Let The Killing Begin (ATTN: Prekonate)

[Automagfreek]

In the days following Lord Dreadfire's rallying cry to all authoritarian leaders around the world to rise up and unite under a single banner, much criticism had poured into the Great Hall from abroad. Leaders from around the globe that either did not agree with what Damien was trying to do or simply doubted he could do it had sent seething responses to the Supreme Warlord, much of it in a mocking tone that had angered him greatly. In a way, it saddened him to know that the world was slowly forgetting its history and those that helped shape it... but in another, much darker way he was pleased, for now the time had come to re-apply the lessons of old on a new (and what he deemed, foolish) new generation of leaders from across the globe.

Damien had complied a short list of those who had offended his honor by daring to make a mockery of him and what he stood for, and for such disrespect he vowed to make them pay dearly, one by one. First on the list was the nation Prekonate, for their anonymous and venom laced statements greatly angered him, to the point where he felt an example needed to be made. After calling an urgent meeting of his military advisers, he informed them that he would be dispatching the famed 'Task Force Dreadfire' to make Prekonate pay for what he called 'their ignorance and blatant disrespect', and as always he would be leading the mammoth force personally. After some deliberation, he made the decision to take nearly its full compliment with him, which consisted of the Sentinels as the main bulk of the infantry force, with Sentinel Marines and Freekish special forces also at his disposal.

In addition to the Legions already assigned to my Cohort, I plan on taking with me the 406th Legion as well.

A brief silence filled the room, for when the 406th Legion (a minority race inside Automagfreek known as "The Fallen") were summoned to battle, it always meant disaster for those on the receiving end of their wrath. Perhaps one of the most infamous and decorated Legions in all of the Freekish military, the 406th had seen action in some of AMF's most gruesome conflicts, including Kahanistan, Kravonika (Kraven Corporation), Foxbury (island owned by The Peoples Freedom), The Five Kingdoms (Melkor Unchained) and Doomingsland. To many in the outside world, the Freeks were considered to be uncivilized... but in AMF, the Fallen were considered uncivilized to the Freeks. They had been called many names in their native land... 'wild men', 'blood drunk', 'butchers'... but soon the people of Prekonate would have the opportunity to give the 406th names of their own.

Not being one to spout rhetoric and not back it up, Damien issued a very brief message before starting off to his flagship, the Mouth For War, where he would lead the invasion from the front.

Your mockery of me and my legacy shall not go unpunished, for renewed are the days when swift death followed all who dared to speak to a man such as myself in the manner in which you have. I am coming for you, heathens of Prekonate... and when a torrent of blood and fire descends upon you, you will know my name is The Destroyer. Reap now what you have sown, and make good your defenses.... for I am coming to make you eat those flowery words of yours that you thought were so clever.

Those who have also dared to displease me shall soon see what will be in store for them... all in good time.

As his forces began to assemble at St. Freeksburg's largest military port, military intelligence began to gather whatever information they could on their soon to be foe, for it was standard operating procedure within the Freekish military to never underestimate the ability of any enemy, no matter how small, ill experienced, or under equipped they appeared to be at first glance. The vast network of spy satellites would be used to scan and plot the amphibious assault as well as the optimal course for Dreadfire's army to take once it made landfall. It would take some time for his forces to fully assemble, deploy, and sail to Prekonate, which would allow them plenty of time to organize their defenses. All the better in Dreadfire's mind, for he always enjoyed the prospect of a challenge.

[Prekonate]

Kancléř’s residence, Ostrava
Southern Prekonate

It was painfully evident to the people of Ostrava that autumn was imminent. To a population which relied entirely on foreign tourism in the summer months, the turning of the seasons was the equivalent of a stock market crash, and it certainly did not help that the first flurries had already been reported high in the Kovic Mountains. As Strauss’ Blue Danube Waltz drifted on the currents of cool air out of the office of Kancléř Havlicek, the angry voices of his advisory staff accompanied it, the breeze, change in weather, and soft music doing nothing to cool the men’s tensions.

