The Fall Of Brytene [IC, TG FOR ENTRY]

by **Brytene** » Fri Nov 16, 2018 11:24 am

Castle Oakhall
Lundene, Brytene

Bretwalda Cenwulf Teorell

Deep into his thirteenth cup of red wine, Bretwalda Cenwulf leaned back in his chair and sighed. Brytene had been at peace for some time now, and whilst he was glad that his people were not in danger, he was bored beyond belief. His rambunctious Witenagmot had settled into an uneasy working relationship with one another, despite their differences, and no foreign enemies threatened. None had, indeed, since Brytene had given the forces of SACTO a good thrashing.

He took another quaff of the fine Whitebay red and swilled it in his mouth, but even the fine flavour of the wine had lost its impact. Perhaps we should host another baseball tournament, he mused as he stared into the guttering fire, remembering the last international team invitational. Maybe, if the Brytisc team placed higher than the Connorian this time, his wife Charlotte would finally stop ribbing him about it.

Light footsteps made him look up from his reverie. In the evening darkness, he made out the unmistakable silhouette of Aoife Brighteye, Jarl of Dyflin, crossing the Hall to the private chambers above. She stepped forwards into the wavering light of the fire and smiled. "Long day, Cenwulf?" she asked, gesturing at the table, which was covered with empty steins and half-finished dishes.

Cenwulf shrugged. "Boring day. Gods above, tell me you've got something for me to do?"

Aoife shook her head, shaking her shock of red curls. "Afraid not. Unless you care to weigh in on Wernham-Hogg's factory bid in Dyflin Canton? They want to put a parts manufacturing plant upriver from the Elk Lake nature reserve."

Cenwulf waved her away, already irritated. "No, no, get away. Go push your pencils somewhere else."

Aoife laughed and turned to carry on her way. "Goodnight, Cenwulf. Get some sleep."

St Joseph
Pepper Atoll, Brytene

Lance-Corporal Arnold Blackegg

An experienced soldier of the 4th GRENS regiment, Corporal Blackegg was nevertheless somewhat derelict in his duty, smoking a cigar and leaning lazily on a crate of goods waiting for customs clearance as he squinted into the inky blackness he was supposed to be watching. He and his comrades were stationed in the main port city of St Joseph for two reasons; firstly, to guard against the dreaded Manaagnwe Militia, who were still a nuisance to the growing region, and secondly to prevent thieves, smugglers and other ne'er-do-wells who might decide to come and help themselves to the buffet of stock and goods that was the warehouse district.

It had been weeks since anything vaguely interesting had happened, unless you counted the raccoon that had scared Trooper Kwan out of the port-a-potty last Tuesday. Still, it beat being shot at by rusty AK's or kidnapped for cartel money, so he couldn't complain. His cigar went out and he cursed, fumbling around in his pouches for a lighter. It wasn't where he normally kept it, and with a frustrated snarl he laid his rifle on the box in front of him and began searching in earnest. After a few seconds he glanced up, and that probably saved his life.

His eyes, slowly adjusting to the dark after his cigar had sputtered out, caught a trace of movement on the rocky, litter-strewn beach below, between two of the quays. He snatched up his rifle and aimed down the sights, switching on the night-vision scope as he tried to make out what was down there. Probably just a dog or something, he thought, but then he saw the movement again, furtive, between two beached boats.

"Who goes there?!" he yelled out, his voice bouncing off the corrugated roofs nearby and making him suddenly aware of how isolated he and his dozing partner were. No response came, but this time he heard the movement clearly, heard a clunk as something knocked against a pile of wooden lobster pots.

"Last warning! Identify y- OH FUCK!" he cried out, thumbing off the safety and loosing a burst of 5.56mm into the night....

by **Brytene** » Wed Nov 21, 2018 7:53 pm

BBC ONLINE | 0623 AM
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DISASTER STRIKES PEPPER ATOLL

21.11.2018 | Pam Terpahl | Lundene

Pepper Atoll has officially been declared a war zone today as elements of the 4th Regiment were pushed out of the city of St Joseph.

Unknown assailants launched an attack on the port city and canton capital in the small hours of this morning. Reports are sparse and communication to the region has been disrupted, but it is believed that the Marine garrison of the town has been forced to retreat to the hills north of the city. Fleet Command declined to comment on the situation, but the Thegn Rede has issued a travel advisory and suspended all civilian flights and sea routes to the islands. Evacuees have already arrived in Whitebay Canton but the government has quarantined them and is denying media access.

The identity and origin of the attackers is currently unknown, but there are fears that it is either Elesarian special forces or elements of the SACTO alliance seeking to disrupt Brytisc sovereignty in the region and loosen the Confederate Fleet's control over the central-south sea lanes.

A Quick Reaction Force has already been mobilised and departed from Camp Aelle several hours ago. This story will be updated as it unfolds

Author: Pam Terpahl

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Comments:

by **Inyourfaceistan** » Fri Nov 23, 2018 12:19 am

Mesa Verdepíedas, Greater Castille; Inyursta

Theme

"Raise." Said the off-duty Navy admiràle, throwing in seven silver chips and four metallic red ones to indicate a bet of $Y1,700 on top of the $Y1,000 which had already been bet.
"Call." Declared a CIP senator from the San Meresque Strip, throwing in a flat $2,700 into the pot with little hesitation.
Subprésident Alvaro Delacroiz looked at the man next to him, and looked back at the flop and turn cards: Jack of Hearts, Ten of Hearts, Three of Spades, and the Seven of Hearts. He himself was holding J-10 of Clubs; two pair now facing a possible flush, straight, hidden set or the tiny chance of a straightflush.
"Fold" He announced, throwing his cards face down to the dealer and leaning back in his seat.
"Appello de Burro!" Oil tycoon Don Sebastian Solano announced, playfully indicating his hand was weak and that he was making a "donkey call" as he threw the required chips into the pot. The river came, an ace of spades, and another round of betting ensued. Players finally showed their cards, revealing that Don Solano did in fact have the best hand, a 10-3 for two pair - a weaker two pair than Alvaro had mucked; and despite the board being filled with all sorts of monster hands out there.
"I'm taking a step outside. Deal me out for awhile." Alvaro said as he stood up and walked over to the kitchen where he grabbed a drink before walking outside.

Shortly after, Chief of Staff Antonio "Ironsides" DeLoroza stepped out to join him. The evening air was cool, but humid and the night sky was nearly perfect save for the glow of the light pollution produced by the capital citadel of Castille de Térro across the hill to their south. A number of tropical hylid frogs and common nightbirds called out in the dewy night, but given the location of the house they were nothing particularly rare or unique.
"Nice place." Delacroiz said as he sipped his glass of cachaca; referring to DeLoroza's personal estate where the head of military affairs was hosting his surprisingly casual poker game.
"One of the best in Verdepíedas." He the gray-scruffled man said, scraping a cold cut of salmon onto a bowl on the patio. DeLoroza made a "cht-cht" noise and tapped the bowl, and before long two silver margay cats came pouncing in - one from the bushes and the other from the roof.

"You play a lot more timid than Jean-Baptiste does." DeLoroza commented about the game play.
"I play a lot more patient than he does. I like to think I am generally more level-headed as well."
"Hahaha. Bieno, min amí. It doesn't take a Nijonese meditation guru to be more level-headed than that man. Come, walk with me." The decorated war hero said to his businessman counter-part. On paper, the Subprésident was technically above the Chief dul Stafs; but with the complexities of the Inyurstan political situation and its shadow power-plays it was always hard to figure who was really answering up to who. They walked down by the pool, which was now lit up along with the palm gardens around the estate.

"I have a feeling you don't invite me to your poker game then invite me outside to star-gaze, Antonio. What's your angle?"
"Haha... That's why I like you, Alvaro. Jean-Baptiste may be a master of rattling other's chile racks, but he is hardly aware when his own racks are being rattled. You on the other hand, are aware of the meta at play...
That having been said... What do make of the situation in Brytene?"
"They got attacked - or so we are led to believe. What else is there to think?"
"Well please tell me, Monsénor Finançião; what is your market assessment of the situation in Brytene?"
"I'd say the market odds do not favor buying stock in whoever these shadow attackers are, assuming this isn't an elaborate training exercise. Your boys probably know more than I do, but I'm guessing the chances of these guys being relatable freedom-fighting nationalists, neoliberals or contré-révolutionarios is nil; for all we know these are other anglo-scandi supremacists attacking Bryts for not being anglo-scandi enough, could be hard-pinkos attacking for not being pinko enough, could be hadjis, could be some imperialist nits looking for easy land - again on the assumption these reports are legit."
"You and I both know ideology does not cause conflict..."
"You and I both know its just as big an excuse as religion to cover for the real reasons that do. It stands to reason those with an excuse to start a fight over resources and geopolitical control are those most likely to do it. If I'm wrong and our nasty gringo friends are under attack by another progressive demi-socialist western psuedo-monarchy then does it change a thing? "
DeLoroza simply raised his glass and nodded his head in agreement, before taking a sip of his own dark rum.
"And how would you factor in the threat the Brystic regime poses to our national security?"
"I'm not a military man, but I'm sure as hell smart enough to know that's a load of horseshit. Last I checked they lost a nuclear submarine for the grand prize of a few Cuscatlani embassy guards and some outlaw vigilantes. I don't think they will be coming within two-hundred miles of our shores any time soon..."
"All good points, Alvaro. I'll make sure my boys get in contact with our contacts in Carloso. They most certainly have a better idea of what we are looking at than we do. Until then, I want our speculation to remain quiet - lest our mutual friend go out and talk shit before we know more about the X-factor in the game..."
"Understood. Now, if you'll excuse me, I would like to go get my money and pride back at the table now..." He said, nodding again to his host and walking back up the stucco stairs towards the lavish dining room holding the card game.

by **Brytene** » Tue Nov 27, 2018 12:02 am

Outskirts of St Joseph
Pepper Atoll, Brytene

BBC news team

"I am here at the outskirts of St Joseph," began the presenter, her normally immaculate outfit hidden beneath a Jade Guard flak vest and helmet, "where unknown forces have attacked the city. There has been little fighting for the past three hours, but military personnel are still refusing to give a statement on the situation. Our initial investigations suggest the Manaagnwe Miltia have launched a major offensive with the backing of as-yet-unknown foreign actors. The militia are believed to be using attack dogs and flamethrowers to create havoc in the close quarters of the harbour town. Behind me you can see..."

As she continued, the camera panned across the makeshift defenses of the Brytisc garrison. Behind sandbags and overturned benches, weary and battered-looking marines kept a vigilant watch downhill, to where the city burned.

The seas north of Pepper Atoll
Valdian Ocean

CFS Hawkmoth

Churning the seas on a southward approach to the islands was the CFS Hawkmoth, a Beluga class helicopter carrier. Captain Alise de la Zouche glanced out of the portside window to see the CFS Yarlside and the CFS Ascension in formation with her vast ship, and was reassured. The reports they had received from St Joseph were terrifying. A horde, a rabble of madmen ripping and burning their way through Brytisc lands, somehow overpowering elite marines who, until last night, had regularly beaten down Manaagnwe activity without breaking a sweat.

Perhaps someone had decided that the anarchic Militia were the perfect tool to destabilise the Confederacy? Perhaps some criminal conglomerate had decided that a lawless Pepper Atoll represented an opportunity for profit? The only people who knew that right now were the Militia themselves, and their brutal leader Colonel Cutuu, and she had no interest in trying to sit down with him and discuss the matter.

Her small force was the Quick Reaction Force, directed to storm south and land its battalions on the Atoll, reinforcing the survivors there and assessing the situation. Though they had no fast-attack craft, they had gunships and transport helicopters, as well as armoured vehicles and the heavy weapons of the warships themselves. Even against a Militia equipped with the latest in black-market weaponry in place of their usual crappy clones and rusty surplus, it should suffice.

