The Fall Of Brytene [IC, TG FOR ENTRY]

by **Brytene** » Thu Dec 27, 2018 1:44 pm

North of St Joseph
Pepper Atoll, Brytene

Hlasyctere Aoife 'Brighteye' Lodbrok

As the convoy rolled its way through the jungle, the verdant undergrowth began to fall away. The rain began thrashing down even harder, beating down on the tall plantain either side of them. A flash of lightning revealed a dark figure stepping out into the roadway ahead of them. It was a poor choice of place for an ambush, a long road with plenty of open ground either side, but the figure stood confidently in the middle of the road.

Above them, the marine in the turret opened up with a short burst of .50 cal. The figure staggered, and then straightened. With a baffled curse, the gunner fired again, a longer stream, and suddenly there was a blinding flash and the armoured car flipped, crashing onto its side. Aoife's door was hard against the ground, but the gunner had been thrown clear from the Nihtgenga and so Aoife crawled out of the turret, sliding into the tall plants around the stricken car. Her head was spinning, but she could hear shouts and gunfire, as well as a strange electrical snapping noise.

She turned and reached through the turret for a shotgun, a durable semi-automatic TAS-HOGG racked by the central column, and hauled it out. Finding her feet, leaning against the side of car, she took a moment to collect herself. Peeking around the hood, she spotted the figure still stood in the roadway, advancing briskly with a raised rifle of some kind. She waited a moment as the man took a couple of steps closer, until he was practically side-on to her, and then sprang out, bringing the stock to her shoulder and squeezing the trigger. The weapon's recoil was partially absorbed, letting her unleash a barrage. Each blast staggered the dark figure, and as she got closer he was driven to his knees. With only two shells left of the eight-round magazine, she stopped barely three feet from him. She unleashed a round into his head and it snapped back, the man sprawling on the roadway. Amazingly, though his helmet was scored and his visor cracked, his head was still intact. She placed a boot on his right arm, reaching down to tug off his helmet. Upon doing so she ggasped, recoiling, just as the man's left arm snapped up to crack against her knee, sending her rolling into the mud. Scrambling, she held the shotgun tight across her chest and fired half-blind. The shot rolled her onto her right side, sending a spray of blood across the track. Aoife continued her roll after a moment's pause, letting the shotgun drop in the mud as she staggered to her feet. The headless corpse lay half-submerged in the mud, and she took a couple of steps backward before turning to limp towards the convoy, which was already beginning to maneuver around the wreckage of the lead car. Several corpses were scattered around the area, all the work of the one black-armoured man.

The driver of the next vehicle began to ask her a question as she climbed onto his running board, but she cut him off. "Just drive! Go!" she yelled over the storm, her voice frantic.

Across Pepper Atoll
Various sites

Manaagnwe Militia SAM sites

The Militia had fired their missiles gleefully, sending high explosives roaring into the sky in the hopes of downing some of the hated foreigners. The soldiers on the ground had little to no idea whether they had worked, however. They had barely been trained in the use of the old wheeled Stasnovan launchers, and their intelligence signals had come from their mysterious allies.

The first they knew of the events that had transpired far above them was when Carlossian attack craft roared overhead, missiles streaking down in a plume of condensation trail that hammered into their positions, crashing through the thin leaves overhead to bring explosive destruction to the little groups of ragtag fighters in their half-hidden nests.

Even from afar, the smoke plumes snaking up from the jungles and mountainside betrayed the eradication of several Militia fireteams. Elsewhere, however, the Militia were moving quite openly. St Joseph was crawling with activity, with armed militia at every main road and strolling the streets confidently, and whilst there had been ample bloodshed, most of the native civilians had survived, those that had not wisely fled at the first sign of violence.

En-route to Carloso
In the skies

Inyurstan HALE UAV

Having evaded the shoddy missile barrage of the Militia, the Inyurstan UAV banked and immediately began leaving the area, heading away towards Carlossian airspace, which these days counted as a safe space for Inyurstans.

Directly ahead of it, and several thousand meters above it, however, a new contact emerged, closing fast...

In the waters off St Joseph
Pepper Atoll

Battlegroup Ebon

Neither the advance duo of submarines nor the battlegroup proper encountered anything that could realistically be called resistance, other than a few skittish cutter-sized boats that fled from them, whether through fear of capture or simple good sense. They did find some few scraps of the Brytisc ships that had gone before - mostly small personal goods and life preservers, floating sadly on the surface, tossed by the waves.

As the islands came into view, far on the horizon, at a distance of maybe nine miles seen from the very top of the tallest warship, a sonar contact did register, a particularly large one, but it was quite plainly organic in nature - other than that, nothing pressured them from the seas.

by **Hrythingland** » Fri Dec 28, 2018 2:06 pm

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 Brytene 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.

Off the West Coast of Brytene, Hrystic Monastic Mission

The small retinue of 5 grey chartered aircraft carrying the Hrystic Monastic Mission to Brytene began its descent towards those troubled Isles. Onboard were the 400 medical staff from the Bóðentún Monastery, plus all their gear and a few vehicles. Not sure what structures remained in Brytene they had sent advance warning to their border control but now it was necessary to make first contact.
"Brytene Air Control, local air control units..? This is one of 5 chartered Hrystic 747s carrying essential medical and pastoral staff with aid on board headed to help Brytene in anyway it can. We request permission and directions to land. Over."

Friar Ælfræd, the man in charge of the mission, sat in his seat furtively. He knew not what awaited him, only thousands of desperate souls that could yet be saved. His only regret was the youth of many of the personel on the mission, young and beautiful nuns and talented young monks, some just finished from Medicine School. All were unarmed for the Lord would watch over them in this time. Nonetheless, fear gripped them all and in turn they gripped their rosaries.

by **Inyourfaceistan** » Fri Dec 28, 2018 5:52 pm

Communiqué par le Departémente D'Éstat de La Républiqua D'Inyursta
Communique by the Inyurstan State Department

To the honorable Hosidius Geta of New Edom;

Currently we have no information nor interest in the situation beyond defending our new ally, Carloso.
Thank you.

Signed:
- Secrétaire D'Éstat Françisco Ardonez

Approaching Carloso

Having avoided the woefully incompetant barrage of down-graded early Cold War missiles by not ever being anywhere near Pepper Atoll in the first place (dur-de-dur...), the drone continued cruising towards Carloso as normal. It would probably not detect a thing, given that it's own active scanning systems were off, unless of course the enemy was obnoxious enough to be blasting "anti-stealth" radar, in which case it would see any would-be aggressor from hundreds of miles away. Otherwise, the drone continued forward on its flight path, undisturbed.

Coming in thousands of meters below and something greater than that away, and from the opposite direction, the Type-64 Neige-Tíburo (Black-Shark Class) nuclear attack submarine INS Juarez cruised towards Carlossian waters inbound from the Amér-Atlantic ocean. Named for the much-disputed body of water that Inyursta considered its most valuable asset, Juarez was the peak of its class, fitted with the most up-to-date upgrades following a software retrofitting in 2016, about a decade after it was first commissioned; and with its first and oldest captain, Jean-Luc de las Navas - a.k.a. "Le Maudito" - at the helm, it was a force to be reckoned with - but for now the 21st Century monster at the edge of the map would merely move into a rally point and await further reinforcements.

Porté Ramos Naval Station, San Meresque Strip; Inyursta

Sunset came calmly and quietly to the less-turbulent waters of the Gulf of Marindo-side of Cayo Sant-Luçia, the island which held the critical naval base at Porté Ramos. A late afternoon rainshower had pummeled the island chain on the southern "hook" of Inyurstan, and the chaos of the precipitation had resulted in a tranquil dusk.

The only thing that stood risk of breaking the serenity of the evening was a Valizéno-class ASuW cruiser and its escort, a Bolícedi-class light destroyer. Even then the pair moved steady and gentle, hardly any faster than the fishing boats returning to port after a day on the water, slowly gliding through the surf as they turned to make their way out to sea.

Oceanside, however, the scene was much different. The rainstorm lingering over the water meant that rough seas were crashing up against the barrier reefs, sending foamy and turbulent yet short and staggered waves jetting towards the shore. Just off shore, the chaos was still unfolding, sending rain beating down hard on the flight deck of the INS Ramón Sarillo while lighting flickered, obscured by clouds in the blueish dark-grey skies above.
If Subadmiràle Leopoldo Pascal had his way, this would be the weather every day save for departure and flight operations. Fitted with short curly black hair, a scraggly goatee, and last but not least an eyepatch; his face seemed something the works of pirate clichés if it were not for his crisp white naval Class-A's which contrasted his dark, coffee-colored skin. Like Admiràle Victoría Tervillo and Captain Jean-Luc de las Navas, Subadmiràle Pascal was borne into his position from the blood and oil of Lollohian sailors and ships on the Ruol Sea, although how he felt about it was unlike how either stood. Radar soon after picked up the cruiser and its escort moving closer from the coast as the carrier and its own assisting ships cruised slowly over the San Andreas Obduction Zone, waiting for others across the coast to join it.

Land-based strategic units were covering the fleet's steady build-up off the coast of Inyursta - as was the weather - ensuring that no hostile or "neutral" force would be able to track it's departure. The Ramón Sarillo and its war band were cloaked in ways the sailors of old could neither predict nor comprehend...
...A modern ghost fleet...

by **New Edom** » Fri Dec 28, 2018 7:39 pm

Cabazon Beach,
The Union of South Ceti
Arcologia

NENS Owl was a 743.7 tons vessel with a crew of 45, which included 8 Marine Infantry specially trained in boarding operations. Armed with two twin L70/76 mm guns, two rails for mines or depth charges, one hedgehog, and four multi-purpose missile launchers, it was capable of defending itself but hardly ready for a war. With a range of 5,000 KM it could carry a small fuel reserve, but would definitely need a fuel source if it was to leave the region. It did have reasonable sonar and radar tracking range, and so it would be decent as a recon ship without being as threatening as a submarine might be in the minds of the public or politicians from foreign countries.

Arrangements were made with SACTO partners to make sure refueling and rearming (God help them if they needed this!) could be accomplished.

The vessel was capable of landing a helicopter on a deck, but it had no hangar capable of housing one. Instead, it carried carried four Schiebel Camcopter S-100 UAVs, each about 3 meters long and weighing no more than 200 kg. The helicopter nature of this UAV reduced the space required for taking off and landing of the UAV, which can be done on top of the module itself. The UAV had a top speed of 220 km/h, and an endurance of six hours, with a ceiling of 5,500 meters. Capable of GPS waypoint navigation, the UAV can carry payloads including Electro-Optical, IIR, Synthetic Aperture Radar, and Ground Penetrating Radar. This is in addition to a laser designator, which can be used to designate a target for laser-guided weapons. The UAV had an extension of the area able to be covered by the Audentia. While the rest of the crew were checking radar, sonar, navigational, performance and engine systems, as well as getting weapons checks done, the UAV handlers were manning their stations and had completed a test run.

Lieutenant-Commander Lucius Ramoth (son of the ambassador to Adiron) lay in his bunk having woken up to urinate, and was thinking about the carnival that the ETC had held the previous night in the city, thinking of one of the dancers doing the Dance of Eve or something on a float. It had been pretty amazing--the idea of the float had been the children of the Lord crushing the serpent with their heels. Beautiful. But it was dangerous to say so. He was himself an Edenist privately, but not a fanatical one; he just loved the Navy, admired the Queen and Prophet, had admired the Boy General for uniting the country.

It was above his pay grade and ungentlemanly to worry about politics. Still, the local life tempted him; he wanted sometimes to join one of the bonfire dances, throw off his clothes and just dance, join a Love Feast, be freed from all sin in that way. He did not celebrate as such as an Edenist with his family at home.

He laughed at himself. It was the girl, of course, she had obsessed him a bit. He needed to find a decent wife, get focused on the life he was meant for, pray for the country to stay united and do his duty. But who was he foolling? He and his crew may well be sacrificial lambs. Admiral Esarhaddon, however, when he had given him his orders, had said with a faint smile, "If you imagine that Brytene will dare openly attack us, you're dreaming. Of course foolish or unexpected things may happen, so keep your head about you. But their diplomatic efforts in Cornellia failed, and they cannot even manage the most basic diplomacy. It's virtually a routine matter. Do your duty, cooperate with our allies, and all will be well."