The letter from Damien Dreadfire sat innocently enough on Havlicek’s desk, the stamped Gothic seal catching the Kancléř’s gaze from halfway across the room. Ministers Tomasek, Kolinsky, and Svobodnik, from the Ministries of Foreign Affairs, Defense, and State Security, respectively, had each read the message a dozen times, none of them able to believe the words their first time around. It was Kolinsky who now spoke, the others’ voices too hoarse to argue his quite loud points.

“We have neither the manpower nor the morale to combat a full-scale invasion, Kancléř,” he stammered, his lower jaw obviously trembling. “Not only that, but our neighbors have already declared full neutrality; only Bretlanja is willing to assist us in any way. The Bretlanjan president has of course already made his offer for an evacuation.”

“Indeed he has,” Svobodnik replied, his voice cracking, either from the past hour of debate or from the sheer terror none of the men seemed to be hiding. “And we will be evacuating directly into the hands of an ethnically Slovak nation – ” Minister Tomasek quickly cut him off.

“Yes, they may betray us,” he said, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion. “But we know that the Freeks will destroy us if we remain in Prekonate. We must consider not only the future of our nation, but the future of its people; remaining here to fight and allowing the Freeks to commit reprisals against our innocent men and women would be the worst possible solution for a problem which would destroy us no matter how hard we fought.” Svobodnik shot the man a look of disdain, and Kolinsky did the same to Svobodnik. Each man had a pistol holstered in his boot, and Havlicek watched in desperation as each one eyed the others’ ankle.

“Stop this, all of you,” Havlicek demanded. “We cannot defend our entire nation, Minister Svobodnik, especially considering our antiquated military machine.” It was now Tomasek who shot a look of disdain, his precious Prekonati Army having been insulted. “But I can tell you this, Ministers – no son or daughter of Prekonate will be born into a world where the freedom the name Prekonate carries with it does not exist. A century from today, Prekonate will not be a name uttered in the shadows, or sung in ballads of the days past.”

The three men silenced themselves, and their eyes now fixed onto the Kancléř’s. “I will not abandon my people to Freek tyranny. Take with you your families and flee to Bretlanja. Tell all who will listen to do the same. Minister Tomasek – it will be difficult to convince our generals to follow you, but for the future of our nation you must.” Tomasek nodded wordlessly. “There will come a time when they will be needed – that day is not today, or tomorrow; our military must remain intact for the day we can once again raise the tricolor over Ostrava unmolested. As for me, I will take any who will come, and take to the hills.

“Though we cannot risk open war with a foe so determined, we can ensure that these Freeks will never return home from our lands, and that they will never see the insides of ours.” He bared his teeth and paused for a moment, the three Ministers already plotting their roles in this plan. “We are a proud people, a strong people. We did not relent when our gates were smashed in and the Ceskarii hordes poured through them, nor did we when our neighbors to the northwest ravaged our lands for decades. We have weathered the storm before, and we will do so again. Take to the streets with this message – guard it with your hearts and your minds, lest we lose sight of what it is we Prekonati fight so ardently for – we guard our freedom against all foes, large or small. We will never surrender while that freedom is threatened, this I swear to you as Prekonate’s leader, and as its son.”

Szeged, Kovic Heights
De jure Prekonati terrority

It was with glee the message from Freek leadership was read in the townships of the Kovic Heights, a breakaway republic of greater Prekonate. In the halls of Szeged, the ethnic Hungarians drank and cheered as each word was uttered in booming baritone by the Kovic Heights’ “elected” leader Miklos Hajnal. For years Hajnal had looked to the Goths as the easiest way to achieve his goals, and now Havlicek had brought them to his doorstep.

Attacks on Ostrava had been escalated tenfold since the sending of the message, as bawdy Hungarian men even began venturing outside the peaks of the Kovic Heights to dare attacks on ethnic Czech settlements in the surrounding valleys. Hajnal had no way of contacting Dreadfire until he himself (or a lieutenant) landed, but his position as the leader of a large minority of fanatically loyal non-Czech Prekonati citizens placed him in the ideal position to seize regional control of a Gothic-supported Hungarian Prekonate.