As she turned her gaze back to the horizon, her nose caught the scent of seaweed. For a moment this did not bother her, but then she realised they were far out to sea, nowhere near reefs. Perhaps a floating mass? She took a step towards the front viewport just as the ship lurched, a mournful groan shuddering through the hull as the deck beneath her tilted to port.

"What in the name of the Gods?! Status report now, what just hit us?!" she cried out, steadying herself on a console and turning to face her bridge crew. They were just as surprised as she was. The idea that a submarine was attacking them here, now, was madness - the Militia could certainly not afford even the crudest of such vessels, and even if they could they would not be able to crew it, certainly not well enough to sneak up on the Confederate Brytisc Fleet.

The stench of seaweed intensified, and alarms began blaring throughout the ship as the deck slid further to one side. With a blow like a lead hammer to the gut, de la Zouche realised that her command was sinking, fast. She turned to begin ordering a general evacuation when her SSO caught her eye. "Sir, boarders!" he called above the din, a note of uncertainty in his voice. "In the engine room and maintenance bulwarks. Marines are already engaging them!"

An explosion below rocked the ship, and then another. Distantly she realised she could indeed hear gunfire, echoing through the steel maze that was the CFS Hawkmoth. She had to grasp on to a steel beam to keep upright as the ship continued to sink. It was all happening far too fast, this shouldn't be possible. Glancing from the viewport again, she gasped. The CFS Yarlside was also sinking - its bow was already several meters out of the water as it sank from the rear. She cast a desperate eye across the horizon but still could not see their attackers, nor any telltale signs of missiles or fast-attack planes. She opened her mouth to demand a status report, to make sense of the situation, to see if her people were getting off and to safety, but before she could speak the hull gave with a rending crack and scream of tortured metal. She was thrown to her feet, cracking her head against the floor. The corrugated steel of the deck was the last thing she ever saw, as the Hawkmoth surrendered itself to the deeps.

by **Greater Carloso** » Tue Nov 27, 2018 6:06 pm

Department of Defence, Madrigal, Carloso

General Régulo Moran was handed a vellum envelope by a flustered assistant secretary just as he walked in the main entrance to the Department of Defence. The poor woman barely slid through the revolving door. He eyed the woman for a few seconds before looking at the writing on the front of the envelope. "The dossier on Brytene?" Moran asked. She nodded politely, readjusting her glasses and bowing her head. "My thanks, Ms Porter. Hard to believe our two countries were once the best of friends. I'll see you later." Moran continued, dismissing her. No sooner had she come into the entrance, Ms Porter was gone again. Suffering from a bit of a stiff neck, he twisted his shoulder and grunted as he regretted falling asleep in an awkward position the night before. Moran glanced at his watch and looked around. The lobby area of the Department had been completely refurbished recently so his eyes were still trying to get used to the new surroundings. General Moran had arranged to meet with a certain Rear Admiral Casey before going into the impromptu meeting of the National Defence Board in response to the new developments in Brytene. He hadn't heard anything about that particular country being bandied about in the corridors of power for over three years now. It looked like that was set to change big time now, for better or for worse.

As if he appeared from a portal, Rear Admiral Casey walked out from behind a pillar about five metres ahead of Moran. He was a tall and well-built man, with an immaculate navy blue uniform and peaked cap. His black hair was beginning to grey, indicating he must be in his early fifties at the oldest. "General Moran, an honour to finally meet you." Casey beamed, extending his arm as he approached the General. The two men met in the centre, firmly shaking hands like their lives depended on it. "So you want me to talk about Brytene?" he asked. He had only been recently promoted to Rear Admiral from his previous position as a Captain in the Carlosian Navy. He had been in the privileged position to be one of the few Carlosians to witness the events of three years ago, so his testimony was going to play an important part in the decision making of the Board. In the time that had passed since, he had take an acute interest in the state of Brytisc politics and military affairs following the conflict with the Santiago Anti-Communist Treaty Organisation (SACTO) and was supposedly a trusted contact of the National Intelligence Service's secretive foreign office. Moran nodded. "Yeah, just don't hold back. You're probably the only person in a country mile who knows first-hand about dealing with Pepper Atoll." he explained, "God only knows what's causing the latest unrest. Let's walk."

The events of three years ago were propably a distant memory to most people in Madrigal, but those with sense could still remember. It all started with a 'matter of honour', the legendary Nifonese General Fujikawa Jin challenging the upstart Brytisc noble and pagan, Aoife Brighteye, to a duel over an insult directed at Shogun Maki Kojiro. Aoife, to the shock of many, cut the Nifonese General down, tearing the cross from his neck and beginning a descent into conflict that almost spiralled into open war between SACTO and Brtyene. One dead Inyustan Senator and two embassy sieges later, Aoife Brighteye miraculously survived being shot by a .45 ACP revolver in a duel with Inyustan Colonel Armando Nuelle in Pepper Atoll, which Rear Admiral Casey witnessed himself from aboard the CN Biscaia. Nuelle was quickly killed by Aoife's bodyguard , a Brytisc nuclear submarine was later sent to the bottom of the sea by Cuscatlani forces and an intelligence officer disappeared without a trace. It was safe to say that the two sides didn't really like each other very much.

The two men walked down a hallway and then down a staircase to an area below the Department, the main meeting chamber of the National Defence Board. They had to pass through a myriad of scanners and security doors before they actually got inside. Various government officials and military officers were bustling about, Moran and Casey pushing past as they emerged onto a steel balcony that overlooked the conference table. The room was in the shape of a conical frustum, with giant LCD screens on that walls that displayed maps of various parts of the world that were of interest. Moran could see that the President and several other members of the top brass were already sitting down and were about to begin. Moran and Casey took their seats near the top of the table alongside President Tobón.

"Mr President, may I introduce Rear Admiral Liam Casey. In 2015 he commanded the CN Biscaia in Pepper Atoll against rebel forces in St Joseph and was a witness to the duel between Aoife and Colonel Nuelle." Moran introduced the stranger to the Defence Board. Tobón glanced at Casey for a moment before looking at the sheet of notes he had in front oh him. "Welcome Rear Admiral." the President said in a neutral tone, as if he was disinterested in the current state of affairs. He wasn't too sure what was the right thing to do in this situation. On the one hand, the country had far too much history with the Brytisc to simply stay out of this crsis. On the other hand, considering the relationship between SACTO and Brytene, it would be unthinkable to come to the assistance of the Brytisc government. Either way, it was a concern to say the least that a person would be daring enough to order an attack on the Brytisc Fleet is these circumstances. "Maybe you could tell us about your experience in Pepper Atoll?" Tobón asked.

All eyes suddenly turned to Casey, immediately feeling beleaguered. Nevertheless, he bowed his head at the President and began to speak. "In 2015, my ship was sent to Pepper Atoll in response to attacks on aid workers by the Manaagnwe Miltia. Several hundred Carlosian troops were involved in taking back the harbour in St Joseph from enemy forces and we were tasked with neutralising enemy air defences so we could evacuate foreign nations from the island. It wasn't anything too difficult. The Militia were very ill disciplined and fled into the jungle at the first sight of our helicopters. It was all over in three days. From my experience, there is no way that these men could become such a lethal fighting force without some sort of foreign help. Three years ago, these were just a drug cartel masquerading as freedom fighters." Casey explained. Tobón considered it for a few moments. "Thank you Rear Admiral" the President said, "That would make sense. A drug cartel doesn't turn into an elite fighting force just like that." General Moran saw his opportunity to speak. "Then who are the suspects?" he asked. There were few obvious choices. Other then the members of SACTO, it was hard to refer any other country as an enemy of Brytene. Maybe a non-state actor was at play.

"Hmmm. Salazar, play the recording again please." Tobón indicated to Admiral Salazar, the Chief of the Naval Staff. He dutifully obliged.

"MAYDAY, MAYDAY. THIS IS CONFEDERATE BRYTISC FLEET HELICOPTER CARRIER CFS HAWKMOTH. WE ARE UNDER ATTACK BY UNKNOWN ENEMY FORCES, POSSIBLE SUBMARINE. BOARDERS HAVE ENTERED THE ENGINE ROOM. SHIP IS LISTING TO PORT. I REPEAT, SHIP IS LISTING TO PORT. CFS YARLSIDE IS GONE. MAYDAY, MAYDA--"

"It cuts out after that, sir." Salazar clarified.

"Thank you Admiral. Do we have any units located near Pepper Atoll?" President Tobón asked. Salazar looked at him seriously. "CN Ebon and her battlegroup are currently patrolling approximately one thousand kilometres south of Pepper Atoll. They can be diverted immediately if you wish, Mr President." he explained clearly. Tobón sat back in his chair and thought deeply for a few moments. He would be putting Carlosian military assets needlessly at risk if he gave the order now without figuring out who was actually behind the attack. "Do we have any submarines nearby?" he queried Admiral Salazar. "The battlegroup is being accompanied by two Mendata-class attack submarines, the CN Erméa and the CN Northford." the Admiral responded. Casey butted in for a few seconds. "And what about the CFS Ascension? Was it sunk as well?" he asked, "We could be being baited into a trap here."

It was all a bit too much to swallow, but times like this called for decisive action. Tobón suddenly got up from his chair. "Have CN Ebon and her battlegroup continue their patrol but divert the submarines to Pepper Atoll. Search for enemy boats, engage and destroy anything remotely suspicious. Tell the commander of the Ebon that we need fighter sorties over Pepper Atoll ASAP, maintain watch for anything that tries and sneak up on our warships. Dismissed!" the President ordered. Firing a salute to their commander-in-chief, everyone began to leave the table and the command was relayed to the CN Ebon.

by **McNernia** » Sun Dec 02, 2018 5:20 pm

Erin Islands Colony
MRAF Soverigngarde

The closest ELINT force to Brytene was stationed here. So the decision was made to launch two A340s sporting the various blisters of strategic ELINT aircraft to see what was going on in the commonwealth. Primarily it was close to the archipelago that had gone radio silent.

Technicians had the airplanes that were to be launched prepared. Engines and wings were to be made ready for flight.

“Check it again”. The E-5 overseeing the examination of the A340s engine looked at the E-2. A warrant officer was accompanying the pilot who was doing a walk around of the bird as it sat in the autminal weather outside the hangar.

“Yessir.”

The young woman working the engine was his protegee on track for a double bump promotion to his rank.

The engines circuits it was revealed were in good order so the two enlisted stood to attention as the pilot came by.

“Carry on.”

They all wore the flight suits, jumpsuits of the Air force. All were dedicated to the cause of the Empire. The honr of the Santiaog alliance was paramount. To Mcnernia fell the task of overseeing a great many threats and that meant the Mcnernians had to be vigilant and on alert.

The pilot and the copilot headed for the cockpit and the rest soon arrived by bus as the technicians took their leave. Taking the equipment with them.

In the cockpit there was calm as the two men were checking the controls. The tug arrived to push the airplane back. The tractor moved the first bird as its twin moved the second, it would be a sweep over the island, an attempt to detect the comm chatter of the possible rebel threat. Or there was some other international threat.

“Tower this is Oracle 5-5 requesting take off clearance.”

“Affirmative 5-5 proceed to ramp A-2 and hold position.”

The bird taxied along the way. And then it saw something coming along the runway. It was unmanned, a drone.
“Tower why are we needed?”

“5-5 that is an imaging drone, we need you for ELINT to see what is going on.”

“Roger that.” The drone taxied to the end of the runway and then headed for the hangar. “5-5 you are clear, good luck and Godspeed.”

“Roger that.”