He was informed by his XO that all readiness tests had been completed. He felt the junior officer was coming along nice, and he hummed a local tune to himself as he prepared to go up on deck and get the vessel underway.

by **Greater Carloso** » Fri Dec 28, 2018 8:11 pm

Above Pepper Atoll

The machinery of war had been set in motion. High above Pepper Atoll, a Y83 Sirocco surveillance satellite belonging to the Carlosian Armed Forces Space Command set the archipelago in its sights. Equipped with its synthetic-aperture radar, it pierced the clouds from above and began to scan portions of the island as it passed by, hunting for any enemy air defence systems, air bases or fortifications. It continued to sweep the island every few hours, beaming the images it took back to Space Command and the National Intelligence Service Foreign Office for processing. Shortly afterwards, a Y55 Mistral SIGINT intelligence satellite; tasked with picking up on any unencrypted communications being sent by rebel or Brytisc forces below, would streak by..

Department of the President of the Executive Council, Madrigal, Carloso

Now that Carlosian military units had been targeted directly by the Militia and their supposed benefactors, President Tobón was poised to escalate the conflict even further. News of the attempt by hostile forces on the island to shoot down a combat air patrol was quick to travel to the Madrigal, like all bad news. If there was one thing expected of Tobón, it was to not take this slight of hand by the rebels lightly. From what he had heard, the CAP were very lucky to have managed to escape entirely unscathed by the incident. The missiles fired at them were ancient, to say the least, that might have posed a threat thirty years ago. Had they been any more advanced though, then perhaps the entire CAP might not have come back in one piece. Regardless of the outcome, from the President's perspective they had sought to inflict serious harm upon the servicemen of the Carlosian Navy, and that in itself was absolutely unforgivable. From his time as a practising barrister, he knew that the mens rea for the crime committed was already there. Now it was time for the punishment to be delivered. That would be easier said then done. As Brytene had proven before, this enemy could not be beaten conventionally. If the proverbial heads of the Militia were to be cut off, surely two more would emerge to take their place. Another approach was needed.

While he was reading the combat report for the incident, the phone on his desk suddenly began to ring. He hesitated in picking it up for some reason, but eventually did. "Hello?" Tobón said slowly. The voice on the other end was all too familiar, one of his closest associates no less, and one of the most powerful people in the country. "Hi Cárlos, its Estebán here. I'm in town for a bit so I was wondering if you wouldn't mind me dropping in to talk a little bit about something. Its very important." It could be no coincidence that at the same time the Federal Republic was about to involve itself in an asymmetrical military conflict, the famed politician and private military tycoon Estebán Santander would ring him. It was an open secret that he had 'contacts' within the Department of External Affairs, a factor that often contributed itself to the frosty relationship between Minister for External Affairs Aaron Delgado and Santander, who was Minister for Internal Affairs but largely offloaded the responsibilities of the rather complex Department to his various Ministers of State. Tobón looked at his watch, seeing that it was almost lunch time. "You're more then welcome."

About half an hour later, Estebán was sitting in Tobón's office at the opposite side of his desk. Personally, they were good friends, having both fought in the Bourgougian Blitz and entering politics around the same time as well. Santander's activities outside of government, however, were becoming a point of contention with some of the other ministers in the Executive council, like Delgado. As was typical for the man, before they began to speak, Santander did himself the courtesy of lighting up a cigar, lightly tapping the ashes into a tray on President Tobón's desk. The President himself did not smoke. "Thanks for allowing me visit, Tobón. I read the report on Pepper Atoll on the way here. We might have been hyping up what these rebels are actually capable of." Estebán began, puffing away at his cigar. Tobón sat there silently, looking Estebán squarely in the eye.

He stopped Santander before he could say anymore. "To be honest, I don't blame Colonel Cutuu for this. They shouldn't have even had SAMs in the first place." Tobón sighed, "The Brytisc government allowed them to slip through their fingers and into the hands of these rebels. Inexcusable. They've proven themselves incapable of governing the islands, and put the lives of Carlosian servicemen on the line. Maybe we should do them the favour of relieving them of their duty." he uttered sternly, "Since you're going to find it out for yourself eventually, I might as well say this now. There's a meeting in the DOD in about two hours about the situation in Pepper Atoll. You're invited, by the way."

Santander couldn't help but break a smile. In fact, he had already figured out through his web of contacts that a meeting had been scheduled for today. "I might as well attend. I'm sure my services will prove to be very valuable when the time comes. As you said yourself, the Brytisc government are weak, they can't even enforce the law on a small island group of less then half a million people. We 'could' have worked with them, but the time for talk is gone. This is now a matter of... honour." Estebán began to chuckle to himself; as if he had other intentions on his mind, looking out a window into the courtyard area below Tobón's office, "Time to end the tale of Pepper Atoll, once and for all."

Department of Defence, Madrigal, Carloso

Aaron Delgado grimaced when Santander and Tobón entered the room together. If dealing with Estebán's interference in the operations of the Department of External Affairs was bad, having to do it while he had the backing of President Tobón was even worse. The rest of the National Defence Board were also quiet perplexed at the man's presence, considering his portfolio was that of a Minister for Internal Affairs. He'd normally have no business with anything relating to Brytene. While Tobón took his usual place at the top of the table, Santander humbly took the only free chair available at the other end. There was a sense of urgency about the place, with a large map of Brytene and a more detailed one of Pepper Atoll looming overhead.

"President Tobón. I assume everyone here is aware why we called this emergency meeting today." Clyde Austin; the Minister of Defence, began. He was a tall, thin, pale-faced man with circular glasses, who spoke in a cold voice. Austin himself had been a former Lieutenant General in the Carlosian Army, though those days had since passed him. He sat beside Tobón at the top of the table. There was a collective clamour of "Yes, sir." from the various military officials gathered. Around the table were liaisons from the Carlosian Armed Forces' Security Committee; Chief of the General Staff Régulo Moran, Chief of the Air Staff Elias Fraser, Chief of the Naval Staff Édgar Salazar, Chief of Space Operations George de Alarcón and Director of the National Intelligence Service Michael Charet, in addition to the government ministers and President Tobón. Austin nodded at Tobón as the President took his own seat beside him. "Right. Then I suppose we should be discussing what plans we have regarding Pepper Atoll." he suggested dully. The prospect of direct military confrontation between the two countries appeared to be inevitable now. The members of the Security Committee had all coordinated their own plans and suggestions for military resources to be assigned to the Pepper Atoll operation in the near future. Admiral Charet would be the first to speak.

"Thank you, Minister." Charet started, standing up and adjusting his tie, "As we already know, Carlosian fighters came under attack by what were presumably rebel forces, using outdated S-75 Dvina missiles or close analogues. The planes escaped unscathed, and managed to take out at least two of the launchers out of potentially dozens that are on the island. As I speak, military satellites from both the NIS and Space Command are scanning the islands and listening for any activity. Our info on the situation in Pepper Atoll is scant, other then that these rebels are being supported by a third party, though we do have some information about the leaders of this the Militia." Charet clicked a button on pointer he produced from his pocket, making images of two black men appear on one of the screens. "Colonel Cutuu, their leader, and Matthew Bataya aka 'Captain Explosion', their second in command. According to our intelligence, he is believed to be a distant relation to the former President of Pepper Atoll, before the Brytisc annexation. Unfortunately, if we want to control the islands, we might have to 'persuade' these two men to cooperate with us. As for this enemy submarine, if we manage to sink or disable it, I'd wager we have a good chance of finding out who is training the Militia."

"So, do we have any suspects?" President Tobón enquired. "No, no solid leads. We quickly ruled out any involvement from other SACTO countries. It could be anyone; communists, PMCs. No idea. But, if we even manage to get a good sonar scan of the submarine at least, we might be able to narrow down who it belongs to."

"Very good, Admiral Michael." Tobón said as Charet sat back down. The President looked around the various officials before locking eyes with the Chief of the Naval Staff, "Admiral Salazar, maybe you can update us on naval operations?" The man immediately stood up. "Of course, sir." Salazar replied, drawing their attention to the large map of Pepper Atoll on the screen, "Battlegroup Ebon is maintaining its distance from Pepper Atoll at approximately 1,000 kilometres from the archipelago. We have made provision for the deployment of Battlegroup Secano to the area, along with submarine flotillas number five and eight. Our primary goal will be establishing total naval and air supremacy over the islands, while stopping any attempts by the Brytisc military to launch a counteroffensive. Ideally, our submarine groups will be patrolling the area of ocean between mainland Brytene and Pepper Atoll. The combined strength of our naval deployment will be far greater then anything the CBF will be able to muster on its own, now that they are down two ships of course."

"Once all of these threats are dealt with." Salazar continued, "We will need to land marines on the island to dislodge what is left of these rebels. Our primary target will be St Joseph initially, especially the harbour and local air field so we can begin ferrying in heavy equipment and supplies. The beaches near and around the city are also perfect for an amphibious invasion, using armoured vehicles and light infantry in combination with direct fire support from the Navy's battlecruisers. We should be able to surround and secure most of St Joseph a few days at best. Its hardly a well built city after all."

Tobón looked at Salazar obliquely with his brown eyes. Considering his own experience in Victory, he was well aware that amphibious assaults rarely, if ever, went smoothly. "And what is the worst case scenario?" he asked.

"The worst case?" Salazar appeared to half-gulp at the thought, "Well, there is always the chance that the rebels will have laden the city with traps, explosives and whatnot. A bit like with what happened when they seized the city last time back in 2015. What little law enforcement that has existed there has not batted an eye at the shanty towns and prefabs that have sprung up around St Joseph. Stepping into those might be a death trap alright, but nothing that our engineers won't be able to deal with. One the assault begins, almost every civilian will try and flee into the jungle, so they should be fine to bulldoze."

Next, Marshal of the Royal Air Force, Elias Fraser began to speak. Of all the members of the Security Committee, he was the newest. "We have a squadron of strategic bombers and a detachment of reconnaissance aircraft moving to CAF Mediator. Flights over the archipelago will photograph parts of the island and we'll work with the NIS to find out exactly the strength of these rebels. Our bombers will be ready to commence heavy-duty anti-ship operations whenever you give the order, sir. Considering the state of their air defences, they probably won't pose a serious threat to our planes, but I think we should err on the side of caution and destroy them just to be sure." Fraser said.

Tobón appeared to be about to give his approval to the strategy when Admiral Charet dared to cut across him. "If I might add, sir, there is something worth investigating while we are on the island. Many of you probably won't remember, but Brytene only annexed Pepper Atoll after the murder of President Bataya. The crime was never investigated and we at the National Intelligence Service have suspected, for months now, that R-DARK were the ones responsible. He was always a Brytisc puppet, but this was way too convenient to be the work of the Militia." Charet finished.

At the other end of the table Estebán Santander was smiling softly, silently, hands clasped together. Thinking about it for a few moments, Tobón nodded his head, and signed off on the operation to liberate Pepper Atoll from Brytisc occupation — Exercise Marshal.

CN Erméa, 38 kilometres southeast of St Joseph

The two Carlosian Mendata-class submarines CN Erméa and and CN Northford had been travelling to Pepper Atoll for nearly twenty hours, hunting down the supposed submarine that was responsible for the sinking of the Brytisc warships. They had spent most of their time cruising through the thermocline, ensuring the enemy didn't have time to flee Pepper Atoll waters before they arrived. With so many islands providing natural cover for a hostile boat, Commander Botín of the CN Erméa was expecting that finding, let alone destroying, this rogue submarine would be no easy task. To make matters more precarious, he didn't even know if it was the only other enemy vessel in the area. Completely cut off from the rest of Carlosian naval command, he also had no knowledge of the events that transpired in the skies above a few hours earlier. Rising out of the depths could have compromised the position of the CN Erméa and CN Northford.

But now, the time to reveal themselves had come. Going along at a speed of 26 knots, the submarines had travelled close enough to St Joseph to rise out of the thermocline and commence the hunt. With their 660 mm torpedo tubes loaded, the sonars began to passively scan the ocean for signs of suspicious activity, slowing themselves down to a near halt as they tried to mask their own acoustic signatures.

