Between Ice and a Cold Place [MT, OPEN]

by **The Green Union** » Thu Jan 11, 2018 10:12 am

"Yes, you have won the land. But soon the winter will come, and that perhaps will cool your ambitions."

- King Wolfe VI, his last words

January 2035 marks seven months since the Battle of Guard Island. Referendum-914, the Guard Island Naval Standoff, the fall of Himmelsdorf, and all the events of the invasion of the Green Union seem but distant memories, the last moments of a bygone era. Since then the lands that were once the Green Union have been torn apart by the competing interests of Republicans, Capitalists, and the Monarchists and Socialists who oppose them.

Major cities and towns in the Green Union heartland lie abandoned, home now only to straggling survivors of the forced relocations and the ARCC fighters who lay ambushes for the patrols of Congressional Security forces. To the north the ARF fights a hit-and-run war against foreign mining corporations and their mercenary contractors, many organizations racing to be the first to find and claim the fabled wealth of untapped oil and natural gas in the country's northern tundra. On the eastern coast of Fyrland rebels work to open channels to the outside world, trying to evade an ever more powerful Congressional Sea Security in smuggling supplies and supporters into the country.

To the south the Great Wall of Placeoderms stands a defiant stone symbol of impossibility to would-be refugees. With its few crossings sealed, for the first time from the Green Union side by tank traps and concrete walls. It is just as well for the CGU, as south of the border wall the exiled government of the PGU gathers allies. The newly formed Kamooko Pact bides its time, mustering its forces and waiting for a time when the nation to the north may be reclaimed.

And all the while the Arcadian Empire watches from the West. After purchasing the Western nation of Urlistan from the Vilhalan conquerors they contemplate how the rest of the country may be brought under their flag. The terrorist organization of the PAR continues to carry out attacks in their new territory, but the Arcadians are sure of success.

After all, when had poorly equipped rebels ever stood up to a professional army?

This incident is open, and drop-ins are welcome. For questions come join the Markion Discord or telegram the OP.

Factions:

Loyalists: A diverse group of peoples brought together exclusively by their allegiance to the Calen monarchy, Loyalists form multiple resistance groups in opposition to the Reformist government of the CGU. Despite not sharing many common traits, all Loyalist rebel groups currently enjoy unofficial pacts of nonaggression with eachother, instead fighting common enemies in the Reformist movements.

Loyalists make up the following groups, none of which are necessarily aligned to eachother:

Reformists: Years of left-wing rule created a small but extremely vocal coalition of right wing (by Green Union standards) activists and Republicans. Believing in bringing the free market to the Green Union and abolishing the monarchy the Reformists had become more and more militant until the recent private property referendum sparked mass protests and riots across the Green Union. Now select Reformist leaders have been formed into the new government of the Green Union, replacing Vilhalan military governors. These Reformists discuss government policy as part of the Congress of the Green Union (CGU).

Reformists make up the following groups:

Nonaligned: The Loyalist-Reformist model is not universal, and some political entities do not fit into either. Whether due to a policy of neutrality or a mutual dislike for all parties involved these third party factions may fight everyone or no one:

Timeline:

Rules:

- I am the OP, your lord and saviour
- Avoid one-liners
- Keep OOC chatter to a minimum, use TG to resolve confusion
- Keep it PG-13
- Minimize stand-alone stories by collaborating with other players
- Always quote the post or portion of a post you are responding to; keep the many storylines cohesive
- Keep it realistic. This means:

- No direct military interventions
- Focus posts on politics and small military operations
- Properly RP reconnaissance and logistics
- Aid must be in the form of supplies, weapons, military trainers, and the like
- Aid to the Loyalists must be smuggled in

- And most of all, respect the climate! Winter warfare is a big part of this RP, so familiarize yourself with its quirks

by **The Green Union** » Thu Jan 11, 2018 12:25 pm

Former Cpl. Jacques Balladur, Mont Coulon Downtown:

Jacques stared through a tear in the blue tarp covering the window of the seventh floor apartment, counting the gusts of wind that sent snowflakes swirling around the room despite his companion's best attempts to insulate. It wasn't a particularly nice room, either, despite previously being a living room. The rubbish and broken glass had mostly been swept aside, but the springs were still coming through the chesterfield and the once red paint was now peeling after months of rain and snow. The former LAF soldier himself sat on a small stool with only two and a half legs. He stooped forward at an odd angle to keep the broken leg balanced on top of a stack of books. They had been so badly storm damaged when he'd found them that Jacques had figured they weren't good for much else.

Pulling his scarf up farther on his face and balling his hands in his mitts, Jacques once again wished that he still had his LAF winter kit. As it was he had been forced to ditch the distinctive clothing to avoid capture several weeks ago, and now he was making do with civilian ski gear pilfered from a sporting goods store. In most countries such wear would be fine, but the thermometer Jacques carried had just hit -35^oC, and he was starting to feel it.

On the street far below a Congressional Security patrol escorted an old government AAV-N armoured vehicle, a sight that went by just about every day now to "keep the peace" in Mont Coulon. The AAV wasn't the only familiar part of this patrol. The weapons, equipment, and demeanour of the C-Sec soldiers was so much like that of the former LAF that for a moment a twang of loss went through Jacques' body. He shuddered, wiping away a tear before it could freeze solid.

The former corporal had a rifle clutched in his hands, an accurized FAL-V courtesy of his companion, but he was not tempted to open fire. He knew the security forces would not enter the building if he didn't goad them; it was too dangerous, not only due to ARCC rebels like Jacques, but also from the scavengers and smugglers who used the high-rises to hide from aerial surveillance. Just sitting for a few hours one could hear dozens of distant gunshots, the sound of someone taking a wrong step in the new shadowy underworld of Mont Coulon's high rises, subway, and sewers.

There was a knock at the door, startling Jacques out of his pity party. Behind him was suddenly a woman dressed similarly to him thick winter attire, her entire face covered by a balaclava and ski goggles. But the single lock of sharply golden hair that snaked out of her trapper hat gave her away. It was, of course, his companion: Alex McTavish, former sergeant in the LAF and once Jacques' commanding officer. If there was one silver lining to the destruction of the country and the country and the uprooting of his society it was that Jacques had gotten to spend most of it with Alex.

The woman walked into the room, dropping down heavily on the chesterfield. She pulled down the balaclava to speak, wincing at the cold. "So, you're up early." she remarked.

It was a joke, of course. Jacques had been up and on watch in this spot for the last five hours. Before that it had been Alex sitting here with the rifle, which meant that they were both operating of, at max, five hours of sleep. It was the most they'd had all week.

"I think I've figured out where we need to go," Jacques said while gesturing with a mitten to their only means of navigation, a small map on the back of a tourism brochure, "but it's a ways to go. We'll need to head through the underground for a ways, and that won't be safe."

"None of this has been safe, Jacques. But if what you say is true . . ."

"We'll find her there." Jacques stated adamantly, "I'm sure of it."

"Well then," she said, "we've spent long enough hunkered down here. Let's go find a friend."

by **The Grande Republic 0f Arcadia** » Thu Jan 11, 2018 3:59 pm

Schuttler-Lay Army AirCorp Joint Base, Urlistan

Pfc. Arvo Rehn, 8th Infantry Regiment, 1st Legion force

Schuttler-Lay airbase was his first duty station in the Arcadian foreign legion. Basic training was hell, he still had the scar where he broke his arm, and yet now he is serving his new home. He grew up in a major city of a nordic country outside of Markion, it was a rich country but he wanted adventure in his life. Now he was in the Arcadian Foreign Legion's infantry. The snow was bearing down on them as the stayed in doors. They were told to gear up and patrol around the base. Rebel attacks in the New Green Union have been heating up so the Arcadian Armed Forces were placed on alert incase the PAR went from a few rebels taking pot shots to waging fire fights in the streets. As he put on his coat he reached for his hat and put it on. They would be guarding the civilians since today schools are starting up again, and the online alternative is ending since the schools have been repaired. As he walked out of the barracks he and his team went for the vehicles with no delay. For this operation they would not be carrying heavy weapons and only bringing one machine gun. They were told to stay a distance away from the schools and only interfere with daily life if a threat is detected. They were told to be a few blocks away to ensure no one is intimidated. The schools would have local police officers acting as security while things ajust. They would be driving to a checkpoint set up in an alleyway. As they drove out of the base he saw snow plows clearing the show from the road. As they entered Puffin point, the traffic was stalled slightly due to the snow but they were still stuck in traffic. As they arrived at the checkpoint the vehicles pulled into the alley and the team they were replacing was preparing to head back to base. When he stepped out of the vehicle he looked at the crowd walking in the city and turned to Private First Class Kober, who was a native born Arcadian who was seeking adventure. The legion was made up of Arcadian natives and mostly foreign recruits seeking citizenship. Most Arcadian natives were officers but some did enlist. he spoke to Kober "So how long until you think we get into a shooting was with the east?" Kober spoke "I dont know, and hopefully it can wait until the winter ends, I'm already freezing my balls off I dont need to loose on to a sniper either." Both chuckled, and as Rehn looked back as Lance Corporal Smith was behind the covered machine gun with a cup of coffee in his hands. Smith was from a saxon nation that is going through some issues at the moment so he enlisted for the saftey. Their Sergeant had been in the legion for several years now, he grew up in a country which was under civil war between nationalists and communists. His village was taken over by the communists and his father was killed before his eyes. It only made sense Staff Sergeant Najjar would enlist in an empire that has been fighting communist regimes would wide. Rehn hoped that today was going to be peaceful.

