the Type 79 Jyu-MAT impacting the ground and detonating. From Asuka's screen, the fireball went up into the air, and the soldiers she was staring at a few moments ago were now gone, reduced to nothing. They were vaporized from existence. Following this, Kita took off the binoculars as she readied the Type 96, the grenades loaded.

"Chiyomi, we will now get closer. Hit it." Kita ordered.

"Roger that!" Chiyomi yelled as she accelerated, the Type 89 rolling down the slight slope of the hill. The soldiers that they fired at were now fully aware of their position, and so they promptly yelled and screamed for reinforcements, which would never come. As the vehicle came to flat ground, rumbling along a dirt road that ran parallel to the wall, Kita switched on some of her own music, one that she personally felt fit for the situation.

As the Type 89 rumbled down the dirt road, getting closer to the soldiers, Kita waited for the right time to shine. Inside, she could hear Chiyomi laughing and accelerating more, before suddenly stopping ontop of some bushes off the road. Waiting, Kita smiled as she yelled the one command that would make Chiyomi watch in joy.

"Open fire."

The sound of the 35mm autocannon firing filled the air as round after round after round of High Explosive shells flew towards the soldiers at supersonic speeds. Kita then joined in, firing the Type 96 40mm Grenade Launcher and further adding to the destruction of the soldiers, music blasting in their ears. Infront of the Type 89, smoke filled the air as blood was the only thing left on the ground. The smoke from the 35mm round explosions obscuring some soldiers who were retreating, Kita noticed something from the corner of her eye. One of the people dressed weird was holding a staff, and an ominous glow was coming from them.

"Asuka, left side."

Without any hesitation anymore, Asuka turned the turret and lit the area the person was standing up. Numerous detonations from 35mm rounds, and some direct hits to the actual person caused devastating effects. What looked like the remains of limbs were flung around, and blood was sprayed on the ground where the man once stood. As the smoke cleared, Kita watched without remorse as soldiers started retreating from the vehicle, some having a traumatic event and simply staring at the ground with their weapons by their side. There was nothing left on the ground. Everything was simply gone. There were no remains, no limbs, and even a lack of blood. It was all vaporized by the numerous explosions. Holding their fire, the crew simply watched for anyone that was left. If anyone came their way, then they would light them up again. As they watched an AH-64 Apache fly over the city walls, an eerie silence fell upon the group. They were all in their thoughts.

They simply waited for further orders from the rest of the team.

by **Asturial** » Mon Oct 30, 2017 5:29 am

Berian Cergaine

Berian's armor was tightened painfully so to better pressure his injuries from earlier. His neck and arms were wrapped entirely in bandages and he had been forced to take a moment to collect himself before continuing to arm himself. Taking several rasping breaths the Landgrave was able to slowly pull on his right gauntlet. The padding pressed into the small wounds form the fragments of the weapons used by the north company. His left gauntlet would be a different story. It was swollen and heavily burned under the layers of bandages.

As Berian mustered the strength to force on the gauntlet his door guard entered and Berian and those of his men within turned to face the woman following him. If looks could kill she would have dropped dead. Each man in the room knew her role in the near destruction of the Cergaine household, which all of them claimed close kinship with. Their lords were more than lieges, they were their leaders and heads of their great household. Berian quite suddenly forced his gauntlet on releasing a hiss of pain as he did so.

"What is needed of me Countess?" Berian asked. He was cold but not impolite, he had long since regained his composure from when his captain initially delivered the information to him.

Around them the men shifted uncomfortably. Four excused themselves, in their possession was oil-skin parcels filled with unknown contents. These four men had been selected by Berian for a specific reason. They would be using the well system in the city to slip out into the river before splitting up and heading on their own paths. Two would be returning to Regenos, orders and edicts from Berian kept safe in a waterproofed pack. The second pair was to simply deliver messages to the capital, more specifically to Morwyn. Personal letters and information to be seen by her only. The men were directed to destroy the items should they fear they would fall into another's hands. Berian was now playing a more dangerous game than he had ever before.

The room was quiet and uncomfortable. As the lord's sword was handed to him the knights began to file out back to their posts. Two men hesitated, but a cold glare from Berian sent them hurrying to their positions in the city's defense. Now with only the Landgrave and the countess remaining in the room Berian again turned his attention to her.