The big plane taxied onto the runway and then spooled up its engines and rocketed into the sky. On board the crew was checking their instruments. The drone was also on peoples minds, that drone was set up in a transit configuration and it could be the first of many. As of now there was the mission, they would fly to the Pepper Islands and back, wariness about Brytene spies monitoring airbases in the other colonies was also a factor. The two planes formed up over the nearby ocean and then headed south to the target area. Systems were go and the Prime Minister was watching a livestream of the mission in distant Griffindon. All seemed to be going well.

by **Brytene** » Sun Dec 02, 2018 8:02 pm

North of Pepper Atoll
Pepper Atoll, Brytene

Captain Mathias Volkerlas

The Skeleton HR005 Heavy Revelator circled high above the site of the Hawkmoth's sinking, searching in vain for any signs of survivors. All three vessels semeed to have sunk beneath the sea. Distress beacons from life rafts had been registered, but had last indicated a southerly heading, at high speed. Volkerlas squinted at his displays, bringing up precisely nothing, but suddenly he caught just a flicker of movement beneath the surface. They had already been briefed - there were no allied submarines in the vicinity, though apparently Carlossian vessels were inbound, so they were cleared to fire. He lit up the target and the gunnery officers began their chatter. The whole frame of the plane shook as a 120mm round thudded away, followed by a spray of 75mm autocannon fire. There was a chance the submarine was too deep, but at this point the Brytisc gunners were not going to pass up the chance to lash out at whoever was killing their people.

There was a moment's silence, then an ironic cheer as water fountained up, one huge spurt followed by a ripple of smaller ones. Mathias squinted again, tracking the high-fidelity cameras over the area. "Fuck," he muttered after a while. "That's a lot of blood. I think we just blasted a whale."

There was a muttered curse from further down the hold. Whales were considered lucky in Brytene, and so killing one was not a good start to the venture. Even as the droplets spattered gently back down to the ocean, they received a blinking warning - apparently unknown aircraft had been detected on approach to the area, and the Skeleton HR005 was not designed for aerial combat, so they heeled over in a lazy banking turn and began the return journey north

Outskirts of St Joseph
Pepper Atoll

Jarl Aoife of Dyflin

Another Heavy Revelator hummed through the skies, this one a transport model. Aboard it were several dozen Marines of the 3rd Regiment, the Gallowglass, and amongst them was Aoife Brighteye, who had reactivated herself upon the news of the loss of three entire Brytisc warships. With the loss of the QRF, an airborne insertion was the only immediate way to provide reinforcements to the embattled garrison of St Joseph.

The loadmaster for this particular plane turned to look over the troopers in his hold. They were well-equipped and cheerful, but the chatter belied a certain nervousness. Brytene had been attacked before, but never anything like this. As they approached the drop zone, they began to ready up, swapping their oxygen masks for the jump masks they would be using for their HALO insertion. Aoife checked her equipment for a final time and then rolled her shoulders and stepped forward. She followed the soldier in front, rapidly stepping up to a run as she sprang from the plane and into the clear, crisp, cool air, the chill tangible even through the polypropelene gear she was wearing.

some time later...

The new arrivals had almost doubled the roster of survivors holed up to the north of the city. The fresh armour of the Gallowglass parachutists contrasted with the battered Grenadiers, but all were armed and ready when the next attack came. Aoife, a graduate of the Arkengarth Sniper Academy granted the rank of Hlasyctere, was perched on the roof of a mechanic's garage along with another sharpshooter, with one in a blind on the hill behind them and a fourth on a decommissioned water tower. The rest of the force, including the two remaining Stappa light tanks, were formed along a semicircular front maybe two hundred metres long, looking down a long hill with the mountain at their back. To their west was the former governmental palace, whilst to their east the land dropped off steeply towards the Mboko River. Even as Aoife glanced down the scope of her Kuribayashi Drake rifle, there was a series of shrill yells and figures began to emerge from the treeline downslope from their position.

It was the Manaagwne Militia, attacking just as dusk fell. Surging forwards in an unruly mass, mounted in technicals or stumbling and sprinting on foot, their assault was almost frenzied. They had never been the most disciplined of opponents, admittedly, but this assault rattled Aoife. No mortar fire, no snipers, no semblance of order. Just a swarm, blazing automatic weapons in all directions. It was almost inhuman...

She breathed half a breath out, and then squeezed the trigger gently, ripping a technical gunner from his flatbed and hurling him into the long grass. She tracked down and let loose a second round. It cracked the windscreen of the pickup but did not kill the driver. Her third round did, sending the vehicle swerving across the front of the enemy advance as disciplined fire from the Brytisc tore into the attacking ranks.

by **Hrythingia** » Thu Dec 06, 2018 9:54 am

Ƿiðigham (Withigham), Fennstocscíra (Fennstockshire), Hrythingia
Sheets of rain poured over the flat marshlands from the endless plains of billowing black clouds and the relentless wolflike howling of the winds rattled the thin window panes of the Hrythwealda’s summer cottage up in the coastal fenlands of The Ashwold: his Earldom. Whilst the grim weather had scuppered his plans to shoot waterfowl he took pleasure in sitting next to a blazing logfire with a small mug of mint and nettle tea watching the wetlands come alive. For whilst mankind generally sought refuge from the savage heavenborn deluge most other animals delighted in it. A tall and slender grey heron capitalised on the excited fish darting in and out of the water and from his perch of a fallen willow tree had himself quite feast of minnows and freshwater eels. A large otter was enjoying frog on the muddy banks of the nearby pond, himself watching all sorts of waterbirds such as coots, ducks and drakes splash about in the reedy waters. The Hrythwealda, taking his pipe, added to the end a small heap of tobacco and promptly lit it before reclining in the leather armchair.
There was a knock at the door of his small but ornate office.
“Come in.”
A young man, in a greyish tweed jacket and burgundy cords traipsed in nervously: he knew the Hrythwealda didn’t like being disturbed during his ‘country retreats.’
“My Lord, the Foreign Secretary Cardinal Gósaxa is here to see you. He said it is regarding the situation in Brytene”
The Hrythwealda shot his head to face the entering aide.
“You what? Where the bloody hell is that? Oh just send him in.”
The Hrythwealda exhaled gruffly; Hrythingia was a mostly quiet and sleepy nation, it’s people viewed most foreigners at best as peculiar distant tribes and at best as ‘orcenfolc’. They were suspicious of 'adventures' into foreign lands and were especially uppity about involving themselves in non-Christian places. As one drunken thane crudely put it in a session of the Folcgemot "they're fucked anyway."
The oak door swung open to reveal an elderly man in black priestly robes with a purple sash round the waist and clutching a few files.
“My Lord, I hope you are well, shame about this horrendous weather. Alas, God must water his garden.” Exclaimed the Cardinal, bowing to the sedentary Hrythwalda who’s initial response was only to puff a cloud of smoke out of his mouth.
“Please, have a seat.” The Hrythwealda replied with a raised eyebrow, gesturing for the aged clergyman to be seated: which he did.
“Tea?”
“Thank you my lord.”
The Hrythwealda rang a small handbell and when the aide reappeared requested another mint and nettle tea.
“My Lord, our old cousins of blood, the Brystic folk are under siege by an untold swarm of militia. They have lost three entire warships and substantial portions of their QRF. It is bad my Lord, may God have mercy on their souls.." Explained the Cardinal.
The Hrythwealda raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "If my memory serves me correctly Cardinal, God will have little mercy.. they are pagans.. heathens or simply non-believing. What are you suggesting we do?"
The Cardinal crossed one leg over the other and reclined in his armchair.
"My Lord, when you were elected as Hrythwealda you said that the world was in need of more Christian charity and that that would be a vehicle for Hrystic soft power to put us on the map. Well, faced with such a brutal enemy I think I can see a place for this. We send a medical mission from some of our monasteries at minimum cost to the taxpayer: the church will pay for most of it-"
"Most taxpayers in this country also give money to the church too.."
The Cardinal waved dismissively. "That carries different connotations my Lord, most people see the Church as the proper place for charity rather than the state as you well understand."
The Hrythwealda raised an unconvinced eyebrow and retorted: "Most people would rather the Church focus on Hrystic poverty than some.. pagan socialist nation or sub-equatorial dungheap. Cardinal I can already see how this plays out... Hrystic monks and nuns go out to provide pastoral and medical support to this nation then get overrun themselves by the horde and slaughtered with the rest of them. Then Hrythingia will want an intervention because they will want to hunt every one of the militiamen into the ground. But imagine if our intervention force gets wiped out? It's unthinkable."
The door opened and a servant carrying a silver tray entered and placed it on the low polished oak table before them, with a small china teapot, a china cup and saucer with a pot of amber honey to sweeten the tea if he so wished.

But that night, the Hrythwealda tossed and turned in his bed, his mind alive with the images of an unstoppable of orc-like savages rampaging through the green and pleasant shires of Hrythingia, ravaging and raping the women, eating the children, butchering the men and young boys. Cottages burnt and the cobbled streets of villages ran red with thick gory blood. Half asleep, he stumbled from his room and outside to the lake where he was met by endless skiffs packed with dark-faced orcs, ogres and goblins brandishing all sorts of crude weaponry. Then, with a flash of light which cleft the darkness of the night and the torrential rain a mounted warrior on a white horse appeared, brandishing a great spear with the Bull's Banner of Hrythingia fastened to it. The horse reared up and whinnied loudly and as it did many more mounted Hrystic warriors trotted forwards, their chainmail clinking and their horse-hair helmet plumes swishing. Then a voice boomed from the heavens: "Deliver my children from Satan's spawn, o Knight of Christendom. Only once they have seen the light and mercy of Christ will the Brystic folk come into the Lord Our Shepherd's fold and be spared from Damnation. Go, in the Name of the Lord!"

And with that the garden was cleared of all things paranormal, and the Hrythwealda was left soaking in his pyjamas.

Bóðentún (Bothenton) Monastery, Earldom of Clúdlond, Hrythingia
A slow chime of a chapel bell rung over the large stone complex on the outskirts of Múslehýð (Musslehuthe). It was time for evening prayers and the plainchant of the monks echoed solemnly out from the chapel in which the monastery had mostly gathered: nuns and monks for the most part. Bothenton was an almost sprawling estate with hundreds of acres of prime agricultural land where it grew wheat for beer and raised herds of cattle for milk, cheese and beef. It’s orchards grew an all manner of fruits but mainly plums, apples and bears. It ran beehives for honey to make mead and had coups of quail and ducks for eggs. A large hospital was also on site: indeed a private one like most in Hrythingia but it was a charitable organisation and helped who it could. The monks worked the farming land and ran much of the religious life whilst the nuns managed the hospital and college. There was a soothing calm to the monotone Latin liturgical music with the odd organ cord to keep the tuning.

Abbot Ċeolmund, having finished the evensong service made his way through the winding and cold corridors of the monastery: whose priory was built in 405 AD by Rothian missionaries and had remained ever since. The Abbot had been asked to send one of his quick reaction teams to Brytene and he had prepared a brief talk to send them on their way. He came to a small classroom, dimly lit with a chalkboard, rows of individual desks filled with mostly youthful faces of junior doctors, nun nurses, priests and a few monks.
“Thank you for coming here at this late hour, I know you are busy packing... I just wanted to say a few words before you left tomorrow morning. This is our first time operating so far from home and possibly our first time in such a horrendous war: mortal man’s ability to craft new engines of death and destruction never fail to horrify me. But our mission is a righteous one, give help to all those who need it. Give medical attention to all those who are wounded, civilians and combatants, clothe the cold, feed the hungry, shelter the vulnerable and give mass daily: I suspect for your kindnesses there will be a healthy number of converts. For many of you this will be a horrendous mission but it is God’s work, it is what Jesus would do. Should any of you perish, I imagine the Sainthood is not an unreal possibility. We here will pray for you daily, and I imagine the nation will pray for you. You will be the face of Hrythingia: make it a loving one. Go, in the name of the Lord.”

In the early hours of the next morning, 5 chartered cargo planes departed for Tel-Aviv loaded with several jeeps, one mobile command unit, 400 medical staff, priests, logistics, engineers and cooks. Most of them were either monks or nuns, with distinct vows. Many clutched rosaries as they passed over the great oceans age headed in a grim unknown. They were lead by Friar Ælfræd, a former military chaplain who had taken the vows of a monk after he had tired of such a life. He was energetic, organised and cool headed: he knew these attributes would be heavily challenged during this operation. He prayed to God for strength.