Puffin Point Central Highschool, Urlistan

Nahele Kamealoha, Arcadian Political Agent Command

She stood against a wall in a political science room, the teacher was looking at her nervously and she could tell she was not wanted. As the students filed in they mumbled and whispered at both the new students from Arcadian families and her. She was wearing her Class B uniform, with rank removed since Political agents were technically civilians. As the bell rang the teacher spoke "Welcome to Political Sciences, I.... I see there are many new faces in the class so why dont you tell us all about yourselfs and where your from." As each of the new kids told them where they were from they were all Arcadian. As the teacher looked at her once more nervously he spoke again "So this is Mrs. Ka... Kamealoha?" She turned to him and nodded. The teacher went on to say "So due to recent circumstances there has been a curriculum change so the Arcadian here will talk about economics." She turned to the class and began to give her talk on why a moderate free market mixed with strong civil and economic freedoms can create a long standing country like Arcadia.

by **Sevevill** » Thu Jan 11, 2018 7:47 pm

The Green Union wrote:Former Cpl. Jacques Balladur, Mont Coulon Downtown:

Jacques stared through a tear in the blue tarp covering the window of the seventh floor apartment, counting the gusts of wind that sent snowflakes swirling around the room despite his companion's best attempts to insulate. It wasn't a particularly nice room, either, despite previously being a living room. The rubbish and broken glass had mostly been swept aside, but the springs were still coming through the chesterfield and the once red paint was now peeling after months of rain and snow. The former LAF soldier himself sat on a small stool with only two and a half legs. He stooped forward at an odd angle to keep the broken leg balanced on top of a stack of books. They had been so badly storm damaged when he'd found them that Jacques had figured they weren't good for much else.

Pulling his scarf up farther on his face and balling his hands in his mitts, Jacques once again wished that he still had his LAF winter kit. As it was he had been forced to ditch the distinctive clothing to avoid capture several weeks ago, and now he was making do with civilian ski gear pilfered from a sporting goods store. In most countries such wear would be fine, but the thermometer Jacques carried had just hit -35^oC, and he was starting to feel it.

On the street far below a Congressional Security patrol escorted an old government AAV-N armoured vehicle, a sight that went by just about every day now to "keep the peace" in Mont Coulon. The AAV wasn't the only familiar part of this patrol. The weapons, equipment, and demeanour of the C-Sec soldiers was so much like that of the former LAF that for a moment a twang of loss went through Jacques' body. He shuddered, wiping away a tear before it could freeze solid.

The former corporal had a rifle clutched in his hands, an accurized FAL-V courtesy of his companion, but he was not tempted to open fire. He knew the security forces would not enter the building if he didn't goad them; it was too dangerous, not only due to ARCC rebels like Jacques, but also from the scavengers and smugglers who used the high-rises to hide from aerial surveillance. Just sitting for a few hours one could hear dozens of distant gunshots, the sound of someone taking a wrong step in the new shadowy underworld of Mont Coulon's high rises, subway, and sewers.

There was a knock at the door, startling Jacques out of his pity party. Behind him was suddenly a woman dressed similarly to him thick winter attire, her entire face covered by a balaclava and ski goggles. But the single lock of sharply golden hair that snaked out of her trapper hat gave her away. It was, of course, his companion: Alex McTavish, former sergeant in the LAF and once Jacques' commanding officer. If there was one silver lining to the destruction of the country and the country and the uprooting of his society it was that Jacques had gotten to spend most of it with Alex.

The woman walked into the room, dropping down heavily on the chesterfield. She pulled down the balaclava to speak, wincing at the cold. "So, you're up early." she remarked.

It was a joke, of course. Jacques had been up and on watch in this spot for the last five hours. Before that it had been Alex sitting here with the rifle, which meant that they were both operating of, at max, five hours of sleep. It was the most they'd had all week.

"I think I've figured out where we need to go," Jacques said while gesturing with a mitten to their only means of navigation, a small map on the back of a tourism brochure, "but it's a ways to go. We'll need to head through the underground for a ways, and that won't be safe."

"None of this has been safe, Jacques. But if what you say is true . . ."

"We'll find her there." Jacques stated adamantly, "I'm sure of it."

"Well then," she said, "we've spent long enough hunkered down here. Let's go find a friend."

Capital Road. Seve City, Sevevill.
"Stop the conflict in the GU! Sevevill intervention today!" Hippies chanted while marching in front of the Sevevill Presidential building.
"I feel like everything is opposite here. The doped up fools want war..." A politician said to Luke Atkinson. A well-known politician about to take the stage asking for Pro GU fighting. Not knowing that something was already in motion.
"We are very... Anti Stereotype here..." Smirking "Not that that's a bad thing" He turned on his heel and walked towards the podium. "People of Sevevill, Your Majesty, Mr. President." He said acknowledging the president and the King. "We have a crisis. Our former allies the GU are in a state of conflict. They have always joined in on our allies fighting alongside the Sevevill armies for years. I think we need to help the rebels, pro former government rebels to retake their cont..." The last words would never be muttered. A fake cameraman stood up pulling a pistol from his pocket walking down the aisle shooting Luke five times screaming "Long Live the CGU!!!!" Before he was gunned down by Royal Guardsmen.

by **Cadi Arabada** » Fri Jan 12, 2018 9:55 am

Oil
Casa Cadi, Riyawa, MSRCA
Arthur Khan, Secretary to the President

Arthur finished flipping through the most recent report from the foreign affairs committee as he formulated a summary in his mind. He was to present the information to the President. It was a dreadful task. The President was a ferocious cat of a woman and her wife the Prime Minister was no better. Nevertheless, he had a job to do. He built up his confidence and walked through the President's great mahogany double doors.

The President's office was a massive room dominated by a massive mahogany desk, and contained a collection of effeminate marble statues. When the President noticed Arthur she shot him a glare and he almost fell over. After regaining his composure he stumbled through his summary,

"Madame President, the- the foreign affairs committee has un- uncovered details about... oil."

The President looks intrigued and leaned forward in her chair, "Oil?"

"Yes ma'am, in the- the Green Union! The- the northern parts."

At that moment there was a loud thump from the President's luxury water closet. Arthur continued,

"So... you see. They wanted to- to know if you where-"

The water closet door swung open and the Prime Minister, half naked and tanned, walked into the room holding a bottle of tanning oil. She interjected,

"Oil? Oh Arthie dear, did you want some oil?"

She began slowly squeezing the tanning oil into her hand. Blushing, Arthur quietly declined and turned to the President who was presently transfixed by the Prime Minister. Arthur coughed to get the women's attention and continued,

"The committee believes that we can part- partner with the Vilhalans... that we can turn a large profit."

"Excellent work Arthie," the President grinned. After a moment of silence the President scowled and Arthur retreated out of her office. He then sat down at his desk and tried to ignore the moaning behind those double doors. He last though before getting back to work were,

Who puts a tanning bed in a water closet... in winter?

by **Liberated Free Nations** » Fri Jan 12, 2018 10:26 am

Himmelsdorf
Undisclosed Location

The blindfold came off. Everyone in the room, which was small but well-lit, was dressed head to toe in heavy winter clothing, faces masked completely.

"You've been sent here by Comrade Friend No. 3, we've been told. Our deepest apologies for the inconvenience, but proper security measures do thwart the imperialists from murdering good revolutionaries. You're being sent on a very secret assignment."

"What is it?"

"You will be infiltrating a company, Dura-Tek Industries, in order to get a pass to leave the capital. The Congressional Security puppet forces will not allow random tourists to wander as they please into a warzone. There's a DTI recruiting center on the intersection of 29th and 53rd Street. You'll want to ask for a posting in the most dangerous area possible, and from there set out toward liberated territory."

"The Most Dangerous Area" in the Union?

Labor unrest in major mining concerns, like the complex at Nördenlager, has caused the authorities to become wary and worried about the potential for attacks by Hasenkrieger or Kapijäger communists, and PMCs guarding the complex have tightened security accordingly. The CCO (Chief Communications Officer) of Dura-Tek Industries, Michael Brooks, has stated that the company will be increasing its presence in the area and warned that communist subversives would be dealt with mercilessly. So far, they are the only PMC to have gone on record with plans to expand its northern presence.

by **The Green Union** » Sat Jan 13, 2018 7:30 pm

Congress of the Green Union (CGU) Statement to the World

Big news out of the Green Union today as the republican government of the CGU announces the return of internet access for its citizens. Since the initial liberation of the country in June of the previous year the new government had been working to dismantle the inefficient, state-controlled internet service system which the previous Communist Monarchy used to restrict the information displayed to the people, brainwashing them into believing their Communist lies.

The new internet service providers will be efficiently managed by the private sector, under the control of the lowest bidder (which was decided at a closed auction). This will ensure unparalleled efficiency, saving money for Green Union taxpayers. Foreign sources can for the first time learn about life in the old Green Union completely free of the controlling state authority, and see just how much the CGU has improved the situation in the country.

Of course, some safeguards have been taken to ensure the Communist terrorist remnants of the old oppressors still operating in the Green Union are not able to use the new internet to spread their propaganda. Such safeguards are minor, however, and should not be considered cause for alarm by law-abiding citizens.

by **The Grande Republic 0f Arcadia** » Sun Jan 14, 2018 10:40 am

Casatolo, Arcadia

Martin Périer,Special Relations Office, Ministry of Foreign Affairs

He picked up the phone and looked over a list of powerful moderates in the NGU. There was a strict gag order on this call, and it was not to be spoken of outside this room. As he called a Mr. Chessur, a former CEO half way across the globe. As the phone range it as interrupted by a a single word. "Hello." he said soon Martin spoke "I work for very powerful people who can help you change the Green Union into a moderate capitalist state. We can offer you money,weapons and other material support. Would you be interested in this? And remember if you speak of this to anyone we are watching, we know who your family is and where you are."

by **Sevevill** » Mon Jan 15, 2018 9:05 am

Liberated Free Nations wrote:Himmelsdorf
Undisclosed Location

The blindfold came off. Everyone in the room, which was small but well-lit, was dressed head to toe in heavy winter clothing, faces masked completely.

"You've been sent here by Comrade Friend No. 3, we've been told. Our deepest apologies for the inconvenience, but proper security measures do thwart the imperialists from murdering good revolutionaries. You're being sent on a very secret assignment."

"What is it?"

"You will be infiltrating a company, Dura-Tek Industries, in order to get a pass to leave the capital. The Congressional Security puppet forces will not allow random tourists to wander as they please into a warzone. There's a DTI recruiting center on the intersection of 29th and 53rd Street. You'll want to ask for a posting in the most dangerous area possible, and from there set out toward liberated territory."

(Image)
"The Most Dangerous Area" in the Union?

Labor unrest in major mining concerns, like the complex at Nördenlager, has caused the authorities to become wary and worried about the potential for attacks by Hasenkrieger or Kapijäger communists, and PMCs guarding the complex have tightened security accordingly. The CCO (Chief Communications Officer) of Dura-Tek Industries, Michael Brooks, has stated that the company will be increasing its presence in the area and warned that communist subversives would be dealt with mercilessly. So far, they are the only PMC to have gone on record with plans to expand its northern presence.