“Give thanks to Dreadfire, brothers!” he boomed, throwing the message into the air and with his other hand drinking heavily from his mug of undoubtedly alcoholic liquid. “By this time next month, we will hang our coats in the halls of Ostrava!” A cheer went up in the town square as more alcohol was passed around, along with the occasional assault rifle. The absence of Prekonati military units in Szeged had been taken quite well by the denizens, and as the Army moved north and ethnic Czechs began arming themselves, the Hungarians filled the void, seizing any equipment left behind and taking once more to the lands surrounding Ostrava, eager for a chance to retake their ancient capital.

Oficiální Prohlášení o Prekonatá Republika

Once more the legions of Prekonate must sally forth to meet the forces of injustice and tyranny; once more we do battle with those men who would take from us what we hold most dear. To the vile souls on their Gothic thrones, we warn this -- we will never surrender. Your men will never find comfort in our lands, nor will a Prekonati man or woman sleep while foreign boots tread on our fields.

We implore the nations of the world not to forget the people of Prekonate while this blatant tyranny is forced upon us, and while Damien Dreadfire moves to strike at our heart for our dissension to his rule. Automagfreek's reign of international terror will soon claim another victim if we are to stand alone.

Not only for our sakes, but for free people everywhere, we cannot be forgotten.

[Central Prestonia]

***edit: nevermind***

[Hobbeebia]

.

[Jeuna]

OOC: To be removed later...

AMF knows what he's doing. Yes this one shows much potential, but to be targeted by AMF is also an honor that few receive at such a young age without some sort of OOC: bull proceeding it. I have found little that would tarnish the young ones character. If I where him I would feel honored.

You could be a little more sycophantic, if you tried.

[Prekonate]

OOC: Don't worry CP, we've been in contact via TGs. Nothing was undertaken without my go-ahead.

[Central Prestonia]

OOC: Ah right then, my mistake. I shall remove my prior post and allow the bloodshed to continue. Here's hoping for David to slay Goliath.

[Automagfreek]

OOC: Don't worry CP, we've been in contact via TGs. Nothing was undertaken without my go-ahead.

OOC: Exactly, Prekonate was the one that contacted me about doing this RP. Here's some advice you might find useful in order to avoid looking like a complete fool in the future, CP; ask questions before leveling accusation. This RP is largely pre-planned, though the details will be left to play themselves out. Now, if you're quite finished with the hijacking, please exit this thread before the mods are called in. I'm not going to have another potentially good RP ruined.

[Automagfreek]

OOC: Apologies for the delay, I've been rather sick the past few days.

****************************
Dreadfire's forces experienced smooth sailing after their mobilization and deployment went underway on the journey towards Prekonate, whos leadership had issued a declaration of their intent to never surrender, which amused the Supreme Warlord. The senior officers had already begun betting on how long the Prekonati military would survive, with most putting their money on two weeks maximum. The mood on board the hundreds of warships was jubilant, and the fighting men under Lord Dreadfire's command were eager to experience combat once more against a foe that had openly mocked their sense of superiority. The mood amongst the 406th Legion was bittersweet, for this would be their first operation without Azrael serving as their Warchief, for he had made himself founder and ruler of a new Gothic nation known as Belphegoria.

As Task Force Dreadfire continued to sail onward, military intelligence began to acquire satellite data of Prekonate as they formed their defenses. Intel had shown that mass evacuations were already underway, which was a telling sign that their government, despite their rhetoric, was not entirely confident of their ability to fend of the Freekish onslaught. Damien found this intriguing and would attempt to exploit the evacuation as best he could in order to create a sense of panic and drive enemy morale down into the ground, and as his fleet continued to sail he met with his top generals and crafted their battle plan on a large map and detailed map of Prekonate. A typical amphibious assault was determined to be the most effective way of establishing forward positions, with Sentinel Marines being first to touch down on enemy shores and soon backed up by heavier infantry and armor support.

As several more days past, Damien's forces began to close in on Prekonate, though they were still well inside international waters. His fleet had gradually slipped into their combat formations, with air patrols being doubled and 'Supremacy' class submarines venturing far out from the forward picket lines in order to scan for threats. Sentinel, Fallen, and Freekish commanders had received their latest briefing and were informed that they would be deployed into action in the very near future, and that all final pre-invasion preparations were to be made. While no additional statements were issued either from Lord Dreadfire or the Great Hall, the ominous black cloud that forever lingered over Damien's cursed flagship, the Mouth For War, was a telling enough sign that the Freeks were closing in....