This was to be the first wave of help that the Hrythwealda had released. Should the situation worsen, then he would send the Brystic people the offer of asylum and military aide; mainly in the form of airstrikes and special forces.

by **McNernia** » Tue Dec 11, 2018 3:00 pm

OOC:Well since I'm the only one who has launched planes, Id assume its me.

Approaching Pepper Atoll
Oracle 5-5

The big plane streaked across the sky closing in from the north. There was tension on board as this was an audacious mission to get close to enemy territory and the fact was the Brytene could have orders to shoot on sight.
“5-6, this is 5-5 I have one radar contact probable turboprop.”

“Affirmative, one slow moving contact Airborne at my 10 O’Clock.”

“5-6 what do you think we should do?”
“Recommend Immediate Radio silence and avoid the St Joesphs area like a plague, wont want to run into the AD.”

“Concur, 5-5 out.”
The Mcnernian birds would spilt up and break apart activing the onboard systems to scan the area. They were pretty far from Pepper Atoll but the locals could be launching interceptors as the birds were making their approach.

In the cabin in the back the technicians set to work.
“COMMINT?”

“Go.”

“Cyber Int?”

“Go”

And so on down the line as the two birds spilt up probing the airwaves around the atoll. They would would endeavor to provide the necessary ELINT. Tapping into the networks and then transmitting that data as much as recording it to the Royal Air Force and the SIS who would make a decision for the interests of the Santiago Alliance.

by **Brytene** » Mon Dec 17, 2018 6:30 pm

North of St Joseph
Pepper Atoll, Brytene

Hlasyctere Aoife 'Brighteye' Lodbrok

The rally force had taken a beating, with almost a dozen dead and twice as many injured, but they had repelled a significant Manaagnwe attack. The new, terrifyingly suicidal tactics of the Militia represented both a danger and a blessing, making them easier to knock down but harder to keep on the ground. Aoife had seen several insane feats, men with limbs blown off and gaping wounds staggering back to their feet to continue the attack.

The surviving company officer, one Major Hvit, was tired and aging, though experienced and canny. He, Aoife, and the other surviving officers and NCOs, were gathered in the office of the former garage, surrounded by all the receipts, old magazines, spare parts, tools and unwashed coffee mugs that were prerequisite for such a facility. On the wall was a raunchy calendar, which even in the grim situation earned an appreciative glance from some of the younger soldiers.

"All due respect, ma'am" said Hvit, an old-timer who had not gotten out of the habit of treating Aoife like a Queen "but we've barely any ammo and no reinforcements. I believe our duty should be to strike west to the fishery, commandeer any boats remaining, and attempt to evacuate our surviving soldiers and civilians."

Aoife shook her head, tossing her sweat-slicked auburn hair back and forth. "If we leave now, we abandon Pepper Atoll. Any reinforcements will find themselves mounting an invasion, not a defensive operation."

She caught herself and slackened her shoulders. "You are the ranking officer here sir. It's your decision."

Hvit nodded. After a moment's pause, he gestured to a radio operator. "Call it in. We're leaving.

He glanced up at Aoife and the others. "I understand this is a blow. You've fought hard, and it sticks in the craw for any Bryton to retreat. But this is beyond our means. And those black-armoured bastards? I don't know who they are or where they come from, but they've got better gear than anything we have, and I'm not going to sit here wasting men and lives fighting the Militia for their amusement. We're leaving. Let them deal with the piracy and the drugs and the voodoo bullshit."

Code: Select all: COME IN, FLEETCOM. THIS IS 4GR-1-24. WE ARE EVACUATING PEPPER ATOLL. 102 MARINES INCLUDING 21 WOUNDED. APPROX 300 CIVILIANS.

Fleet Command
Lundene

Commander David Forge

"Three hundred?! the commander barked, more of a statement than a question. "There were three hundred thousand people living on that damn island two days ago! What in the name of all the Gods is happening?"

One of his staff officers glanced up. "Only a tenth of the population lived in the city proper - there's a good chance many civilians escaped on their own, or might not even be aware of the invasion yet."

"That's a nice story," replied Forge, scowling, "but it doesn't help us. Pepper Atoll will have to wait, especially now the filth from SACTO have come sniffing around with their spyplanes, like dogs after vomit. We need to start securing our own borders...."

Code: Select all: ALL ELEMENTS - RAPAX - VICTRIX - HOME. RETURN TO BRYTISC WATERS. PEPPER ATOLL IS NO LONGER A STRATEGIC PRIORITY. SITUATION RAGNAROK. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. AUTHENTIFICATION CODES TO FOLLOW.

St Joseph
Pepper Atoll

Captain Explosion

The Captain, though he was really a general in his own mind, laughed. At his feet was the corpse of a Brytisc marine, scorched by one of his flamethrower troops. He kicked the body for pleasure, then strolled up the smouldering street, breathing in the blood and smoke.

"It's ours!" he yelled triumphantly, raising his arms to the sky. "Death to the pale apes!"

Around him his men cheered, firing their weapons into the sky - those who were not too drunk or high, in any case. After the fall of the city they had descended into an orgy of looting, murder and rape, dragging out and butchering those accused of collaborating with the foreign devils. He took a gulp of water from his canteen and watched as two of his men took turns firing a Brytisc MARS rifle at a shopkeeper they had hanged from a telephone pole, and chuckled.

A heavy hand clapped onto his shoulder and made him jump. He felt the chill he always did in dealing with these, their new allies who never showed their faces. "Radio your men" said the voice, sounding strange and inhuman through the black combat helmet's visor "and gather your captains in the dockmaster's office. Our work is not done.".

Without another word the tall man stalked away, disappearing down an alleyway. Explosion spat, cursed, and shuddered. He swore again, hurling the insult at the empty place the man had been, and then went to call for his men over the unencrypted radio, because whilst he was no professional soldier, he was no idiot either, and he did not want to man the tall men angry.

by **Significance** » Mon Dec 17, 2018 8:35 pm

Edit: -snip-

by **Inyourfaceistan** » Tue Dec 18, 2018 6:32 pm

Madrigal; Carloso

In a lonely corner of (airport), a sleek black Colomas J-372 rolled off the taxiway. Colonel Ricardo Sant-Cristophe, an Inyurstan Army aquisitions specialist; Commodore Maria LaMacca, an Inyurstan Navy intelligence officer; "Don" Paulo-Marc Gonzales, head chairman of the sales committee for Navayelle Systems, Inc.; and finally Alfanso Martel, an officer with the Inyurstan National Intelligence Service (NIS).

Several hours later the 3/4th's of the Inyurstan team were standing in front of the Carlossian Parliament Defense Committee.

"...needless to say that in light of recent events paired with the shift of your own government that submarine forces of hostile states in the region are likely to become a threat." Commodore LaMacca explained.

"This is where our ACS-22Su and ACS-22T Manta system comes into play. The Manta system provides outstanding capabilities to defeat enemy submarines before they enter the critical NEZ of their torpedoes - and even if the hostile submarine is not destroyed by the system, it will likely force a retreat by any competent sub commander. It offers a significant range advantage over the Franco-Italian MILAS system and unlike the Russian RPK-6 it does not first enter water, meaning that the enemy submarine will not be aware of its launch until the Pu-82 warhead has already hit the water and enters its terminal homing phase." Don Gonzales said, stroking his grey mustache and using a laser pointer to emphasize brochure-like selling points for his Carlossian audience.

Elsewhere in the city, the non-chalant and humorous NIS officer Alfanso Martel was sitting at a rooftop cafe with the head of Carlossian NISFO Michael Grader sipping on sangria and enjoying cigars (which unlike those typically enjoyed in Inyursta, were not made of marijuana) while they discussed business.
"Again, Monsénor Acosta sends his regards that he cannot attend himself, la vide de Castille can be quite demanding for a man of his rank."
"Please, tell your boss that his people always welcome here in Carloso! Now, what brings you to our wonderful city?"
"I'm surprised you haven't already guessed. The Manaagnwe Militia. We know virtually nothing about them besides that they deal drugs, brutally torture opposition and oppose Brytsic rule of Pepper Atoll with what amounts to WW2 era weaponry, but little else. Naturally, we support whole-heartedly the liberation of any colony under the rule of foreign powers and the growth of the international marijuana industry, but massacres and methanephetamines aren't so highly viewed - even by our standards.
Of course we have virtually no way of getting ahold of them, and don't know if their cause is even worth the effort or not. Given your nation's history in the region, we figure you all can put us in contact if they are worth it or tell us outright if they aren't."
"Oh I know full well why the NIS is interested in Carloso. What I asked why are you in Madrigal?"
"I should have figured you would be as direct. Let's call it investing... Rest assured, min ami, I will go into further details as we get to know each other..."

Béjean, Guerroca Sud; Inyursta

Béjean was a unique little city nestled in the semi-arid hills of Inyursta's northernmost province - although the "quaint" city was hardly quiet for its small size. In the day, the thorny but leafy Prosopis trees, subtropical live oaks, yucca plants and Brahea palms contrasted sharply with the ivory-colored limestone cliffs and turquoise-blue water of the river flowing down from an ancient aquifer in the dry hills above.

At night, however, the city took on its most spectacular form. Béjean was known for the brilliant spectacle of paper lanterns that were hung from the large cliff face overlooking the city, providing enough ambient golden light for people to see as if it were early dawn or just at sunset. In the old days, the cities residents used actual candles and the show of lanterns on the cliff was a monthly event, but now in the age of electricity the lights were on virtually every weekend, drawing in tourists and locals alike while cafe's and restaurants stayed open past the midnight hour with bars and cantinas open until dawn itself.

Jean-Luc de las Navas sipped a strong glass of golden rum as he listen to his daughter play guitar up on the stage to the amusement and tune of over a dozen couples dancing in the street and almost three times the number of onlookers clapping and tapping their feet along in rhythmic support. Across from him sat a woman from his past, a mocha-skinned and dark-eyed presence whose flecks of gray in the side edges of her hair betrayed the age that her skin was concealing.
"The fuck do you want, Vic." J-L said as he took another swig of the liquor, speaking in straight English and refusing to address her by her (exceptionally high) rank.
"Juarez needs her captain, Navas."
"I gave you a hand-picked successor. My duty is over."
"And your hand-picked successor served honorably and was promoted, but times are different."
"Let me guess, the brass picked some academy hot-shot who got into trouble and will likely sail a desk for the rest of his days, huh?"
"Your ability to read your opponent and strike at their mistakes is as sharp as ever."
"And your flattery is predictable as ever. Now why the hell do you want me back in service?"
"Because you were one of the best we had. Le Maudito. You were the bane of our enemy's commerce and navies alike..."
"Le Maudito - yeah, accursed alright. Accursed to live the rest of my life awaiting Heaven's judgement for all the men I sent to bottom at your behest."
"And all the lives you saved!"
"Cut the bullshit, Vic. We got sucked into a civil war that was none of our business which turned into us fighting a war we shouldn't have won, which opened the floodgates for career officers like you to fill the brass in Castille and merrily await the next big war with the progressive west like its the second coming of Christ."
"What made you so cynical, Jean-Luc? You have fallen far from the man who sat in my briefing quarters..."
"You can't tempt with your promises of paid college and sparse retirement funds anymore. I'm out, I did my time, I collected my meager winnings and all the scars to show for them. So if all you have is the usual nationalistic Neo-Duvalierist horseshit rhetoric, then fuck off."
"Oh I can offer you paid college and a comfy retirement...
For her:" Victoria said, nodding towards the girl in the Miraco hat playing the guitar.
For him:" She said again, shifting her gaze towards a teenage boy serving up fried tamales and glazing beignets in pineapple syrup.
"For the one who is probably home "pwning noobs" on his video games, for the one who is off getting her first kiss from some Fabio, and for the one who already submitted his application paperwork to Université National de Ernesto Roucharde.
You accept my offer to recommission, and your children will never have to worry about money, and so long as they aren't unmotivated Crochétta fucks like their father, neither will their children. You would do best not to mistake my admiration of your skills and the generosity of my offer for desperation, Navas..."
Jean-Luc took a few seconds in shock to consider the offer, his desire to see his family prosper outweighing his own disposition towards the top Admiràle which was once his immediate commander, and the deep underlying truth to her words that he was just fucking good at what he did.
"Fine... But it has to be Juarez..."
"I wouldn't be here if it were any other boat..." Victoría said, smirking in the dim amber light...