OOC: LFN TG me

2nd Lt. Peter Gabrial. LFN. New LFN city, The reformed capital after communist collapse.
Fifteen Humvees worked their way down the road on a patrol. Something common in the LFN. Patrols were used to show the people that Sevevill was still there and had the power to knock them back down. There were hundreds of people who wanted to be apart of Sevevill but they were still dealing with rebels every day. He looked down an ally way out of the gunner's position.
"Stop. Lets clear the alleyway." He hopped down of the Humvee. Holding his rifle he looked walked down the road looking around for anything worth worrying about. Only one Humvee actually had Sevevill Marines while the rest were the NLFN soldiers who now fought for the Sevillian forces. He turned the corner rifle in hand. There were two people in heavy coats exchanging substances. "Sevevill Marines, Put your hands in the air slowly!" He yelled pointing his rifle at them. As per usual they didn't comply and pulled pistols from their coats. A Sevevill soldier and an NLFN soldier shot them to the ground. He walked up to the men and dug around for a wallet. None. He inspected the pistol. Serial scratched off. "Alright Team two clear the Building they were standing behind. Team one will stay here." The NLFN team moved into the building as Peter spoke into his walki talki.
"Possible drug gang found. We need a Ballistics team and dogs out here."

Lt. John Davis. In charge of the GU occupation plans.

To: Leaders of the ARF.
From: Lt John Davis.
Encryption: Unbrakable.
Hello,
We plan to help you with your quest to secure territory if you will be willing to fly the Sevevill flag edited, however, you prefer during wartime. We will send weekly shipments of food and Ammunition per request. Even send uniforms and armor if necessary. Although in "Trade" for this Sevevill soldiers and equipment will be sent to aid you in your quest and work with your generals.

~Sinceerly.
Lt. John Davis.

To: Leaders of the ARCC
From: Lt John Davis
Encryption: Unbreakable.
Hello,
We plan to help you with your plan to restore the crown in teh GU. We will help by sending troops uniforms and ammunition. Although we do request your soldiers take orders from our generals. We will do the work with your assistance and help restore the crown in the GU.

~Sinceerly.
Lt. John Davis.

To: Leaders of Villhala.
From: Sevevillian Marine Corps.
Encryption:Weak

We request Milatary access into the Green Union for cold weather milatary exursises. We will not be disturbing any operations and will work form the contryside.

Sincerely,
Lt, John Davis leader of the 1st Marines.

by **Cadi Arabada** » Mon Jan 15, 2018 10:20 am

Funding Campaign
Casa Cadi, Riyawa, MSRCA
Arthur Khan, Secretary to the President

He was working through a long list of complaint emails, they all needed to be censored. He didn't notice the President's double doors open and was startled when he felt the President's nails running down his back. He stiffened and slowly turned to meet a pair of dark eyelashes. It was the president. She grabbed his hand, digging her nail into his wrist and placed a telegram on his sweating palm. The President then barked her instructions,

"Send a copy of this to every oil company in Vilhala."

Arthur stood blankly, not noticing the blood coming out of his pale wrist.

"Now!"

Arthur fell back in his chair before scrambling to his feet. The President was gone. He walked to the scanner and began sending the telegram.

Our Savior's Digital Telegram Service - High Level Encryption
To: The Oil Companies of Vilhala
From: The Office of the President

Greetings from Arabada,

We have heard rumors of the oil deposits in the far north of the squalid wasteland know as the Green Union. And more so, we have heard of the incredible efficiency and reliability of Vilhalan companies.

Our government would like to fund your excavation project under the following conditions,

1. We receive 5% of all sales revenue from natural resources extracted in the Green Union.
2. We receive weekly reports regarding the progress and security of all extraction facilities.

There terms are negotiable, but I believe it would in in our best interest to start and early partnership.

With love,
Elizabeth, President of MSRCA

After that Arthur opened his handy first-aid kit and wiped the blood of the scanning machine.

"Not again."

"Unbreakable"
Express Apartments, Downtown Seve City, Sevevill
Carlos Khan, International Computer Science Student / Arabadan Operative

He propped his feet on his bed side table and opened the terminal app on his Kal-Com laptop. He was tracking and breaking the encryption on all sorts of frequencies in his spare time. For the most part, he got audio from construction radio circuits or the cues from the Seve City Playhouse Theatre.

But today, he got something special. It was a transmission originating from the Octogon, and instead of an encrypted troop movement report from the LFN, it was sent out to... well... the entire GU. Interesting. After an hour of work his encryption breaking tool he finally got three separate messages.

<SENDER: ltdavisjohn:tag:'Lt John Davis.> <RECIPIENT: null:tag:'Leaders of the ARF.'> <MESSAGE: 'Hello,(ENTER)We plan to help you with your quest to secure territory if you will be willing to fly the Sevevill flag edited, however, you prefer during wartime. We will send weekly shipments of food and Ammunition per request. Even send uniforms and armor if necessary. Although in "Trade" for this Sevevill soldiers and equipment will be sent to aid you in your quest and work with your generals.(ENTER)(ENTER)~Sinceerly.(ENTER)Lt. John Davis.'> <ENCRYPTION: 512-Bit>

<SENDER: ltdavisjohn:tag:'Lt. John Davis'> <RECIPIENT: null:tag:'Leaders of the ARCC'> <MESSAGE: 'Hello,(ENTER)We plan to help you with your plan to restore the crown in teh GU. We will help by sending troops uniforms and ammunition. Although we do request your soldiers take orders from our generals. We will do the work with your assistance and help restore the crown in the GU.(ENTER)(ENTER)~Sinceerly.(ENTER)Lt. John Davis.'> <ENCRYPTION: 512-Bit>

<SENDER: marinemain:tag:'Sevevillian Marine Corps.'> <RECIPIENT: citadelmain:tag:'Leaders of Vilhala.'> <MESSAGE: 'We request Milatary access into the Green Union for cold weather milatary exursises. We will not be disturbing any operations and will work form the contryside.(ENTER)(ENTER)Sincerely,(ENTER)Lt, John Davis leader of the 1st Marines.'> <ENCRYPTION: 16-bit>

He decided to send the messages to his boss, he opened up the IRC.

///CHAT///

carl_: Got three messages, Octogon.

root:  Alright, send them over.

carl_: Pardon me?

ROOT wired CARL_ $3000.

CARL_ send ROOT three text files.

by **The Grande Republic 0f Arcadia** » Mon Jan 15, 2018 12:17 pm

AAN snipet "Today the Arcadian Armed Forces is deploying soldiers north in Urlistan to restore government order in the frontier of the new Arcadian colony. Northern Urlistan will be under military jurisdiction until order can be restored and then turned over to the colonial administration. The Urlistan NTDF garrison commandant former Green Union officer Lt. General Sajjin, aims to restore order in northern Urlistan and to push PAR units out of Urlistan.

Over AHK operations area, New Green Union

Stg. Rainer Husch, 809th Irregular Forces Battalion/

He was apart of a four man team looking to gain help of the rebels across the Green Union to help create a puppet state in the Green Union. The AHK was promised an area in northern Green Union to remain a separate country if they choose. As the dropship landed in the clearing he and his team stepped off of the dropship and it began to take off. As they embarked deeper into the woods, they were told of rebel activity in the area in their briefing. As he reached in his pocket he grabbed the map and unfolded the map and looked at how far away they were. As he looked he calculated they would get to the target location by noon, as he looked up he saw the moon in the sky, it was a new moon. As he folded the map and put it back in his bag, he and his team continued down the trail. He just hoped this mission wouldnt take long.

Cadi Arabada Capital

Ambassador Ilse Rorer

She picked up her office phone and called the Cadi ministry of foreign affairs for cooperation in the situation in the Green Union. After she dialed the number she spoke to the man on the other line "This is Ambassador Rorer, I would like to set up a meeting with the Cadi mnister of foreign affairs, I would like the meeting set up as fast as possible."

by **The Green Union** » Mon Jan 15, 2018 12:25 pm

The Grande Republic 0f Arcadia wrote:Casatolo, Arcadia

Martin Périer,Special Relations Office, Ministry of Foreign Affairs

He picked up the phone and looked over a list of powerful moderates in the NGU. There was a strict gag order on this call, and it was not to be spoken of outside this room. As he called a Mr. Chessur, a former CEO half way across the globe. As the phone range it as interrupted by a a single word. "Hello." he said soon Martin spoke "I work for very powerful people who can help you change the Green Union into a moderate capitalist state. We can offer you money,weapons and other material support. Would you be interested in this? And remember if you speak of this to anyone we are watching, we know who your family is and where you are."

Martin Chessur, CGU Congress Building, Himmelsdorf:

Mr. Chessur was busy enjoying a glass of vintage Pinoit Blanc with his friends in Congress, discussing the development of the north and how much money they were all going to make when he received a call. He excused himself, walking off to an insulated, glass covered terrace overlooking the snow covered city city.

He listened to the strange statement seriously, if slightly bewildered. But as soon as the voice on the other end finished he broke into a light chuckle. "A moderate Capitalist state, you say? If you have been paying attention you would realize we have already done this. I believe you probably mean a Communist puppet state like this place was before."

He took a sip of drink. "Who are you, little man? I can't place your accent, but you have this number and speak like someone who thinks he can bully his way into our inner circle. Well, I have news for you; The Green Union isn't weak and little anymore. Mess with the CGU, and you will live to regret it."

And with that the businessman ended the call, returning to his friends.

"What was that?"

"Oh, some statist pawn trying to intimidate us."

Everyone laughed.

Sevevill wrote:Lt. John Davis. In charge of the GU occupation plans.

To: Leaders of the ARF.
From: Lt John Davis.
Encryption: Unbrakable.
Hello,
We plan to help you with your quest to secure territory if you will be willing to fly the Sevevill flag edited, however, you prefer during wartime. We will send weekly shipments of food and Ammunition per request. Even send uniforms and armor if necessary. Although in "Trade" for this Sevevill soldiers and equipment will be sent to aid you in your quest and work with your generals.

~Sinceerly.
Lt. John Davis.