"My men will continue to defend your city, I may not be able to directly fight but I will still be nearby to command them." He looked at the bottle in her hands.

"Early to be giving way to a desire for drink isn't it? There are still enemies to fight and they grow closer every moment." His inflections as he spoke gave emphasis to words, making what largely could be seen as obvious words seem to have deeper meaning.

With that Berian stepped around the woman. His breath heavier than before, the athletic spring in his step long gone replaced with a subtle limp not quite hidden in his soldier's gait.

Having returned to the walls, Berian was not surprised to find the North Company making a renewed attempt. The East Gate was being overrun. Berian and his Captains had shifted to their new position, and while he had initially planned to remain out of combat, a heavy dose of a local alchemist's potions for pain allowed him to join the fray. While the medicine did not fully relieve his ailment it allowed him to again wield his twin swords at the front of his knights. He screamed commands when needed but his delegation of command to his commanders had made it easier to fight properly.

The Landgrave emptied his mind of the farther reaching issues surrounding him, he needed focus on the fight before him. Within only a short time Berian had been forced back with his men. They now held ground at the earlier prepared barricades. Behind them a collection of Italica citizens armed with a myriad of tools and weapons stood ready to join the bloodied warriors in defending the city. Berian leaned heavily against the barricade but remained standing alongside his men. Raising his swords as the Princess joined the forces Berian and the rest of the defenders bellowed out at the North Company.

The quiet building of a distant sound sent both sides into a sudden silence. Berian Lost his footing as the thunder of an explosion shook the ground and the bright flash lit up the night like dawn. Berian through his helmet aside as the beasts or machines of some sort wrought apocalyptic power upon the north company. Still taken by the sudden shock of the attack it took Berian a moment to register the new push by the North Company as they fled the doom now looming from outside the walls. The defenders began to sally out from their barricades and engage the North Company warriors. However almost as suddenly as they began to clash once again hell rained down upon them.

Fire itself seem to rip through the mass of bodies int the exposed streets. Soldiers, Mercenaries, and civilian defenders fell to the new threat. While Berian was shaken and confused he was able to understand soon enough the fires from a large residence nearby were somehow connected to the deaths of his men and his enemies. While the civilians had largely been safely behind a thin layer of soldiers the sudden fire from the unknown enemies had rendered all safety offered them useless. Boys and women fell alongside seasoned knights. Crumpling into the blood soaked streets certain hell had taken them in their final moments. Unlike the warfare earlier fought between trained soldiers, this new attacker had simply cut the crowd apart like a sickle through grain. Screams of pain and confusion filled the air as Berian joined his people wallowing in anguish under the murderous onslaught of their attackers.

After a few moments men and women clad in strange clothing bearing strange words and weapons swept into the streets, they treated all as enemies, corralling imperial, and mercenary alongside civilian. Regenosi soldiers broken and battered fought back the urge to weep, expecting little more than death to await them. What purpose could the monsters capable of rendering the lot of any standing person to rotting corpse in seconds have for assaulting this city. What curse had befallen a once peaceful place, now drenched in blood of warriors and innocents alike.

Berian's captains helped him along to where the groups of survivors were herded. There was no honor here. No dignity for the vanquished was left and as far as Berian could see the strangers had the power of gods and the apathy to match. Seeing noble knights and civilians of an Imperial city herded like lambs to slaughter the Landgrave's stomach convulsed and he vomited at the sheer grief he now experienced. Hope drained from him, what horrors awaited them at the hands of green men able to tear populations limb from limp before even appearing. A sinking feeling as he saw tears of dread well into his men's eyes began eating the Landgrave.

Stopping his men he forced himself up right. Covered nearly head to toe in gore, weapons long since lost in the chaos and helmet discarded in terror the Landgrave regained the composure of his station. He pivoted slowly and grimaced in pain before opening his mouth. He demanded to know their reasons for such a violent show of force, for such a dishonorable show of gratuitous violence.

"You There! Do you speak our tongue! Answer me! Why do this, why slaughter these people, are you some form of demon sent to punish the denizens of this city? Haven't they suffered enough." He screamed at no enemy in particular.

Then he saw as others of his land exited the building from which a minor portion of the attack had come. None other than a priestess of the Taldani. The confusion and shock swirled suddenly into rage. He made sure to take her attention.