Attn: Hosidius Geta, Foreign Minister of New Edom
Subject: Re: Brytene
Encryption: mtvzldsnfhpe23w2pti43y8x2db3c5

Dear Mr Geta,
Thank you for your reply. We assure you that the Carlosian military forces in the area are acting independently, and not under the banner of SACTO or any other international organisation. After consulting with the National Defence Board, it is my understanding that there is no problem with observer vessels from any country operating in the area, however be advised there is always the possibility for unintended friendly-fire incidents to occur. We are willing to provide replenishment to your ships if needs be. We will labour to keep you informed should developments be forthcoming.

Yours sincerely,
Minister for External Affairs
Aaron Delgado MP

Order of Battle

Battlegroup Secano — en-route to Pepper Atoll AO
1 × Madrigal-class aircraft carrier (CN Secano)

48 × F21 Blue Jay multirole fighters
20 × H58 Tornado multirole helicopters (including ASW)
6 × M72 Messier electronic warfare aircraft
4 × M59 Phoenix AEW&C aircraft
4 × T97 Merganser transport aircraft

1 × Emergency-class guided missile battlecruiser

1 × T97 Merganser transport aircraft
2 × D4 Starling unmanned aerial vehicles

3 × Asturias-class guided missile cruiser

1 × H35 Quirón AEW helicopters
2 × H58 Tornado multirole helicopters (including ASW)
6 × D4 Starling unmanned aerial vehicles

4 × Victory-class guided missile destroyers

1 × H35 Quirón AEW helicopters
3 × H58 Tornado multirole helicopters (including ASW)
4 × D4 Starling unmanned aerial vehicles

2 × Mendata-class attack submarines
2 × Trinidad-class replenishment ship

Battlegroup Ebon — maintaining distance from Pepper Atoll
1 × Madrigal-class aircraft carrier (CN Ebon)

48 × F21 Blue Jay multirole fighters
20 × H58 Tornado multirole helicopters (including ASW)
6 × M72 Messier electronic warfare aircraft
4 × M59 Phoenix AEW&C aircraft
4 × T97 Merganser transport aircraft

1 × Emergency-class guided missile battlecruiser

1 × T97 Merganser transport aircraft
2 × D4 Starling unmanned aerial vehicles

3 × Asturias-class guided missile cruiser

1 × H35 Quirón AEW helicopters
2 × H58 Tornado multirole helicopters (including ASW)
6 × D4 Starling unmanned aerial vehicles

4 × Victory-class guided missile destroyers

1 × H35 Quirón AEW helicopters
3 × H58 Tornado multirole helicopters (including ASW)
4 × D4 Starling unmanned aerial vehicles

2 × Mendata-class attack submarines
2 × Trinidad-class replenishment ship

No. V Submarine Flotilla — en-route to Pepper Atoll AO
6 × Mendata-class attack submarines

No. VIII Submarine Flotilla — en-route to Pepper Atoll AO
6 × Mendata-class attack submarines

No. X (Bomber) Squadron CAF — en-route to CAF Mediator
12 × N94 Alphonse strategic bombers

No. II (Reconnaissance) Squadron CAF — en-route to CAF Mediator, then to Pepper Atoll
2 × R81 Hierophant reconnaissance aircraft

by **Cossack Khanate** » Sat Dec 29, 2018 12:23 pm

Room 23, Cossack Armed Forces Central Command, Selvik

Seated around the polished wooden conference table were several of the most powerful military leaders in the Khanate. First, as usual, the Imperator himself. Next Konzul-General Rihat Dewstaad (Army), Konzul-General Travis Abdullov (Army), Konzul-General Faviar Adrian (Air Force), Commander “Zero” of the CSF, and High Admiral Lire Herst of the Navy. Alongside them sat several smaller military officers and foreign affairs experts.

After an uncomfortable silence, the Imperator indicated for Commander Zero to speak. He stood:

“Greetings gentlemen, as you already know, we have a small problem down in Pepper Atoll, Brytene. As a short recap, we are neutral towards Brytene, but we also lean towards SACTO, for the obvious reason of SACTO being anti-communist.”

Zero clicked on a projector, which displayed a map of Pepper Atoll and its surrounding seas. He pointed to a corner with a laser pointer.

“This section of the seas, according to CSF satellites, is currently controlled by Carlosian vessels. This next section is going to be covered by vessels from New Edom”
He began to point out various countries’ fleets and forces.

“Finally, we have our man, Sergeant Noah Omarov, stuck somewhere over here.” He pointed at dense jungle.” Zero then leaned on the table, rather unprofessionally. His tone changed from informative to serious. “The Militia isn’t supposed have SAMs. Our CSF agent isn’t supposed to be almost blown to pieces by a rocket. The Militia probably doesn’t even know how to use a RPG! I see something is going wrong here, and we need to get some more forces in there and see what it is. That’s all.” Zero then sat down.

There was another formal, uncomfortable silence. Then the Imperator spoke “If the rest of you have nothing to say, I am calling for the use of paratroopers and support to check this out. Admiral, geet a task force out there, Generals, give me some troops. And Commander, call our man and tell him the news.”

There was a chorus of “Yes sirs” and snapping of heels.
Sgt. Noah Omarov’s POV, Pepper Atoll

It had slightly consoled me to hear that more Cossack forces were coming, but I knew that it would take some time, at the very least days, for backup to arrive. I was tossing these thoughts around in my head while walking on a path when I heard loud voices nearby. I drew my rifle, and peered through the bushes. I saw a makeshift Militia camp, with three tents and a few Militiamen talking outside in some foreign tongue. I ducked into the bushes for a closer look. They spoke for a while, before calling out more men and climbing into crude jeeps. After they had left, I cautiously walked into their camp. Quickly, I entered a tent and inspected the inside. What I found there delighted me: an assault shotgun, an M24 rifle with a scope, several knives, munitions, and ammo. I gleefully loaded my bag, unaware of the black-visored man entering my tent. I saw him at the saw time he saw me, and he had a pistol. My shotgun blast hit him in the abdomen, and he dropped the pistol and fell face-first into the ground. I fired 4 more times, out of panic, then grabbed an AKM and fired a whole clip until I thought he was dead. Thought.

As I moved to take off his helmet, he did an inexplicable backflip and landed on his feet. He lashed out with his left leg. He missed by less than an inch, and I grabbed the shotgun in time to fire two more shots to his helmet. This time, I had no desire to take off his visor. I ran out of the tent and into the jungle….

by **Brytene** » Sat Dec 29, 2018 12:53 pm

North of St Joseph
Pepper Atoll, Brytene

Hlasyctere Aoife 'Brighteye' Lodbrok

The battered convoy rolled up to the small fishery in the early hours of the morning. The faded collection of concrete and corrugated steel buildings were only poorly illuminated by a single floodlight and a few wall lights. The jungle had started to reclaim the area, but it was still clearly in use. Two medium sized boats, one outrigger fishing trawler and one freighter. The civilian crews had been commandeered by small teams of marines, and a few figures moved to and fro in the shadowy facility.

The headlights of the vehicles washed over the buildings, grinding to a halt as the surviving marines and civilians began to dismount, streaming towards the gangway of the trawler and the handful of dinghies ready to ferry people to the freighter. Marines spread out to form a perimeter, rifles angling out towards the jungle beyond the light. The scent of the sea was strong, and the breeze picked up, beginning to howl.

Even as the last of the vehicles rolled to a stop, the first thumps of gunfire echoed from the trees. The Militia had tracked them, and crept slowly from the jungle, dousing the defenders in small-arms fire. The first few figures to spill from the treeline slumped to the ground, nailed by accurate fire from the Brytisc rifles, but the weight of fire and the thinning lines of the marines soon told. The Brytisc fell back through the fishery, leaving a trail of bodies as they went. From somewhere in the jungle, a mortar opened up, hurling chucks of dirt and metal into the darkness.

Eventually the Brytisc rallied along the edge of the quay, behind crates and other paraphernalia. From the shadows and the crumbling buildings, the Militia pressed the attack. Aoife had snatched up a KA-ULC, a close-quarters carbine weapon firing a 5.56mm round, and was firing bursts at the figures which flitted across her field of vision. A captain clapped his hand on her shoulder. "We need to go ma'am!" he yelled over the confusion, before roadie-running to the gangway to the fishing trawler and supervising his marines. Aoife unhooked a grenade and tossed it over the junk she was covering behind, then ran for cover. A mortar round detonated nearby, shifting the gangway just as she stepped onto it. She reached out, grasping the handrail and staggering towards the deck.

As she reached the halfway mark, a second mortar round shrieked towards the gangway again. They had clearly found their range. Another explosion rocked the quay, sending the gangplank sliding into the inky waters below, taking Aoife and another marine with it. The captain of the fishing ship wasted no time and began to undock the ship, and the marines on his bridge did not stop him.

The last dinghy launched from the fishery, spurred on by bullets and yells, and roared past Aoife as she struggled to keep the surface. For a moment she thought it was gone, but then it quickly banked and approached her. An arm reached down for her, and she reached out to grab it and then screamed in pain. The civilian engineer who was trying to pull her out of the water grasped her forearm instead and heaved, slopping her over the side and into the dinghy. The single marine aboard swore and handed the tiller to another passenger, reaching for the basic first aid package in his chest pouch. Aoife had lost her hand in the explosion, and was already pale and delirious...

Gathering the last survivors, the two vessels turned their sterns to the Atoll and struck out towards the high seas...

Approaching Pepper Atoll
Offshore

Hrystic Monastic Mission

There was no reply to the Hrystic radio at first, but after a few attempts a crackly voice answered. With no preface, and no formalities or codes, it cheerfully exclaimed; "Hello! This is the St Joseph Airport, please, come and land here, we will make a space for you!"

Fleet Command
Lundene

Commander Forge

David Forge was waiting with bated breath for news. At this point, FleetCom's primary concern was to facilitate the safe evacuation of all surviving forces and securing the Confederacy proper. The sudden resurgence of the Militia was entirely unprecedented, and intelligence had not indicated any build-up or new weapon movement, yet suddenly they had SAM support, artillery, and numbers far beyond anything they had had before.

The CFS Pelegiad, stationed roughly halfway between the two island chains, launched a duo of Spearfighter multi-role jets and a second SKELETON-005 to carry out reconnaissance, but they were still en-route and their primary mission was to cover the evacuation, although the gunship would advance further and attempt to get visuals on St Joseph itself to confirm what they were seeing through their satellites.

A radio call came in, unencrypted and over VHF radio, but using an older code. After digging out the manual to translate it, an aide rushed to Forge's office and made her report. "Sir, the St Joseph force has made contact. They are seaborne, with roughly 420 souls aboard two vessels."

Forge swore and shook his head. "There's...more, sir. It's Hlasyctere Lodbrok. She's been injured. She should live, but she's in critical condition."

He threw up his hands. The situation was sliding deeper and deeper into the shit, with a Carlossan battlegroup anchoring only a thousand kilometres off, clearly ready to stage an invasion of the embattled Atoll, the Jarl of Dyflin wounded in action, and the Fleet in full retreat.

St Joseph
Dockmaster's office

Colonel Cutuu

It had been a long time since Cutuu had shown himself so openly. Strolling down the streets of St Joseph, flanked by a mob of militiamen, he entered the dockmaster's office. The stink of seaweed and salt air was strong inside the building, which was poorly lit despite the bright light outside, and several of the dark men lounged inside. Cutuu considered himself a tall man, but he felt small beside these figures, yet he had the arrogance of power and a vicious brutality rolled off him like the stink off a dog. He pushed his way to the front of his little band and stood, hands on his hips.

"Here I am! Let us talk!"

One of the dark men stood and gestured to a door behind them. "Colonel. Yes. There are foreigners threatening your new conquest. We must talk."

by **Kjalaara** » Sat Dec 29, 2018 1:03 pm

KINGDOM OF KJALÅRA

(Encryption: Public)

To:Public Statement
From: Queen Tove

The Kingdom of Kjalåra condemns the heinous and unprovoked attacks on the The Confederacy of Brytene. These attacks were carried out with no prior declaration of law and are hence illegal acts of terrorism. The cowards behind these attacks shall be brought to justice and executed. Sharing a lot of culture and history with the people of Brytene it is our duty to offer our assistance in any possible way to the Bretwalda and his people. We do not wish to interfere in the internal affairs of a sovereign nation. A nation that has proved times and times again that it is more than capable of dealing with all kinds of threats and all acts of terrorism, no matter the perpetrators. However, it is our personal wish to honor the bravery of the Brytons and their leaders. As a first measure We invite Bryton recruiters to come to Kjalåra and advertise for services in their armed forces. All volunteers they recruit will be financed for one year by one of Kjalåra 's noble houses. Furthermore we would like to offer the payment of 20.000.000 Scilling and the delivery of humanitarian goods of various kinds to ease the damage caused by the terrorists. If our assistance is wanted we will give full military support to our friends in Brytene, but that is for them to decide.