In the wilds of Arasland, in an old mining network outfitted as an underground base, a group of ARF intelligence officers monitoring the radio waves are suddenly hit by an encrypted radio broadcast. In possession of only salvaged Loyalist Armed Forces (LAF) radio equipment they manage to save and pass on the message to higher command. An officer, correctly identifying Sevevillian encryption patterns, sends it with a soldier on a snowmobile to even higher command.

Several hours later, after multiple shootouts with C-Sec forces, a suicidal attack on a CGU radio station with the technology to receive the message and send a reply, and a near scare when the message turns out to be in English, the ARF discovers the meaning of the message and broadcasts an encrypted answer in German back to Sevevill. A panicked soldier speaks hurriedly as gunshots are heard in the background.

Thank you for your support, but we cannot agree to your country taking over our movement. We have sent coordinates for where you can find us. Send someone as soon as possible.

Sevevill wrote:
To: Leaders of the ARCC
From: Lt John Davis
Encryption: Unbreakable.
Hello,
We plan to help you with your plan to restore the crown in teh GU. We will help by sending troops uniforms and ammunition. Although we do request your soldiers take orders from our generals. We will do the work with your assistance and help restore the crown in the GU.

~Sinceerly.
Lt. John Davis.

In the devastated suburbs of Mont Coulon, in the basement of somebody's grandmother's house, several ARCC fighters monitoring the radio waves furrow their brows in confusion as they tune into a heavily encrypted broadcast. They mistakenly assume it to be some kind of new age Albatanian hip-hop and turn the dial back to JUV News, listening in on broadcasts from the old Green Union government in Placeoderms.

Sevevill receives no response from the ARCC.

Later that day the online news service called the Green Union Journal™ (GUJ™) publishes a news article outlining a successful counter-terrorist operation by Congressional Security forces which took place today in Kalteburg. Communist terrorists of the so-called ARF launched an attack on the local radio station in an attempt to silence the voice of freedom, but the attack failed miserably due to the quick response from C-Sec forces who turned the station into a death trap for the terrorists. The GUJ claims that eighty four terrorists were killed in the battle, and sources say that the radio station will be operational again by tomorrow.

A pirate radio broadcast by the ARF contradicts the news statement, however, claiming that only six of its fighters were killed in the raid which was a tactical success. The ARF denied that their intention with the station was to silence the local radio.

by **Vilhala** » Mon Jan 15, 2018 12:27 pm

Sevevill wrote:
To: Leaders of Villhala.
From: Sevevillian Marine Corps.
Encryption:Weak

We request Milatary access into the Green Union for cold weather milatary exursises. We will not be disturbing any operations and will work form the contryside.

Sincerely,
Lt, John Davis leader of the 1st Marines.

The return message appears after approximately five minutes of scrolling through advertisements.

SpeedyMail™ - Heavy-Encrypted Message
To: SMC Command
From: The Vilhalan Ministry of Foreign Affairs™

We are sad to inform you that you ask of us something we cannot give. This is the government of Vilhala. For access to the Green Union we recommend you contact the government of that country.

by **Cadi Arabada** » Mon Jan 15, 2018 3:50 pm

The Grande Republic 0f Arcadia wrote:...This is Ambassador Rorer, I would like to set up a meeting with the Cadi mnister of foreign affairs, I would like the meeting set up as fast as possible...

Arcadian Meeting
Casa Cadi, Riyawa, MSRCA
Roger Khan, Foreign Affairs Minister

It was an intense meeting, discussions where heated, statistics where littered across tables and floors, but in the end, only the TV could determine the winner of the hockey championships! Rover couldn't believe that he'd lost five Cads to Jennie, but he knew he would get her back during football season.

Suddenly, the phone rang. He walked past a pile of notes from last, last, last weeks actual foreign affairs meeting. He picked up the receiver and listened,

"This is Ambassador Rorer, I would like to set up a meeting with the Cadi mnister of foreign affairs, I would like the meeting set up as fast as possible."

Roger was shocked! How could an ambassador not know proper Arabadan denonym? He blamed it on Arcadian ignorance, it was an obvious trend. After a moment of pause he spoke,

"This is Minister Roger Khan, we can speak over the phone."

OOC: We can continue the conversation in TGs.

by **Sevevill** » Mon Jan 15, 2018 8:07 pm

The Green Union wrote:
The Grande Republic 0f Arcadia wrote:Casatolo, Arcadia

Martin Périer,Special Relations Office, Ministry of Foreign Affairs

He picked up the phone and looked over a list of powerful moderates in the NGU. There was a strict gag order on this call, and it was not to be spoken of outside this room. As he called a Mr. Chessur, a former CEO half way across the globe. As the phone range it as interrupted by a a single word. "Hello." he said soon Martin spoke "I work for very powerful people who can help you change the Green Union into a moderate capitalist state. We can offer you money,weapons and other material support. Would you be interested in this? And remember if you speak of this to anyone we are watching, we know who your family is and where you are."

Martin Chessur, CGU Congress Building, Himmelsdorf:

Mr. Chessur was busy enjoying a glass of vintage Pinoit Blanc with his friends in Congress, discussing the development of the north and how much money they were all going to make when he received a call. He excused himself, walking off to an insulated, glass covered terrace overlooking the snow covered city city.

He listened to the strange statement seriously, if slightly bewildered. But as soon as the voice on the other end finished he broke into a light chuckle. "A moderate Capitalist state, you say? If you have been paying attention you would realize we have already done this. I believe you probably mean a Communist puppet state like this place was before."

He took a sip of drink. "Who are you, little man? I can't place your accent, but you have this number and speak like someone who thinks he can bully his way into our inner circle. Well, I have news for you; The Green Union isn't weak and little anymore. Mess with the CGU, and you will live to regret it."

And with that the businessman ended the call, returning to his friends.

"What was that?"

"Oh, some statist pawn trying to intimidate us."

Everyone laughed.

Sevevill wrote:Lt. John Davis. In charge of the GU occupation plans.

To: Leaders of the ARF.
From: Lt John Davis.
Encryption: Unbrakable.
Hello,
We plan to help you with your quest to secure territory if you will be willing to fly the Sevevill flag edited, however, you prefer during wartime. We will send weekly shipments of food and Ammunition per request. Even send uniforms and armor if necessary. Although in "Trade" for this Sevevill soldiers and equipment will be sent to aid you in your quest and work with your generals.

~Sinceerly.
Lt. John Davis.

In the wilds of Arasland, in an old mining network outfitted as an underground base, a group of ARF intelligence officers monitoring the radio waves are suddenly hit by an encrypted radio broadcast. In possession of only salvaged Loyalist Armed Forces (LAF) radio equipment they manage to save and pass on the message to higher command. An officer, correctly identifying Sevevillian encryption patterns, sends it with a soldier on a snowmobile to even higher command.

Several hours later, after multiple shootouts with C-Sec forces, a suicidal attack on a CGU radio station with the technology to receive the message and send a reply, and a near scare when the message turns out to be in English, the ARF discovers the meaning of the message and broadcasts an encrypted answer in German back to Sevevill. A panicked soldier speaks hurriedly as gunshots are heard in the background.

Thank you for your support, but we cannot agree to your country taking over our movement. We have sent coordinates for where you can find us. Send someone as soon as possible.

Sevevill wrote:
To: Leaders of the ARCC
From: Lt John Davis
Encryption: Unbreakable.
Hello,
We plan to help you with your plan to restore the crown in teh GU. We will help by sending troops uniforms and ammunition. Although we do request your soldiers take orders from our generals. We will do the work with your assistance and help restore the crown in the GU.

~Sinceerly.
Lt. John Davis.

In the devastated suburbs of Mont Coulon, in the basement of somebody's grandmother's house, several ARCC fighters monitoring the radio waves furrow their brows in confusion as they tune into a heavily encrypted broadcast. They mistakenly assume it to be some kind of new age Albatanian hip-hop and turn the dial back to JUV News, listening in on broadcasts from the old Green Union government in Placeoderms.

Sevevill receives no response from the ARCC.

Later that day the online news service called the Green Union Journal™ (GUJ™) publishes a news article outlining a successful counter-terrorist operation by Congressional Security forces which took place today in Kalteburg. Communist terrorists of the so-called ARF launched an attack on the local radio station in an attempt to silence the voice of freedom, but the attack failed miserably due to the quick response from C-Sec forces who turned the station into a death trap for the terrorists. The GUJ claims that eighty four terrorists were killed in the battle, and sources say that the radio station will be operational again by tomorrow.

A pirate radio broadcast by the ARF contradicts the news statement, however, claiming that only six of its fighters were killed in the raid which was a tactical success. The ARF denied that their intention with the station was to silence the local radio.

Photo of C-Sec forces storming the Kalteburg radio tower which appeared in a GUJ™ news article.

Capitan John Gillman. Atlas SG-15 pilot
They were flying over the location given to them. Onboard 100 Marines and Food and other supplies. Along with equipment capable of reaching Sevevill. He clicked a switch. Green Light. A rush was heard as soldiers bailed out of the plane along with pallets of food and equipment. New guns. The finest in communications. Soon they would bring humvees and everything an army needs. The first goal was to reach the AARC. Becuse it had appeard that they had been ignoring Sevevill.

2nd Lt Davis Brown. 1st Kings own 1st Marines.
He hit the ground. The first goal was to group up with the ARF. They pushed the pallets into a nearby forest and coverd them with tarps. He started to move towards last known location. He walked into the town. His allocated soldiers behind him.
"Hello. Anyone home?" He yelled out to the supposed ARF soldiers he hoped were their.

by **Isam** » Tue Jan 16, 2018 4:46 am

Chaplain-Major Peter Kental, Missionary Division
Intermediate Division
Seminary of the Order of the Divine Sacrifice
Mount Teidan
Central Range
IFU of ISAM

Four weeks ago

The Order of the Divine Sacrifice, better known as the Chaplaincy, fills a special niche within the Imperial Faith Union. It was identified, following the Eastern Schism, that a mechanism was required to keep the well-meaning but more…curious…members of the Clergy within the bounds of the Imperial Faith. This was achieved by appointing to each Bishop and Primate a personal Confessor, who answered only to the Holy Father and who was expected to sacrifice their lives in the protection of Church, Father, and their assigned protectee. The advent of the First World War marked an urgent need for intelligence services and special operatives, roles that became absorbed by the increasingly powerful Chaplaincy.