"This is what your order wishes for the citizens of the Empire? Their death at the hands of demons they can't even touch? Damn you priestess! Traitor! Murderer! You brought this here did you not!" Berian screamed at the young priestess. His voice was growing hoarse but he was clearly heard in the courtyard. He would not be silent as a group believed friend of the people led demons to slaughter them.

"What can you say for your treachery monster!" He screamed now being pulled back by his captains. Most people were visibly too weak with shock to join him in screaming, but others had connected what dots he had and targeted the girl with their own shouts and condemnations. Assailing her with words of traitor and far far worse.

Berian was pulled into a collection of other prisoners his blood boiling. Perhaps more rage swirled in him than when his own family was butchered. This honorless killing was worse than even that.

by **Kassaran** » Mon Oct 30, 2017 6:43 am

Staff Sergeant William "Wild Bill" Thompson

Callsign "Crossroads 2-1"

Italica Forward Observation Post, Eastern Italica

0503 Hours

As the fighting outside the safe-house reached a crescendo during his light sleep, he managed to catch the sound of the inbound air cavalry. To put it simply, the Staff Sergeant was bored with events like these, for he'd seen quite a bit more impressive in his career so far, but it didn't keep him from sating morbid curiosity as he walked up to one of the windows where Dima had now laid off the trigger. Smoke and shrapnel filled the air and the sergeant found himself withdrawing to just outside the field of view of the courtyard to avoid any shrapnel that might fly through the window, and not a moment too soon as he heard the light impacting of metal and stone chunks against the other side of the safe-house fortifications. He sighed inwardly, he doubted Dima even noticed any of it. Hell, the pounding in his ears in spite of his hearing protection tabs and the operator's headset he wore was enough to tell him that there was quite the fireworks show unfolding outside, but Thompson simply prepared himself internally and began to move downstairs. Now that he had reached the downstairs, he could see the Captain walking outside, calling out commands over the command channel radio.

"Nothing about me, so business as usual then."

It was a matter-of-fact statement, but true enough. He keyed on his own squad radio and called out a quick command.

<<All Crossroads 2 call-signs, this is 2-1. Reinforce this location and help our new friends establish a security perimeter. Keep eyes out for HVT's and call them out for the rest, Dima, get yourself checked out by one of those medics. In all that mess we had some frags coming our way, you probably didn't feel anything, and likely nothing happened but I don't want to lose you. I know enough to see we're going to need your gun here shortly if things get out of hand. Karev, man the radio and keep doing your business, Forward Effects Observers should be linking up with you soon enough alongside JTAC personnel. I think you'll get along nicely.

2-3, I'm moving out with you for cover. Lieutenant, I trust you'll be fine enough doing, well, stuff. Thompson, Out.>>

Letting the radio fall back into position on his vest as he picked up his rifle and moved to join the procession of personnel exiting the building, he became aware of the distinctive sound of soldiers shouting and rounding up survivors. Medics were hard at work going at the triage for those wounded they could save, the dead and dying were left to waste. He frowned internally, he'd seen this all too often in Pakistan and other locations across the Middle East and North Africa. Hell, he'd even seen a Cambodian execution camp once, and that was nothing compared to this, but then again the bodies of the dead were just that. It didn't matter how much you multiplied it, when he let himself slip back into perspective. Stockholm had been a slaughter, these people had represented a threat and were neutralized. It was simple and machine-like thinking that let him cope with scenes of pure abhorrent disregard for life like this.

It wasn't until he noticed something in particular going on over to one of the sides that he let himself stop mid-stride. A noble, likely a battlefield commander for the Imperials was shouting and screaming towards them. He couldn't quite tell what was being said, but his few phrases he'd learned and let stick in his head picked out some words. Nothing sensible, but the man's body language said it all, and then he pointed at the true target of his assault. Their translator and experience brought on by countless operations deep-field and front-line brought back similar images from the wastes and highlands of Afghanistan. They were putting this on the shoulders of a girl whom had been pressed into their service, we wasn't even going to give himself the delusion of choice they'd granted her. She'd come along voluntarily perhaps, but if that was to seek her freedom, it wasn't like this. He let his frown turn into a look of sheer annoyance, leveling a glance towards the nobleman and moving to step protectively between the translator and the crowd now becoming incensed with her.