*****

OOC: I'm not going to move too far without giving you a chance to engage before I get to your waters, if you so choose.

[Prekonate]

PRS Přemysl
Several hundred kilometers off the coast of Prekonate

“Cut the engines, Kaspar,” Captain Holub whispered, peering through the fogged periscope warily, noting the position of every shape he could make out. “No sense letting us be the first casualties in this damn charade.” The tiny shape of the Prekonati SSK sat only a few meters below the churning waters, the storm clouds overhead obscuring the skies and blocking any light the moon would have provided the captain. The propellers on the Přemysl cut out instantly, leaving the conning tower in silence.

“It would appear that Captain Stanek is in position,” Holub breathed, his eyes catching the flash the fellow Prekonati submariner had sent through his periscope lens. “Stanek will take the large troop ship directly ahead; navigation, take the boat to new bearing zero-three-zero.”

“Aye, captain,” the officer replied, the golden lapels on his black uniform glinting in the barely lit control room. “Taking us to bearing zero-three-zero on no propellers. Running on inertia, captain.” Holub nodded and picked up the ship’s radio.

“Weapons, conn,” he whispered hoarsely. “Enemy ship sighted bearing one-one-seven, speed fifteen knots. Prepare tubes one and two for firing and plot solution – wait for my orders to open outer doors.”

“Conn, weapons, aye captain,” the voice replied, in a tone just as hushed. “Firing solution plotted, outer doors closed.”

“Torpedoes in the water, Captain,” the sonar officer said, watching as the two blips fired from the second Prekonati submarine. “Two more…four more…six more, Captain – eight torpedoes in the water.” As each vessel in the pack fired their torpedoes, Holub checked his watch, timing the launches. Two seconds between each, just as they had planned in Ostrava.

“Weapons, conn – fire tubes one and two on my orders…” he trailed off, checking his watch again. “Fire now, now.” Without waiting for confirmation, he slammed the handles together on the periscope and lowered it immediately. “Navigation, make your depth seven hundred meters – all ahead flank.” As the dive lights flashed in each compartment, the boat began its steep dive and Holub stayed his breath, praying the Freek ships would be too busy with the torpedoes to find and target him.

Saint Kristóf Boarding School
Near Ostrava, Kovic Heights

A quiet breeze kicked up the leaves in the church courtyard, showering Father Szabo in red and orange, much to the elation of the nearby schoolchildren. He brushed the dried leaves off of his shoulders and, after allowing himself a small smile, continued his walk around the courtyard with Father Soucek. The same scene was repeated again as young Kovar dove into a pile of leaves and twigs, and after due scolding, the two men decided to retreat to inside the chapel.

“I’m as concerned as you are, Mihály,” Soucek said, taking a seat at the back of the chapel and keeping his eyes trained on the cross at the front of the stone building. Szabo sat next to him. “But if we do nothing…” He trailed off, but Szabo nodded nonetheless, the meaning perfectly clear. “What would Saint Kristóf do?”

“Saint Kristóf did not have to contend with the devil bearing down on his home while angels turned against him next door, Jakab,” Szabo replied, sighing. “I’m concerned for my nation, but Jakab…my real shepherd is God, not the Kancléř. The day I abandon my sheep,” he paused, motioning to the children sitting in the first rows, being lectured by a nun, “to save the homeland of wolves is the day I spit at the feet of Christ.”

“Mihály, they will die if we do nothing.” Soucek’s face had turned ashen. “I cannot abandon any of God’s children to suffering and death so long as I have the power to save them. Do as you will, but the soldiers and their families will stay.” The nun had paused to look up, and with a knowing glance hurried the children out of the pews and back into the frigid courtyard. “The Freeks will never presume to search a children’s school for them – you know that the retributions against them will be harsh the moment the wolves remember that our guerrillas have loved ones – and we have a chance to saves lives, Mihály.”

Szabo nodded. “Yes, I know.” He sighed deeply. “I’ll fetch them some water, then.”


OOC: Map, if you needed one. The Kovic Heights area is green; it's ethnically Hungarian, while everywhere but the red/brown areas are ethnically Czech. Those two are Slovak, and are under the control of other nations -- they won't factor into the RP much.