The Chaplaincy and its subordinate organisations (the Nazareth – meaning Separated) are the only known institutions in the Imperial Faith Union to have never been compromised by enemy agents or forces. This remarkable achievement is gained by a relatively simple, but very expensive, method. The Chaplaincy recruits only from unwanted children. It takes those born out of wedlock, those abandoned at childbirth (one reason for the IFU’s strict abortion control laws) and trains these children to become instruments of the state. A Novitiate of the Divine Sacrifice has no brothers except his fellow novices, no parent but the Chaplains placed above him, and no family but the Church. He bows to none outside the Chaplaincy except Christ. He has no function except service.

From infancy a child will be cared for by the Brothers of St Judas – the Isamite patron saint of necessary suffering – and begin rigorous schooling and physical conditioning. The Infant Division gives way to the Junior Division where, from the age of six, the syllabus expands into religion, traditional schooling and martial arts. From twelve to eighteen, the novitiates move into the Intermediate Division where they advance to military tactics and theory, theological debate and the outside world. The Senior Division, which takes them to the age of twenty-four, completes the training with practical exercises and service alongside the Brothers Charitable, the Missionary Division and the Armed Forces.

Throughout the entire process, they are conditioned to have absolute faith in the Church of Christ Imperator, unswerving obedience to the Holy Father, and unstinting resolve in the objectives of the Imperial Faith Union.

The majority do not make the necessary standard for the Chaplaincy, and are inculcated into the Nazareth, who form intelligence operatives and elite members of the Armed Forces.

The Seminary for the Intermediate Division is located on Mount Teidan, one of the mountains of the central range. It is deliberately severe, cold both metaphorically and literally, and designed in every way to shape hard, determined servants of the Union.

We, the observer, can see the large complex that holds tight against the lower slopes of the mountain. Even this low, there is snow on the ground and a bitter draft in the air. One of the quadrangles, edged by cloisters, has a stone flagged floor upon which move perhaps sixty Novices. They appear to be about thirteen years old, and are unclothed from the waist up. They wear loose trousers, and flexible shoes that keep them just on the safe side of frostbite. Most of them have scars visible. None of them shiver and they go through the movements of today’s kata.

“Sedecim”

The entire cohort move as one into the next position with painful slowness, each movement precisely perfect. Black uniformed Chaplains Instructor, known as Canes, walk amongst them, carrying the long and slender wooden rods that give them the nickname. The taps to correct each gesture are surprisingly gentle…on the first correction. Each successive failure becomes harder.

“Septemdecim”

Another movement. The rods move, fast as serpents. Their breath mists as they go through the routine. Near the back of the cohort a novice’s teeth chatter, and the nearest Cane is on him in an instant with savage, contemptuous whispers and three flashes of his rod.

“Duodeviginti”

The next movement. The chattering cadet stands up as the marks on his skin begin to welt. He moves into the movement fluidly. The Cane looks him up and down, daring him to show any mark of resentment, or of cold.

“Undeviginti”

The next movement. The Cane bows his head slightly to the novice, who has shown no further sign of weakness. The novice, almost imperceptibly nods back and mouths ritual gratitude for the lesson.

“Viginti”

The movements continue, as a light dusting of snow begins to fall.

On the first floor of the cloisters that surround the exercising novices are two Chaplains in their plain black uniforms. Each wears a formal cloak over the top as protection against the cold – privileges denied to the novices, or the Canes who instruct them. One limps, and uses the aid of a wooden cane to move around the Seminary; he looks to be in his late sixties and the left side of his face is scarred and burnt.

“I wonder sometimes, whether we are too hard on them.”

“Really?” says the younger of the two, looked askance at his older colleague. He is in his mid-thirties, with classically Isamite slate-grey eyes and dark hair. He stands upright, confident, in his prime, but clearly deferring to the elder.

“Yes; then I remember why we abuse them. Why we were abused. You must know that what we do them cannot be called anything else?”

“Perhaps in the modern world.”

“In any world, Peter, my boy, in any world. But we abuse them to make something great. Something incorruptible, as perfect instruments as can be made. We must do terrible things and, one day, our entire order will no longer be needed.”

A non-committal grunt from the younger.

“It will not be for another thousand years, but one day the world will be united and the Imperator will come again. Until then, there is a world of savagery and brutality that requires our perfect instruments, that requires us, no matter how the UN may sneer.

“Anyway, my boy, what brings you back to me?”

“I would ask you to hear my confession for the sins I am about to commit, Chaplain Master-Instructor.” He nods down to the quadrangle. “You made me, here, when you were Cane, and it was your advice that got me through this place. Also, you were with the team in Jerat, and again in Kerin, which bear some resemblance to my task…I would value your thoughts.”

“Very well, tell me about your task and I will provide you with what advice I can…”

“I am being sent to a place called The Green Union…”

The two converse for some time, as they walk through the cloisters. The elder one pauses to issue some directions to one of the Canes. They pause to take tea beside another quadrangle, before heading deeper into the complex. Eventually, they come to a plain door, besides which stand one other chaplain and four novices at the upper seniority of the Intermediate Division. All five shook hands with Peter, and the most senior novice received a nod from the Chaplain Master-Instructor.

“Sir, it will be an honour to help you redeem the sins yet to come.”

“Thank you, Novice..?”

“Jeremiah 617, sir, of the Senior Year of the Intermediate Division, I have not yet been assigned a surname. Do you have a preference for the mechanism?”

“Nerve manipulation, I cannot carry any mark that would betray me.”

“Sir.”

The six moved into the room; if it had not been soundproofed the screams would have been clearly audible.

The Primate of St Christopher, Church Civil
Monastery of St Christopher
Second Ring
Holy City of Christ Imperator
Imperial Faith Union of ISAM

Three weeks ago

If you go in for grand architecture, the Holy City is somewhere that would impress you. At its very heart is the Cathedral – a vast stone structure from which the Union is commanded. The walls that separate it from the First Ring are elaborate, engraved…and very functional beneath the ornamentation. Seven great rings mark the different formal districts of the City, each sealable and able to isolate elements of the City. Beyond the final wall begins the spread of suburbia, eventually giving way to countryside.

The innermost three things are crowded with monasteries and barracks, and it is from here that the Union is governed. The heart and the three rings are thronged with grey-robed Brother- and Sisters-Civil, black-robed Monks Spiritual…and tourists.

The Monastery of St Christopher rises from the sea of humanity in the Second Ring. There is a queue of foreigners seeking entry for visa alterations, or having passport issues, and separate entries for those who run the Union’s equivalent of a Foreign Office or State Department. In the middle of the monastery is the room from which the Primate issues direction.

“Anything yet from our embassy in Himmelsdorf?”

“No, Excellency. The Divine Eye Programme continues to keep us updated when one of their satellites is anywhere that can give a view, but there has been no change. Imagery suggests that there are still personnel inside, but we have not had any communication. There are still what appear to be groups of people watching, but the orbit path does not give sufficient resolution to say anything further.”

“Understood, assessment?”

“No change, Excellency, we continue to believe that the new government will not wish to do anything foolhardy like storm the embassy. It is highly likely that they suspect we have some armed personnel inside – they must have seen the footage of Jerat and that went very badly for the uprising. Either way, we think that they will consider the risk to be greater than the potential reward – they have quite enough on their plate already.”

“Thank you. Any word on the contingency?”

“Chaplain Peter Kental has been assigned. The Order of St Michael has authorised a section from the First Army to deploy as advisors, and the Chaplaincy have approved a four Nazareth to oversee supply.”

“Is that all?”

“For now, Excellency; the Chaplaincy are unwilling to commit more until we have a stronger foothold and know what we are dealing with, and St Michael’s will follow where the Chaplaincy leads. They are also keen to ensure that they remain low profile…in either case, you will be aware that the Cathedral has ruled out a full scale intervention.”

“Fair enough. Timelines?”

“Chaplain Kental leaves in two days, along with one Nazareth and two from the First. The Chaplain has completed confession and is currently undergoing pre-deployment training…the remainder will follow once contact has been established.”

“Mhm. Cover?”

“A Gadonese company has a contract supplying agricultural equipment – although the contract does not have long to run, it should provide enough access to get in and establish contact. The Crown Loyalists have presence along the Green River, which will be a suitable starting point for a resistance and, eventually, may provide access into the city to retrieve our people.”

“Clear, thank you. Do we have a point of contact?”

“Possibly – one or two contacts from overlaps on overseas tours. The Chaplain has been fully briefed.

“In any case, the shipment has enough in it to buy us a fair bit of good will – small arms, ammunition, a handful of RPGs, but we are sending three BODKIN* launchers; we have inscribed appropriate serial numbers so it looks like they were smuggled out of Javern, and that country is such a mess that nobody will be able to get a straight answer out of them.”

Colour Sergeant Deuteronomy “Dew” Feragne, First Army (posted, Missionary Division)
Sergeant Lazarus “Russ” Tenterin, Nazareth (attached, Missionary Division)
Port of Gadriin
Kingdom of Gadonaa

Two and a half weeks ago

Dew squinted in the light reflecting off the water as containers were loaded onto the Deep Treader, a cargo ship destined for The Green Union. Some trade continued between the Union’s client states and trading partners. The Gadonese Agricultural Commune was one company that continued trading, at least in part from the insistence of the Gadonese Trade Secretary…at the “polite suggestion” of the Holy City.

He flicks his cigarette away and turned back to the crates, performing one last visual check. Crates full of agricultural equipment, concentrated fertilisers and, hidden amongst it, some rifles, plenty of ammunition and three missile launchers. There were also two crates with layers of spirits – gins, whiskeys and the like. Nobody would believe that GAC Ltd were not smuggling something and the booze provided a convenient minor offence to misdirect officials and militias.

He nodded to the dockhands, who nailed shut the final crate and sealed the container. He felt eyes on him and turned to see their attached Nazareth watching him. There were only two ways into the Nazareth – to rise through the Order of Divine Sacrifice, or to pass Selection. This one had volunteered from the Army, and nodded politely to Dew.

“All well?”

“All well. What a treat, hey?”

“Aye. At least we have a decent boss. I hear he was in Javern.”

“Huh. Never been, you?”

“Nope. Pal of mine was, didn’t know Mister Kental, but says he has a good reputation.”

“That’s good then.”