San Silvio Air Field, Marindino Centrèle; Inyursta

Beneath a broken, rainy sky whose clouds did their best to conceal a tropical sunset a slick black bird of war was wheeled out from its fortified and camoflouged bunker-hangar. Red lights flashed on the front and back end while two dim green lights expressed the wingspan of the aircraft. The pilot, albiet headquartered elsewhere on the base, was given the clear to take off, and sent the dark drone whistling down the runway and into the scarred cloudscape beyond.

Shaped like an inverted-Y, the stealthy UAV known as the SV-2 "Blindspot" would cruise at a high altitude and make its way towards the Atlassian skyspace...

by **Cossack Khanate** » Tue Dec 18, 2018 9:00 pm

Pepper Atoll Airspace

“Task Force Command, this is Pilot Lt. Dusk checking in”

“Copy that, Lieutenant. Drop the trooper and get back to base. That's all”

“Copy that command. Over”

Army Lieutenant Oslo Dusk, aged about in his mid 20s, turned in his pilot seat to face the “trooper”, Cossack Special Forces operative Sgt. Noah Omarov. Omarov was sitting on the floor of the RK-45 helicopter, loading a CF-50 assault rifle with the typical 5.56 ammo.

“Well, hope you have fun down there”, Dusk sarcastically told Omarov. Omarov raised one eyebrow.

“No sarcasm necessary, Dusk. You know I will enjoy myself. After all, I did have more kills than you at Antaros-”

“I beg to disagree, Sergeant. It simply is that the CSF is deployed more”

“Ah, no excuses. Now focus on the job so I can check this out.”

Dusk turned back to the dashboard, slight irritation displayed on his face….

30 minutes later…

Omarov landed in a thick forest. He wasn’t exactly sure of his location on the island, but he heard faint gunshots to his right. After a short walk, CF-50 raised, he made it to the edge of the city. The sight he saw there was horrifying. He had seen brutal wars, and this ranked high on the intensity scale. Civilian bodies lay scattered dead in the streets. Storefronts were smashed and homes burnt out. He leaned down to check the body of a nearby civilian. The blood was fresh. Omarov had only a few moments to comprehend the meaning of that when bullets began to tear at the streets around him. He sprinted into an alleyway, vaulting over short walls and through broken windows. He made it to the balcony of a house and aimed his sights at the street he left behind. A man appeared, and Omarov took him down with a couple of well-aimed rounds. In response, a barrage of bullets came at him from various areas, with several enemies holding two automatic weapons. Omarov had enough time to throw a grenade before the bullets came to close for comfort.

Omarov strapped his weapon and drew a W7 semi-automatic pistol. An enemy was taken by surprise as Omarov made his way down the stairs. Another enemy was killed as he tried to enter the house. Omarov put away his pistol and drew his CF-50, firing volley after volley at a stream of crazed enemies. The scene was chaos. Grenades, real, smoke, and flashbang, flew threw the air. Glass and dust blew into the air. Enemy bullets somehow ended up in their own soldiers. Although Omarov had been briefed about the Militia, he didn’t expect this amount of firepower. Then, Omarov saw a man with a black visor pass outside, seemingly calm in the chaos…..

by **McNernia** » Wed Dec 19, 2018 5:15 pm

OOC: I suppose there would be an evacuation Fleet sent? Or the fleet pulling out?

Near Pepper Atoll
Oracle 5-5

“5-6 no sign of Interceptors.”
“Copy that.”
“Flight deck this is ECM.”

“Go ahead ECM.”

“Advise im reading surface radar emissions.”

The planes would be identifiable as SACTO air assets and yet they did not have the torch insignia. They were marked as Mcnernian and Mcnernia was a SACTO member. The two birds were on oppsotie sides of the atoll. It was 5-6 that detected the ships.

“5-5 Ive found your emissions source. Multiple surface contacts on my radar.”

“Go ahead and transmit and stay well away.”

“Roger that.”

The big bird would transmit to its sister, the data that it was beginning to collect from the fleet in the area.

by **New Edom** » Thu Dec 20, 2018 7:10 am

Fineberg, New Edom

“It’s a most interesting and unusual situation,” Andreas Nimrod, the Ambassador to SACTO, was explaining. He sat in a pleasant sitting room in the Palace of Justice with other senior officials briefing them on the latest to do going on in a possession of Brytene. “It started out as something of a terrorist attack In the Pepper Atoll. As some of you may remember, there was an attempted uprsing before on the part of the Manaagnwe Militia, which was brutal but apparently poorly conceived and ultimately a failure. So at first this unknown attacking force drove the Marine garrison out of the city of Saint Joseph, Then it turns out that there was a full on attack. The city was on fire as a result, and apparently attack dogs and flamethrowers were used…”

“What?” said Basil Jerome, the Undersecretary of Foreign Affairs, sitting forward in alarm.

“That’s right, Mr. Jerome, attack dogs and flamethrowers. We are getting a lot of this from the news releases from Brytene itself. Now they mentioned a possibility of SACTO involvement. I realize this is entirely a foreign matter, and does not necessarily directly concern our country. However you may recall the incidents of a few years ago…”

“I remember. A distinctly anti-SACTO nation, with that woman…” Jerome said, scratching his head.

“Aoife Brighteye.” chimed in Senior Undersecretary Elizabeth Corbulo. The woman in question had gone to the Empire of Ghant, and had encouraged Emperor Nathan to go his own way and more strongly establish himself as head of state. This dereliction had, however, been of no real account, as New Edomite diplomats, officials and military officers had largely succeeded in not only establishing Landstrider Air Force Base but had also secured the oilfields at Eskura. Thanks to influence in Dakar and the continued support of the Empress Sophia Aoife’s attempts at establishing what may have been an anti-SACTO policy in Ghant was of little real consequence. Prince Amenmar, the New Edomite Ambassador, and General David Shinhusar, the base commander at Landstrider, had clinked glasses and felt they had accomplished a great deal without having to encourage any violence or chaos in Ghant at all. Another key result had been several unifying marriages into the Imperial House and their retainers. A balance between the House of Gentry and the court of Malibar in Dakar.

“Well, all this is very interesting,” chimed in the Council Police Information Security Office Director, who quietly resented being informed of all this by the SACTO Office, “But how precisely does it affect us? They’re an out of region nation that is a world away.”

Colonel Stephen Horvath, the Royal Private Secretary, a bronze-olive war god even in a civilian suit, offered, “Because it is a nation with...antipathy towards us and our allies. And let’s not forget that Goldwing Finance supported the Theocratic Republic during the Third Civil War.”

“That was just business,” said the Director.

“Nevertheless.” Horvath insisted. “We ought to at least have a clear idea as to what is going on. And we ought to have a clear briefing for Their Majesties.”

“I agree,” said Mr. Fostus, who was the President of the Council’s Chief of Staff. He was a neat, officious man with a reputation for efficiency and for having closely kept information on many people holding public office in the national government. “Ladies and gentlemen, I propose that we should advise the President and Royal Master of Offices first, and recommend two letters. One should be sent generally to our SACTO allies, and the other should be sent to the government of Brytene. Let’s not shilly shally.”

Count Lalery, the acting President of the Council while General Nicanor was still ill (having been finally flown to Arbites for an operation on his heart) was immediately suspicious. “Is this the start of yet another scheme to increase the military budget?” he had demanded of Fostus.

“Of course not, sir, merely not wanting to be caught with our britches down as in Hutanjia,” Fostus had replied. “Not even asking for any intelligence assets, just to make the diplomatic inquiries.”

Lalery was preoccupied. He was largely concerned with foreign encroachments on the restricted trade which regional partners controlled concerning the nation of Hostillia and on navigation rights in the Straits of Apollo, as well as the delicate handling of land use rights far to the West in the continent of Ceti. Nevertheless, he didn’t like surprises and so he grilled Fostus on the information, of which there was little, until he was satisfied that involvement in the matter was purely on the level of inquiry. “Very well, Fostus.”

When he conferred with Prince Enoch Tubal-Cain, the Royal Master of Offices, the two of them came up with a briefing for the King and Queen. It largely appeared to be a footnote within a general foreign affairs briefing, but the King remembered Aoife from the Midsummer Ball in Ghant.

“From humble beginnings come great troubles,” the King had remarked gloomily. “I agree to the sending of the letters. If there is any concern, then let us find it. And there is another concern of mine. Our involvement in SACTO has largely been a deterrent to the rise of anti-state communism, the rise of atheism and so called progressive values in our Region. If possible, I would like to find some reason to be of benefit to our allies, if only in diplomacy and intelligence gathering.”

To:Bretwalda Cenwulf Teorell
From:King-Emperor Elijah IV
Subject: Armed Conflict
Encryption:Most Secret, Eyes Only

Your Excellent Highness,

I realize that our nations have been hostile to one another, and that relations are restricted. Nevertheless, I am concerned to hear of unknown attackers striking at your city of Saint Joseph and the chaos that this is spreading. The enemies of civilization are a concern, naturally. Therefore I wish to inquire as to whether you have further information about this attack you might be kind enough to share. While we have been rivals for influence I do not believe that this is cause for a lack of honour or charity between us. I assure you we have had no part in the attacks that have taken place.

I have the honour to be,
Elijah IV
King and Emperor of New Edom

To:Foreign Ministries of SACTO
From:Hosidius Geta, Foreign Minister of New Edom
Subject:Brytene
Encryption:Most Secret, Eyes Only

To the Appropriate Ministries and Officials,

I am writing to you to inquire as to whether any of your governments have been briefed or have any information regarding apparently mysterious attacks which have taken place in the Pepper Atoll in Brytene.

This may appear to be an unimportant matter. However we may recall that Brytene was a visible opponent of SACTO and while not a part of a larger anti-SACTO alliance its defiance encouraged anti-SACTO propaganda a few years ago. Furthermore, a change of regime, however remote in possibility, may be in the offing in which case an even more hostile government could emerge.

I would greatly appreciate the sharing of any information which might help reasure our concerns or guide policy concerning this matter.

I have the honour to be,
Hosidius Geta, Foreign Minister

by **Greater Carloso** » Thu Dec 20, 2018 1:07 pm

CN Ebon, Battlegroup Ebon, 1,014 km south of Pepper Atoll

The relationship between Carloso and Brytene was a very complicated one. The countries had enjoyed diplomatic relations for many years, at one stage both being members of the International Freedom Coalition. Naturally, Carlosian interests had often aligned well with those of Brytene, namely to chip away at the power and influence of SACTO at every opportune moment, though today that couldn't be further from the truth. The two countries had history with Pepper Atoll, to say the least. President Tobón had authorised the use of Carlosian military forces to maintain peace in the area, though they quickly left once the Brytisc government made the decision to annex the archipelago completely. It looked like that decision to fully take control of Pepper Atoll's affairs had finally come back to haunt Brytene. This time, it wasn't just the Manaagnwe Miltia that were causing trouble, but possibly some other international actor who wanted Brytisc control over the islands to end once and for all. Considering the inexplicable level of skill shown by the Miltia and the presence of a hostile submarine, they were clearly well-financed and knew what they were doing. The Carlosian forces would need to gather more intelligence and find out more about this submarine before walking blindly into this conflict. There were plenty of special interests back home in Carloso that would want the country to do more then just simply 'restore order' in Pepper Atoll if it was to intervene.