Even though it was still early in the morning and it was a cold and rainy night, tens of thousands of Kjalårans gathered in towns and cities all over the country. Many waved Brytenese flags dark-red and white ribbons. "Brytene! Brytene!" was a slogan that often way yelled by the participant in these manifestations. The sneaky attack on that particular nation had outraged thousands who had followed their Queen's call to protest against this injustice.

In Thorsheim the crowd was addressed by Bjørn Birkason, a speaker of the palace. As he entered the stage the repetitions of "Brytene! Brytene!" swell to a rolling thunder. It took him several minutes to calm the crowd down and to be able to speak.
"Brothers!" he addressed the crowd. "Brytene is at war, at war with an enemy who fights without honor, without dignity and without self-respect. Cowards who treacherously attacked an unsuspecting people." Shouts of anger and raised fists came as a reply from the crowd. "Brytene is not at war with soldiers or warriors, not men even. They are at war with murderers, traitors! Vermin!" The crowd cheered. "These bastards have made the right choice to avoid open combat for if they had openly declared war, if they had fought with honor and dignity, they would by now all be dead. The Brytons have chosen the Valknut for a reason. They don't fear death and they absolutely do not fear war or hardship. Like us, they embrace an honorable death…" His speech was interrupted by a roaring cannonade of "Brytene! Brytene!" cheers from the crowd. "Right!" he said as the cheers ebbed down. "Right! Or friends will be more than capable of dealing with these problems. The more enemies destiny will wash to their shores, the more enemies they will slay. They have not asked for our assistance and they most likely never will. If one thing is for certain it is that Brytons will never beg. Brytons will always happily march Into the Storm!" The crowed replied instantly "Into the storm! Into the storm!" The vibes of anger and hatred became almost visible when the shouting continued. Birkason signaled the protestors to be silent for a last time. "A few hours ago the Queen has officially offer our assistance to the Brytons. They deserve our respect and we will gladly pay it to them."

by **Greater Carloso** » Sun Dec 30, 2018 7:12 pm

House of Parliament, Madrigal, Carloso

Rear Admiral Casey appeared to take note of the amounts of money mentioned by the Don Gonzales, somewhat amused by his somewhat eccentric tone. Nevertheless, he was quiet pleased with the presentation. The Carlosian Navy was in need of a shipborne anti-submarine weapon system. "Admiral Casey, what is your recommendation?" Cormac de Valbuena chirped a few seconds after Gonzales finished with his rhetorical questions. The Rear Admiral appeared to be calculating something in his head. "Ah, I think I can recommend a sale, Mr de Valbuena." Casey suggested, "Can I ask how many of these systems you'd be willing to sell to us, Don Gonzales? Consider the fact there are... ah... 36 ASW frigates in service with the Carlosian Navy."

Café Victoire, Madrigal, Carloso

Grader drew on his cigar while Martel spoke. So far, he was liking this guy, despite his clear lack of experience with regard to work in the field. "Right. Well, ideally we should try and get this Militia to start working with us. It'll certainly be better then trying to fight them, and help identify whoever is aiding them if our submarines turn up blank. To be perfectly honest, they have a pile of reasons to be pissed off with Brytene, regardless of their violent nature. Before the Brytisc annexed the island, President Bataya was assassinated by any unknown gun man. We've been investigating this for months now, but one line of inquiry suggests that R-DARK; the Brytisc military intelligence division, were behind it as a cover for the incorporation of the islands. If there is anything I know about you Inyurstans, you aren't too fond of imperialism."

Department of the President of
the Executive Council
Attn: Cenwulf Teorell, Bretwalda of Brytene
Subject: Separatist aggression against Carlosian aircraft
Encryption: xnro265qrvujv441mcsy3ebdxdco7s

Bretwalda Teorell,
As you are more then likely aware, large swathes of Pepper Atoll - an archipelago under Brytisc jurisdiction - is largely occupied by separatist forces; the so-called Manaagnwe Militia, under the leadership of Colonel Cutuu and his lieutenant, Captain Explosion. Considering that Brytene has had more then three years now to establish control of the islands; which I may remind you have a population of approximately 300,000 people, mostly concentrated in St Joseph, it has become very clear that your government is incapable of governing them any longer as a canton of the Confederacy of Brytene. Normally, I really wouldn't care about the internal affairs of a foreign nation. However, I have to tell you that, while responding to the distress calls of Brytisc warships that were sunk off the Pepper Atoll coast by an unknown enemy submarine, a combat air patrol from the CN Ebon aircraft carrier was targeted with a barrage of strategic surface-to-air missiles from launchers stationed on the islands, almost certainly from forces of the Militia. The CAP retaliated in kind, destroying two of these launchers.

I hold you and the Brytisc Confederacy fully responsible for this attack, having failed in their duty to administer law and order to the islands, a responsibility which was undertaken from 26 September 2015 when Brytene annexed the Democratic Republic of Pepper Atoll. By any means necessary, the Armed Forces will now undertake the Carlosian nation's sovereign duty to dislodge and destroy the Manaagnwe Militia and their supposed allies, and commence the process of returning the archipelago to native rule.
Signed,
President of the Executive Council
Cárlos Tobón MP

by **New Edom** » Mon Dec 31, 2018 8:35 am

The Voyage of the Owl

The patrol ship sped away from her last home port in Arcologia. The air was warm but there was a stiff breeze that made her flags and pennons stand stiff as a dog’s tail. They sped along a rocky coast past fishing boats and a few pleasure craft, the broad bay glittering before them, the world shone before them and they were moving out into the open sea.

Commander Ramoth was speaking with his signals officer, Junior Lieutenant Emelech, who was from Teman Province and thus spoke very slowly and precisely, and he had to fight the urge to snap at him to hurry it up. However the young officer was briefing him on the multiware drill that Ramoth had ordered him to prepare to test their communication systems. He made himself be patient though, thanked the young man and then headed towards the bridge.

On the way, he met one of the electronics technicians. The petty officer saluted him.

“Good morning, Your Honour,” said the young man.

“How is the work on the radar beacon going, Signalman Elleroth?” Ramoth asked.

“Oh, the new board is in, Your Honour, she’s doing very well I should say.”

“Good, good,” Ramoth said. It was important to not only know what the crew were up to, but to know their names. Up on the bridge, he heard the navigator calling ranges to potential hazards. He raised his field glasses. They were within sight range of NENS Samson, one of the destroyers, which had also been doing a full replenishment and was now off to sea again for regular duty, supporting anti-piracy activity and now and then providing fire support to Marine Infantry operations against the Arvo tribesmen in the Lesser Diols.

His executive officer turned and “Captain on the bridge.” Everyone maintained their stations however and merely said “God bless our Captain.”

“I have the conn, sir,” reported his exec, his voice smooth and calm. Ramoth looked at him in a detached manner. “Very good, Mister Vaniah. Watch that offsetting wind.”

Belowdecks, an apprentice seaman who looked young enough to be a child to the First Class Machinist’s Mate addressing her was a tall, lean dark man with a mix of Baran and Dengali in him called Jaffa. There were about five new hands aboard, including a boarding party team member replacing one that had badly sprained his ankle during a helicopter drill. The Marine Infantry lived somewhat apart, and were busy cleaning weapons in their compartment near the fantail. Typically of naval vessels in the Edomite Navy, scripture was written in black, emergency stenciling in red.

Master Chief Boatswain’s Mate Obed, a flinty Haranese from an ancient fishing family, was in charge of overseeing the training schedule for the ship. As the head enlisted sailor on the ship, it was also his role to be the disciplinarian for minor indiscretions of the crew. Anything more than a minor offense or repeat offenders were sent to the XO for more serious punishment. He explained to the more experienced new hands that, "In addition to you normal duties I would suggest volunteering for the boarding parties and the At Sea Fire Party. This will look good on your fitness reports. God and our ship reward industry and devotion.”

In many respects for the crew of the ship it was a normal voyage, but it was also to be an extraordinary one, as they would be making a long journey into international waters, leaving the region, and undertaking a mission which might be of great importance. If things got ugly, the captain’s orders were to temporarily place himself under the command of the Greater Carloso Task Force.

by **Khataiy** » Mon Dec 31, 2018 5:17 pm

The Arab State of Khataiy
-
Directorate of National Intelligence
Encryption: HIGHEST

We see your nation's struggle with SACTO, and while our countries may not share a lot in common or even agree on several matters ideologically, culturally and so on we do find it reasonable that the shared threat of SACTO is something to act on. We would like to invite to the Arab State of Khataiy officials from Brytene to purchase weapons and collect intel on SACTO operations in the Middle East to hopefully be used to your advantage for analytical and strategic purposes.

Directorate of General Intelligence
-
Department of International organizational outreach
-
31.12.2018

by **Hrythingland** » Wed Jan 02, 2019 10:39 am

St. Joseph Airport, Brytene
The five aircraft made their swift descent onto the runway one by one, before taxiing to their allotted places. The air crew and logistical staff of the mission were quick to spring into action, opening the doors and began unloading the cargo; two small field ambulances and four large vans, then all the bags of luggage and crates of supplies; food, water and sanitary stuffs. Most of the staff were monks and nuns and worked with tireless efficiency and obedience to get everything sorted out and in order whilst the Friar, dressed in a black habit and a rain coat, clutching a wallet of documentation walked towards the airport building to make their arrival known to the authorities that were and what they could and should start to do in order to help.

The Friar, Ælfræd Þƿéorloh (Thweorloh) was a domineering figure in his 50s, with a lofty stature, well defined facial features including a very hooked nose and thickly gelled blond hair which stood stiffly on his head. His rosary swung as he walked, hanging from the hip of his long black habit with its white waist cord, though he sported a well polished pair of black leather brogues, showing he had some sartorial taste in his own garments given the chance. Ælfræd had previously been a chaplain in the Hrystic Hær (Army), attached as the regimental chaplain for the East-Hrýðingisċe Daroþas (East Hrystic Javelins), a well seasoned parachute regiment of the elite 7er (Ƿælcyrġe) Lyft-Þracu Guþmæg or 7th (Valkyrie) Air-Assault Brigade; Hrythingia's rapid reaction force. Like all chaplains, the friar had to graduate from the Royal Military College at Beorċmór (Birchmoor) where all officer of the Hrystic Army are made and he had to go through the same training as the rest of his regiment, earning his parachute wings and maroon beret at the airbone training centre in Ƿórhennbearu (Worhenbeary). But after 20 or so years he found himself wanting a quieter life in a monastery, making beer, tending to garden vegetables and the rhythm and routine of monastic life with morning prayers, evensong and a rigid daily timetable.

by **Inyourfaceistan** » Fri Jan 04, 2019 8:42 pm

Parliament House, Madrigal; Carloso

"$748.8 million USD, assuming that you want the whole ASW fleet outfitted without purchasing any ground-based systems." Don Gonzales said, directly answering the question.
"Of course, the ACS-22 system does not need be limited to just ASW frigates; multi-purposes destroyers or cruisers can utilize the system as well for no charge in software cost!" He then quickly chimed in, not passing up his impulse to throw in another juicy brochure fact.

Café Victoire, Madrigal; Carloso

While Martel had failed to mention was that he had actually spent most of his desk time analyzing Carloso, starting with their questionable and unpredictable involvement in the Lolloh-Ruol Wars running through their support of the Brystic during the Whistleblower Crisis. Of course, there were times in 9-5 desk time spy work that you ended up with a respect and fascination for the target nation your country needs you to monitor - and Alfanso Martel was one such case.

"Of course, even in the case of a hostile insurgency a Chechnya solution is infinitely better than any of the other options...