A companionable silence falls over the two soldiers as they watch the container being loaded aboard. After a little while the final soldier, a Corporal who could be a cardboard cutout of the Isamite stereotype – tall, grey eyes, dark hair, pale skin. He offers them both a cigarette; Dew accepts, Russ declines. Dew takes a long drag before speaking.

“So, you’re the decoy?”

“Decoy?”

“You look like you grew up next to the Cathedral itself – nobody’s gonna believe that we would send someone that bloody obvious.”

The Corporal laughs and nods along.

“That’s the one. I speak a couple of the regional languages, so that should help a little.”

Friendly nods from the other two. The Chaplain arrives in due course, and they board the ship.

A week ago, this arrived in the inbox of a private email address belonging to an ARCC commander

My friend,

It has been some time since we last spoke, but I remember your never-ending need for sustenance.

I will be stopping by your neighborhood on business, and was hoping that I could buy you lunch?

I was thinking of something with plenty of staples, and a few fiery chillies? Just the sort of thing to drive some postprandial activity and kill off some calories.

Hope to hear from you soon,

Dew.

((OOC: Drop me a line with whoever they might run into when they arrive in TGU…I am working on the assumption that Dew Feragne (as a Missionary Division operative) will have worked alongside some of the Loyalist forces before the coup, possibly as part of an exchange, in a common operating theatre or a Short Term Training Team.))

*The Isamite version of a JAVELIN. It is a popular defence export, and thus both cheap for the IFU, very deniable and popular on the black market. Each launcher comes with three missiles. Capability is broadly similar to the JAVELIN; it has a slightly longer range, slightly less powerful payload, weighs less and has a somewhat simpler operating system.

by **Vilhala** » Tue Jan 16, 2018 12:05 pm

Cadi Arabada wrote:
(Image)
Our Savior's Digital Telegram Service - High Level Encryption
To: The Oil Companies of Vilhala
From: The Office of the President

Greetings from Arabada,

We have heard rumors of the oil deposits in the far north of the squalid wasteland know as the Green Union. And more so, we have heard of the incredible efficiency and reliability of Vilhalan companies.

Our government would like to fund your excavation project under the following conditions,

1. We receive 5% of all sales revenue from natural resources extracted in the Green Union.
2. We receive weekly reports regarding the progress and security of all extraction facilities.

There terms are negotiable, but I believe it would in in our best interest to start and early partnership.

With love,
Elizabeth, President of MSRCA

SpeedyMail™ - Heavy-Encrypted Message
To: The Office of the President of MSRCA
From: Vilhalan United Energy Council™

Thank you for choosing VUEC™ for your latest energy investment. You have made the right choice.

The former Communist Monarchy of the Green Union has a wealth of untapped riches in the form of oil and natural gas which the Communists were too incompetent to make use of. Now you have the once in a lifetime opportunity get in on the action as one of the first investors in this completely untapped industry!

Get a 5% share of VUEC™ profits in the Green Union now while it's still cheap!

An inviting green button labeled "Invest Now!" appears at the bottom of the message.

by **Sevevill** » Wed Jan 17, 2018 8:58 am

Luke Carter. CEO of Redwing Security Forces. Seve City, Sevevill.
He was sitting on a Boeing 737-300 that he owned as it taxied into the gate of Seve City International Airport. He was really not even allowed in Sevevill but he had to talk to the president. It was important. The Redwing Security plane that was chartered out to TransVilhala Airways pulled into the gate. He grabbed his carry on and hopped off the plane. He breezed through customs and went right through where a black suburban was waiting. The Suburban drove to the Presidental Building where he got out. He walked up the stairs where a Royal Guardsman was waiting to meet him.
"Right this way sir. President Joseph Henry is waiting" He said as the man led him to two big double doors. Two other soldiers opened them and he stepped through.
"May I take your coat sir?" A man in a military uniform said. Luke handed the man his suit jacket.
"Mr President. Its a pleasure to see you again. I don't think we have officially spoken since you kicked my company off of our soil." Luke said.
"Yes. Yes. I remember your practices being to sketchy for my beautiful country. But I will always talk to an esteemed man such as yourself."
"Its about the GU. Redwing Security has been contracted to guard oil drilling operations and I want your soldiers to stay aew..." He gurgled as a bullet sliced through his chest. "Wgh... whyyy." He said as his knees collapsed inward and his back fell to the floor.
"There is no place for men like you who don't care about people. Civilians who have spent their whole life living peacefully in the Green Union." The president looked as the color drained from Luke's face. "Gaurds. Walk him to his car and have him dumped in an ally. Or somewhere where he will not be found for awhile. We need to dismantle Redwing slowly. We cant have Sevevill soldiers killing Sevevill Citizens over Oil." President Joseph Henry said to one of the guards.

Goodmorning Sevevill. Sevevill News network brodcast.
"As war escalates within the GU a man who tended to be on both sides of the war has turned up missing form mainland Sevevill. Luke Carter. CEO and founder of Redwing Security for ces had just scored a minimal contract for his company to guard four oil rigs in the GU. After his meeting with the president, the last sighting of the man was him being escorted to his suburban and taken to his hotel where he spent the night before he vanished." A blonde news anchor said. It was amazing that she even had the skills to read the teleprompter but she clearly was.
"Isn't that interesting. Well we will keep you updated" Said the other anchor.

Sevevill Stock Network. Mad Cash with Brad Millwalker.
" So a sleezy billionaire goes missing? Welp, we dont give a fuck about him. We give a fuck about his company that groses millions of Seve's a quarter and operates in almost every country in all of Makion. Redwing Security Forces have started to decrease in stocks as they slowly but surely loose hundreds of dollars. Their charter operation in Vilhala has been sold to Coastal Charters and multiple of their operations have been sold to the other Sevevillian PMC Arklight exept for one contract to gaurd multiple oil outposts in the former GU. As Redwing goes bankrupt investors and employees of the company wonder what happens next?" He pushes a botton on a screen next to him after his yell rant.
"Mony Talks" Slid across the screen as Marks and Seve's fell form the ceiling. and the show continued.

by **Cadi Arabada** » Wed Jan 17, 2018 9:09 am

Taking Sides
Twicher
President Elizabeth Khan

Elizabeth Khan
@msrcapres

MSRCA is officially supporting the Congress of the Green Union. #OfficialStance #ForTheCGU

| | | |

by **Cadi Arabada** » Wed Jan 17, 2018 9:17 am

Vilhala wrote:...An inviting green button labeled "Invest Now!" appears at the bottom of the message...

Invest Now!
Casa Cadi, Riyawa, MSRCA
President Elizabeth Khan

Without a second thought she clicked "Invest Now!". She was taken to a page with all her credit card information filled out. She check the information, her name, National Bank of MSRCA, check. Then she submitted the forum and the money was transferred shortly after.

by **Albatan** » Wed Jan 17, 2018 9:39 am

Phase I: The North
The Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Albatopolis, Albatan
The Green Union Crisis Committee for Intervention (GUCCI)

The committee gathered in one of the rooms in the basement of the ministry. Why? It was where the best WiFi router was.

Their first order of business was to support the northern group known as the AHK. Unfortunately, Albatan's recon base was very weak so the would need to send diplomats to the country before they could get a grasp of what was the matter. They would send the first GUCCI Task Force.

Hydra Docks, Opal Hills, Albatan
1st GUCCI Task Force

The small team of ten people where led by the wise old Ambassador Theodora Lasky, former Lieutenant in in the Peacekeepers. With them where eight other diplomats, envoys and social workers, and a Private from the Expeditionary Forces.

They where given a Arctic Yacht that had weak ice-breaking capabilities and enough supplies to last two weeks alone in the cold. Lucky for them, the Private has arctic survival training, so if they ever got lost they would at least have a small chance of survival.

They got on the boat and headed out to Guard Island in the GU to get access to the main land.

by **The Green Union** » Wed Jan 17, 2018 9:50 am

The Grande Republic 0f Arcadia wrote:
Over AHK operations area, New Green Union

Stg. Rainer Husch, 809th Irregular Forces Battalion/

He was apart of a four man team looking to gain help of the rebels across the Green Union to help create a puppet state in the Green Union. The AHK was promised an area in northern Green Union to remain a separate country if they choose. As the dropship landed in the clearing he and his team stepped off of the dropship and it began to take off. As they embarked ~~deeper into the woods~~ (across the tundra), they were told of rebel activity in the area in their briefing. As he reached in his pocket he grabbed the map and unfolded the map and looked at how far away they were. As he looked he calculated they would get to the target location by noon, as he looked up he saw the moon in the sky, it was a new moon. As he folded the map and put it back in his bag, he and his team continued down the trail. He just hoped this mission wouldnt take long.

Eule, Somewhere in the Green Union Arctic Territories:

The figure known only as Eule stood silhouetted against the sky, watching from atop a ridge as the sleek military aircraft descended to the earth. Eule had first heard the strange . . . thing several minutes ago, the sound of its jet engines thundering across the frozen landscape. It wasn't that the strange jet was particularly loud, but sound carries over the Arctic snow better than anywhere.

As Eule watched the flying abomination touched down, immediately sinking a couple metres into the snow drift. Moments later a small group of military-types exited, struggling through the waist-deep powder. The dropship coughed and sputtered its way out of the drift and moments later its roar was fading into the sky, but the four figures it left behind continued their agonizingly slow progress towards a place only they seemed to know.

Eule watched this odd display for about half an hour before sighing heavily and trudging back down the opposite side of the hill towards the waiting sled. The dogs had by this point grown bored, and many were either sleeping or playing with eachother. Some growled when they saw the heavily wrapped figure approaching, but soon identified their owner. Eule gave each of them a scratch before pulling an FA bolt action rifle and two charger clips from the bed of the dogsled itself. One clip went into the gun and the other into a leather pouch before returning to the top of the ridge, looking back down on the far away figures. Eule wasn't sure who they were. The CGU were the only ones with air power, but the aircraft these four had arrived in looked more exotic than anything salvaged from the old Green Union. Besides, before CGU patrols had ended in the north they had always appeared on snowmobiles.

Far in the distance atop a hill, something caught the attention of the four soldiers. A tiny figure in the distance was raising a rifle above its head, signalling to them.

Sevevill wrote:Capitan John Gillman. Atlas SG-15 pilot
They were flying over the location given to them. Onboard 100 Marines and Food and other supplies. Along with equipment capable of reaching Sevevill. He clicked a switch. Green Light. A rush was heard as soldiers bailed out of the plane along with pallets of food and equipment. New guns. The finest in communications. Soon they would bring humvees and everything an army needs. The first goal was to reach the AARC. Becuse it had appeard that they had been ignoring Sevevill.