Vice Admiral Gavin Mercer appeared unfazed at the prospect of having his warships facing off against an enemy submarine. He was considering his options carefully, awaiting the orders from Navy Headquarters to come in. Looking over the deck of the CN Ebon from its combat information centre, he could see that fighter pilots were getting ready to respond at a moment's notice. The surface-to-air missile batteries and CIWS systems were astutely pointing forward, while deck crew rushed around preparing munitions to be fitted to the weapon stations of F21 Blue Jay multirole fighters plane. There were fifteen of such aircraft on the deck, with one more preparing to take off. It appeared to have what looked like a S781 Cardinal 'AEW&C killer' long-range air-to-air missile. A catapult launched the aircraft into the skies, quickly disappearing off into the horizon. It was quickly followed by another F21, then another, both of them armed with an array of short and medium range anti-air missiles.

Mercer was also keeping his eye on the information being beamed in from the M59 Phoenix airborne early warning and control aircraft that was keeping track of activity around Pepper Atoll. The ill-fated Brytisc warships; bar the CFS Ascension, had all disappeared off the screen. There were several other ships and aircraft in the area, though these were mostly commercial and none posed any sort of immediate threat.

An officer manning the telefax machine saw that a document was emerging; an order directly from the President himself no less. "Vice Admiral Mercer, sir! We have orders from Fleet Headquarters!" the officer announced eagerly. Mercer turned around and took the message from his hands. "Dispatch CN Erméa and CN Northford to Pepper Atoll with clearance to destroy suspicious warships or submersibles. Immediately commence air operations over Brytisc airspace. Rest of Battlegroup Ebon will maintain course. Admiral Salazar, at the direction of President Tobón." Mercer read. The Vice Admiral grunted, acknowledging that he finally had his orders. He handed back the message to the officer and reached for his cup of tea; the mug looked like it had come straight out of an Easter egg box, and turned to his staff. "We have our orders men. Contact submarines, CN Erméa and Northford. Have them plot a course for Pepper Atoll and get the air squadrons ready to begin missions over St Joseph." Mercer directed. The command was relayed to the CN Erméa and CN Northford; which were both currently surfaced, and handed to their respective commanders. Immediately, they dived down into the depths of the ocean and began their journey towards Pepper Atoll, with an ETA just under twenty hours from now.

Meanwhile, sirens wailing, a few more F21 Blue Jay fighters lined up on the deck of the aircraft carrier and were catapulted into the air. In total, twelve planes were in flight towards Pepper Atoll airpsace; eleven equipped with a variety of long, medium and short-range anti-air missiles to deal with enemy fighters, and one plane armed to deal with any enemy AEW&C or command planes that happened to make an appearance. Following close behind was a M72 Messier electronic warfare aircraft that would assist the Blue Jays in their mission, along with the M59 Phoenix that was already airborne.

House of Parliament, Madrigal, Carloso

The Inyurstans were standing before the Select Committee on Defence. The meeting was being held in one of the rooms adjacent to the main chamber of the Parliament of Carloso. With a total of thirteen members, it was chaired by National Salvation MP Cormac de Valbuena. Considering most politicians didn't have a bull's notion about how the complexities of procurement and weapons design worked, it more often then not had leading officers in the Carlosian Armed Forces and defence experts join them to explain what was and wasn't sound military design. Today was one of those days, with a so-far impressive delegation from Inyursta composed of military officers and a representative from Navayelle Systems trying to sell a sophisticated anti-submarine weapon to the Carlosian Air Force and Navy. As Don Gonzales waved his pointer around, explaining the operations of this new weapons system, Rear Admiral Casey was present to scrutinise the Inyurstan claims. They appeared to check out well so far. The system could certainly offer big advantages over the Navy's equivalent if it was adopted.

"Thank you Mr LaMacca, Don Gonzales. You've given us a very thorough rundown on the Manta's abilities." de Valbuena began to speak, "From what I have been told by my colleague, Rear Admiral Casey here, its definitely a big step up in terms of capability. What sort of price tag are we looking at here?"

Café Victoire, Madrigal, Carloso

Many in the Carlosian military and National Intelligence Service had found it hard to get used to the concept of 'trusting' SACTO. Michael Grader, however, was an exception to this. He had always felt that SACTO were the 'natural' allies for Carloso, as opposed to the IFC. He had been born and grown up in Victory, a former exclave of Carloso that became infamous for its central role in the Bourgougian Blitz back in 1987. At the time of the invasion, he had been merely a low-level agent within the NIS' Foreign Office, and had been away on assignment in Agostinia. To say the least, he had more then a bone to pick with the socialist Bourgougians who murdered members of his family. "Investment, huh? I suppose that is always a good thing." Grader said as he puffed on a cigar, "The whole fiasco surrounding Pepper Atoll has been going on for a good few years now, well before even I began work with the Carlosian NIS. To be perfectly honest, the Brytisc government only have themselves to blame for this latest escalation, with the annexation three years ago and all."

"But as you said, we should get to know each other first. I'm originally from Victory. Its a city-state now, but back when I was growing up it was the most prosperous city in the Federal Republic. I've worked for the NISFO all my life, first monitoring the underground Communist movement in Agostinia and then the various militant groups involved in the break-up of the State Union in the 1990s. I was promoted to the top job three years ago, right before the new unrest in Pepper Atoll began. Yourself?"

Attn: Hosidius Geta, Foreign Minister of New Edom
Subject: Re: Brytene
Encryption: e6y8vnngtghf8elkdu3m4fsw6uokpt

Dear Mr Geta,
We have been made aware of the situation in Pepper Atoll and Carlosian military assets are currently responding with preliminary intelligence gathering and surveillance operations. The Executive Council of the Federal Republic of Carloso and the National Defence Board have been fully briefed regarding this incident. At the time of sending, at least one Brytisc warship was still in operation however we believe that the submarine behind the attacks on the other vessels is still in the area. Units from the Second Fleet's Battlegroup Ebon, including fighter aircraft, have been directed to monitor the airspace around Pepper Atoll for hostile activity. Strategic reconnaissance of the area is ongoing and will be promptly shared with other members of SACTO.

Yours sincerely,
Minister for External Affairs
Aaron Delgado MP

Order of Battle

En route to Pepper Atoll

2 × Mendata-class attack submarines
11 × F21 Blue Jay multirole fighters (air-to-air configuration)
1 × F21 Blue Jay multirole fighter (anti-AEW&C configuration)
1 × M59 Phoenix AEW&C
1 × M72 Messier electronic warfare aircraft

by **Cossack Khanate** » Thu Dec 20, 2018 4:24 pm

Sgt. Noah Omarov, Pepper Atoll

The man Omarov saw through the smoke wore a black shaded visor, a sleek assault rifle strapped to his back, an unbuttoned black leather coat flapped behind him to reveal high-tech armor. Despite the ongoing manhunt for him, Omarov decided to get a better look at the man. Omarov hastily ran up the stairs, reaching the balcony. Looking down at a small square, he saw the man converse with other black-visored troops. He was clearly the commander of this attack.

Omarov then realized that none of the troops had their guns drawn. He could shoot them down right now, as his orders came under Tier 3: Goal is recon, but permission to shoot any enemies is granted. It then struck him that it didn’t matter whether he shot them or not, but shooting would give way his position and also his capabilities. They were simply the spectators and the officers, commanding the Maanagnwe Militia with ease. They were obviously the troops of a nation that had poor relations with Brytene, but no insignia or logo decorated their black uniforms. Without them, the attack on Brytene would continue, and with the new weapons provided by these men, the Militia would be hard to stop. But with them, they wouldn’t just be hard to stop, they would be unstoppable. The Cossack Khanate would have to side with the Brytene government in a show of respect, and the Khanate may be forced to send in troops. It would be an unnecessary move. As a duty to his nation, he had to take on the risk.

The sergeant rested his rifle on the short wall of the balcony, peered through the sights, and located the commander. The visored man was still talking. Omarov decided on some rounds to the chest. He aimed down at the black coat, and then pulled the trigger. Omarov stayed standing long enough to see that the ten rounds that had pierced the enemy’s coat had done nothing. The commander spun around, seemingly unhurt. A volley of bullets came in return, but none hit. Omarov’s heart was in his mouth. He had fought communist guerrillas, Bedetopian mercenaries, and an assortment of other enemies in his career in both the Cossack Army and the CSF. But these men slightly frightened him. Their open calmness and mysterious black visors gave them an ominous look.

Omarov managed to make it out of the city, running the whole time, avoiding flaming vehicles and mangled bodies hanging from unique places. Once on the outskirts, found his “safe house”. It was a small, empty, one room cabin. He promptly locked himself inside and breathed a sigh of relief.

3 hours later

Noah had now eaten, rested, and double checked his inventory. He now booted up his computer, his CF-50 leaning against the wall next to him. After a brief messaging conversation with the relevant government officials, he was accepted into a video call. On the other side sat some of the most important people in Cossack foreign and military policy: Foreign Affairs Minister Ryan Vehrs, the Commander of the CSF, known only by Zero, and finally the Imperator himself, Supreme Royal Commander Cyprus Khan. They were also accompanied by a number of lesser officials and secretaries. After all the necessary introduction was given, Minister Vehrs spoke first

“Well, Sergeant. Give us the details”

“Yes Minister. The city seems to have been completely taken over, and government forces have moved out.-

“Wait, government forces have moved out. Isn’t that woman...her name is.. ah, Aoife Brighteye. She seemed to me to be a very formidable power when there was that mess against SACTO. I believe she is part of Brytene’s defending force, so she is surely here. I really don’t picture her retreating”, interrupted Commander Zero. As usual, he had fully educated himself on every aspect of Brytene’s history and military. He was always the first commander to get down on the battlefield themselves, and he was considered somewhat of a legend within the CSF, to his troops, and to an extent the general Cossack public. In fact, I was surprised that he hadn’t parachuted over Pepper Atoll first, and I suspected the Imperator was personally holding him back.

“Now, that doesn’t go to saw we support SACTO fully. Although they are anti-communist such as ourselves, we aren’t a signatory and have no direct part in their history”, clarified Minister Vehrs, as usual skeptic of working with out-of-region nations. He served the office well, however, promoting and writing treaties when needed and when beneficial.

The Imperator looked questioningly between the two, which caused them to fall silent. He then said “Sergeant, describe to us the scene”.

“My duty, Imperator. The Militia has done its gruesome work as usual, but from what I see, I consider the use of flamethrowers or other advanced weapons to be a possibility. This surprised me because it is not typical of the Militia to use much else but their basic weaponry. Anyway, the operation seemed to be led by mysterious men wearing black visors. The situation leads me to believe that the advanced weapons were provided by these men. No nation’s flag is on their black uniforms. So far, I don’t see any opposition to the invader’s rule in Saint Joseph”

At that moment a secretary checked her computer and spoke aloud: “There is a message from SACTO”......

by **McNernia** » Fri Dec 21, 2018 4:51 pm

OFFICIAL COMMUNIQUE OF THE KINGDOM OF MCNERNIA
OFFICE OF THE PRIME MINISTER OF THE KINGDOM OF MCNERNIA

TO:His Excellency Hosidious Geta,Foreign Minister of the Empire of New Edom
FROM:Lucas Caldosean Foreign Minister of the Kingdom of Mcnernia
CC:SACTO Foreign Ministries
SEC:STANDARD
SUB:Recognition

Greetings

Persuant to our obligations under the Santiago Treaty we have deployed two ELINT aircraft to asses the SIGINT situation and we have found no sign of suspect transmissions. However we have found the Brystic have dispatched an evacuation fleet.

Sincerely,

L.Caldosean, Prime Minister

by **Brytene** » Fri Dec 21, 2018 9:44 pm

North of St Joseph
Pepper Atoll, Brytene

Hlasyctere Aoife 'Brighteye' Lodbrok

A faint rain was threatening to develop into a full-blown storm as the scratch convoy rolled cautiously along the muddy, uneven path through the steaming jungle. In front was a Nihtgenga armoured car, followed by a single BTR-97 raider of Stasnovan origin and four pickup trucks, two Tiger APCs, a selection of civilian vehicles and three more armoured cars. Every soldier in the convoy was nervous; spread out in a long line, with many soldiers riding desant, their only protection was the thermal optics on their weaponry, the obscuring rain, and the element of surprise.