No, this wasn't her fault you idiots, it was obvious they all thought it, but in the eyes of the Sergeant he only could see blame leveled squarely on the shoulders of each person here, every one that wore the uniform of an imperial was another enemy and someone responsible for all that now was unfolding upon them. Just as those in the war-torn backwaters of the Middle East were to blame for their own destruction by Thompson's eyes, so too were these military commanders to blame. He had no words, no armor like this man, but he had one thing more and it was power and fury. He could see it in the eyes of the man before him, righteous fury that rivaled Thompson's, but he had something for that. Something he'd learned in his own personal briefs, and something that would ideally silence the man, or play him into the hands of Thompson.

"I call on the righteousness of martyrs! Silence in the name of your gods, or be silenced by my hand!"

It was a phrase he'd kept in his back pocket and memory, but one he knew the noble would understand well. His mind drifted back to the meeting with the intelligence analyst whom had given him the information he'd needed almost six weeks ago.

'They're a pseudo-Roman civilization, our interrogators managed to deduce that we're dealing with a feudal society and that we should also expect similar customs. As you're aware, dueling is an excellent way to ensure that you make your presence known, but it's to the death if chosen.'

'So how do I keep myself from being killed?'

'They've got this... rite, a sort of way to call out someone for a duel. It's best used on someone of status who understands the ritual, but the words we've been looking for have eluded us up until a few days ago. A young officer spoke of a time he witnessed an ancient dueling rite between two landlords of noble estates in the empire. Apparently, the challenged had attacked a city, and in the fighting a number of the defending landlord's closest retainers were slain. We made sure that they were non-combatants. Most died due to being too close, but one died due to an execution. Regardless, the challenger had sought retribution and attacked a number of small outlying villages to claim control and obtain war reparations, and for this received great outcry from the first landlord. In his anger, he called on a specific rite under the god or godess of revenge, a Martyr's Duel.'

'A Martyr's Duel? That doesn't sound like it would keep me alive you know, it just sounds like an eye-for-an-eye thing.'

'We kind of thought the same, but the officer apparently got that idea from us and explained its used to show unjust or undue recourse to an action of just revenge. It's essentially the best way to say that you're poking their eye because they just poked yours.'

'And why would protesting come in handy?'

'Because you're going to use it to incite a duel between yourself and a member of the Royal Imperial Family. Do that and they have to listen and hear your case, regardless of where you come from. The very reason the Imperial officer heard of it was because the challenger was a non-Imperial citizen, but the Imperials still listened to him. Once you get into contact with royals, they'll be forced to listen to you because its the way of their gods. They fail to do that and they'll appear as though they're no longer upholding the faith in their own gods.'

'Religion, you're telling me to believe in the rite because they believe in it? Are you serious? You know how bad that sounds, right sir?'

'Sergeant, I don't need to tell you just how far behind us these people are, most of our tactics are years beyond them, a simple card trick could pass as magic to these people, never mind our technology. Just, make sure you at least keep this in the bank, please. It's our best shot at locating the Americans taken by the Imperials in Stockholm. If possible, use the duel as a means to get them back.'

'So, is this like one-time-use or?'

'No, but it's sacred and can't be taken in vain. Using it to justify your every action may cause you to lose credibility and honestly, most people don't even know about it in the first place. Like I said, the officer only had seen it once, and he's been in longer than you've been able to serve, Thompson. Trust us here, we have our ways of getting this intel and you know it. Anyways, moving on to the next part of the briefing-'

Thompson was left, pointing at the armor-clad noble, his face spelling the stoic and yet hardened gaze of a man not trained to fight wars, but trained to end them. The noble was ragged in appearance due in no small part to the fighting, but the rage burning in both of their eyes was at the injustices perceived, the only difference was the passion behind each man's fire as Thompson dropped his hand and let the other hand undo the combat glove from it's place. Taking it, and removing his knife, he threw the glove on the ground. Before even the small amount of dust it had kicked up could settle, the soft impact of Thompson's combat knife pinning it in place.

"Captain, that man there is the one we want, he's obviously pissed about something and he's wearing the armor to prove he's no small fry."

He called over his shoulder, his words before were made to incense, but it was unknown if the noble even would remember in his current state what the rite was supposed to be. He took a look at the soldiers behind him, seeing the lines of infantry now disembarking from yet another NH90 landing behind him, before looking back at the huddled masses of people before the line of infantry that had corralled them.

Unto the Breach: A Gate RP (IC|Open)

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