2nd Lt Davis Brown. 1st Kings own 1st Marines.
He hit the ground. The first goal was to group up with the ARF. They pushed the pallets into a nearby forest and coverd them with tarps. He started to move towards last known location. He walked into the town. His allocated soldiers behind him.
"Hello. Anyone home?" He yelled out to the supposed ARF soldiers he hoped were their.

Jim Jäger, Unspecified Northern Commune, Arasland:

Jim didn't like that he had been the one sent to meet the mystery benefactors. For all the ARF knew he was being sent into a C-Sec trap. But the potential gains were enough to send at least someone, and Jim had drawn the short straw. Now here he was, waiting around the side of one of a cluster of small buildings which made up the commune.

He was half hoping nobody would show, but then someone with a Sevevillian accent called out. Since only Sevevillians would be so blatant he poked his head out from behind the building, sizing up an intimidating group of Sevevillian soldiers. If only he had been given a gun. As it was Jim pulled out a red armband he had been given for identification, tied it around his arm, and walked out.

"What is it you guys need?"

Isam wrote:A week ago, this arrived in the inbox of a private email address belonging to an ARCC commander

My friend,

It has been some time since we last spoke, but I remember your never-ending need for sustenance.

I will be stopping by your neighborhood on business, and was hoping that I could buy you lunch?

I was thinking of something with plenty of staples, and a few fiery chillies? Just the sort of thing to drive some postprandial activity and kill off some calories.

Hope to hear from you soon,

Dew.

Hours after it being sent, a message was returned. It seems the officer in question (none other than Col. Fred Green) remembered the man. Fortunately the email address was secret to most, and there was little risk of it being monitored by outside sources. A time and date are included, hidden among flowery distracting language.

It has been too long, old boy. The weather is getting colder, but since the liberation our country has never been happier. This is the perfect time to visit.

I know just the place. We'll meet there next Thursday?

Freddy

by **The Green Union** » Wed Jan 17, 2018 12:37 pm

Cadi Arabada wrote:Taking Sides
Twicher
President Elizabeth Khan

(Image)
Elizabeth Khan
@msrcapres

MSRCA is officially supporting the Congress of the Green Union. #OfficialStance #ForTheCGU

| | | |

The CGU today released a statement thanking the people of Cadi Arabada for their support against the Communist terrorists in the nation. It has noted that the most serene republic is the first nation to step up and make a meaningful gesture of solidarity with the forces of freedom in the Green Union.

The Congress has vowed to establish a productive working relationship with MSRCA, providing access to Green Union markets for Arabadan businesses.

by **Wandering Argonians** » Wed Jan 17, 2018 3:12 pm

Six Days Prior: ARF Territory, fifteen kilometers from UOGI Drilling Site 'Providence'

The one thing Tony Childers had trouble adjusting to in this place was the bone-chilling cold. It wasn't just 'cold' here, the wind cut at you like a frozen razor blade, zipping through anything thinner than a decent arctic parka like a scalpel into soft butter. Tony, like most of his team, had operated around the globe in more or less any environment. Deserts, cities, temperate woodlands, you name it and they'd done protective ops in a given climate. The cold was something else, however. This was some Scandinavian nonsense.

Hired by Gladius Risk Management around five years ago, Childers and his team were specialists in the field of protecting oil and gas company executives from harm in hostile environments. The failed state of the Green Union fit the bill, with a half-dozen or so insurgent groups running around the country in their own bids for ultimate power. Gladius' client, Universal Oil & Gas International (the boys simply called it 'yogi' after a bastardized slurring of the acronym 'UOGI') had maintained interests in the region since the fall of the monarchy and the rise of the Congressional faction a bit further south. They'd paid all the right people, obtained the correct permits, and done the due diligence of hiring a reputable security firm to shuffle their executives from A to B and keep the workers on the rigs safe from the local insurgents, the 'Aras Revolutionary Front' in his native English. Tony spoke decent French and German, but it wasn't a GU dialect. They'd hired a local guy, Klaus Bruhein, to interpret for them. Klaus knew the local customs, had a cousin in the ARF, all the prerequisites for a decent 'terp'. Moreover, he'd passed the background check and meshed well with the team. That was all Tony was concerned about.

Today's op wasn't much different from any other early-week outing. A three-vehicle convoy comprised of sturdy (yet unarmored) SUV's of the four-wheel-drive variety trudged along frigid roads lined with foot-tall snow-banks and slick with dark slush. Even with the heater on full-blast, the interior was uncomfortably chilly. From his spot in the passenger seat of the third vehicle, Tony had a good view of his team. Spacing was always perfect, they'd drilled this a trillion times before they'd set foot in Green Union. Burkhart, the driver of the scout vehicle (which also contained Klaus the Terp and two more of Tony's boys) kept a keen eye out for roadside hazards and signs of an ambush. The nine-man detail cost UOGI a pretty penny, but had proven to be a sound investment over the year-long duration of the contract. Through Klaus' cousin, they'd paid off the local ARF boss-man for safe passage across the frozen countryside in between the two major UOGI drilling sites. Tony's only issue with the route was that it was one of two that had decent roads for their vehicles, as well as not being comprised entirely of mucky elbow-turns that slowed them down to the point that they were inviting an ambush by looking like amateurs. You never took the same route twice, but here they'd not had much of an option. There were only two routes to pick from, and they determined which they'd take via a coin-toss the morning of to try to keep things as random and unpredictable as possible.

UOGI had them minding an ops manager named Jeremy Voke, a twenty-year company man who was supposed to have done this sort of thing before. Voke had done well enough during the hands-on drills Gladius insisted on running with their clients, obeying the instructions of his body-man (a stocky ex-paratrooper named Clint Hayes), and allowing himself to be more or less manhandled to safety. Tony was reasonably satisfied with that, too. In short, this was a well-paying contract where all the component parts ran as smoothly as could be expected. He readjusted himself in the worn-out passenger seat, tweaking the position of the assault rifle between his legs and keeping his arm as far away from the window as possible. Even with his body armor on, he was cold. That usually helped matters, but the usual tricks for staying warm didn't seem to fly here.

Status updates from every vehicle but the VIP truck came back over their internal comms, which wasn't uncommon. The VIP truck was always silent, staffed only by the VIP driver and Hayes, who sat in front of the principal, Voke...

"Alright, once we're out of this bend, goose it. Don't want anyone getting any ideas..."

An affirmative rolled back from the scout truck, and sure enough it began to accelerate out of the turn in the choke point. Everything seemed fine. Tony threw a glance out his right window, looking at the rolling tundra.

It was almost beautiful.

The sound of shattering glass followed by the throaty chatter of a belt-fed weapon roused him, a second before something warm and wet splashed across his face. Boykin, his driver, lulled into his left shoulder a moment later as they collided with the VIP truck. Tony turned to grab the wheel, ignoring the head-shot Boykin and attempting to move his armored corpse out of the way enough to get his foot off the gas pedal...

"Contact left! Contact left! PES truck is down!"

Ahead, the scout truck was moving to lead the VIP out of the kill-zone as tracer-fire hammered into the driver-side, shredding the tires and putting the truck into a spin that Burkhart admirably kept from becoming a roll-over. The VIP truck suffered a similar fate as bullets sparked as they blew through the hood and wheels. Tony's team had been warned beforehand that the ARF were mostly ex-military from before the state had collapsed, and this ambush confirmed that. They'd killed the driver of the truck carrying the main security team first, Paul Boykin, then they'd hit the scout truck to pen the VIP in. The scout truck didn't get far, however. More automatic fire licked into the cab and the windows were spattered bright red with arterial blood...

"Dismount! Dismount!"

If you couldn't push through the ambush, you had to fight it out. The enemy had a slightly-elevated position based on the muzzle-flashes from their machine-gun team. Tony's surviving team dismounted on the 'clean' side of their trucks, the side not being riddled with gunfire. They had 5.56mm assault rifles, 9mm handguns, and a collection of flash and smoke grenades. Contractors didn't carry frags, despite such things being handy for pushing back an ambush. They took up positions behind the most bullet-resistant portions of their disabled trucks, Tony catching a glimpse of Hayes dragging Voke out by his collar and forcing him behind the engine block before a round caught him in the throat. Hayes staggered, attempting to get a few rounds off before several more caught him in the trauma plate of his vest, and finally above his left eye. Voke, spattered with Hayes' blood, made himself as small as possible, covering his head with his hands. This was beyond worst-case scenario.

Something hard and metallic clacked onto the slushy pavement nearby...

"Grenade!"

About the time Tony heard the warning, it was too late. The world suddenly became black, before rushing back in a confusing torrent a moment later. His face was numb, and he was lying on his side. His rifle was missing. His ears rang, the high-pitched screech of permanent hearing damage. His vision swam, but he reached for the Glock holstered on his black body armor. The rebels were among them now, the red and black flags of the ARF visible on their uniforms. He saw two more of his own men sprawled nearby, unmoving. One was missing a leg below the knee, but wasn't spurting arterial blood from the wound. Dead. Tony had seen that before. Voke was nowhere to be seen.

One of the rebels strode into view, his rifle at the low ready, unconcerned. Tony shot him three times through the torso, with a grunt of satisfaction as the man toppled backwards with a surprised yelp. He tried to get to his feet, but his legs refused to respond. Tony heaved himself into a sitting position against his truck's rear tire with a groan, peppering another rebel with 9mm's as he rounded the corner. His aim wasn't as good, this time, catching the man in the shoulder who returned the favor by returning fire. A sledgehammer blow knocked him sideways as the bullet tore into his unprotected shoulder, another slamming to a halt against his ceramic trauma plate in his vest at the cost of a few broken ribs. Tony's sidearm laded with a clattered somewhere nearby, out of reach.

Bleeding profusely, he rolled on his stomach as cries of alarm sounded around him in an unfamiliar language and footsteps thundered in his direction as the rest of his assailants finally caught on that it wasn't one of theirs doing the shooting. His left arm was on fire, at least it felt that way as Tony tried to haul himself with his one good arm and broken legs toward his lost pistol, regretting placing his rifle magazines across his torso as their corners dug into the pavement. Inch by inch, he pulled himself until his hand clutched around the worn polymer grip, until a heavy winter boot settled on top of his blood-covered hand and violently pinned it against the pavement. The heel pivoted, and Tony felt something in his hand snap with a snarl of pain.