Haha, sounds like you don't know who the fuck shot President Bataya. Of course, if all goes well in Pepper Atoll it won't really matter, will it?" Martel asked, tapping his fingers on the table.

"I can't say I trust the militia, we don't know what they want, and we don't know what their new backers want. But it should be worth the effort to at least try such a play, no? Especially when counter-offensive operations against the Carlosian homeland cannot be ruled out." He then took another sip of Sangria.

"I'm hardly a military man - more a spy master as yourself - but we can assume your fleet outside of Pepper Atoll has lost its situational OPSEC at this point, no?"

Seafloor, Approaching Carlosian Waters

INS Juarez slowed to a quiet cruising pace as she pushed towards Carlosian waters. Not wanting to get blasted out of the water in a blue-on-blue incident, she located the nearest undersea communications & listening device and broadcast a short-range ODFM radio transmission using an encrypted code that the Carlosian Navy would be privy to - announcing its name, allegiance and intention to enter Carlosian territorial waters.

Captain de las Navas remained calm as the ship risked revealing itself to anything on the prowl at a short distance; but he knew they were on the edge of a safe zone and for anything to set on them here would be three times as risky, if not more - and indeed the biggest risk involved with this delicate phase was avoiding that incidental blue-on-blue everyone feared.

by **Brytene** » Fri Jan 04, 2019 9:26 pm

15km north of Pepper Atoll
Fale Ocean

Hlasyctere Aoife 'Brighteye' Lodbrok

The two ships plunged into the darkening seas, rolling sickeningly as the waves rose in power, the waters seeming to match the fraught mood on deck with their furious heaving.

Under a fluorescent light, several army medics and a surgeon from the St Joseph's Our Lady hospital worked to repair the damage done to the former Queen of Dyflin. Aoife was completely unaware of their retreat into the storm-tossed Fale Ocean.

Above them on the bridge, the crew were taken by surprise when an encrypted radio call came in. The civilian ship, as well as lacking the technology to detect the three Brytisc planes above them, also had no way of decrypting the message as they had no hardware keys to do so. The radio equipment carried by some of the surviving marines was another matter, however, and after lugging it up to the bridge, the message came in loud and clear. Brytisc birds were in the sky and were watching them. A bitter chuckle went up as the news came through that the Kingdom of Kjalara had decorated Aoife with a medal for valour. It would be another honour to add to her growing collection, and perhaps if she survived she might one day make an official visit to this friendly and like-minded Kingdom, but it all felt a little tawdry in the face of their harrowing escape and her cruel wound.

St Joseph Airport
St Joseph

Hrystic Monastic Mission

As the heat of the day gave way to the comparative cool of evening, the Hrytisc team were greeted by a swarm of men in a bizarre array of clothing - everything from bowling shirts and jeans to sporting gear, faded suits and even a couple of heavy winter coats, worn loose and open like capes. Their weapons were just as much of a medley, some older Stasnovan, some exotic imports from farther afield, and even a few Brytisc rifles and shotguns here and there. A couple of them were wearing generic-looking fatigues, marked by red armbands, bandanas or berets, marking them as 'professionals', at least as far as the Militia could be professional.

One man, a huge hulking figure with a bandolier of shells and a well-used pump-action shotgun, stepped forward. His eyes were hidden behind surprisingly pristine aviators, and his short hair extended down to his chin to make a thick, close-cropped beard.

"Welcome to the Free City of St Joseph," he said in English with a broad smile, his accent faint "I am Captain Joe. It looks like you have bought us some splendid gifts!"

St Joseph
Dockmaster's office

Colonel Cutuu

Claustrophobia was not quite the word to describe how Cutuu felt, but he had been ushered in to a dingy backroom and was now entirely alone with two of his newfound allies. He and his people knew them only as the wavuvi, the fisher-men, because they had arrived from the harbour one day and always smelled as if they had just stepped off a ship after a year at sea.

Nor had he ever seen their faces. He did not know if they were black, white, asian or indian, but from their accents he thought they might be white. Maybe even some sub-tribe of the hated Saxones, who occupied his lands and taxed his people and arrested his couriers, but they had come with weapons and knowledge and they seemed to hate the Brytisc even more than he did. They had told him why, too.

Adyfr. Paganism. The heathen polytheism which infested those cold northern isles. For some reason, these people wanted to see it wiped from the earth, and whilst the pluralistic and anarchistic nature of the Atoll meant he didn't really give a shit himself, anything that gave him friends to fight against the Brytisc was a good thing.

One of the men, who he recognised by his height and by the fact he carried no weapon, leaned over the desk towards him. Close to, the man's garb was just as unsettling. It was not in fact black, but a very dark blue, with a faint swirling pattern to the weave of the fabric that vaguely suggested waves. What looked like flak panels covered his upper arms, torso and thighs, whilst heavy boots crusted with mud stamped the floor. His helmet was odd, a full-face one shaped almost like a dirtbike helmet, with a tinted and impenetrable visor. His hands were large, covered in practical gloves with rubber-grip palms.

"You let your missile launchers be destroyed by their small craft." the man said. It was a sneer, a statement, no question. Before Cutuu could respond, the man straightened and waved a hand dismissively.

"It does not matter. They are sending forces here, forces that are too strong to fight by conventional means. You have won control of St Joseph for now, and I suggest you enjoy it while it lasts. The Brytisc may be gone, but soon the tides of imperialism will wash back over your little island. My question to you is; do you wish to die here, or do you wish to seize this chance to expand your operations? Soon St Joseph will be back under someone else's boot, but during this period of...unrest, you have the unique opportunity to make inroads you would not before."

Cutuu frowned. These men intimidated him, sure, but he was an experienced and canny man. The fisher-man's words had rung true, exposing a fear he had felt but not dared to put into words. Holding St Joseph was simply not possible - the Militia were perceived as a criminal cartel by the powers of the world, and even the cleverest of spin doctors could not convince the fleets of the great nations around them that this was a popular uprising. The counterweight was swinging and soon the blowback would hit him, hard. But what did this man think they could do?

"What opportunities are you speaking of?" Cutuu asked cautiously, keeping his voice as blasé as possible.

"Whitebay. The richest port in all of Brytene! Their navies are on high alert, convinced some foolish empire will take advantage of their stricken state to land an armada on their shores, watching as the vultures approach Pepper Atoll. What they will not expect is for small pirate boats and planes, moving like shadows, to land in their plump little seaside resort and cause havoc. Kill and destroy enough there, and you can plant seeds in the rebuilding, trusted men who know the ways of the Brytisc. As the town regrows, so will your reach throughout the Brytisc Isles."

The idea sounded mad, but as the evening went on and the mvuvi spoke further, it made more and more sense to Cutuu...

by **New Edom** » Fri Jan 04, 2019 10:49 pm

The Voyage of the Owl Part 2

Commander Ramoth hummed one of his favourite hymns as he headed into the command and information center. With radios hissing and voices murmuring like monastics speaking in perpetual prayer.

The sun was heating the horizon along the horizon like a piece of molten iron going towards the anvil. He conducted anti air, NBC drills at sea. Pausing from eating pecan and walnut halvah in the wardroom to don a heavy gasp mask that everyone resented having to drill with because of the stifling heat and rashes that resulted.

They were heading out into international waters beyond Arcologia now, and the ocean lay before them. Green-blue rolling water like the fields of millet catching the gleams of sun around them everywhere. Here and there they would see other vessels, but increasingly were reduced in number. A huge container crossing the water, piled high as buildings on the decks. Deep sea fishing boats out with big drag nets from Adiron or Arbites. They might exchange signals, receive reports, but they were increasingly leaving civilization behind.

This was why the constant drills. They were on their own, he had to keep the crew on their toes. He sat in his leather chair like a monarch, while around him people worked in dim blue light. Five different conversations were going on over sound powered phones and radio headsets. Drone land and launch, signal and battle systems, surface control circuits, navigation. Deck cameras showed him the ship, the drone screen showed the view from the currently aloft S-100.

by **Hrythingland** » Sat Jan 05, 2019 1:35 pm

St Joseph Airport
The Friar offered his hand in greeting, eyeing up the irregulars cautiously, since they were obviously not professional Brystic troops. Nonetheless, they seemed to him like the good sort and he was still alive.
"Hello, sir, I am Friar Ælfræd Þƿéorloh, and these are my monks and nuns from the Bóðentún Monastery in Hrythingia…" He said, having offered his hand, and smiling kindly at the chunksome man. He turned to look back at all the gear and supplies being unloaded.
"Aye sir, we have brought things to you here. Courtesy of His Most Hrystic and Catholic Lordship, the Hrythwealda and the Hrystic Church. We Hrythingas, I believe, are old kin of the Brystic nation." Replied the Friar, slightly outstretching his arms. "We have come to help our kin in their darkest hour; 3 combat medical teams and all the necessary supplies for a decent field hospital. We bring water and a power generator, plus two small field ambulances and four transport vans. My only question is sir.. when can we start?"

by **Kryztov** » Sun Jan 06, 2019 3:27 pm

Senior Captain Rusanov Georgiy (Jora) Petrovich, of the 3rd Rapid Response Battalion attached to the Southern Districts, 21st Combat Group.
Suvorovska, Captital city of Kryztov

Rusanov had been sitting for what seem forever for him. He had heard whispers of a deployment, there had been some terrorist actions out in the Fale Sea Region of Atlas. However things were unclear as they always were, everything about usual military deployments were need to know. Now he had been sitting in this military office on the Ukran Army Base, for what felt like hours waiting to be called in. They had pulled him off the firing line where the rest of his men were practicing their marksmanship he had left his operations and training officer in charge while he ran over here to wait in this dank and dreary Rasmov era hallway and waited.

This put a whole new perspective on "Hurry up and wait" that the army had.

Moments later an other soldier exited the office he was waiting to enter, and walked over to him. she had dark blood red hair that she braided into two long braids. Rusanov suspected reach about the small of her back if not longer if they weren't wrapped around in a bun. She wore the standard Tochka Cammo pattern for the standard mechanized/tank corps. She came to attention as Rusanov stood to greet her. As she was out a head dress she skipped saluting.

"Senior Captain Georgiy?" she said almost at a whisper. Rusanov simply nodded and she continued. "You are welcomed in side now, um... I can take your coat for you?" she then asked almost forced or awkwardly. Which Rusanov stiffled a laugh and looked at her chest where her rank sat attached to the center of her BDU tunic. After a quick read, he surmised he was talking to Senior Captain Eshmana Tarasovna Yavorskiy of the 1st Battalion Mixed of the 21st Combat Group, where she was their Commanding Officer.

"Senior Captain Yavorskiy," Rusanov nodded, and reached out for a hand shake, "Good to see you well." She was pulled out of her by the book demeanor and smiled.

"Like wise Senior Captain Georgiy," She said even quieter if that was possible. "Right this way." It looked like she was attempting to control herself, but for what reason Rusanov couldn't place. It might have been the difference in station, Where his branch was considered SF (Special Forces) Branch and hers was Reg (Regular) Army Branch but he didn't allow simple self worth cloud his judgement as he followed her into the office. This was the 21st Combat Group's Operations Office, the officer was currently held by Lieutenant Colonel Mukhanova Nyusha Dmitrievna, However inside was a different matter and as Rusanov entered he felt severally under dressed. All officers exuding Yavorskiy and himself were in their dress greens that the regular army wore, There was two however were in Dress Blacks (Naval Marines, and Naval Surface Branches). Rusanov and Eshmana came to the potion of attention to defer respect onto the gathered commanders. In the Room were; Major General Lidin Anton Yegorovich Commander of the 21st Combat Group, Colonel Kolesov Gleb Dmitrievich 147th Aviation Group of Kryztovan Aerospace Forces, Senior Captian Traktirnikov Rasim Stepanovich of the 14th Naval Motor-Infantry Battalion and his direct senior Counter Admiral Volvakova Bella Aleksandrovna of the 10th "Order of Barashlov" Flotilla and finally Lieutenant Colonel Mukhanova Nyusha Dmitrievna of the 21st Combat Group's Operations group.