Aoife rode in the Nihtgenga at the front, peering through the sleeting rain ahead. Beside her, the driver tightened his grip on the wheel. They had no reason to suspect the route had been mined, but even so without any equipment or the time to do so, they simply had to trust in luck and their ability to spot any traps. Through the pouring rain. In the thick undergrowth and mud. At 10kmph. At dusk.

The driver tightened his grip again.

Aoife stopped scanning for a moment, squinting up ahead. She sighted down her scope, trying to keep it steady as the vehicle thumped up and down along the road. Suddenly a figure emerged from the bushes up ahead, leaning into the path and peering towards them. Lodbrok's mind raced, but then she spotted the stock of a rifle emerging from behind the man's shoulder. She let out half a breath and squeezed the trigger of her Kuribayashi Drake sharpshooter rifle. The first shot went wide, sent off-target by a jolt as the armoured car rolled over a fallen branch, but her second shot caught the man in the shoulder. He collapsed with a splash into the mud, his cries drowned by the pouring rain and a peal of thunder which came too late to cover the crack of the rifle shots. The driver pressed his foot down, churning a spray of mud behind his vehicle, and there was a second bump as he ran over the dying militiaman. Aoife flicked on her thermal optics as they passed the spot he had been hiding, and sure enough there was a flare of white, moving in the distance. She couldn't make out details, and had no idea whether it was one person or a dozen, but she had a sinking feeling that whoever it was was going to go tell his friends about the convoy of hated Saxones making their way west through the jungle...

Castle Oakhall
Lundene

Bretwalda Teorell

"That's nice," growled the former king, staring at a copy of the New Edomite letter they had just received. "So they promise SACTO have nothing to do with it? Convenient, given we're already seeing their airforces skulking around the islands. I'm sure they just want to practice the Christian principle of charity, eh?"

Wulfrun One-Eye, the only other council member present, shrugged. "Send them a reply. Tell them to bugger off and that we'll kill anyone who comes near. Now is not the time to show weakness."

Teorell crumpled the paper into one of his meaty fists and hurled it into the fire, wrinkling his nose and scowling. Then he sighed, and leaned back, scooping up a goblet of wine. "No, no. We don't want to start a war with those lunatics, not now. We will send no reply. Shoot down anything in our skies, but don't give them anything to work with. If they want to get involved in this shitshow, so be it, but I shan't have it become a pretext for some ridiculous world war."

St Joseph
Pepper Atoll

Captain Explosion

"Idiots," snarled the man in the black armour, stood at the front of the poorly-lit warehouse behind a foreman's desk, raised on a metal framework near to the overseer's office. Either side of him were several more of his colleagues, all seemingly unarmed, all radiating disdain and anger. "Some foreigner kills a half-dozen of you and then disappears? Embarrassing! Shameful! Luckily for you, we are not so inept. Behold our power."

He gestured to one of his followers, and on the blank white wall, interrupted only by a couple of tattered posters promoting worker safety and an insurance policy co-opt, a video feed was projected. It showed a ramshackle hut on the outskirts of town, seemingly innocuous. For a few moments, the scene simply flickered, but then a bright light flickered in the sky. With astonishing rapidity, the light coalesced into a missile roaring with pinpoint accuracy onto the hut, obscuring it in a vast explosion of fire and dust.

"There have been too many intruders here. This cannot be allowed. We will provide you with their locations, their signals. It is up to you to destroy them. Prove yourselves to us."

St Joseph
Pepper Atoll

Midair

Across the airspace around Pepper Atoll, a volley of SAMs roared into the skies, two or three per target, streaking after the various aircraft in the area. What was baffling, reflected Captain Volkerlas as his pilot began evasive manoeuvres, was that although the technology required to detect the SKELETON 005 stealth gunship would need to be cutting-edge, the missiles being fired at them were quite the opposite. His best guess was that they were old Stasnovan stock from the 50s, analogues of the S-75 Dvina. Carlossian, Inyurstan, McNnernian and Brytisc, all aircraft found themselves at the end of a bizarrely well-aimed barrage of laughably outdated weapons.

"Don't worry lads," called their pilot, her voice calm but tinged with concentration "even if they hit us, all we have to do is reapply the paintwork!"

A ripple of chuckles went up; it was a terrible joke, but that's just how these things worked.

by **Greater Carloso** » Sat Dec 22, 2018 11:04 am

Approaching Pepper Atoll

It took less then an hour for the combat air patrol from the CN Ebon to reach the airspace surrounding Pepper Atoll. The shoreline of the main island was beginning to become more and more visible to the pilots of the F21 Jays. One could easily make out of the brilliant white beaches that were a feature of its southern coast, with brilliant and clear blue waters that were no doubt home to a wide variety of exotic wildlife. So far, nothing suspicious or hostile had been detected in the skies above Pepper Atoll. The screening formation was cruising about ten kilometres above the ocean, shadowed by the M72 Messier electronic warfare aircraft that had been assigned to them. There weren't too many clouds in the area, giving them a good visual of everything that was in front of them. They didn't intend to stick around for long; they had almost reached the zenith of their combat radius, so once they established that the Militia or their benefactors didn't have any combat aircraft of their own or didn't try to buzz them, they would report back to the aircraft carrier them came from. The Jays didn't have the fuel to linger around for too long, and would eventually need to return to resupply The lead pilot maintained contact the combat information centre back in Battlegroup Ebon, updating them on their current position. "This is Pillar 01, Angels 10. No joy." he chirped.

"Ah, Pillar 01, this is Pillar 04. Look again. RWR is showing me something, over." another pilot informed the CAP commander. Pillar 01 looked again, his own RWR now detecting what looked like a radar sweep. "Affirmative. This is Pillar 01, detecting radar sweep, over." The F21 Jay's missile approach warning system screamed into life. "SAM launch detected! Bearing zero zero five. Distance 40 kilometres" Pillar 01 announced. At the same time, the loitering M59 Phoenix AEW&C aircraft had also detected the incoming missiles. "Multiple bogeys! Speed Mach 3.2." he continued, "Evasive manoeuvres!" The air patrol had less then thirty seconds to dodge the incoming missiles, deploying their ECM to disrupt the guidance systems of the enemy missiles. The M72 Messier likewise began disrupting them with its own electronic warfare systems, seeking to jam any radar or radio guidance they happened to have. The Carlosian radars were indicating that they were large, most likely some sort of strategic-level system that, conventionally speaking, would be better suited to intercepting slow-moving bombers then nimble multirole fighter planes like the F21 Jay or SEAD-focused M72 Messier. "Distance 10 kilometres!" It would take mere seconds for the missiles to come into view.

What happened next came as a suprise. They must of been using some sort of geriatric guidance systems as the overwhelming majority appeared to veer way off course from the air patrol and fall harmlessly towards the ocean below. Others appeared to have used up all their fuel and fell like stones into the abyss. Pillar 01 checked his systems to make sure he hadn't made a mistake. He wasn't exactly too sure what to make of the attack, considering just how terribly executed it was. "Ah, contact. This is Pillar 01. SAMs evaded. Permission to return to base, over."

CN Ebon, Battlegroup Ebon, 983 km south of Pepper Atoll

Back in the CIC of the CN Ebon, staff were processing the data coming in from the combat air patrol that had been engaged. "Sir, judging by their speed, size and range, I'd say that those were S-75 Dvina SAMs, and old ones at that. Those aren't Brytisc weapons" the Deputy Carrier Air Group Commander; a certain Commander Rees suggested to his superior, Carrier Air Group Commander Captain Ryland Spane, "They're hardly a threat to us, but we can't have them harassing our air patrols. I would suggest taking them out with the ARMs aboard that M72 Messier." Captain Spane thought about it for a few moments before coming to a decision. The adrenaline of managing a CAP as it evaded a barrage of hostile missiles was much needed to combat his discomforting sleep deprivation, something a cup of coffee could never counter. "Very well." Spane responded. He reached for the microphone and began barking his orders to the CAP. "Pillar, return to base. Hermit 01, weapons free. Take out the launchers that fired those missiles. Ebon out."

Approaching Pepper Atoll

"This is Hermit 01. Roger that. Getting a lock now." The M72 Messier dived to an altitude of 8 kilometres and tried to pinpoint the location of the enemy launchers. Hermit 01 had a rough but acceptable idea of their location from what was detected by its own RWR and MAWS earlier. The M72 could carry up to four S533 Cisne anti-radiation missiles, though on this occassion it was only carrying two. It wouldn't be nearly enough to take every launcher out, but inflicting even a small chink in the enemy's armour was better then not retaliating. The pilot hovered his thumb over the launch button, preparing to fire. Finally, he pressed down, launching the S533 Cisnes from their weapon stations and sending the two missiles roaring down at a speed of Mach 2 towards the strongest source of radio emissions from where some of the enemy missiles had been launched.

Meanwhile, the rest of the combat air patrol, including the M72 Messier, began their return to Battlegroup Ebon. The AEW&C also began to fly back to the CN Ebon in order to be refuelled, while another M59 Phoenix was launched to take over its mission.

by **New Edom** » Sat Dec 22, 2018 11:25 pm

Fineberg, New Edom

To: Aaron Delgado MP, Minister for External Affairs
From: Hosidius Geta, Foreign Minister
CC: Other SACTO Membership, Brytene
Subject: Brytene Further Inquiry
Encryption: Most Secret, Eyes Only

Dear Minister,

Thank you for your prompt reply. We assure you that we have no vessels in the area from our own navy. Any possible operations by any SACTO powers which may take place is not officially under SACTO authority. We hope you will be in touch with us regarding any concerns.

We would, however, like to officially request for an observer vessel to be sent to the area of operations which will operate solely within the EEC of Bryene, not within its actual territorial boundaries. This would consist of a single patrol vessel or corvette, incapable of extending any force projection.

I have the honour to be,
Hosidius Geta
Foreign Minister

“Very good,” said Count Lalery, putting down the print out of the letter. “Let us hope it is over before any vessel gets there. Tell me: what happens if the ship gets hit or something?”

Geta glanced at General Josephus, who was representing the Minister of Defense, said “It will most likely be an accident. Or it can be negotiated on. But yes, there is some risk to that. But you know, there is a strong likelihood of Carloso or Brytene refusing.”

“A good point. They didn’t reply. Why do we care again?” Lalery pointed.

“To prevent an unseen conflict spilling over, or observe whether a worse regime will arise,” said Geta patiently.

“And since we know the Mickeys are involved, prevent them from screwing it up,” said Josephus.

“Fine,” Lalery got up. “Get it done. But I want everything done to avoid getting directly involved.”

Thomas reported the conversation to the Ministry of Defense, and it was discovered that a Fiagai Class patrol vessel that had recently finished having engine and electronic and flooding work done in drydock would be suitable.

by **McNernia** » Sun Dec 23, 2018 11:26 am

Over Pepper Atoll
Oracle Team

“Incoming multiple contacts, confirm missiles.”

The pilots did not need to be told twice as they broke from the assigned flight path desperately dumping flares and chaff. The big birds had the radar signature of airliners and were in what was considered by a lot of conventions to be international airspace reaching into the airspace over pepper Atoll with sensors.

The missiles proved to be something that was most unimpressive. No signs of shrapnel damage were on the aircraft. But the mission was about to be taken over for the most part by the arriving Carlosian carrier group. So the Mcnernians sent them the following.

“Carlosian Carrier group, this is Oracle Team, ELINT aircraft, we are heading back to the barn unless you want us to order take out and stay here.” By take out they meant fuel on the wing.

Griffindon, Mcnernia
Cabinet Meeting Rooms

The foreign Minister was the ranking cabinet minister and the problem was something that had to be anticipated. Caldosean had attended briefings on Amihan Russels shadier activities. He could not be barred from the country without causing a incident with the World Assembly which some had advocated Mcnernia rejoin. It would allow the military to get experience in peacekeeping which would help in all manner of things. Such as cultivating good officers. The status of the forces, after the Damoclean debacle. Jacky Quinten, known as Bloody jack being the least of the problems. Caldosean had been called in on short notice.