Someone kicked him hard in the ribs (he smirked a bit as he felt a shin impact against his body armor), rolling him over as the kicker threw a stream of profanity in his direction. Another rebel, he assumed it was the first, put a boot in his armored chest. The man leveled his rifle muzzle at Tony's face as he wheezed out a question...

"Why? We had an agreement with your leader?"

The insurgent chuckled...

"We... how you say... 'having new management'..."

Tony's brain didn't register the two rounds that flew through his skull and came to rest in the pavement beyond, just the pressure and heat of the muzzle flash...

Two Days Prior: Gray Rock, Blackwood Company International

He'd begun the day like any other, starting with the weight room before a breakfast heavy on lean protein from eggs and chicken breast sided with home fries. He chased the chow with black coffee (spiked with bourbon) and a handful of doctor-prescribed medications. Dekker Bray was old. Of his sixty-seven years, he'd spent the past forty-nine fighting some form of war for someone paying him a hefty chunk of change. He'd secured an operations manager job at Blackwood Company International some seven years prior in a bid to begin to retire from field work. Despite his age, he was a large man. Nearly six and a half feet tall and built like a brick outhouse, Dekker held a few power-lifting records in the Blackwood weight room and could still shoot and move with the best of them, despite having only one organic leg and an eye ravaged by cataracts and shrapnel damage. Still, he felt every one of his years when he hauled himself out of bed in the morning.

Dekker's penthouse was a block from his office, and he stepped out into the oppressive damp heat of Argonia after a brief elevator ride dressed in loose tac-pants and his trademark red Hawaiian shirt for the short walk to work. The big man walked with a slight light, missing his left below the knee, his replacement designed to support his bulk and keep up with his active lifestyle. He'd lost the leg years ago, the tragic consequence of not dodging an rocket-propelled grenade. The eye was an early loss, clouded in recent years and seated in the middle of an impressive scar that ran vertically over the left eye and into his hairline. Dekker's reddish-brown hair had begun to gray at the temples years ago, so he'd shaved it into a short mohawk of sorts. His beard, however was still shot with silver.

The weight of his preferred M1911 sidearm was comforting on his right hip, as was the less-weighty hip flask in his left cargo pocket, full of sixteen-year old scotch. A flip of his badge got him into the building, his footsteps heavy on the polished black slate of the lobby floor. Another elevator ride, and he'd reached the cool solitude of his office. The walls were lousy with photographs, training certificates, achievements, and medals. The sorts of things that impressed guests and clients, made them feel like those multi-zero checks they were handing over were justified. Dekker himself had little time for them, he was a results-oriented individual with little need for trinkets to justify his self-worth. A quick biometric scan of his fingertips got him into his desktop computer, where he began the morning ritual of answering emails from the day before.

These were status updates from field teams, RFS (requests for support), reminders about upcoming mandatory training, etc. The buzzing in his pocket commanded his attention, however. His cell phone had lit up with an emergency code from his boss, a truly ancient Gungiri contractor named Magnus Thorsson. It was a simple matter to locate the old man's name in the company video chat roster and initiate a call. Within seconds, Thorsson's steel-gray beard, followed by his scowling face, popped into view...

"Good morning, Dekker. I apologize for the short notice, but I have need of your services. We received a request for the extraction of an employee of Universal Oil & Gas International this morning. The Gladius PSD team they'd hired to protect this individual was wiped out four days ago in a coordinated ambush by members of the "Front Aras Revolutionäre", an anarcho-syndicate in the northern reaches of what was formerly the nation-state of Green Union. The principal, Regional Operations Manager Jeremy Voke, was detained by this organization and is currently being held hostage. The demands of the group fall within the kidnapping insurance's pay-out value, along with our retainer. I need you to lead a team, personally, to recover Mr. Voke. The ransom sum will be paid electronically, per communication with the client and the kidnappers. You'll be supervising Ragnar Nielssen, Daniel Briggs, and Brynjolf Krieg..."

Dekker remained silent through the impromptu briefing. One didn't interrupt the old man, one simply listened. He'd worked with Nielssen before, and he'd brought Briggs on personally, a friend from the old days when he'd run his own crew of independents. Krieg was an unknown quantity, but if Thorsson was sending him along he must be worth a damn.

"Your equipment has already been prepped, and awaits your approval in the armory. This is a low-profile operation, and requires the utmost in discretion. I know you're no longer a field operative but I need someone senior I can trust on the ground, leading this thing. Once you're at the meeting and obtain proof of life, ring us on the sat-phone and we'll initiate the transfer of funds. Do you accept?"

The old merc chuckled a bit, and a rare smile cracked Thorsson's own features...

"Of course."

Thorsson nodded, his immense gray beard bobbing at a slightly slower pace....

"Excellent. We'll be inserting you via a smuggling route in the north, so dress warm. Those colorful deals won't be very useful."

It was a crack at his ostentatious shirt, but made in good humor...

"Oh I know, Magnus. Let the pencil-dicks over at UOGI know we'll bring their guy back in one piece. Assuming the extraction point is loaded into my Garmin?"

Another nod. Another bobbing of the beard...

"Yes. It will be an old airport some distance from the meeting point. We'll have a bird waiting for you and your team..."

Present Day: ARF Territory, Location Unknown

It was truly cold up here, Dekker could feel it in every bone he'd broken, every joint he'd abused, every ounce of fat he didn't have and now wished he did. His four-man team had purchased a run-down off-road truck for their journey with a wad of local currency. Each man was dressed as locally as possible, in an attempt to blend at a distance as they drove towards the meeting point under the guidance of Dekker's battered Garmin Foretex and a map courtesy of Blackwood's impressive intelligence apparatus. Each man carried a backpack of non-descript design, laden with their preferred minimalist kit and a disassembled rifle in the event the meeting went poorly.

Ragnar and Brynjolf were born for this sort of climate, hailing from the vassal-state of Gungir in the northern holdings of the Argonian Republic. They were also the hardest to get to blend, too. Both men had thick beards worthy of viking myth and legend, Ragnar having a band of runes tattooed across the bridge of his nose. It was the mark of a truly-impressive warrior in his culture, but around here it might turn into a liability. Brynjolf at least lacked the runic markings. Briggs spoke a bit of the local tongue, and sat behind the wheel.

Dekker took a short pull from his flask and unfurled the map in his lap, comparing the latitude and longitude with the readings from his battered little Foretex...

"Let's extract this idiot and get the Hell out of here. Don't want to linger in this war-torn frozen shithole any longer than we need to..."

The crack drew a nod and murmur of approval from Briggs. The two Gungiri remained as stoic as ever, simply meeting his gaze in the rear-view mirror...

by **The Grande Republic 0f Arcadia** » Wed Jan 17, 2018 3:40 pm

The Green Union wrote:
The Grande Republic 0f Arcadia wrote:
[/spoiler]Over AHK operations area, New Green Union

Stg. Rainer Husch, 809th Irregular Forces Battalion/

He was apart of a four man team looking to gain help of the rebels across the Green Union to help create a puppet state in the Green Union. The AHK was promised an area in northern Green Union to remain a separate country if they choose. As the dropship landed in the clearing he and his team stepped off of the dropship and it began to take off. As they embarked ~~deeper into the woods~~ (across the tundra), they were told of rebel activity in the area in their briefing. As he reached in his pocket he grabbed the map and unfolded the map and looked at how far away they were. As he looked he calculated they would get to the target location by noon, as he looked up he saw the moon in the sky, it was a new moon. As he folded the map and put it back in his bag, he and his team continued down the trail. He just hoped this mission wouldnt take long.

Eule, Somewhere in the Green Union Arctic Territories:

The figure known only as Eule stood silhouetted against the sky, watching from atop a ridge as the sleek military aircraft descended to the earth. Eule had first heard the strange . . . thing several minutes ago, the sound of its jet engines thundering across the frozen landscape. It wasn't that the strange jet was particularly loud, but sound carries over the Arctic snow better than anywhere.

As Eule watched the flying abomination touched down, immediately sinking a couple metres into the snow drift. Moments later a small group of military-types exited, struggling through the waist-deep powder. The dropship coughed and sputtered its way out of the drift and moments later its roar was fading into the sky, but the four figures it left behind continued their agonizingly slow progress towards a place only they seemed to know.

Eule watched this odd display for about half an hour before sighing heavily and trudging back down the opposite side of the hill towards the waiting sled. The dogs had by this point grown bored, and many were either sleeping or playing with eachother. Some growled when they saw the heavily wrapped figure approaching, but soon identified their owner. Eule gave each of them a scratch before pulling an FA bolt action rifle and two charger clips from the bed of the dogsled itself. One clip went into the gun and the other into a leather pouch before returning to the top of the ridge, looking back down on the far away figures. Eule wasn't sure who they were. The CGU were the only ones with air power, but the aircraft these four had arrived in looked more exotic than anything salvaged from the old Green Union. Besides, before CGU patrols had ended in the north they had always appeared on snowmobiles.

Far in the distance atop a hill, something caught the attention of the four soldiers. A tiny figure in the distance was raising a rifle above its head, signalling to them.[/spoiler]

Over AHK operations area, New Green Union

Stg. Rainer Husch, 809th Irregular Forces Battalion/
As the man in the distance held a rifle above his head, Husch drew his rifle, frost already on it, and moved closer. He moved fast but not at the point where the snow froze his face. As he walked close to the man he spoke "Who are you?" The moister from him talking and both breathing filled the air, as the sun rose and would never fully heat the frozen earth.

Near ARCC controlled Areas, New Green Union

Capt. Émeric Millet, 809th Irregular Forces Battalion/

They drove down the road deeper into ARCC territory, in a few miles they would have to pull off the road and head into the wilderness. Inside the car was freezing cold, his teams job was to meet up with the ARCC to get them to fight for some Arcadian interests. The car they were using was a peice of shit and had broken down three times already. He and his entire team were wearing civilian uniforms to blend in well with the civilians. he hoped they would locate an ARCC cell soon.

Between Ice and a Cold Place [MT, OPEN]

Between Ice and a Cold Place [MT, OPEN]

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