With all these people here Rusanov wondered if his men should be practicing marksmanship or packing their gear for a deployment. Lt Col. Nyusha waved them in and then spoke, "Welcome Senior Captain Georgiy, Now we can move on to the operation at hand. To get Mr. Georgiy up to speed, We plan on invading Pepper Atoll liberating it from its current predicament. A terrorist group has landed on the islands and has capture the port town of Saint Joseph. It is also know to us that the Islands defenders had been routed and minimal troops remain. So it is to be expected that every man woman and child on the island is in grave danger, and anyone with a gun is to be killed on sight unless he or she be in a Brystic Armed Forces uniform and is of Nordic or Saxony decent. All others are considered hostile."

Rusanov nodded, where Major General Anton then spoke. "Which is where you come in Rusanov, I will need your battalion to land at Saint Joseph's Airport and make scene of what exactly is going on, and secure it for follow on Kryztovan and Brystic allied forces. The Primeminister has sent a tellacomm to the leader of Brytene to ask permission and the allowance of your battalion to land at the airport. Your pilots will not ask permission to land as it is to be expected that the airport as well is over run with these hostiles. Once your full battalion is on the ground you will be cleared to press on into Saint Joseph itself and route or kill any enemy forces you and your men come across. Any Brystic peoples are to be brought back to the airport and taken care of and released into the care of the Brystic authorities as soon as available to them."

Rusanov nodded again then spoke himself, "What support will me and my men have when we get to Pepper Atoll?" he cringed internally at the naming of the island. The Major General spoke again.

"Each person here will be personally involved, Your Battalion will be flushed with new personnel from your sister unit, the 4th Rapid Response Battalion and your battalion will reorganize into a Battalion Tactical Group, We will supply you with T-15M2's for this operation. In total you should have your standard 3 Companies of 3 platoons, and your Mortar Battery and Grenade Launcher Platoon, But with the influx we will have an Engineer platoon, a Light Air Defense Platoon, and a battery of fixed artillery, your logistical support will remain here and your Medical support will land after all combat units have landed. In addition to this you will have Senior Captain Yavorskiy's 1st Battalion with 31 T-14B3 APS Main Battle tanks who will land a day after your men have landed and hopefully secure the airfield," Eshmana Nodded in response to her role in the operation and then looked down at her feet as everyone had looked over at her. This lasted for a second or two before the Major General spoke again.

"If what ever reason that you two are unable to take back the city with in 5 days of landing, the 10th Barashlov Flotilla with its contingent of marines commanded by Senior Captain Rasim will storm the port with the support of the fleet and forcefully remove the enemy forces that have not been dispatched yet. Now assume this is the battle plan. Though I suspect that the Brystic Armed Forces may have different plans all together they will be talking with my operations specialist: Lieutenant Colonel Nyusha, during this. I suspect that the Brystic Forces will land at the airport as well so we must keep the airfield clear of personnel and armor so they may land as well. The both of you," he said gesturing to Eshmana and Rusanov, "will have to play diplomatic with who ever Brytene send to take back the islands and I suspect they will send a battalion or two attempt that. The both of you are dismissed to organize your people. You will be leaving late tonight at the earliest." Both Eshmana and Rusanov stood to attention and swiftly marched out coming to attention with a sharp smack of their heel as they stepped out and closed the door. Rusanov turned to Eshmana and she simply gestured that she needed to walk left down the hall. He nodded and followed with her. The walked down to the front of the building down two flights of stairs and then exited. As they exited Rusanov and Eshmana adorned their berets, Rusanov had the midnight blue of the Rapid Response Battalions where she placed a Grey one from the Armored corps.

"This is going to be complicated," She said much louder than before which took Rusanov off guard. "Two full battalions airdropped onto an airfield? They will probably use touch and go tactic's to land everyone. Infantry and all. I don't know how an operation like this is planed like this? such limited time to get everything together, this is crazy."

Rusanov smiled. "Well from my experience most of the planing is done once we are there." She snapped a look at Rusanov then realized. Her counterpart had done this many time before where as this was her first time doing this. She'd have to trust his ability to complete the task before her unit landed.

"I have to go Captain," Rusanov then said, "I wont see you until we are on the airfield, so good luck!"

"To you as well!"

They both faced each other and saluted, and then separated to go organize their battalions.

ORBAT

3rd Rapid Response Battalion
1st Independent Tank Battalion
14th Naval Motor-Infantry Battalion

Support ORBAT

10th "Order of Barashlov" Flotilla
147th Aviation Group

Telecommunications

TO: BRYTENE
FROM: KRYZTOV

SUBJECT: PEPPER ATOLL
ENCRYPTION: YES
STRENGTH: FULL (MILITARY ENCRIPTION)

To : Bretwalda Cenwulf Teorell, and to the Brytene Foreign affairs
From: The Nation of Kryztov, and its leader Prime Minster Konev Erik Stanislavovich

Hello I am writing to you in hopes this finds you well. We have heard of an attack upon your nation and wish to provide assistance, It seems from what we have been able to learn that your country has been invaded by a hostile force and that your forces have been routed. We wish to provide any type of aid that we can. We wish nothing but the best outcome for you and the worse outcome imaginable to these transgressors.

Prime Minster Konev Erik Stanislavovich

Senior Captain Rusanov Georgiy (Jora) Petrovich, of the 3rd Rapid Response Battalion attached to the Southern Districts, 21st Combat Group.
Some time later on board a IL-95 Transport aircraft.

Rusanov sat among his command staff and the HQ Company contingent of his battalion in the cargo area of the plane. This included the three vehicles attached to his command; a T-15K3 Command Vehicle with reactive armour and the "Афганит" active protection system, a PRP-15M Artillery Observation Vehicle, and a GAZ - 2330 Vehicle with mounted 14.5mm HMG RWS. In total the 3 vehicles and the personnel from his command team only counted to 17 personnel. Which made the cargo bay feel empty in comparison he had seen loaded. the IL-95 aircaft could hold 4 T-14B3's in its hold. Or in most cases with his Battalion 5 T-15M2's with crew and personnel which filled all of the seats and Vehicle hitch points on the inside of the craft. Each vehicle were on flats and harnessed in. This would allow for the plane to maintain lift speed when it rolled across the run way, the rear ramp would unload the vehicles via the flat and parachute system unloading the tanks quickly and effectively allowing the ramp to raise and the aircraft to take off. This system has been in use with the Kryztov Rapid Response Battalions since the late 1990's and was officially field tested in 2002. So Rusanov had faith in the system to work with his modern 2010 vehicles. The red light suddenly came on and the Crew master began calling out instructions for the vehicle crews. Rusanov stood and gave his own instructions to the Command teams.

"Встань, мужчины!" Rusanov spoke in his local Kryztovan tongue, "Проверка оборудования!"

He waited for them to complete their task then he continued. "Собирайся, товарищи, будь осторожен, и я увижу тебя на земле!"

They mounted their vehicles and strapped in for a bumpy ride. Rusanov joined the vehicle crew while the other 5 members loaded into the back of the vehicle manning their potions inside. Junior Sergeant Bobrov Sychev Grigorievich, was the gunner of his T-15K3 Command tank, his driver was Private First Class Kosma Saveliy (Sava) Yevgenievich. Which he greeted as he got comfortable in his position. The rest of the Command team organized the small Map room and long-range radios in the back. Once comfortable Rusanov organized his command stations and opened up the Command console. He could see the locations of all the units in the AO which was Saint Joseph, which at the moment were none. However when he zoomed out he could see the line of IL-95 aircraft circling around a Zeppelin that carried the fuel for the operation. It had a squadron of To-199's flying around it protecting it from any attention it may get. being over 950 km away to the south east of the islands it was generally assumed especially at its altitude that it was well out of Anti Aircraft range. He could see that the 147th Aviation Group was pulling no punches with this operation as 3 full squadrons of To-201 5 Gen Multi-Role Aircraft were escorting the almost two dozen aircraft. 1st Company's IL-95's then broke off from the circle with the 17th Aviation Company escorting them to Saint Joseph's Airfield. It was to be expect that the 17th had SEAD capable munitions among the Company, as well as air to ground and air to air capability. They would find out soon if all the effort of organizing the maneuver was worth it in the end and Brystic government would allow them to land at the airfield or not.

Captain Ulyashin Kavrayskiy Igorevich, 1st Company + 2nd Platoon of the 3rd Rapid Response Battalion. Roughly 50km away from Saint Joseph's Airfield within the territorial waters of Brytene.

Ulyashin sat in his command tank, the T-15K3, armed to teeth with the latest of Kryztovan technology; DUBM-30 RWST with 30 mm automatic cannon 422A, 1339M Kornet-EM ATGM, and KPK 9.5 mm coaxial machine gun. This tank was mimic by the other 3 that were in the hold with him each had a crew of 2 plus the infantry platoon that rode in them for the drop onto the airfield. All men apart of the deployment to Brytene wore S.K.O.L. fractile camouflage the green and brown should help the troopers blend in with the natural vegetation and climate in which they were dropping in, though the Tochka Mechanized camouflage was also mixed in. All Soldiers in the unit used the KA-76 Assault rifle as the main small arms suited for this operation, it was light and durable and able to stand the punishment it was about to endure; a constant 3 day assault into a enemy held town after being dropped at high speed out of a IL-95 aircraft.

2nd Platoon had 15 KA-76 rifles with half of them using the P-23 Grenade launcher, 4 PKP Machineguns, 2 SVU-8 Designated Marksmen Rifles and 3 RPG-7V2 Rocket Propelled Launchers. This would be the first wave on to the tarmac at Saint Joseph's Airfield. If things went well the 4 T-15's would surpress any incoming for the infantry to pull the flats off the runway for the second plane and dig in on the runway itself. Once the full company was their Ulyashin would order the company to seize the ATC tower and the support buildings. Following this 2nd Company would land with the Grenade Launcher platoon and their AGS-30 Grenade Machine Guns and they would deploy to the ATC tower to hold it while 1st company would push out to the hangars to the north. 3rd Company would land and shore up and weak points in the defense followed by Battalion command and the Engineer, and Anti Aircraft platoons. Finally the Arillery and Mortar Batteries would land followed by the Logistic and Medical Platoons to set up a medical evacuation point. The remain aircraft would deploy trucks and supplies to allow the Battalion to hold on for at least the rest of the week if things turned for the worse before 1st Tank Battalion which should arrive the following morning. Which would require the plane to land and unload each tank manually with out the touch and go method as it would be generally assumed if the battalion held out and the ATC captured they would be able to organize the landings. This would be checked by the 147th Aviation the evening before.

A tapping on Ulyashins helm from the gunner of his T-15K3 derailed his current thought and he was brought back to the real world.

"Эй, я думаю, что мы идем, чтобы приземлиться?" His gunner, Junior Sergeant Subbotin spoke.

"Блядь?!" Ulyashin exclaimed "Ты серьезно?"

"Alrighty done! can't wait for the response to this one..."

Kryz the best Slav

by **Greater Carloso** » Mon Jan 07, 2019 7:29 pm

CN Ebon, Battlegroup Ebon, 988 km south of Pepper Atoll

A wave of grave concern washed over the mind of Vice Admiral Mercer as he loomed over a digital map of Pepper Atoll, tracking the movements of the CAP and various other nearby aircraft. The combat aircraft that had been sent out were just about to return to the flight deck, having escaped an anticlimactic flurry of surface-to-air missiles from old air defence systems located on the island. Since the Carlosian Armed Forces High Command had received word of the attack, the CIC inside the supercarrier CN Ebon was being inundated with communications from the Second Fleet concerning their status. Reports were also coming in from nearby friendly or neutral aircraft that they had also been apparently targeted by the Militia's air defences, though it appeared they had been thankfully equally as unsuccessful in scoring any hits. Considering the range of possibilities; including images captured by the anti-radiation missiles milliseconds before impact, it was all but concluded that what had been fired upon the Carlosian fighters had in fact been a volley of legacy S-75 Dvina strategic surface-to-air missiles. Since Pepper Atoll was such a small group of islands; with the largest island having an area of little over 6,000 square kilometres, it was a mystery how this brutish gang of militants had gotten their hands on such equipment, let alone somehow figured out how to use it in one way or another. Perhaps the supposed Brytisc authorities who were in charge of these islands were retaining more then they were letting on about the nature of these rebels, or maybe just wilfully ignorant.