“Welcome Mr Foreign Minister.” The head of Air Force intelligence said, a video call with the Ambassador to SACTO had been set up.

“It’s the Christmas season, so I suppose this is urgent.”

“its in Regards to Pepper Atoll….”

“I understand Air Marshal.”

“The aircraft dispatched took fire, by all assessments it was a barrage of S-75 pattern weapons, nothing too concerning if not for the fact they were there at all, when no such weapons exist in the arsenal of the former possessors of that Atoll.”

The reports were on the monitors, a satellite overpass as the birds were pulling out showed that there had been discharge of weapons. Carlosian Aircraft were moving in. So Caldosean made his decision. With the prime minister away he was in charge.

“We hold our position…we don’t do anything bar getting those birds on the ground safely if we are not needed for the operation.”

“I think that the rest of SACTO will concur with that statement.”

by **Cossack Khanate** » Sun Dec 23, 2018 12:36 pm

Sgt. Omarov's POV, Pepper Atoll

After the video call was over, and the SACTO message was read without my presence, as I was a relatively-low level officer compared to the others, I decided to shoulder my bag and talk a walk in the falling dusk. The forest was calm. Then, my ears, trained from years of combat, heard a light whistle. I turned and saw a bright light falling towards the hut. I tried to run, but the explosion's wave hit me square in the back. I was thrown through the air and into the forest. The fire of the hut barely kept me awake, but when it went out my eyes closed and I blacked out.

13 hours later...

I opened my eyes to a light morning. My body was half submerged in the dirt. I sat up and managed to dial on my satellite phone...

by **Ostterreich** » Sun Dec 23, 2018 2:16 pm

Die Vaterländische Front

"The government of the Austrian Federal State is prepared to take all actions needed to maintain order in Brytene. Our nation is concerned about the government's abilities to handle threats both externally and internally potentially putting thousands of civilians at risk and seeing that their government has long sided with Leftist and Pagan elements our government has even more concern about the direction this conflict could take and its ripples internationally. The Fatherland Front as of this moment is prepared to side with SACTO and aide their missions in Brytene if called upon for the sake of international security and upholding our values and interests.
-
Sincerly the Fatherland Front

by **Inyourfaceistan** » Mon Dec 24, 2018 9:03 am

Parliament House, Madrigal; Carloso

"Approximately $20.8 million USD for a single system, either interface with a single ship's VLS or arm-launcher modules or a ground-based battery consisting of three TEL's carrying missiles each, one command & fire control vehicle, two communications vehicles and supplemental assets. The price for a single missile is $1.14 million USD.
Now, to the unfamiliar ear this may sound like more defense industry cash-grabbing - but let us consider some other factors. First, it is just under 30% more expensive than the Yanquí RUM-39 VL-ASROC missile-per-missile, but offers over four-times the range. Next, most nuclear attack submarines range from $1.4-1.8 billion USD and often times even more for boomers and guided missile subs - as you can probably estimate, you could fire hundreds of Manta missiles and still get your money's worth to sink a single submarine.
...But wait, there's more!
What is the cost of a destroyer? Of a merchant shipping vessel? Of a carrier?
What is the cost of all of the lives of all the men and women on board?
What is the cost of killing the enemy submarine before it launches its torpedoes?" Don Gonzales concluded his long-winded answer, throwing deep-hitting questions back at his audience in nature of a true salesman.

Café Victoire, Madrigal; Carloso

Alfanso slowly sucked down another sip of Sangria. Good stuff. Like the Carlossians, there was an element of the military-intelligence complex back home in Castille who believed that the situation in Carloso was a phase, and that the minute Santander's people lost power Carloso would find themselves in the trenches with leftist/pseudo-fascist nordic pagan scum - although the difference is that they were the minority in Inyursta (albeit enough to make sure a contingency plan was enacted in case their fears came true).
While on paper, Carloso looked of one of the 1st World Western powers that Paco Tumascú described in his great many theories about a future hybrid war between the so-called "3rd world" and the power-keepers in the "developed" west; Alfalso could see it was much closer to Inyurstan culture than some would like to admit.

It may be easy to get a zealous violence boner for the images - hypothetical and imagined - of Ardokian grand palaces exploding to tiny shreds, temples of Adyfr going up in flames and soldiers defecating on artifacts of the Krjdan monarchy; even the maddest of Warhawks might flinch or become uneasy at the thought of Carlosian flamenco dancers cowering in fear of Inyurstan war planes, of arty shells accidently obliterating such wonderous architecture, and depleted uranium residue incidentally poisoning the grape fields which would come to bear the amazing sangria he was drinking.

"The Maangwane might be chaotic and psychotic rambling fucks, but we need to know if they are worth the investment and who this shadow player is. Chances are minuscule, but present nonetheless that an even basically-armed Maangwane might find themselves a force between ourselves and an Atlassian counter-offensive against the Carlossian homeland." Agent Martel said, casually but with a monotone inflection of dead seriousness.

"Anyhow, you might not find this reassuring... But I basically worked a desk my whole career." He continued the conversation.

"Tunnel 13", Marindino Centrèle; Inyursta

Tunnel 13 was one of many Inyurstan intelligence facilities nestled in the foothills and peaks of the Sierra Miraco range, this one located north of Cordoba and west of Antioquía was manned predominately by the Aéroforça D'Inyursta Corps D'Intelligènce. It was a simple design, really, a single half-cylinder just gutting straight into the hillside at the bottom V-crest of a low-sloping valley.

This was the facility which was set to receive all the feed from the SV-2 drone up 15,000m above the Atlassian seas.

"McNernian intel is reporting multiple launches of what appear to be significantly down-graded S-75 analogues or clones. Waiting on Carlossian sources to confirm or deny." A voiced reported from a receptions & communications room to Colonel Jairo Cardênez, commanding officer of the facility.
"Why suspecting the down-grading? Why not just poor targeting, user error or ECM?"
"In-air sources reporting the warheads are detonating within proximity without significant fragmentation and blast radius effects."
"Or whoever built these "S-75 analogues" doesn't know jack-shit about how a SAM works..."
"Oh Lord, who invited the Loudmouth?" Colonel Cardênez said as he turned around.
"Just invited myself. Is that going to be a problem, Colonel?" Replied Lt. Dino "Loudmouth" Marquéso offering to shake Cardênez's hand rather than salute the ranking officer.
"Haha, not a problem, min amí. What brings you to my little dugout?"
"Just a good fucking hunch I could help..."
Colonel Cardênez then briefed Dino on the situation, mentioning what they knew about Pepper Atoll, what they didn't know about the shadow player, and what they knew about Carloso's defense capabilities. He also mentioned the SV-2 Blindspot stealth HALE drone that had been launched towards Brytene, seeking to begin the process of augmenting information on its strategic weapons capabilities, particularly the presence of long-range heavy bombers and ballistic missile systems. The Colonel was, albiet while under the orders of his superiors, playing things by the book, running the game just like the Nijonese, Riysans, Yanquís, Russos, Chinos, Merickis etc. would in their same position - but the surprisingly well-connected Inyurstan officer and soldier had other ideas about the situation, and the overused "I've got a bad feeling about this" meme.
"If you ask me I'd say this situation is fishier than a meat market over a mangrove pool at low tide. Something ain't right with this new X-Player, and I'd bet my great grand-papi's last silver dollàre there is a big bad reason that Brytene's Atlassian allies haven't jumped into help. You and I know what the real prize is here, what is truly at risk in this game; and you have to ask if it's worth it to send a valuable asset like that over enemy territory, even if there is a 92% chance it goes undetected and even greater chance it goes without being targeted and even smaller chance it gets brought down."
"In a question of statistical worth, how certain are we that your theory is likely..?"
"High enough that I'd redirect that bird ASAP if I were you. But I'm not in charge here, Colonel..."
"We'll get right on that. The McNernians are passing around intel anyways, and our new friends in Carloso probably have the best chance of getting better."
"I wouldn't trust the McNernians for shit. At best they are a liability that will give any potential enemy easy propaganda scores, at worst if they are going to make their grand betrayal against SACTO, now is the time to do it."
"Dino, if I had to trade hostile propaganda wins for easy intel without our boys risking more than a finger, I make that trade every time without hesitation... But, damn, what makes you think that? I would argue if the putés-royez in McNernia wanted to make that back-stab they would have gone through with it when the Bayan made their move - certainly had the opportunity."
"Yeah, hate to overestimate the power of cultural similarities but the circle of fat gringos and their overhyped aryan warrior princess might be more seductive to our friends-for-now than was the rambling homosexual madman in Manila talking to 4th dimensional beings in his head."
"Par Dieux, J'espero tu es n'incorrect paz..."
"Fortunately I have been wrong before... Occasionally."
"Either way, the McNernians and now the freaking Osteriec doesn't help the narrative."
"For someone who doesn't care about enemy propaganda wins, you sure seem to place a lot of weight into a damn narrative."
"An enemy can lose 49,999,998 men and make a damn national holiday that two survived; one bad narrative and you can't even get public support to invade a fucking empty parking lot..."
"Fair enough... I guess "us vs them" has won a fuckload more wars than "hey lets get wrapped up in their drama", hasn't it?"
"Yup... I just wish we could get that idea in Calderone's hot-head."
"Haha, let me have a crack at him!"
"Can you really get ahold of him and get him to listen?!?"
"I have my ways, Loudmouth to Loudmouth..." Dino chuckled as he walked off towards the exit of the facility.

Baîtmas Éxecutiv; Castille de Térro; Inyursta

All the while the hot-head in the highest seat up in Castille was penning a message with his keyboard across a highly secure email server. Le Président Jean-Baptiste Calderone was regarded as a man with a short temper on top of the fact he was the kind to blurt out the first thing on his mind, consequences-be-damned.

Now the average person with Calderone-tier impulse control (or lackthereof) would seek help, would try to suppress it. But all that suppresion, all that behavioral amending could only result in someone who could still lose control of the right people dug hard enough, and at best would assume the persona of an average person - who was just as equally predictable and easy to read.
This man, however, did the opposite. Angry when he's angry, angry when he's not angry. Blurting out the first thing that came to his mind when he didn't mean to, blurting out something seemingly stupid when he fully intended to.

The military had a saying, quote: "If you cannot conceal through invisiblity & silence, conceal through clutter and noise". He treated his emotions the same way, clutter and noise, clutter and noises.
And in its own psychotic way, that was the genius of Calderone: nobody could tell when he was truly mad or when he was just pressing buttons, when he was stupidly acting on impulse or when he was making a brilliant play as part of a larger plan.
Sometimes not even himself.

Communiqué par Président Jean-Baptiste Calderone
Communique by President Jean-Baptiste Calderone

To the Rizíquerdas in charge of the Austrial Federal State;

Why don't you fuck off and mind your own business, you putés de merda!
This is none of your concern, and the idea that SACTO would need your help is not only insulting but to insinuate that we would trust the aid or support of fucking gringos at this time is wishful thinking at best.
So take your faux-concern, shove it up the derrièro-blanc of your shitty "reich" and get lost!

Bieno-jour, putés;

Signed:
- Président Jean-Baptiste Calderone

Approaching Brytene

Still outright undetectable at approximately 15,000m and roughly 1,700km away from the coast and well out of the active radar range of any surface ship or AWE&CS/AWACS in the region, the single SV-2 "Blindspot" HALE UAV suddenly began a slowly gentle banking. First turning parallel to its intended flight path and then steadily bending away until it was at a 135o angle from where it had previously been.

It then cruised towards friendly airspace in Carloso; its mission to spy on potentially hostile bomber and ballistic missile forces would have to wait...

The Fall Of Brytene [IC, TG FOR ENTRY]

The Fall Of Brytene [IC, TG FOR ENTRY]

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