Vice Admiral Mercer would have to wait another while to hear from the Carlosian submarines, who by now were completely cut off from any communications with the CIC as they had descended into the thermocline and were well on their way to hunt for those supposed rogue submarine that sunk the Brytisc warships. On his mind was the thought that perhaps the ships of Battlegroup Ebon would be next in the firing line of this mysterious force. Apparently, there had been absolutely no warning beforehand about the attack on the ships. If the benefactor of these rebels was capable of obtaining such stealth technology; or the commander of this submarine was a true genius, it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to hypothesise that it could pull off a similar stunt on the Carlosians. Considering the firepower supplied by the CN Ebon and her escort; including the battlecruiser CN Emergency, the three Asturias-class guided missile cruisers and four Victory-class guided missile destroyers, leaving such a force go unchallenged while projecting its power over Pepper Atoll would mostly certainty run contrary to whatever plans this shadowy aggressor had in mind for Brytene and Pepper Atoll. At the end of the day to Battlegroup Ebon however, this was all really not a huge concern, as the various anti-submarine helicopters assigned to the ships were dipping their sonars in and out of the water, on the lookout for any contact that wasn't simply a whale or large dolphin.

Meanwhile, a communication had just came in from allied ELINT reconnaissance planes operated by the Mcnernians. They had been gathering intelligence and sharing it with the Carlosian forces in the area and also had a close shave with the Militia's anti-air missiles. Now they were asking the Vice Admiral whether or not they were required any longer. Knowing that the Armed Forces were mobilising the totality of their signals intelligence assets at the moment, he confidently walked over to the comms station with the assurance that the Carlosian military were able to fill the role the Mcnernians had so far taken up. "Affirmative, Oracle Team. We'll take things from here. Have a safe journey home. Vice Admiral Mercer out."

A few minutes later, the twelve F-21 Blue Jay fighters and the other two planes that had accompanied them had arrived back in one piece, while another group of fighters took off to defend Battlegroup Ebon from enemy incursions. Looking down from the bridge of the CN Ebon, Mercer could see that the various ground staff and fighter pilots were congratulating the crew of the M72 Messier for the successful double kill against the hostile SAM launchers of the Manaagnwe Militia. From the looks of things, they had also managed to take out a few unlucky members of the Militia as well, not just the launchers. Whether his men knew it or not, this incident was only the opening salvo of a wider battle, the battle for Pepper Atoll. For the time being Battlegroup Ebon would continue to maintain its distance from Pepper Atoll, awaiting potential reinforcements and subsequent orders from the Second Fleet to arrive. Only then would the full might of the Carlosian Armed Forces come to bear down on those who dared to test its patience.

CN Erméa, 23 kilometres north of Pepper Atoll

Like the Leviathan of old from the Book of Job, the Mendata-class submarines continued to prowl around the waters off St Joseph, listening for signs of an enemy submarine. Mindful that it could still be lingering about the place, Commander Botín wasn't prepared to take the risk of ordering the active sonar to be activated, considering the mere act turning it on would send shock waves across the ocean and reveal its mission. Besides some schools of fish and a few dolphins, the sonar crews couldn't find anything that could be a submarine in the waters around them using the passive sonar. If it were a truly state-of-the-art boat, the sonars would only be able to detect the submarine if they were within a five kilometre radius of the CN Erméa and CN Northford. As, they continued to scour the area, it became plainly obvious that there were no other boats nearby.

All of a sudden, the sonar operator; a petty officer, could detect a strange noise appearing to come from the ocean floor. It didn't sound anything like a submarine, though, or anything biological either. "Sir, I have something." the operator beckoned, staring blankly at a black-green screen. Botín walked forward, glaring at the readings being provided by the passive sonar. "What is it?" the Commander asked, not too sure what exactly was on the screen, though it certainly stood out amongst all the background noise the system was picking up.

"Its coming from the sea floor, very similar to the noises warships tend to make after being sunk. Could be anything from explosions, creaking of the hull to air pockets escaping from sealed compartments as the water makes its way through the ship. We're picking up two distinct sources." the operator explained, pointing at some green lines that had appeared on the screen. Commander Botín didn't need it to be explained any further, for he knew perfectly well what the fate of the two ships that had been detected had been. What they were hearing were the haunting groans of two Brytisc warships and their dead crews, the CFS Hawkmoth and CFS Yarlside. The mere thought of the hundreds of bodies lying at the bottom of the sea, never to be reclaimed by loved ones, was enough to send chills down Botín's spine. He didn't have plans for the crews of the two Carlosian submarines to join their Brytisc comrades in the grave just yet. He said a silent prayer for the repose of their souls and for his boat to continue to enjoy the Lord's protection.

"Good work as usual, officer." Botín calmly said, returning to where he had been originally, near the CIC's plotting board. In one way, he was surprised there wasn't any evidence of a third wreck on the seafloor, namely that of the other Brytisc warship, the CFS Ascension. It had probably already begun its journey back to the relative safety of Brytisc waters, if it hadn't been hunted down along the way by the same enemy boat that sent its accompanying vessels to the bottom of the sea. Regardless, it looked like the CN Erméa and her sister submarine would remain on their own, for now, silent guardians of a mass grave.

Café Victoire, Madrigal, Carloso

Grader raised an eyebrow at what the Inyurstan said. Maybe the sangria was starting to get to his head a bit. He decided to say nothing of it since there was no harm in loosening his lips with some of 'Satan's bitter piss', as Grader's truculent grandmother used to call it. "OPSEC? Yeah, thats well gone. Its very hard to hide a supercarrier, you know. I imagine President Tobón has sent a very angry letter to the Brytisc regime by now. However, as far as we know, its very unlikely they have any knowledge of our submarines in the area, or the additional units we have assigned to the Pepper Atoll operation. As far as they are aware, Battlegroup Ebon is the only major threat in-theatre." Grader suggested, tossing about what remained of his cigar, "As for what happened to Bataya, yeah we don't know. But then again, I suppose it isn't very relevant to the operation. However, we will need to find some way to 'convince' these rebels to cooperate with us."

by **McNernia** » Wed Jan 09, 2019 11:53 am

Near Pepper Atoll
Reconissance Team Callsign Oracle

“Copy that Admiral, we are egressing now from the combat zone.” The two jets formed up in a finger two formation. Something like an arrowhead and passed through the perimeter of the group. SAT INT feeds showed that the space over the Island was for the most part clear. No sign of much contact with anything.

The Mcnernians would head for bases in the Dominion of Polaria and from there they would transfer back to the Erin Islands. Their work was done.

by **Brytene** » Mon Jan 14, 2019 11:43 am

115km north of Pepper Atoll
Fale Ocean

Hlasyctere Aoife 'Brighteye' Lodbrok

Six hours of slow steaming north saw the slow fishing trawler and freighter more than a hundred kilometers away from the Atoll. Aoife's condition had improved a little, and a VTOL was inbound from the Fleet group ahead of them to pick her up. The entire trip, there had been an uneasy feeling hanging in the air, an unspoken tension among the crew.

Unknown to them, in the increasingly foggy night air, a flotilla of tiny watercraft, everything from private fishing boats to hijacked luxury yachts slid northwards, overhauling them with reckless abandon. An ensign on the starboard railing of the trawler thought he saw movement in the distance, but after a second it had disappeared into the mists again and he shrugged it off as a trick of the night...

St Joseph Airport
St Joseph

Hrystic Monastic Mission

Captain Joe laughed broadly and waved his men forwards. In a chattering wave they swarmed towards the various packages, boxes, crates and goods the Hrystic had bought, whilst Joe casually waved the blackened muzzle of his shotgun at the Friar. "You can start assisting us right now, my friend. Hand over all your weapons and come with us."

In the distance, from one of the airport buildings, a figure emerged, all in black and hazy through the heat. Tall and with long strides, it began to walk towards the Hrystic plane.

CN Erméa
23 kilometres north of Pepper Atoll

Commander Botin

The two Carlosian submarines, if they listened hard enough, would pick up the faint and plaintive signal of the Brytisc vessels' black boxes. Whether they had the means to retrieve them was another matter, but the waters were noisy enough in any case that it would probably require specialist equipment for a retrieval dive. A sensitive enough sonar would pick up increased activity in the area, and any listening devices would bear out the irregular sounds of movement - perhaps the dead were already being reclaimed by the sea, returning to the vast ecocycle from whence all life came.

Other than that, the sea was almost eerily quiet. It would not be until several hours later that the surface would blaze to life with the sounds of dozens of small vessels roaring north overhead...

by **New Edom** » Mon Jan 14, 2019 12:08 pm

NENS Owl
Approaching the Pepper Atoll's EEC

Code: Select all: To: Vice Admiral Mercer, CN Echo From: Lieutenant-Commander Ramoth, NENS Owl Subject: Command and Control Encryption: Moderate Greetings, Admiral NENS Owl is currently within the range of your Area of Operations, and will, in accordance with the agreement between our governments, act as an observer in the area. We advise that we will be able to cooperate with your ships with regard to search and rescue, communications as to activities of mutual enemies, and will not otherwise interfere with any of your operations. While our vessel has no hangar, it is capable of landing a small to standard (12 person) utility helicopter on its aft deck. I have the honour to be, Lieutenant Commander Ramoth, Commanding officer, NENS [i]Owl[/i]

The ship had come to waters that appeared generally rather tranquil, but there was information about dangers of coral reefs and sand bars, and so the officers set a strict watch, and radar and sonar operations extended to search for friendly, neutral and unfriendly contacts. They also set strict watches, as at home, in case of pirates or any local aborigines.

by **Kryztov** » Wed Jan 16, 2019 3:42 pm

Captain Ulyashin Kavrayskiy Igorevich, 1st Company + 2nd Platoon of the 3rd Rapid Response Battalion
On board the first first flight to land at St. Joseph's Airport.

The IL-95 was coming in a near cruising speed Ulyashin cursed under his breath as he held the sides of the compartment of the T-15K3. Beside him the driver clutched the handles of his steering controls and waited for the crew if the IL-95 to cut them loose, next to him was the gunner who was almost mimicking Ulyashin.

"Oh we're in it now Comrades" the Gunner yelled.

"Steady Soldier!" Ulyashin barked "The battle will soon be upon us. Focus on getting that gun up and running as soon as possible!

"Understood!!!" The gunner snapped a reply.

The IL-95 lowered its landing gear and its landing flaps to allow the plane to touch down on the run way. However it didn't activate its brakes. The crew then opened the ramp. The ramp was level with the cargo bay with a slight decline so it would not drag along the ground. A Crew member released a small parachute that went out the back of the plane vainly attempting to pull the first of the T-15M2's then that crew member quickly retreated. Moments after the small parachute finally yanked out a large cargo parachute which suddenly opened fully. 4 crew members immediately stepped forward and unlocked the first T-15M2's holdings once released the safety was released wich was activated by the crew master. The crew snapped an informal salute as the IFV was violently yanked out of the back of the plane with its crew and squad of infantry inside. A thick cargo cable started to unravel as the pull from the parachute and the 48 ton IFV. Once it was tight it pulled the second vehicle to the ramp. With the safety engaged the cable pulled loose the second cargo parachute. This cycle continued until all IFV's exited in this manner. Once Completed, there was very little runway left to complete its final task. The remainder of the crew worked on this while the main group focused on getting the IFV's out. Three cargo pallets exited the plane the same way the IFV's did. These were munitions and supplies. For the company but ultimately the platoon if no more forces could be landed.

Ulyashin's T-15K3 was the 3rd of the IFV's to be unceremoniously flung out the back of the aircraft and onto the tarmac. The noise that the flat made on the tarmac was an ear shattering metal grinding on stone sound that he could almost no hear it thanks to his helmets ear protection. Seconds later they stopped and Ulyashin activated the explosive buckles that kept the IFV attached to the flat. It sounded like air being forced out of a tube before a metallic "ping" signified that it had fired and they were free to move the vehicle. Seconds after, Jr.Sgt. Sychev had the gun spinning in its holding rotating the 30mm cannon towards the buildings to left of them. Ulyashin saw the first and second vehicles of second platoon mimicked, while the 3rd was presumably mimicking. PFC Saveliy put the T-15K3 in motion driving it off the flat and off the runway. Ulyashin then saw a cargo plane with two different groups. One with guns the other which looked for the most part unarmed. The armed men were grabbing and snatching up the boxes and creates.

"Gunner, 260, 139 meters, Armed group in the open, Light them up with the machine gun." Ulyashin called out, "Infantry Dismount targets to your front Comrades Enemy's are to the left! Watch your fire on the non combatants!"

"Understood!" Jr.Sgt. Sychev answered and the coaxial began to burp out hot lead into guerrillas that were hauling off the creates.

PFC Saveliy put the T-15K3 put the vehicle into a halt and lowered the ramp. Unloading the Fire support team with a MMG team. Each IFV mimicked this unloading on anyone raising a rifle or RPG against them and disembarking their infantry teams.

by **Greater Carloso** » Thu Jan 17, 2019 2:31 pm

CN Erméa, somewhere north of Pepper Atoll

Commander Botín wasn't exactly too sure what his next move would be. The longer he stayed around these parts, the more he risked his submarines being spotted by any warships the Confederate Brytisc Fleet had sent out to investigate the attack. Even worse, they might mistake the CN Erméa as an enemy boat and try to hunt her down. That said, after many years serving as a submarine commander, Botín had more then a few tricks up his sleeve should the worst come about. He was trained as a hunter-killer, seasoned to neutralise trouble as soon as it appeared. As sad as the needless deaths of the Brytisc sailors was, his duty, first and foremost, was to defend Carloso and lead his men aboard this submarine. Normally, anything outside these two responsibilities were regarded as secondary to his primary mission. He had turned down promotion more then once to continue his command of the CN Erméa, having grown quiet attached to the boat since being made its commander in 2009. While trying to get his thoughts together on what to do now, he found himself fixated on a detailed schematic of one of the two Brytisc warships that had been sunk, namely that of the helicopter carrier CFS Hawkmoth. Considering the number of crew, munitions and aircraft that were taken along with the ship to the bottom of ocean, Botín was of the opinion that its loss had probably crippled Brytene's warfighting capabilities in the short term.

With his hands behind his back, Botín paced around the CIC, until a sonar operator suddenly started calling for him. "Sir, the towed array is picking up something. It looks like it could be VDRs from the shipwrecks." the sonar operator announced. Commander Botín's attention was immediately peaked. Successful recovery of a VDR could reveal the final moments of the two ships before they were sunk, including sonar and radar data. Botín couldn't help but be mildly impressed by the officer's attentiveness. "This is good. That data recorder will reveal a lot about that ship's final moments. the Commander commented, returning to view the diagram of the Hawkmoth, "It only took minutes for this helicopter carrier to sink. It must of taken hits from multiple torpedoes, probably all from the same side. It could of set off a chain reaction that blew the ship to pieces and caused it to sink much faster then a ship of her size normally would."

Botín turned to Lieutenant Commander Samuel Magrina, his deputy, who had been keeping tabs on the boat's navigation systems. "What do you think, Magrina?" he asked. Digesting the information, Magrina cocked his head towards his superior and evaluated their options, remembering something his father had told him many years ago about his own military service during and after the Bourgougian Blitz. "Its definitely worth investigating, sir." Magrina said, pausing for a moment, I think there is something else we would want to be looking for down there as well. Unsure what his second-in-command was getting at, Botín raised an eyebrow and glared at the Lieutenant Commander. "Oh? What do you have in mind?"

Brushing his finger along the schematics of the helicopter carrier, Magrina tried to explain his proposition to Botín as best he could. He wasn't the best at putting things in the simplest of terms. "My apologies, sir. If it was a submarine, then we might find the torpedo casings left behind by the explosion, presuming they weren't destroyed of course. During the Blitz, when my dad was a sailor aboard a Navy salvage vessel, they identified the submarine that sank the CN Marshal by recovering the remains of the three torpedoes that destroyed it. If we can get a UUV down there to recover the data recorder and collect the remains of a torpedo, we just might be able to narrow down the list of suspects. Any markings or electronics that survived might allow us to backtrack to whoever supplied the torpedo, maybe even tell us who was behind the attack." Magrina proposed, folding his arms. "Considering that this is a military vessel, chances are that the Brytisc military have all their data recorders encrypted so only they could extract whatever information that is on it. It would take us months, years even, to decipher it." he said, glancing up at Botín.

As standard, each Mendata-class submarine had a bay that held a multipurpose, modular UUV for salvage and submarine cable-tapping; or cutting, operations. It could be controlled either autonomously or with a human operator, tethered to the submarine with a cable that allowed it to operate indefinitely and provide live video feed as it went to work. While it was not possible for it to drag the torpedo back onto the submarine, it could relay images and recover any debris that was small enough to fit into its storage tanks. Once on board, the salvage unit could have a closer look at what was recovered.

"Very well." Botín replied, knowing that this was their best bet at trying to discover what happened. He didn't hesitate in pressing the button that opened the intercom channel between the CIC and the section of the ship that held both the UUV bay and marine fireteam detachment, hailing the leader of the salvaging team. "Botín to Hatfield."

"Reporting, Commander." Hatfield crackled from the other end of the Erméa. "Prep the UUV for launch within the hour. Our ETA over the site is in about twenty minutes. Magrina will tell you more." Botín ordered, taking his place in a swivel chair at the centre of the combat information centre, "Lets find out who is really behind this mess."

CAF Mediator, Mediator Island, Carloso

The small, barren, wind-swept landmass of Mediator Island was one of the most sparsely populated areas within the Federal Republic of Carloso. Its isolated position out in the great open oceans of world, many thousands of kilometres west of Carloso, gave it immense strategic value. This rock, with its little vegetation, was constantly battered by storms and rain, making it an absolutely miserable place to live, but one that had been often fought over between the Federal Republic and its enemies. Historically, Carloso's long time foe Bourgougia had made a claim to this desolate island, likewise recognising the great military and economic value to whoever controlled it. Their most recent attempt at taking it was a disastrous operation to land troops during the Bourgougian Blitz of 1987, resulting in the destruction of an entire Borugougian battlegroup in retaliation for the sinking of several Carlosian warships. Since the discovery of large oil reserves within the exclusive economic zone of the island, Bourgougian nationalists had become even more incensed about their inability to seize it for themselves.

Its largest settlement, the strangely named 'Example', had no more then 10,000 residents. The town was clustered beside the economic centre of the island; Mediator International Airport, a major stop-over site for intercontinental flights, especially those going from Musgorocia to other parts of the world. As a result, most people who lived in Example had jobs or businesses that were in some way dependent on Madrigal International. If that airport were to, for some reason, close down, it was very likely that everyone would have to leave and go back to mainland Carloso, where their grandparents and great grandparents originally came from. While the population was mostly centred on the south side of the island, on the north side lay CAF Mediator, a Carlosian AIr Force station that served as a critical asset in the country's ability to project power around the world. Considering its position, it was typically extremely busy with various planes stopping by to refuel before going along their way. Today however, was different.

It was still dark, and the sun was only now beginning to rise. Out of three hangars rolled out three large, majestic aircraft, all with what could be described as near-trapezoidal wings. These were, in fact, N94 Alphonse strategic bombers, laden with air-launched cruise missiles destined to strike Pepper Atoll. The ground crews were making final preparations for the flight, while the air crews were being briefed one last time on their targets and the mission at hand. Combining data received from both the Mcnernian ELINT reconnaissance planes and various Carlosian military satellites, they now had an accurate picture of the location and rotation of various Militia air defences and force concentrations. Immediately after the briefing was concluded, the crews went to pray in the chapel of air base, asking for the Lord's protection as they executed this operation.

The planes taxied out onto the runway, four men climbing into each one. The sun was now starting to illuminate the island, revealing the emblem that adorned the fuselage of each N94 bomber belonging to No. X (Bomber) Squadron; a clenched gauntlet smashing a globe being choked by a red serpent. Such an emblem was apt for the mission they had been given, for the might of the Carlosian military was to soon come down on the world of the Manaagnwe Militia and their benefactors. Within each bomber was contained sixteen S730 Requiem air-launched cruise missiles, capable of striking targets approximately 500 km away at transonic speeds, flying low to avoid radar detection. All going well, the enemy would not even realise that death was coming for them from over the horizon. After final checks, the N94 Alphonse bombers were ready to take off.

"Control, this is Dis One. Checks complete. All systems green. We're ready when you are, over." the pilot of the lead bomber chirped as he prepped himself to accelerate the plane's engines. "Dis One, this is Control. Affirmative, you have clearance for departure. God bless." the control tower responded. With a mighty roar; each turbofan burning bright indigo, one after another, the bombers lifted themselves into the air, ascending above the clouds and setting a course for Pepper Atoll. They engaged in complete radio silence, knowing what their targets were, and certain that they would be ones to fire the first shot in this war of retribution.

Order of Battle

No. X (Bomber) Squadron CAF
3 × N94 Alphonse strategic bombers

Code: Select all: Encryption: BLACK From: CN Madrigal/FADM Blanchet To: INS Juarez/CAPT de las Navas Subject: Request to enter Carlosian territorial waters Classification: SECRET Captain de las Navas, I have been made aware of your boat's presence outside Carlosian territorial waters. As commanding officer of the Home Fleet, I wish to inform you that your request to enter the waters of the Federal Republic of Carloso has been approved and you may proceed as normal. Have a good day and we wish you the best of luck. Yours sincerely, Fleet Admiral Aaden Blanchet Commanding officer, Home Fleet, CN Madrigal

Code: Select all: Encryption: RED From: CN Ebon/VADM Mercer To: NENS Owl/LCDR Ramoth Subject: Re: Command and Control Classification: RESTRICTED Lieutenant Commander Ramoth, I am satisfied to hear that your ship has arrived safely within range of the area of operations. As directed, we will endeavour to aid in resupplying and rearming the NENS Owl should the need arise. We will not interfere in your operations, including peacekeeping activities. Do not hesitate to seek assistance from us if you find it necessary. Yours sincerely, Vice Admiral Gavin Mercer Commanding officer, CN Ebon

by **Cossack Khanate** » Thu Jan 17, 2019 3:00 pm

South of Pepper Atoll waters…

CRNF Battlegroup Speckle, made of the flagship CRNF Arcane, 2 repurposed cargo vessels, and some smaller craft, had been making its way towards the atoll, cruising but not rushing. On the cargo vessels were a force of 100 army soldiers along with several IFVs and unmanned combat vehicles.

Sgt Noah Omarov, Pepper Atoll

I decided to make it once more to the city, and was greeted by the sounds of battle as the Krystov soldiers landed at St. Joseph. I dialed the incoming Cossack force from my satellite force to warn them…[/b]

by **Hrythingland** » Fri Jan 18, 2019 5:05 pm

St Joseph Airport
The Friar raised a concerned eyebrow as he noted their initial lack of gratitude as they rushed forwards, and this quickly turned to confusion and alarm as the shotgun was pointed at him. Several of the missionaries also saw the shotgun pointed at the friar and almost dropped the things they were holding, staring in shock as a holy man was confronted with weaponry. The pilots of the aircraft, who had been waiting for comfirmation of refuelling procedures also noted the situation and paled. But the friar, being the ex-paratrooper that he was, was not yet quailed.
"We have not come armed, we are here for humanitarian purposes only, we are men and women of God. There is absolutely no need to point that weapon in my face sir. I can come with you from my own volition.." He said calmly but tersely. The Friar wondered who on earth these people were. Had the situation changed in mid transit? Had the Hrystic Government made a balls-up of the situation? He turned briefly to one of the pilots watching from the unloading ramp and quickly shook his head violently.
That pilot, Captain Ealhmund Ællesunu was cast over with a grim look and he jogged quickly into the interior of the aircraft to the cockpit where he quickly dialled in the number of their departure airport: Seċġmór. He kept low as he waited for the call to connect.
"This is Captain Ællesunu, from the Bothentun chartered flight 402. Please pass on that the Friar has been challenged with a shotgun-"
On the other end there were some confused noises from the operator who had just started his shift.
"Who? Captain would you like me to put you through to the Hrystic Foreign Office?"
"Er.. yes.."
"Please hold."
The Captain peaked over the window to the scene below as the irregulars began sifting through all the equipment. He kept his ear close to phone and eyed up one of the emergency axes.

The Fall Of Brytene [IC, TG FOR ENTRY]

Return to Order, Kryztovan Deployment of force.

On approach to violence, Krystov landing at Saint Joseph Air

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